Good Night, Sweet Prince

There will ever be only one....

It's many days after his death.  A whole weekend of watching the musical tributes, hearing his hits blare out of speakers from passing cars and local bars, and reading about his quirks, his talents, his Prince-ness ad infinitum.

But his passing still resonates.


Which is weird because  A) I didn't know him, or ever meet him and B) I didn't give him much thought or listen in the past 10 years.
And yet it's inescapable:  This loss hurt.  This loss was affecting.  This loss leaves everyone, especially the world of created art, a little emptier.

Instead of dwelling on his legacy or trying to encapsulate how his music soundtracked my life, I'm left to ponder the reasons why his death still resonates...and will for a long time.

We've lost a few musical icons this year.  Lemmy and Merle Haggard were huge losses, but noted for their specific genre.  They shut down Sunset Blvd. to drink Jack 'n' Cokes for Lemmy.  I can't imagine many other major boulevards were shut down across America.  I was overseas for Merle's passing, but I imagine there was a moment of silence in a few Southern honky-tonks, an obligatory "Okie from Muskogee" cover, and life went on.  David Bowie's passing seemed to send shockwaves, but maybe he was too niche to really reverberate across America.  I knew a few folks that were gob smacked by his passing, but with the release of his beautiful "Dark Star" album and accompanying "good-bye world" video, he kind of ushered his way out of this world and gave mourners a sweet "good night" lullaby.  He knew he was dying, he prepared for it, and, somehow, that made it all seem a bit better.  Plus, Bowie was niche as well.  A wider niche to be sure, but he didn't play in dive bars or hip-hop clubs. 

Prince did.  He was every genre.  He was music.  He was black and Italian, raised in white Minnesota, slayed the guitar with rock and soul and whammy bars and pedals and sang funk and R&B and pop all over hip-hop and Motown and Caribbean drumbeats.  He even did country (OK, it was an episode of "The Muppet Show," but still...).
To wit:  If you were at any dance club, any music festival, any backyard barbecue, and you put on "Let's Go Crazy."  Or "Purple Rain."  Or "1999."  Or "Kiss" or "Gett Off" or probably even "Batdance," the party would be officially on.  You can't say that about anybody.  The recent passings I mentioned, or even the Stones or Springsteen or Eminem or Beatles (try throwing "Twist & Shout" on hip-hop/soul night at your club and see the response....).

Prince was more than just the music, though.  Prince was personality.  We're just assuming that what Prince gave us on-stage and in public was how Prince was behind closed doors.  He most likely was.  Sure, you hear stories of how funny he was or how great at basketball he was, but that's on display.  He didn't seem to hide who he was.  He was just him as he was in life:  Quirky, cocky, talented, quiet, impish, bad-ass and shy.  There's no telling if he adopted his stage persona and slowly became that 24 hours a day, or if he was just born that way.  Regardless, there was no questioning who he was, as mysterious as he tried to remain.  We always tried to figure him out, but there was no need to figure him out.  You just accepted what you saw as "Prince."  That was it.  He appeared to be 100% himself and a anomalous entity from another planet at the same time.  He was larger than life and a shrinking violet.  He seemed to shun the spotlight but couldn't resist lighting a stage on fire if a guitar was available.  You wished you were like that.  But you could never be.

This also marks the passing of the last great multi-instrumentalist musician.  Period.  He did it all and controlled his artistic output and creative mass production with an iron fist.  You couldn't do that now!  There's too much at stake.  Too much money involved.  Fame and grabbing that brass ring is too fleeting.  There are some fantastic multi-instrumentalists on YouTube, but as soon as you're done skimming their video, you're immediately distracted by "Girls in Bikinis Crash ATV's" and "My Cat Fell Asleep in my TV Dinner!"  They're never given a chance to shine.  If someone's mass-distributed, that also means they're more-than-likely mass-pigeonholed.  Are you a singer?  Then sing.  Maybe with a guitar.  Drummer?  Then drum.  DJ?  Then DJ and don't say a thing.  That's how we're spoon-fed our music.  Anyone too talented probably won't have a chance to shine unless they simplify.  Or they will be relegated to their own independent record label and a 1:45pm slot on the side stage at your local, over-blown music festival.

In short, Prince was just Prince.  He was the same thing to everybody.  His music wasn't indecipherable, but it was deep.  It was also sexy and danceable and memorable and eternal and flat-out amazing. 

He didn't need another moniker.  He didn't need a handle like the King of Pop.  Or the Queen of Soul.  Or the Godfather of Soul.  Or the King of Rock.  He was pure royalty.  He was just Prince.  Of Everything.

He will be missed.  Mostly because we will never see an artist(e) like him ever again...