Paisley Park 19 June 2004 (am)

 I have mixed feelings about this third and final concert from Paisley Park. I have enjoyed all three immensely, and this third show is another stunning performance. I think perhaps show two eclipses it for unbridled joy and pure musical muscle, but there isn’t much that separates them. I think the best solution would be to load all three together in a playlist, lest anything is missed, and turn up the volume. As a triumvirate they are unparalleled, I am struggling to think of a better group of concerts than this, and they gain strength together as each has nuances unheard in the other shows. This third concert also has a decent audience recording, perhaps not quite as good as previously heard, but certainly very listenable and clear.  

19th June 2004(am) Paisley Park 

Prince sets out his stall early with a rendition of “Call My Name” that curls around the listener and suffocates one into Prince’s world. It’s a glorious death as Prince chokes us with his glistening vocal performance, each line hanging as he imbues it with heart and soul giving it a weight that belies its easy delivery. Candy Dulfer draws her saxophone solo from the same place, the song filling the room and the recording from end to end with an inescapable softness, a gentle surrender of the senses to Prince’s sweet poison. 

“Joy In Repetition,” stalks slowly onto the scene, Prince revealing the story slowly, flashes and pieces revealed, and concealed, as he tears slowly at the edges of the fabric of this internal world. The drama is finally brought into the light with the lyrics settling and becoming focused, the room becoming the story as Prince sketches out all the poets and part-time singers. The song stays low and to form, the smoke of the music clearing for a part-time singer to come to the mic, Prince giving way for the audience. It is a brave move, the song let loose in the hands of the crowd, losing some of its tension as this unknown singer lets the drama drain away. Prince does regain control in time to right the ship, the song sailing through to the end on an even keel, the band almost secondary as the music moves in its gentle way. The guitar is obvious in its absence early on, but all is forgiven as Prince surrenders the moment to Maceo Parker and his horn, giving the song new life, and adding to its sense of moment and story of darkened, smoke-filled clubs. There is time for Prince to return with his trademark guitar bluster and burn, the song set a fire in the final minute as Prince razes all before him with one final and emphatic full stop.  

 

The pairing of “Girls And Boys” and “Mustang Sally” is interesting, especially as Prince’s song becomes a soundalike tribute. The band picks up the groove early, and they never let it go as it pushes and pulls beneath Prince’s vocals. It is the lyrics that get the attention, but it is this constant drive and boogie of the groove that propels the song, giving Prince a bedrock to build upon. It is Greg who is first unleashed with his trombone, pulling a classic soul sound down to the groove, welding the past and present together in one foot-stomping solo. The stage is set for Maceo, and he is the physical embodiment of the two eras Prince is bringing together, his contribution is more than just his name however though and he blows up a storm for the next few minutes. When Prince calls “I love you, baby,” it is hard to know if he is singing the song or shouting out his joy in the music.   

This soul revue continues with Chance Howard taking vocal duties for “Knock On Wood.” It has the same groove and sound as the previous song, but at merely five minutes it is considerably shorter. Although it’s not rushed, at points it does feel like it’s going all too quick, this time the band has no time to build the song, instead they tear through the heart of it, they have the essence of it but very little time to convey this to us, leaving the song enjoyable but hollow. 

There is a welcome return of the guitar as Prince again takes center stage for a blistering rendition of Tower Of Power’s “What Is Hip?” It is Mike Scott who gives us the punchy guitar lines, his contribution the final eruption on top of an ever-building bass line. This is a complete band performance, the organ solo by Renato Neto demanding just as much attention as he demonstrates his considerable skill. Prince's final comment confirmed my thoughts -“tighter than a mosquito’s behind”  

 

We reach the eye of the storm with a twenty-minute performance of “Something In The Water (Does Not Compute),” the fire of the earlier songs is replaced by a purposeful cold intensity that takes the bare bones of the song and fleshes them out into a Frankenstein monster of a funk jam. With a five-minute intro of funk guitar and slow-building bass and drums, the song generates its own power that will carry us through a variety of funk songs and musical history presented with Prince’s unique interminable grooves. The original song is present by name only as Prince touches the lyrics but keeps the groove in another realm as the horns and band keep us swiftly moving. Mike Phillips raises the stakes with a solo that rises out of the stage and finishes in the heavens, the song lifted by his presence and Prince-inspired to take on a range of calls and responses that is primeval in delivery and emotion. It is a performance that comes from the gut, and that’s where I feel it as John Blackwell keeps with the theme and serves up and propulsion-filled solo that maintains the momentum. I am not normally one for drum solos, but this one is brisk and keeps the concert thrusting forward into the future. The music suddenly fulls back, leaving Renato Neto exposed for the final minutes, his contribution an icing on an already sizable cake. 

There is another surprise lurking in the setlist, Prince’s only performance of Beyonce’s “Speechless” It is a faithful rendition, glassy smooth in its delivery, although Prince foregoes the lyrics, leaving it as an instrumental, the band and the music enough to carry the emotional heart of the song. It is a stunning performance, a thoughtful moment that lingers long after the music has drifted away, the music resonating in its intoxicating spell.  

One of Maceo’s own songs makes it into the set with “Shake Everything You Got.” It opens the door to another funk workout, it’s sprawling twenty minutes containing an array of riffs and horn solos that continue to evolve the music to their own ends. They spin the music to dizzying heights, a cacophony of brass that finally gives way to some electric piano that pulls the music back to something I can keep up with. With the guitar finally appearing in the final few minutes the song flattens and takes on a new shape, the frenzy of the horns early on tempered and tamed by the appearance of this measured guitar break.  

 

The music takes a soft transition into “Superstition,” but the bootleg and concert take a sharp upturn as vocals appear. The recording is clear throughout, and these last two songs give a good test drive, the recording never wavering under wave after wave of high horns and deep bass.  As a bootleg, it is very strong, and it is more than a match for the concert it captures.  

I am temporarily excited by the appearance of the “777-9311,” but as is so often the case it is merely an introduction to disappointment, the opening bass salvo giving way to nothing and a brisk transition into the next song. In this case, it is complemented by some fast horn work, but I am happy enough as “Skin Tight” takes the bass and twists it into its own classic sound, the song landing a heavy blow with its weighty funk. The bass remains king throughout, and no amount of horn from Maceo can detract from its infectious groove.  

“No Diggity” reveals itself slowly, at first peering from behind the familiar riff of “P. Funk (Wants To Get Funked Up),” before Chance Howard drools the opening lines, the song carrying a sense of its musical history with years of funk and soul built into the DNA of the song and revealing themselves as dark gems throughout. The song is another strong moment, Candy Dulfer is given a chance to contribute with a solo that briefly flashes brightly in the otherwise dark heart of the song. 

 

Prince’s vocal bark is a sledgehammer striking blow after blow at the start of “The Jam” It’s a violent opening to a song that otherwise is inoffensive in its familiarity and place in the setlist. There are better long jams at this concert, and this one fails to top what has come before, it is almost filler coming as it is near the end of the concert. I can’t deny, that I do enjoy Larry and what he brings to it, but there is nothing here that we haven’t heard before on better and brighter nights. 

With the piano leading the way, “Purple Rain” delights with its horn-infused opening. The song stays in this unique fashion, the piano rising and falling, swirling and sweeping across land cleared by the horn, Prince only coming to the microphone long after the piano has left an indelible mark. There is no guitar in the song at all, the music drifting back and forth without the guitar to pull it all together in a satisfying knot of emotion that I have become so used to. I can’t quite connect to it in the way I want, it is just too slight in this form, but I do love and admire it for its uniqueness.  

There is a further treat with “Adore” appearing out of the mists, Prince’s vocals beaming down like heavenly angels providing a mood that the vocals can barely capture. It is just as youthful as it first sounded in 1987, I may have aged since, but the song hasn’t in the slightest and it still elicits the same emotions in me as it did when I was fifteen years old. For the next few minutes, I am lost in the music as Prince takes me on a nostalgic ride back to my youth. Candy’s solo snaps me back to the here and now, her horn a little too shrill for my tastes and breaking the spell. However, this is a sublime way to finish the set and delivers more than I could have ever asked for with its performance and nostalgic value.  

Still basking in the afterglow of this performance, I am convinced that this is my favorite of the three nights. Who knows how I might feel in an hour, but right now this concert and bootleg have stolen my heart. With a stunning recording to match the superlative performance, this is one bootleg that is worthy of praise, the unique renditions of some familiar songs making it all the more worthy. I still think all three of these after-shows should be heard together, they fit together as a well-rounded package, and on any given day any one of them could be considered a favorite. 2004 is often skimmed over, but these recordings stand shoulder to shoulder with any of the popular bootlegs of the 1980s and are worthy of their place in the catalog.