Auburn Hills 31 July 2004

 Detroit – yes. Pro-shot – yes. Complete show – unfortunately not. But the forty minutes of circulating footage of Detroit in 2004 contains the essence of the concert as it cherry-picks the songs that create the biggest splash. Even at forty minutes, it is still essential to view as Prince and his band play to some of Prince’s greatest strengths with a party song, a ballad, some scorching guitar work, and then at the heart of the show, Prince at his purest with just him and his songs as he highlights that more than anything else he was one of the greatest songwriters. It’s a heady mix, and I look forward to watching this again just as much as any live show I have listened to in the last year. 

July 31st, 2004,  The Palace of Auburn Hills,  Auburn Hills, Michigan 

The concert is about history, both Prince’s history and the history of music itself (and subsequently his place in that history). This is made clear from the first minute as Prince opens with “Musicology,” a song that not only name-checks the musical past, but draws directly from it with its sound, and I might add with some of the personnel Prince has on board, especially if we consider Maceo Parker and Greg Boyer in the band. There is a further nod to Prince’s own past with his suit, a subtle acknowledgment of his purple era. “Musicology” comes as a parade celebrating all of this, each band member a float that pays homage to the past, both musically and with an underlying sense of Americana. Prince leads this parade, feeling the music as much as he is singing it, his body flowing with the rhythm, a performance that touches all the senses. Next to go by is Greg Boyer, his horn bringing the sound of classic R n B to the fore, a distinctive Americana sound hard-coded into his style. John Blackwell storms by, arms flailing, the percussion propelling the song forward to Rhonda, who along with Mike Scott brings the funk back, blanketing the song with a familiar funk and roll, before we rock back into the finish with the song itself as it draws a straight line back through the last sixty years of American music. 

 

Prince puts all his cards on the table from the start for “Shhh,” face-up, all aces. The rest of the band can’t match him, and the rolling drums of John Blackwell see the chips and cards go flying as the battle for the soul of the song commences. It is short-lived, Prince’s opening guitar note arching through the air, a knife-like flash, before he plunges it deep into the heart of the song, skewering the song to an emotional core that had only previously been hinted at in the opening verses. No matter how you come by this, old fan looking back, new fan discovering, a rocker here for the axe, or a player for the seduction, the guitar break remains the impenetrable, immovable, cold steel that is the very essence of the mood Prince seeks to create. Even as Prince smothers the song in a vocal delivery that matches the blue lighting, it is this guitar that demands you take notice as it ventures into sonic territory that no words could ever hope to penetrate. The final death rattle that unfurls from Prince’s fingers underlines all that has come before and is the only possible ending to such a song. 

 

“D.M.S.R” is a wild ride, even by Prince standards, and is as funky as the previous “Shhh” was deep. Prince uncages the inner beast that lay dormant on the album recording, and here it is unleashed in all its glory. On the record “D.M.S.R’ is as smooth as the fur of a lap dog, here it is a wild beast in the way it fiercely grabs the listener, forcing them to move in one way or another lest they be eaten alive by the groove that obliterates all in its path. The song briefly becomes circus-like with Prince’s clowning and diversion into Beyonce’s “Crazy In Love,” before Prince flips it into a celebration of his band, a celebration that one must stand for as Maceo and the band play not just to the heart, but to the feet. It is the final minute where Prince well and truly smashes through the artificial construct of the album cut as he drags the carcass of the song through the wall that separates audience and performer, bringing himself, band, and audience together to “dip down!”  in a moment that embodies the live concert experience where audience and performer become one in the celebration of music. If there was ever a moment where a bootleg captures the live experience, this is it as it comes barreling out of the speakers and into the room. 

 

The bootleg cuts to later in the show and Prince’s acoustic set, with another song that harks back to his eighties heyday, yet given new life in this acoustic setting. “17 Days” still has its interminably downbeat feel, even as the acoustic guitar brings a light drizzle to the song rather than the sweeping sound of the bass that normally flows under the lyrics. It’s all too brief, but yet another nod to the older fans in the audience, and those that lived through, and experienced, the Purple Rain era. The fact that we can hear these people singing along suggests that a lot of this Detroit crowd has stayed with him in the intervening twenty years, and this is their moment to once again feel the hurt and confusion of the teenage years as Prince leads them through his purple melancholia. 

We go even further back for “Something In The Water (Does Not Compute).” the angst is replaced by the rhythm of the guitar, and if I could have a choice, I would choose the angst any day. The guitar is crisp, but it leaves the song far behind as it corkscrews off in a new direction. 

 

There is a lack of venom in “Prince and The Band,” the music oddly at odds with the vocal delivery. The real poison is carried in the lyrics Prince is singing, one of the most honest songs Prince has ever composed, each word carrying his struggle of the previous ten years against record labels. I like the idea of the song far more than the performance, I find myself enjoying the lyrics and ignoring the music as Prince ensures the crowd is by his side in his ongoing crusade against the record companies. Overall though, the song remains flaccid, a word I never thought I would use for the highly sexualized Prince. 

 

There is no surprise at all to see that this bootleg ends with the obligatory performance of “Purple Rain.” Nothing is driving the song, it moves with its own weight and momentum, Prince is merely a spectator for most of it as the music channels effortlessly through him. It sounds tired, the most important parts of the show have already been heard, and felt, and this is merely here because it is expected. Prince doesn’t even trust himself for the final guitar break, as he is assisted by an intrusive horn section that brings a Las Vegas sound to what should be the most earthy and powerful of Prince’s songs. The early songs in the set carried the weight and sheer force of Prince’s abilities, and emotional impact, a sense of the here and now, that just isn’t present for “Purple Rain.” It should be one of the most important songs of the set, the song that opened all the doors for Prince, but instead, it plays as a pretty bookend, not even matching the power and message of the opening “Musicology.” 

 

A short bootleg, to be sure, but a very good one. Don’t be put off by my final thoughts on “Purple Rain,” the overall performance is again as smooth as anything else Prince has done, and it all looks superb in its professional shot glory. These are the key songs of the performance, although I must admit without the full show some of Prince’s message (real music by real musicians) is lost, as is his homage to the past as he seeks to cement his place as an icon. Widely circulating, and well known, it is no surprise to see how popular this particular bootleg is, as it is a nice companion piece to the full Los Angeles show from earlier in the tour that is currently available. If you haven’t seen this for a while it’s well worth a second look, but be warned, it may well lead to listening to a lot more from the Musicology tour.