Paisley Park 26 June 2002

 “Nostalgia is the greatest enemy of truth”

-David Budbill. 

Nostalgia is also the enemy of The Rainbow Children album and the subsequent One Night Alone tour. As Prince was fond of saying “if you’ve come to get your Purple Rain on, you’re in the wrong place.” The One Night Alone concerts were not about the Prince we used to know, they are not about feeling good about the past. They are about Prince at that current time and his art. Some may shy away from the themes and beliefs of The Rainbow Children, but one can’t deny Prince’s art and the challenge he lays before his audience. He has grown as a person, and as an artist, and these concerts are a great opportunity to see if his fanbase has grown with him. With songs from The Rainbow Children taking center stage for this performance at Celebration there is very little nostalgia to be found. But being a man of contradictions Prince opens the door just a little towards the end of the show to give a glimpse of his past. An intriguing listen, these shows require close attention, and even those that don’t like his message have to admire the man for putting his beliefs at the core of his art. 

 

26th June 2002. Paisley Park. 

John Blackwell’s drum intro is about concealed power. His drums come with a sharp crack, breaking open the silence for what will follow. He doesn’t overplay his part, the drums coming as a quick rap on the door before the music enters. 

Nostalgia is the enemy of Prince’s art and this is cast into stark relief with the performance of the song “Rainbow Children”. The unknown is challenging and at this stage of his career, it would have been tempting for Prince to lean heavily on his previous accomplishments. Prince instead breaks new ground through 2002 – throwing his lot into a new sound which for many who followed him proved challenging. With his religious dogma a keystone of his The Rainbow Children album there is a sense of the unknown as his Jehovah teachings come to the fore. Prince does cushion this with something familiar, and for many, nostalgic: a jazz sound that draws a thread through history to this point where Prince is onstage, his beliefs naked before him. The nostalgic sound of saxophones and the light flurry of jazz lifts the burden of the lyrics, while the appearance of Eric Leeds adds another layer of familiarity to the music. Jazz purists may scoff at the liberal use of the word jazz that hung in the air at the time, but this is Prince the fusionist at his best, nibbling at the edges of genre and creating a fuller, well-rounded sound that stands alone unlabeled. One shouldn’t take the challenge of the lyrics head on here, there is much more going on than that, and Prince’s guitar break says far more than his lyrics ever could, comfort food amid this otherwise uncomfortable journey. 

The performance of “Rainbow Children” threatens to devour the whole concert, but Prince plays with an even hand. “Muse 2 The Pharaoh” emerges from its shadow, gleaming with an earnest performance and more modest lyrical reach. Prince’s religion still hangs on the words, and one can only admire the man for carrying the courage of his convictions throughout his art. The opening soothing verses are merely a feint, and while the music at first dips its toe in nostalgic waters, the dark clouds of the bridge appear and Prince reveals that he is still willing to experiment and push his vision hard. It can be disconcerting for a casual fan, but music is an art and at this point, Prince is as creative as he’s ever been and continues to surprise through his music. 

The concert isn’t entirely devoid of nostalgia, and the appearance of “Money Don’t Matter 2Night” is Prince discreetly nodding to his past, albeit a past that was only ten years previous at the time of this concert. As always the song fits with the vibe that this band creates and is well placed in the setlist. Eric Leeds’s solo cements its place as a fan favorite, and while it isn’t as exciting or challenging as the other material of the evening, it does provide a nice breathing space and a safe place for bewildered 1980’s fans to gather. 

 

It is Najee’s time to shine for “Xenophobia,” and he lives up to Prince’s chant of “Warm it up” in fine fashion. “Xenophobia” is the jam song of the evening, Prince letting the band take flight, the music rising on the wings of their performance. It does flatten off with Prince’s dialogue with the audience, and while it’s important to his art, it doesn’t add much to show asides from being a curious diversion. It is however the very essence of what the One Night Alone tour was about as Prince buries himself deep in his Jehovah muse, caring not if the audience follows him throughout his private, yet very pubic, journey. 

Buried deep in mystique and legend was Prince’s 1983 performance of “A Case U Of U” but in 2002 he dragged it into his current setlist. His cover of Joni Mitchell’s classic is no longer a dusty jewel as Prince polishes it up for his modern audience, and in this concert it shines in its brilliance. As much as the sweep of the music lifts the listener, the treasure lies in the lyrics as Prince gives each word the weight it deserves, grounding the song in hard emotion while the music swoops and soars. With a brush of the piano, Prince dances easily across the bridge before entangling us again in his vocal delivery for the final minutes. It holds the ear enraptured throughout, although not quite as essential as the 1983 performance. 

For all the maturity and quality of the music, it is the lyrics of “Mellow” that have me enthralled by their cleverness. Prince treads a fine line between his current pious material and his more lascivious past with lines such as:

Can I sing to you while you bring yourself to joy?

I’ll go slow at first, while you quench you’re thirst

Wet circles round the toy

While you bring yourself to joy

This is an adult Prince, playing adult music with adult themes, and this one particular song is a masterclass of what he was able to create at that time. Other songs take the headlines, but this is just as good as any of the other compositions of the evening, and the album. 

The performance of “1+1+1=3” was later released on the NPG music club and as such is well known to Prince heads. The chant of “Go Eric” gladdens my jaded heart, and the following burst of sax lives up to twenty years of expectation. With its jaunty rhythm and glistening horn lines, it becomes an uplifting experience, an experience aimed firmly at the feet as much as the heart. 

With its over-familiarity “Love Rollercoaster,” can’t be held in the same high esteem. It is sepia-toned in a concert that is rooted firmly in Prince’s current jazz palette. The fun and lightness of the song fail to find firm footing in these surroundings, although the intensity of Prince’s guitar solo lifts it above some of the other versions I have heard. 

Prince’s story about Miles Davis makes the next three minutes of speech worthwhile. A story as cool as the man himself, I urge you to check it out for Prince’s fine impersonation of Miles. Prince stays with his cool theme for “The Other Side Of The Pillow.” It stretches itself languidly across the recording, the urgency, and the immediacy of Prince’s other material dissipating in these more luxuriant surroundings. This is prime territory for Najee as he again meditates on the theme before stretching it beyond Prince’s initial intention. Undemanding, it is an indulgence worth wallowing in as the horn section all contribute to this mid-concert exhale. 

 

There is nothing new in Prince’s introduction to “Strange Relationship” but that doesn’t lessen the impact of the bare-knuckle funk of the song. The swirl and grind of the keyboard remain secondary to the bass and drum as they keep one’s head bobbing from the first note to the last. As ageless as Prince himself, the song plays like a giddy teenager, forever moving with a nervous energy that leaves one always short of breath. Like the best things in life, it is never long enough, although it gives plenty in its five minutes. Come for Prince’s enthusiasm, stay for Rhonda’s funky bass. 

The addition of Larry Graham to “Sing A Simple Song” lifts it beyond that stench of familiarity. His deeper tones contrast well with Prince, who himself is playing with a lot of energy at this time. Coming on the back of “Strange Relationship,” the concert sees a shift of energy at this time, as the Rainbow Children material gives way to a wave of nostalgia. 

“La, La, La, Means I Love U” comes in the same vein, giving us a double dose of nostalgia from both the original and Prince”s cover on Emancipation. It has a gentleness that hasn’t always been present at this concert, and the softness is both inviting and comforting. It’s hard to imagine this song earlier in the concert next to the likes of “Rainbow Children” but its spot in the setlist comes at just the right moment for it to stand proud among its peers. 

Rhonda Smith gets her moment with Erykah Badu’s “Don’t Cha Know,” a performance that has me wanting to pull out and listen to “Mama’s Gun” again, not because Rhonda’s cover is poor, but because the song is short and leaves me wanting to hear much more. 

 

We are up and running again for Prince’s breathless take on his own “When You Were Mine.” It doesn’t have the mindfulness of some of the other performances on the tour, and its own history carries the moment. A performance that belongs to the crowd more than Prince, it is one of the few truly flat spots at the show as the concert loses its sense of direction. 

“Avalanche” also leaves me cold, Prince not digging deep enough into the song to build any meaningful connection to the music or the audience. His lines still hit hard and he gains applause in all the right places. However, the song feels disengaged from its surroundings. It exists unconnected from the rest of the concert and remains a peak unclimbed. 

“Family Name’ is also toothless in this performance. It lacks the angry bite heard elsewhere on the One Night Alone tour, as much as Prince tries to recreate the atmosphere of those other concerts. Front-loaded at the start of the concert it may have fared better, but that would perhaps weigh down the concert early on. The anger of such a song has been undone by those familiar songs that ushered in its arrival, and it can’t compare lyrically or musically to those that the audience is already familiar with. How could a song a year old hope to compete with music we have lived with for twenty years, a struggle Prince faced daily through the last twenty years of his career. 

This dilemma is immediately apparent as the audience whole heartily embraces “Take Me With U.” Naturally paired with “Raspberry Beret” this one-two punch of pop songs banishes the challenging notions of “Family Name” as the audience indulges themselves in a safer past. It is the most skippable part of the concert, there is nothing here that we haven’t heard before and nothing we need to hear. 

Prince throws the concert forward to the present with a joyous rendition of “The Everlasting Now.” It is full of vitality in comparison to the stale “Raspberry Beret” that preceded it. On the back of some muscular guitar work and beautifully punctuated with a dainty keyboard by Renato the music takes flight. The song is a showcase for the entire band, and with all the horn section having a turn before opening the door on a final exclamation from Prince’s guitar it becomes a celebration of the band and their considerable power. All thoughts of the tepid pair of songs before it are banished with this forceful performance. 

The chant of “it ain’t over” is swallowed whole by Prince and the band jamming on the chant, a spontaneous moment that unveils the jams that will close the show. Joined by Musiq Soulchild and Larry Graham, the band quickly builds the chant into a structured form that serves as a base for what will follow. One can hear the evolution of Prince’s music from the mid-nineties with the horns playing a fuller role than they ever have before, giving the music a fat sound that bounces off well again the rhythm section. 

 

Things slow with the descent into “Thank You For Talkin’ To Me Africa.” Musiq Soulchild leads the way, ad-libbing lyrics over a steady groove that plays without variation. It is down to the horns again to add some light and color to this groove and prevent it from collapsing under its own weight. With their rise and fall washing against the musings of Musiq Soulchild the song becomes a hypnotic slide that doesn’t mean much but sure sounds good in your ear-hole. Prince’s guitar solo doesn’t add much to the moment, the magic is in the groove, and that’s where that song sits comfortably for most of the jam.

 

A fluttering of horns tickles the start of “Days Of Wild,” with Prince throwing in the lyrics to “Prince and the Band” by way of his introduction. It’s not an earth-devouring groove, the band too sleek to bury itself deep in the song in this case, yet it retains its organic restlessness that draws energy like a black hole. It is again a splintering horn sound that shatters to the darkness with its shrill refusal to be drawn into the groove, a sound that I find myself wanting to return to again and again for its bravado in the face of darkness. Prince’s vocals slip easily over the top of this jam, he too isn’t going deep into the song, instead, letting the groove slip easily beneath his feet allowing for more attention on his bass work which as usual is revealing in its intensity. For a little man, he knows how to conjure a deceivingly powerful sound. The final electrical grime and crackle that ends the song are entirely fitting as it seemingly powers itself off the energy it has created in the previous ten minutes. 

For those willing to toss off the cloak of nostalgia and face Prince’s challenge head-on there is much to admire and appreciate here. There is a thrilling excitement in the audacity of Prince’s music at the time as he ditches any attempts of chasing trends (see Rave Un2 The Joy Fantastic) and instead chooses a very personal, yet private, exploration of his faith and art. While many balk at his lyrical content of the time, there is no mistaking the courage of the artist in reconciling his personal and public self, a man of deep conviction who at the same time strives to entertain and educate through his music. The greatest moments of this particular concert come not from songs that have dressed our sense of nostalgia in their soft-washed taffeta, but from the new songs that provoke and force the audience to confront Prince and his unwavering beliefs. It can be uncomfortable, but the rewards are great for those that embrace Prince through his inner revolution and the new muse that he taps into. This is Prince at his mature best – future albums and tours will see him begin to look back again over his shoulder, but in 2002 he was in the here and now and delivering the greatest shows of the second half of his career. Listen to them again and you can hear the sound of a man who refuses to bend to nostalgia and instead forges ahead, trusting nothing but his own sense of self.