Paisley Park 7 February 1998 (am)

 

1998 is a black hole in the world of Prince, a year that sits in darkness while the rest of his career shimmers and glitters. No light escapes this year. There are no outstanding shows or concerts that are openly discussed. The only show that gets some coverage is his performance at Cafe de Paris in London later in the year, a show that has grown in stature over time – helped in no small part by the fact it was filmed and released on Beautiful Strange. The rest of the year remains a blank to many people. A cursory glance at Prince’s performance history from the year reveals that he was busier than what might be expected from the general consensus. Most eye-catching is the regularity at which he played at Paisley Park. It was an almost weekly occurrence in the first half of the year. I don’t think there is any need for me to take an extended look at this run, but I will dip my toe into the paisley waters to get a taster of what Prince was producing at the time. The best place to start any journey like this is of course at the beginning, so with that in mind, I’m jumping in with his first home concert of the year, a late-night show from February 7th.

 

7th February 1998 (am), Paisley Park

We get a good representation of the era with the opening “Mad” groove. There is very little of the original song present, instead, it is the beat that carries the day. It is funky, yet lacks direction and comes across as soulless. We can find many more grooves such as this throughout the year, and although there is no doubting Prince’s musical prowess, one can’t help but feel he has lost his way here with these endlessly repetitive jams. It’s not an entirely lost cause, there is some startling guitar work from Prince that briefly brings the concert to sharp focus. However, there are not enough moments like this to sustain the ten minutes given over to the jam.

It is a stripped-back band appearing on stage with Prince. With Larry Graham on bass, Kirk Johnson on drums, Morris Hayes on keyboards, and Walter Chancellor Jr providing color on sax, one would expect a stripped-back sound to match. However, they all create a full, well-rounded sound. Morris Hayes in particular gives a great depth to the music and with Larry Graham on bass it is a deep-rooted sound that permeates throughout their cover of Erykah Badu’s “Tyrone.” It is a dark, dense excursion, and as Prince brings the song around to his own “Good Life” it continues to drip with a swampy voodoo sound. The guitar swarms the song at one point but is the craftsmanship of the atmosphere that continues to hold sway, the groove unwavering in the face of Prince’s blistering guitar.

 

Built on the back of the same relentless groove is “Come On.” The lyrics are a mere brush stroke on the canvas that Morris Hayes and Larry Graham stretch across Kirk’s drums. The vocals come and go, but the music stays on its steady journey, immune to such trifles as mere words. The organ solo emphasizes this and says far more than Prince ever could with his vocals. Prince draws attention back to himself with his chant of “twin cities” and the man who had been temporarily buried beneath his own music re-emerges. Walter Chancellor Jr brings a blaze of color late in the song, his playing made all the brighter by the gloom of the groove that swirls around him.

Larry Graham and his music are familiar to all those who have listened to Prince’s concerts over the last twenty years, and seeing “Hair” on the setlist offers very little surprise. However, surprise it does, with the opening lines coming across the most barren of music. Larry’s baritone is an instrument unto itself, and this lifts the curtain and a loose jam. The song continues to rise on the back of the band with funk to the fore. The jam itself is a low-key affair, the music staying low in the groove, and eventually proves to be little more than a seven-minute introduction to Larry Graham’s “Hair” proper.

Again, it is Larry Graham and Morris Hayes who prove to be the cornerstones of the song, both hold their end at each extreme of the spectrum, and the song shifts beneath the weight of their respective instruments. One can hear Prince on the keyboards, playing with lightness while Morris Hayes continues with his serious study of finding the depths of his organ. It makes for tension and contrast that holds my interest throughout a song that I have heard often and lifts it far beyond what is expected.

“Groove On” feels pointless. As much as I enjoy the various contributions to the song, it just doesn’t jump out as much as some other performances of the evening. Paired with “Joy And Pain,” it does get almost fifteen minutes to marinate and evolve, however, it never reaches any of the heights that the band promise and proves to be a flat spot of the show.

 

The brevity of “Forever In My Life” undoes my initial excitement of hearing it. My excitement wanes further as it becomes apparent that this is a poor version, the drums overpowering the song as it becomes a shell to carry forth “Everyday People.”

The performance of “Everyday People” brings joy to the concert not previously heard. My thoughts of “Forever In My Life” are washed away as the groove uplifts and revitalizes. The beat is a steady build, rather than a pounding sound it sometimes has, and one can feel this version has a soft edge that serves it well. It’s a nuanced version of a well-traveled song and I am surprised by the freshness that the band brings to it. Where “Forever In My Life” sounded flat and tired, this song has a spark of energy that has me listening carefully to see where we will go next.

We stay on the Larry Graham trip with his song “Free” building from the foundation laid by the previous song. The circular bass line is enjoyable enough, but there’s not much hanging off it. There is no payoff in the chorus, and it sounds like a groove searching for a song. Morris Hayes provides a calm sense of clarity and direction, but it isn’t quite enough for me to form a long-lasting relationship with the song.

“Mad Sex” isn’t the unbridled jam I had hoped it would be, although it does have its moments. The saxophone work lifts it above the Kirk Johnson beat that it otherwise remains enslaved to and Prince’s vocal chant does give the audience something to participate in. For a song titled “Mad Sex,” it is a restrained and buttoned-up affair. There is very little oxygen in the song and no sense of impending spark of ignition. In many ways, it captures my feelings about this era in general. The musicianship is just as good as ever, but there is no danger or excitement, no feeling that anything might happen. It’s all too safe and stable.

 

Prince’s guitar cuts sharply across the introduction of “The Jam,” before it dissolves into its familiar shape and form. It settles into a raw riff, the song at once familiar, yet re-powered by Prince’s turbocharged guitar work. Although long, it is a far tighter rendition than some of the sprawling versions heard through 1995-1996. The band keeps the song moving swiftly along through its various changes, maintaining the groove but never settling into repetition or bland self-indulgence. Each band member stands strong in their contribution, and just as I find myself favoring one over another the response comes that has me reconsidering my stance. The music continues to come in waves, each cresting bigger than the one before, before the concert is finally awash in the squall of guitar and organ, washing and tumbling over the top of Larry Graham’s bass in one final wash of sound.

Perhaps 1998 wasn’t quite the black hole I envisaged. This show, taken with the ones I have covered earlier, points to a year in which Prince was retrenching. Burying himself deep in his own music, and drawing inspiration from Larry Graham (and Mavis Staples), he is looking the past in the eye and holding his own. After shining as one of the brightest stars of the 1980’s he is now placing himself in the wider context of the music he grew up with. Larry Graham gives him a sense of legitimacy and these concerts are steeped in Larry’s sound, given a Prince twist of course. While not as vital as some other eras, it is nevertheless an essential part of Prince and who he is, and is an era not to be overlooked. It remains a black hole only while we don’t shine a light on it, and under closer investigation, there is plenty of celestial moments here that are required listening for any fan.