PURPLE REIGN

I keep returning to Prince and his music and I'm not entirely sure what the significance (other than purely enjoying his art) is. Of course, many would say why does there need to be any greater significance other than 'purely enjoying his art' but to an over thinker such as myself there is always something else going on beneath the surface of all our motivations. Freud would cite the unconscious and maybe since I attended a counselling training course earlier this week, I've been adding extra significance to things I might have otherwise just dismissed as random choices in the ever-changing jukebox of life.

Though now I'm thinking, perhaps this returning to Prince's music is nothing more than when you've lived a good amount of years on this earth then you find yourself testing your cultural memories over time and seeing how they hold up - God knows there have been plenty of artists from yesteryear discarded and strewn along the way. Happily, playing Prince and the Revolution's 1985 live gig from Syracuse Carrier Dome has really fused together my original memories of first hearing him and those amazing songs from 'Purple Rain' with a rejuvenated 21st Century admiration for the sheer jaw dropping talent he possessed and a feeling of how greatly missed he is as a musician and a performer in these 'heavy' times.

However, some songs you risk hearing too often and 'Purple Rain' could be considered one such example of this type of iconic track like 'Bohemian Rhapsody', 'Don't Stop Believin' or 'Billie Jean' that although undisputed in their brilliance have become almost too familiar to still be enjoyed as they were when first encountered.

Thankfully, listening to the Syracuse 20 minute version of 'Purple Rain' has just torched this fear of mine and re-launched its iconic status back into the stratosphere - a pop rocket soaring beyond the stars.

I'm actually trying to think of a more iconic performance of a modern song than Prince and the Revolution's version here but I'm stumped. It's like the pop equivalent of the 'Liebestod' from Act 3 of Wagner's 'Tristan and Isolde' and almost equally transcendent. Dressed in a glittering purple hooded cape, Prince somehow manages to display his full, four octave vocal range (baritone to falsetto) note perfect whilst giving Jimi Hendrix a run for his money with an insane guitar solo that seems to be calling to alien life forms way out in the distant galaxy like Minneapolis's very own E.T.

In this transcendent place I find all sense of self dissolved where there is no divide between the young kid listening to Prince and the grown up kid I am today, proving that truly great art ignores such obstacles as time and space.