For me, it started with two chords: a D-flat triad that moves to an E-flat half diminished with an A in the bass that opens “How Come U Don’t Call Me Anymore.” Growing up in the Midwest, I knew of Prince, of course, but came comparatively late to his music. But once I heard that opening, I was hooked. After that I bought The Rainbow Children, and soon after, I attempted to track down all of the albums of his back catalogue. I waited in anticipation for each new Prince release (and in the last year and a half, there were many) as well as the announcements of his upcoming tours. Prince, who passed away yesterday at the age of 57, was an incomparable musician, skillfully navigating – and in the process altering – the diverse musical genres of R&B, soul, funk, rock and roll, and pop, to name but a few. Along the way, he taught us to think differently about gender, sexuality, and spirituality.
In the hours and days to come, there will be much written about Prince, and many will quote his lyrics, but right now I’d like to focus on his superb musicianship. He performed almost all of the parts of his albums by himself – note on how many albums you see the phrase “Produced, Arranged, Composed and Performed by Prince” – and did it at such a virtuosic level that it staggers the mind to think about it. Indeed, with his combination of funk and new wave, he created a new sound – a new sound! – that not only came to represent Minneapolis, but much of the 1980s. He constantly questioned standard conceptions of black popular music.
Think of “When Doves Cry.” Here was an R&B tune from the 80s that doesn’t have – or need – a bass line. Or more recently, he and 3rdEyeGirl reimagined the soul-pop “Let’s Go Crazy” from Purple Rain as a hard rock jam. When the rest of the world thought they had caught up to him, he took us, and popular music, in an entirely new direction. Prince was constantly pushing the musical envelope, encouraging us, sometimes without our realizing it, to listen harder, deeper, more carefully. And he had us dancing along all the while.
But it was during his live performances that you saw how truly special Prince was. Whether he was tearing it up on a guitar solo, singing in his multi-octave range, or offering new and surprising arrangements of well-known tunes on acoustic guitar or solo piano, it became evident that he was one of the most gifted musicians of his generation. No, that’s not sufficient; he was one of the most gifted musicians of all time.
Just a few days ago he released a version of “Black Sweat” from the “Piano and a Microphone” tour. Instead of the electro-groove of the studio recording, we hear Prince, seated at his piano, giving us a harder, funkier groove based on a three note ascending pattern in the left hand, carried by just his voice and piano. Steeped in the traditions of black popular music, we knew where Prince came from, but only he seemed to know where black popular music needed to go. While we mourn the loss of a truly great artist, we have his music to go back to, over and over again. I believe Questlove once said that Prince’s hits were the red carpet that leads you to the good stuff. Now is the time to go back and experience the “good stuff,” either again, or for the first time. Prince gave us the music that we didn’t know we needed when we needed it. But boy did we need it. We still do.
Matthew Valnes received a PhD in music from the University of Pennsylvania. His work focuses on improvisation in Afrodiasporic popular music, with a particular emphasis on funk. He has presented his work at national and international conferences, and is currently working on a book that examines improvisation and technology in the construction of post-Civil Rights era popular music. Find more of his writing at Needle and Groove.
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