Paisley Park 23 June 2002

 With great joy, I continue my rumble through the celebration of 2002. One of the stunning aspects of this run of shows is the ever-changing setlist and the way that each show stands alone and is completely different from one another. Today’s concert is no exception. The last concert I listened to was light and jazz-flavored, today’s concert, on the same day incidentally, comes from the other end of the scale. It is heavy funk, with a slab of meaty guitar thrown in for good measure. I appreciate both styles in equal measure, but I have had one of those days where I am good and ready for something substantial, and this gig certainly fits the bill. 

23 June 2002, Paisley Park 

The breezy horn riff that opens the show gives no hint of the heavy storm that is to follow. With its bright ostinato revolving around and around, the sound of a carnival in the air, all light, and colors. This will not last. As the brain-crushing rhythm section enters the music draws around its center, a suffocating “Days Of Wild” drowning out the optimistic sunshine of the horn. With an uncompromising and single-minded groove, the band becomes the eye of a funky storm, a storm that will engulf us for the following fifteen minutes. They are unwavering in their delivery as the music continues its steady rise in intensity, each return of the horn riff spiraling us deeper into the thick depths of the song. The band comes locked together in a death embrace that both embodies and enlivens the music, the song slowly drowning you in its waves of intensity. At its dark heart, it is impossible to separate life from death, the music a grim impenetrable wall yet life-affirming with its horn sound offering hope at every pass, this dichotomy ramping up the tension that gives the song its inner strength. It becomes overwhelming, the music pulling at you, pulling you down under its surface to the murky depths where the true funk lies. You cannot resist its pull, it is a sweet drowning, and as the sound swallows you up you know that this is what you have always wanted, death by suffocation of Prince’s funk. Somewhere above us, we can see Maceo’s sax solo shimmering, ripples and shadows on the water, before Prince plunges us ever deeper with his insistent rap making the real world just a distant dream that we no longer want to be part of. The ONA tour threw up some fearsome renditions of “Days Of Wild” (the monstrous version played at Antwerp springs to mind) and this version can look anyone of them in the eye for sheer intensity and pleasure. 

 

The electric sizzle and burn that introduces “The Jam” scorches across the audience before settling on the all too familiar bass sound of Larry Graham. Familiarity breeds contempt, but not in this case as the band attacks the song with great gusto, giving a spark that is sometimes missing. Whereas the previous “Days Of Wild” crushed me into the earth, “The Jam” picks me up, dusts me off, and has me once again in admiration of the versatility of the band as they each offer an uplifting contribution to the jam. Renato Neto shines with his keyboard solo, a solo that is both fast and playful, as does Prince with his guitar tone far removed from the electric fury that opened the song. The music feels full of possibilities, the chance that the band may move beyond their mandate and become more than just a party band. However, at eleven minutes it feels all too short and these possibilities remain unrealized. 

The potential stretch of the band and the music comes to fruition with “Dolphin,” a song that slows the concert to a standstill with its elegant opening before Prince releases the handbrake and lets the song power through the chorus. It is an intimate moment with the crowd singing the chorus alone, a moment that becomes starker as the music pulls back to reveal a pinpoint solo from Prince, not a single note of excess sounded as he cuts to the heart of the song with a few quick cuts from his scalpel-like guitar. It is a sound he returns to after each chorus, the outpouring of love from the audience during each chorus pared back by Prince’s barren guitar sound. His voice in the final verse captures all that has been expressed before in the music, his vocals revealing that the music is true to what is in his heart. Returning to the guitar he once again pulls it back into the unspoken world where emotions are felt and left unsaid. 

 

“Sign O The Times” crawls slowly upon us with a guitar steadily sketching it into shape. There is no sense of urgency in its arrival, Prince preferring to let the crowd sing the opening verses for him, only choosing to join for the “Sign O The Times” refrain, before drawing his electrifying guitar sound from its scabbard and cleaving the song neatly in two, the opening all about the lyrics and the crowd, the second half a firestorm of guitar fury that tugs and pulls at the song without ever shaking the confines of its tight structure. It’s not what I expected, and I love it even more for that. 

“The Work, part 1” isn’t as finely crafted here as it is elsewhere in 2002, it comes as a jagged and fractured version, with plenty of cracks for the band to emerge into the light. In particular, Maceo Parker shows us just why he is highly regarded, his solo played with his familiar sound yet fresh and demanding to be heard. The song flows easily from the speakers, and the fact that I am tapping my foot throughout speaks to its infectious nature. The final few minutes see the band on cruise control as we glide easily on the back of its good-natured groove, the song merely a vehicle to carry this groove and us through to the finish. It doesn’t come close to the intensity of the other songs of the evening, but it does bring balance to the performance and is all the more welcome for that. 

 

The natural order of the world is restored with an uninhibited “Paisley Park” that grunts and chugs behind a veil of sweet impassioned vocals. With his swirling psychedelic guitar sweeping up the funk, Prince has several genres bowing before him, making them slaves to his vision that can only be summed up as “Prince.” This performance is light years away from the sound of the previous night, a crisp mix making every instrument shine, none more so than Prince’s guitar work which is the foundation of the song. There is a sense that Prince is bringing the song home, and as he sings of “Paisley Park” it is no longer a spiritual or mythical place, but instead, a place that Prince has made real in his surroundings and attitude. Here ideas and concepts are brought to life in Prince’s home, and at this concert. 

Renato’s solo that bridges this and the following song is not to be underrated. It is no mere filler, Renato imbues the music with a sense of loss and melancholy while giving it a brushstroke of light that calms the soul. These moments can sometimes be frustrating, the audience hungry for more of their beloved Prince, but in this case, Renato plays a solo that holds the attention, and one finds themselves wishing that there could perhaps be even more of this before Prince returns to make the concert his own. 

If I said the final song was an eighteen-minute version of “Peach” you might expect that to be a devastating guitar attack that lays waste to all in its path. But Prince and the band are far too nuanced for that, and instead, we get a steady introduction before Prince pulls back the curtain on his guitar onslaught. Even then the guitar is used as a tactical weapon rather than a destroyer of planets. Prince carefully picks his spots for guitar fury, the rest of the song dedicated to working the crowd, and the ever-forward marching rhythm section. It is a playful finish to the concert, Prince playing the crowd for his amusement and the confines of “Peach” disappearing altogether as Prince talks to the crowd. With his usual themes of spirituality and the bible coming to the fore it is quintessential Prince, and exactly what I would expect at this time. Despite the chant of “it ain’t over,” unfortunately it is. 

 

As you can tell from my wordy description of this concert, I liked it. I liked it a lot. If details about who played what, and how, are what you’ve come for, then you’ve come to the wrong place. Music moves me. That feeling I get when I listen to it is what I want to share here, and it is really what this blog is about. Music that shakes me to the core, music that challenges and excites me. This concert was full of such songs and moments. “Days Of Wild” is exactly what I signed up for when I first became a fan. A song that holds me in awe and takes me to another place from which I never want to return. Throw in an exquisite “Dolphin,” a twitchy “Sign O The Times” and the psychedelic funk of “Paisley Park,” and we have a concert that I will come back to again and again. Celebration 2002, what a year. If only I had a time machine….