The world lost the diminutive genius Prince earlier today. He had the moves of James Brown, the guitar virtuosity of Jimi Hendrix (just listen to the incendiary intro to When Doves Cry), the sexually ambiguous look of Little Richard, the songwriting talent of a shed load of Motown writers and the funk credentials of George Clinton and Earth, Wind and Fire.
I saw him in concert when the Diamonds & Pearls tour reached Dublin in the summer of 1992. The show was in the showjumping arena at the Royal Dublin Society (RDS), a place where Hitler’s brother once worked as a waiter (fact). The support acts were Curtis Stigers (remember him?) and Andrew Strong from The Commitments (remember him?). Then it was time for the main event at last.
The band struck up, the lights came on and the whole thing reached a crescendo, setting the scene for Prince’s arrival. Then right in the middle of the stage, a little glass coffin rose up with his Royal Purpleness within. The crowd went apeshit and the soundwave went through my head. Prince stepped out, this tiny whirling dervish, and the show never stopped moving for the next two hours. “You’re too funky for me, Dublin!” he said at one stage (and we were, he he). It was a truly dazzling gig. One of the best concerts I’ve ever seen and I’m not just saying that to jump on the bandwagon now he’s dead.
Then there’s all the hits he wrote; When Doves Cry, Kiss, 1999, Batdance (right back at the start of the current superhero craze in 1989), Purple Rain, Raspberry Beret, Sign O’ The Times, Gett Off, Cream, The Most Beautiful Girl In The World and so on. He also created classic hits for other artists including I Feel For You by Chaka Khan, Nothing Compares 2 U by Sinead O’Connor and Manic Monday for The Bangles (written under the pseudonym Christopher).
His identity was as fluid as his dance moves and image. In dispute with his record company in the early 90s, he became Symbol (above) or T.A.F.K.A.P. (The Artist Formerly Known As Prince) and wrote the word “Slave” across his face.
He owned his own recording studio Paisley Park which was apparently where his body was found earlier today. Prince Rogers Nelson was a true original and there will never be another. It was a privilege to have grown up with his music and it will be there forever now. We never do get the great ones for long, do we? May he funk in peace.
© Stewart Stafford, 2016. All rights reserved.