Follow author Erica Thompson as she completes her book on Prince's spiritual journey on "a purple day in December." She provides updates on her writing and research, interviewing, networking and progress on securing a book publisher. And there are extra interviews, essays and pieces just for the fun of it! Cheer Erica on as she follows her dreams and the life of an extraordinary musician.
Ever since Warner Bros.’ expanded reissue of Purple Rain opened
the floodgates of posthumous Prince releases in 2017, the focus of most fans
and critics has (understandably) been on the wealth of material still
languishing in the legendary Vault. But there are still plenty of gems that were
released during Prince’s lifetime, now hiding in plain sight and worthy of our
attention. Saturday’s special Record Store Day release of 1998’s The Truthis the perfect case in point: More than a mere collector’s curio, it marks
the first standalone physical reissue of one of this prolific artist’s richest,
weirdest and most intimate albums.
Like much of the Artist Then-Formerly Known as Prince’s output
from the latter half of the ‘90s, The Truth was a victim of circumstances
both inside and outside his control. The album was initially planned for release
in 1997, as a follow-up to the previous year’s Emancipation; but when distributor
EMI’s American division folded into Virgin and Capitol Records, these plans
were scrapped. A single release of the title track, backed with “Don’t Play
Me,” was made available in early 1997 from the Artist’s 1-800-NEW-FUNK mail-order
service—an innovative release strategy that also happened to make it ineligible
for chart placement. When the album finally came out almost a year later, it—along
with the even more obscure jazz fusion effort Kamasutra—was sold
exclusively in a bundle with the three-disc Crystal Ball compilation. According
to PrinceVault, there were at some point plans for a standalone retail release in
2000; but these, too, failed to materialize.
The bitter irony of all this is that The Truth was
arguably the Artist’s best—and certainly his most fascinating—album in years. Recorded
toward the end of the original run of MTV Unplugged—and toward the
beginning of the similarly-formatted VH1 Storytellers—The Truth seems
at first glance to share with these series an equation of stripped-down
acoustic arrangements with “authenticity,” musical or otherwise. But it quickly
becomes evident that something a lot more interesting is afoot, as the raw
Delta blues pastiche of the opening title track is gradually invaded by pre-recorded
sound effects: first a ticking stopwatch, and later a series of what can only
be described as UFO noises.
This undermining of the “unplugged” premise pervades The
Truth in ways both subtle (like the unsettling sound of a radio tuned
between stations that bubbles beneath the surface of “Don’t Play Me”) and overt
(like the ostentatious and, frankly, ridiculous synthesized trumpet on “Man in
a Uniform”). With its prominent synth and programmed drums, a track like “Circle
of Amour” is no more “acoustic” than, say, “Forever in My Life” from 1987’s Sign
“O” the Times; even the genuinely stripped-down groove of “3rd Eye”
can’t resist throwing in a few synthesizer swells and layered vocal harmonies,
not to mention an elastic bassline by Rhonda Smith of the NPG.
The album’s lyrics play a similar trick. Parts of The
Truth are among the most personal songs in Prince’s catalog. “Don’t Play
Me” is a searing rejection of the “mountaintop” of mainstream stardom, while
“Comeback” is a heartfelt tribute to Amiir, the infant son he and wife Mayte
Garcia lost in late 1996. Both “Dionne” and “One of Your Tears” are barbed love
letters to singer Dionne Farris, with whom he’d had a dalliance earlier in the
decade. Vegan anthem “Animal Kingdom,” while less traditionally autobiographical,
is the Artist at his most literal, with lyrics that sound like copy from a PETA
campaign set to music. Elsewhere, however, he seems to use personal details as
a kind of misdirection: On “Circle of Amour,” for example, he grounds the
setting at his own high school (“Tenth grade Central in September”), then uses that
setting to weave a lurid fantasy worthy of a Penthouse Forum letter.
All of which is to say that The Truth is a lot more
complex than its simple, declarative title suggests. It’s worth noting that the
title track never gives a concrete definition of “the Truth,” instead running
through a series of “Controversy”-style questions: “Questionnaire, What did U
stand 4? / Questionnaire, Who did U save?” By the time the album released in 1998,
the Artist was growing less comfortable with these kinds of answerless questions.
In her 2017 memoir The
Most Beautiful: My Life with Prince, Garcia recalls her husband meeting
Larry Graham and praising his spiritual convictions: “‘That man’s faith is so
certain,’ he said. ‘There’s no room for doubts or fears.’” In the years to come,
the Artist would use the phrase “the Truth” specifically in reference to his
newly adopted (and Graham’s long-held) Jehovah’s Witness faith; but at the time
of the album’s recording, the concept for him was something a lot more slippery
and less concrete.
In short, The Truth is an album that revels in
unsettling its own binaries: acoustic and electric, “authentic” and
constructed, and yes, even truth and lies. It’s an album that every Prince
fan—even those who had lapsed by the late ‘90s—needs to hear. And, while a
limited vinyl release on Record Store Day isn’t exactly the wide exposure it
deserves, it is in keeping with its obscurantist original release strategy. Just,
please don’t try and flip it on Discogs—at least until I can get my hands on a
copy.
Zachary Hoskins is the author of Dance / Music / Sex / Romance, a
song-by-song chronological blog about the music of Prince.
Subscribe to Erica's newsletter for updates on her book on Prince's spiritual journey. Click here.
If you want to donate toward paying guest writers, purchasing products for giveaways, or acquiring research materials, her cash app is $ericawrites.
Another Prince symposium has come and gone! This year marks the fifth
anniversary of the artist's passing, and there has been a wealth of academic
scholarship on his art during this time. New York University Associate Vice
Provost and professor De Angela L. Duff has been a leader in this space.
Her latest event, the #1Plus1Plus1is3 symposium, did not disappoint.
Last weekend, we celebrated 40 years of Controversy, 30 years of
Diamonds and Pearls, and 20 years of The Rainbow Children. I
always enjoy reuniting with friends, gaining knowledge and listening to the
special guests, which included Cbabi Bayoc, Dr. Fink, Sam Jennings, Peggy
McCreary, Scott McCullough, Nicolay and Afshin Shahidi. You can
learn more on the
symposium website
and keep watching
Duff's YouTube channel
for videos of presentations, panels and keynotes. Additionally, you can search
the #1plus1plus1is3 hashtag on Twitter.
I also gave a presentation, "'1 + 1 + 1 Is 3' – Order, Discipline, Truth And
Other Christian Values In Prince’s The Rainbow Children," which I
will share later when the video was available.
In the past, I've done a roundup of takeaways from symposia, but I thought
I'd do something a little different.
Below are seven memorable quotes from the event.
"Prince wasn't going to wake up one day and be Johnny Mathis." -
Kamilah Cummings
Kamilah Cummings gave a remarkable presentation on
Diamonds and Pearls and the myth of colorblindness in Prince's work.
She argued that Prince was appealing to whiteness (to succeed in a
racist music industry) during this era, and broke down several tactics he
employed to meet that goal. She addressed some other strategies, like
maintaining a connection to the Black audience. While Prince was never in
danger of being dismissed by that audience (contrary to popular belief), he
was intentional about the cultural representation in his work.
I wish some of the people who comment on the official Prince social
media sites could hear Kamilah's presentation right now.
#1plus1plus1is3pic.twitter.com/dlakMRIvwv
Black people were not Prince's "props" during the '90s, "they were his
setting and his home." - Melay Araya
Melay Araya's presentation on the music and videos of the
Diamonds and Pearls era was a nice a complement to Cummings' work.
Araya examined the presence of Black people in Prince's work during this
time, highlighting the common theme of "Black people at play." I was very
intrigued by her thoughts on Prince's "exploration of Black women's
interiority." She bravely took on the topic of colorism in Prince's work and
life, pointing out that Prince presented Black women in myriad
roles--mother, friend, etc.--beyond that of the object of affection. I think
there is so much more to say on this topic, and I would like to see a panel
featuring Araya and Cummings in conversation. I'll just put this out there:
I'm happy to moderate.
I think people like to shy away from something that was glaringly
obvious. It doesn’t mean those of us who recognize it and see it for
what it was disliked him or his music, it’s just something I wish people
discussed more.
We can think of Prince's crossover as the "pursuit of resources versus
assimilation." - Harold Pride
The topic of Prince's "crossover" to the "mainstream" came up during a
brilliant panel, featuring C. Liegh McInnis, Kamilah Cummings, Mark Anthony
Neal and Harold Pride--with input from Monique Morris. This subject is often
discussed, but with little nuance and consideration of the systemic racism
within the music industry. This group did a great job with it, even
employing an effective metaphor that was transformative for the audience.
I'm looking forward to seeing the video.
Group panel discussing this brilliant comment from @MoniqueWMorris: is it better to think about “crossover” in the sense it’s used in
basketball (a strategy to throw off the opponent), rather than an
unchallenged marker of success? #1plus1plus1is3
— Dance / Music / Sex / Romance (@dmsrblog) March 27, 2021
I teared up multiple times during the symposium, and they were all during
talks about Diamonds and Pearls. Something stirred in me when
Cummings said the album was his "put some respect on my name" album. I also
was touched by Tiebert's beautiful analysis of the album against the
framework of The Wizard of Oz, which Prince credits in the liner
notes. "Diamonds and Pearls
is Prince’s declaration that while the journey down the yellow brick road to
self-empowerment is filled with challenges, confidence and trust in
ourselves is the key that will ultimately open the gates of Oz," Tiebert
argued. I think I was reminded that Prince didn't have to do anything after
the run that he had in '80s. Folks complain about his '90s work, but he was
still operating on a genius level. He never stopped striving for excellence,
and we never stop holding him to impossible standards. Still, he wanted to
be an inspiration for all of us, and we will continue to learn from him even
though he isn't physically here.
Despite its reputation as a commercial concession, D&P is actually a
personal album, with Prince giving himself confidence after a difficult
stretch of his career
#1plus1plus1is3
— Dance / Music / Sex / Romance (@dmsrblog)
March 27, 2021
"[Prince] can't just be bae." - Dr. Joan Morgan
During the roundtable on Controversy, Dr. Joan Morgan simply
articulated the way a lot of us feel: There is so much more to Prince
beneath the surface, which is why we are fans and spend so much time
studying him. Though I was a teenager when I became deeply interested in his
music, he did not prompt me to interrogate myself as a sexual being the way
he did for other fans in the 1980s. I discovered a more conservative Prince
in the 2000s, and I connected with his music on a spiritual level. However,
he is so much more to me beyond spirituality and even beyond the music. I do
wonder if my relationship would have been different if I grew up in the
1980s.
I also appreciated Dr. Morgan's perspective on Prince and queerness.
"When Prince died, I ran to the Apollo."
Appreciated
@milfinainteasy's descriptions of folks who would not normally be discussing
Prince/gender/fluidity freely singing the lyrics of "Controversy" ...
& the realization that Prince was on some "next-level shit."
#1plus1plus1is3
Ready to move past the gay/straight question when it comes to Prince.
When I inquire about "queerness," I'm digging into something more
expansive. It's not my area of expertise. I want to hear from scholars
on where they think the research should go from here.
#1plus1plus1is3
"The Hero's Journey is a continuous loop. Very broadly, you could argue
that loops within Prince's journey each have a seven-year arc."
Edgar Kruize offered a fascinating presentation, analyzing Prince's career
against the framework of "The Hero's Journey," popularized by American
literature professor Joseph Campbell. I'm definitely planning to return to
this thought-provoking analysis. You can watch for yourself below.
"He ain't let the jazz breathe." - Randy Ferguson
This was a comment in the chat during
The Rainbow Children roundtable. I appreciated this group of scholars
tackling one of their least favorite albums. I think they shared some
thoughtful criticisms and tried to find some redemption. One of the most
interesting discussions was around Prince's approach to jazz. Why did he
choose certain musicians like Najee or Renato Neto? How did that affect his
sound? I'd love to hear a panel of musicians talk about this further. What
was Prince doing with the Madhouse records (jazz fusion?) versus
The Rainbow Children,One Nite Alone, N.E.W.S. and
Xpectation? Which musical styles did he "master," and which ones were
part of experiments?
Literally crying at this tweet out of nowhere. lol
This month marks 10 years since I started this blog and, really, the current version of my book on Prince. I thought it was important to spend some time reflecting on the past decade. When I made that first post on Dec. 1, 2010, I was so enthusiastic and naive. Today, I'm still invested in this project but I'm also a bit more astute and realistic. Any biographer will tell you that they develop a complicated relationship with the subject; you learn so much about human nature, and it can be difficult to digest the information. I went in with a simplistic idea of what Prince's spiritual journey could be, and (shocker) it is so much more complex than I could have ever imagined. I am still hoping readers find beauty and inspiration in that complexity--or at the very least an intriguing character study.
This blog is not only a chronicle of my journey to write a book, but a record of my personal and professional life. I started and finished graduate school while writing this blog. I interned at Billboard in New York City. I moved to Columbus, Ohio, to become a full-time reporter, which changed my life tremendously. I've built an impressive career and found my purpose in elevating Black voices in my community. However, it's also uncomfortable to look back. I've never made a habit of baring my soul here, but I can look at certain blog posts and think about relationships and friendships that didn't work out, former supporters who lost interest, and periods when I was dealing with depression.
Of course, there were funny moments along the way. I cringe at some of the terrible clip art and outdated technology. (Honestly, if I could do it over again, I would have hosted this blog on a different platform.) I also laugh at the moment I discovered there was salacious, Prince-based fan fiction.
Click to enlarge
There is also a lot of joy. I saw Prince at Madison Square Garden the same month I started the blog. Three weeks after my first post, I completed my first interview, which was with Gayle Chapman. Today, I can proudly say I've interviewed over 40 people. I'll never forget serendipitously meeting up with Prince's former publicist, Howard Bloom, for a five-hour interview in Brooklyn, or making my mom proud by interviewing someone she admired--the legendary Larry Graham. I never imagined I'd get the opportunity to present my research at an academic conference in the UK, but I did, and I made sure to document that experience--one of the happiest times of my life--on the blog. I also had the honor of appearing on an episode of the official Prince podcast. Additionally, I've met so many great people who've found me through this blog or in other Prince-related spaces.
I never thought Prince would pass away while I was writing the book. It was difficult to navigate that publicly, but I did, and it's documented on the blog. But it's great to be able to revisit a post and reminisce about how fun it was when he was here, doing things in real time. For example, I get a kick out of seeing my reaction to his launch of the 3rdEyeGirl era in 2013.
Posing at Madison Square Garden before the Prince show on Dec 18, 2010
I'd be lying if I said the book and this blog were easy. I've been doing this for a decade and I'm tired. I'm ready to be done. I'm almost there, but it's going to take more hard work to finish in 2021, which I need to do. I have to move on with the rest of my life. I have new goals to achieve, including things I've sacrificed to bring this project to fruition. There has been a lot of rejection, but I have some key supporters, including a new agent, so I'm in a good place. I still struggle with self-doubt. Sometimes I feel I'm not worthy of getting certain interviews or even getting my work published, but I know that's not true. I just have to be careful not to indulge that thinking for too long.
I'm proud of myself for re-committing myself to blogging consistently these past two years, but it's time to prioritize the rest of my book. That means there may be some gaps in between posts, and I have to learn to be OK with that. I'm still excited for the potential interviews, reviews, guest posts, contests and other types of content I can publish, but I have to be more strategic.
Presenting at the "Purple Reign Conference" at the University of Salford in Manchester
I don't know what my plans are for the blog once I'm finished with my book. I do know I will probably need a break from Prince-related content for a while. I have so many other stories to tell, hopefully. But I am so grateful to have this archive. (I should probably download these posts now, huh?)
Thank you so much for going on this journey with me. Happy New Year!
- Erica
Subscribe to my newsletter for updates on my book on Prince's spiritual journey. Click here.
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I've been listening to Prince's 1996 contractual obligation ... er ... album
Chaos and Disorder this week. I don't think it's an essential listen,
but it's certainly better than its reputation. And it's always nice to hear
Rosie Gaines singing with Prince. Honestly, there are gems on all of
his albums.
Chaos and Disorder is commended for its rock sound, but I think Prince
has better material in that genre on other albums. My favorite rocker on here
is the bluesy "Zannalee," which was originally slated for
The Undertaker, a much better project that I wish had been released in
Guitar World in 1993 as planned. (Psst! Prince Estate, there's still
time to partner with the publication to do this, and a dope writer can
interview musicians Sonny T. and Michael Bland about it again.) Additionally, you would expect a song
like "I Rock, Therefore I Am" to smolder, but it's underwhelming.
A lot of people prefer the only single, "Dinner with Delores," and it's a
pleasant song. However, I never find myself playing this unless I'm purposely
engaging the entire album. It's better live; Prince gave a great performance of the track and "Zannalee" on the "Today" show's
"Summer Concert Series" in 1996. The audience was really diverse and I
actually teared up watching some of them cry. And I always love to see Bryant
Gumble and Prince interacting; you can tell they had a lot of respect for each
other. (Try not to wince, though, when Katie Couric calls the superstar Prince instead
of his new name.)
My favorite song on the album is "The Same December," because of its catchy
chorus, full sound and gospel outro. Also, the lyrics are very thoughtful:
"You only see what your heart will show You only love when your soul
remembers We all come from the same December And in the end, that's
where we'll go"
Prince often talked about perception, and people's habit of projecting their
own beliefs or desires on things they witness or consume.
“If you looked at that picture [on Lovesexy] and some ill come out your mouth, then that’s what you are—it’s looking right back at you in the mirror.” - Prince, 1990
There are also spiritual concepts running through the song, including
reincarnation and the theory of returning to the Source (God or absolute,
eternal reality)--which were in line with what Prince was studying at the
time. Similar themes are also found on Chaos and Disorder's "Into the Light,"
which was inspired by author Betty Eadie's book, Embraced by the Light, about
her near-death experience. (Influenced by Biblical text, Prince often used
"light" as a symbol for God and/or Jesus throughout his career.)
The last track on the album, "Had U," is a popular topic of discussion; it's
rumored to be a thinly veiled kiss-off to Warner Bros. It's interesting to me
because I can hear all of the opportunities for Prince to elaborate on the
melody and elevate the song to something great, but that's not the point. He
was done giving the record label his best material, and the frustration I feel
at the abrupt ending is something I'm sure he anticipated. Like he says on
"Dinner with Delores," "No more, that's the end."
What are your favorite tracks on Chaos and Disorder?
Subscribe to my newsletter for updates on my book on Prince's spiritual
journey. Click here.
If you're a fan of this blog, you know I often stress the importance of
engaging writing and research on Prince by Black writers. Last year, I wrote
about the excellent, special Prince issue of the Howard Journal of Communications. I've also had the privilege of participating in professor De Angela L.
Duff's symposia on Prince. (You can read my recap of one of her most recent
academic events
here.)
This week, I'd like to share some brief opinions on the special Prince issue
of the
Black Magnolias Literary Journal, edited by C. Liegh McInnis, a professor at Jackson State University, and
author of
The Lyrics of Prince: A Literary Look at a Creative, Musical Poet,
Philosopher, and Storyteller. In addition to being a lovely person, McInnis is a passionate, compelling
speaker, who has inspired many audiences of Prince fans with his
presentations.
This issue of Black Magnolias, released last spring, features Black
scholars and others who are clearly interested in centering Prince's Blackness
in analyses of the artist's work, life and legacy. It's troubling that many
Prince fans are hostile at the thought of talking about Prince as a Black man
affected by and concerned with systemic racism, and I don't expect a lot of
them to come around. But for fans who say they are interested in understanding
all aspects of Prince's humanity, I would recommend reading collections like
this one. There are a lot of people, including Black writers, who are putting
in work.
I haven't finished reading each piece yet, and I am still unpacking what I
have read, but I wanted to share some thoughts. One of McInnis' goals for
studying Prince's work is to gauge "the full realm of Black diversity," and
thus the "full realm of Black humanity." Prince is a perfect subject for this,
and the writers worked diligently toward this end. I also appreciated that
McInnis stressed the need for Black musicians to be taken seriously ("Unlike
the Beatles or Bob Dylan, rarely are African Americans studied for their
intellectual value," he writes). Lately I've been thinking about the ways in
which my research on Prince was minimized by some when I was working on my
master's thesis (thank God for the professors who did believe in what I was
doing). It's good to know I am not alone in this struggle.
I've singled out a few essays/papers that stood out to me so far.
"She's Always In My Hair: Jill Jones--The Unheralded Muse of Prince" by De
Angela L. Duff
This piece provides the most comprehensive look at Jones' contributions to
Prince's work that I've seen to date. It unpacks how Prince's obsession with
creating mystery and being in control had a detrimental effect on Jones'
career, and demonstrates her absence from Prince's narrative, even after his
death. I was very intrigued by the impact of race (Jones is biracial and
fair-skinned) on Jones' marketability for both Black and white audiences. As I
read Duff's piece, I thought about Mariah Carey's struggles with racism as a
biracial artist in the music industry; they are outlined in her new memoir,
The Meaning of Mariah Carey. Though Carey achieved international
superstardom, I think her story is an effective companion piece to this paper;
I wonder if she and Jones had similar experiences.
"The Purple Avatar: A Brief Discussion of Prince's Guitar Greatness" by
Darryl Pete
We need more scholarship breaking down Prince's guitar playing. Pete's essay
is based more on his personal experience as a guitarist than strict musical
analysis, but I appreciated his comparisons of Prince's music to work by
everyone from Chuck Berry to Ernie Isley. I also enjoyed reading about
Prince's guitar work on "Lady Cab Driver," a song I would not have immediately
singled out as an example of his impressive technique. Speaking about "Let's
Go Crazy," Pete writes, "That heavenly note climaxing at the end of (the song)
seemed to sustain forever! The note wasn't just sustaining itself but the
possibility of what Black music could be, what it had been, what had been
taken/stolen from it, and what it could reclaim." I thought that was the most
powerful passage, and it made me hungry for more analysis about Prince, race
and rock 'n' roll.
"How the Exodus Began: Prince and the Black Working Class Imagination" by
Robert Loss
This is one of the best papers I've read on Prince, and it should be required
reading for all fans and scholars. It's a long one; Loss put in an incredible
amount of work in this nearly 60-page piece. Ever since Prince's memoir,
The Beautiful Ones, came out, I have been thinking and writing about
the order, discipline and utilitarian spirit found in Prince's work. Those
attributes come not only from Prince's father and funk conventions, but a
longstanding tradition in Black life. It's something that Black people know
innately, but it's always important to have it articulated on paper. For
example, I knew I got extremely emotional seeing Prince wearing a scarf at the
Super Bowl halftime show--one of the most prominent stages in the world--but I
didn't really know why until I unpacked it with a Black friend and
wrote it down. Loss's essay adds even more context for Prince's signifiers of Black
working-class values--like the scarf. Using academic frameworks and citing
work by Black scholars (including writing by McInnis), Loss analyzes relevant
themes in Prince's art, but also explores the ways in which Prince's art was
used by others for social and political gains; for example, his 1995 song "We
March" was played at the first Million Man March, which he also donated
$50,000 to,
according to Minister Louis Farrakhan. And there are numerous examples of Prince donating proceeds of ticket sales
to his concerts for the advancement of Black and other marginalized
people.
"The Spiritual as the Political in the Works of Prince and the Staple
Singers" by C. Liegh McInnis
If you're a fan of Prince, you should know about his musical relationship with
legendary soul and gospel singer Mavis Staples, but you probably haven't
broken down the comparisons between Prince's music and the work of the Staple
Singers in the context of Black liberation theology. No need to worry, McInnis
has done it for us in this excellent paper. Citing specific song examples,
McInnis explains how both artists utilized Christian theology as a means to
liberate Black people from oppression. He also stresses that Black liberation
theology is rooted in African spirituality, which is rarely discussed in
writings on Prince and religion. This piece made me think once again about
innate understanding; as I've noted previously on this blog, some Black people
can listen to songs like "Beautiful, Loved and Blessed," "Black Sweat" and
even "Act of God" and feel that Prince is speaking to their liberation, but
writing about this for everyone to read is necessary. With that, I'll close
with a statement by McInnis:
"For the Staple Singers and Prince, the primary goal of artistry is to
appeal to the hearts and minds of listeners to produce the catharsis that
moves them to evolve spiritually so that their spiritual evolution manifests
itself in the socio-political structure. To do anything else is to be both
ungodly and unartistic."
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