Paisley Park 28 June 2002 (am)

 Listening back to The Rainbow Children album now I am struck by just how muscular and bold the songs are in a live setting. While the album has a smooth polished sheen, in live performance Prince adds depth and a sense of danger that doesn’t exist in the studio recordings. His shades are darker, while the colored accents are brighter, making for a larger sound that carries more texture and contrast than on record. This is no small part of the power of the band he is playing with, and we could draw countless examples from the run of concerts I have listened to recently. The band draws strength from his new material, and presenting this challenge to the audience only reinforces the resolve of both Prince and the band. That makes the final concert of 2002 a curiosity as Prince plays most of the evening alone at the piano, barely touching the new songs as he instead indulges the audience with a series of deep cuts from the past. This is Prince the contrarian, after denying the audience vast sections of his back-catalog the doors are suddenly flung open for this show. It’s an intriguing listen as he sketches out the type of concert that he will later return to for his Piano and Microphone shows fifteen years later. An oddity among his run of One Night Alone concerts, it stands alone and shed off all context and sense of time and place. 

28th June 2002 (am). Paisley Park 

Najee doesn’t always get the credit he deserves in the Prince community, but I’m going to put all my cards on the table – I like him. His opening flute solo comes like sunlight flicking through the leaves, never settling on one refrain while moving us forward into the atmosphere Prince wants to create. His performance is deceiving, it will be very much Prince alone after this, but he creates a safe space in his first minutes that gives Prince and the audience time to soak in the moment. 

Prince’s first song at the piano is the entirely fitting “One Nite Alone.” The slow current of the song pulls us into the concert, Prince letting the music trickle and eddy at his fingertips while caressing the lyrics gently with his vocal delivery. It’s not quite a magical moment, but it hints at the type of concert we are about to experience. 

“Adore” was heard regularly throughout the One Night Alone tour and the version here is faithful to what we have heard previously. The divinity of the song from earlier in the tour has dissipated by this stage, and although it touches on a heavenly sound in places, Prince’s spoken piece mid-song feels overdone. To hear it the first time is humorous, but anyone who has listened to many One Night Alone concerts may tire of it. Sadly this is the camp I fall into, although I appreciate that many might still enjoy it. Admittedly it gets a lot better in the second half of the song. 

 

Prince gives us a double shot from his past with the following “I Wanna Be Your Lover” and “Do Me, Baby.” The contrast between the two is interesting, “I Wanna Be Your Lover” coming with raggedy energy while “Do Me, Baby” has Prince poring over the lyrics, each word dripping with want and lust. It is “Do Me, Baby” which draws the largest cheer from the audience and they are rewarded with a short but aching version that matches expectations. 

Even better is the version of “Condition Of The Heart” that follows. Abridged from what is heard on the album, Prince still manages to hit all the key spots. There is no feeling of being cheated as Prince gives an emotional precis of his beloved tune. As a sketch, he fleshes out just enough to bring the song to life without dwelling on it too long. 

“U’re Gonna C Me” is slight, there is very little to latch onto and at times it does feel like Prince is creating an atmosphere rather than crafting out his song. It requires close listening as the concert draws in around Prince’s hushed vocals. This is the live debut of “U’re Gonna C Me,” and the stillness of the audience suggests that they are listening just as closely as I am. 

Loud cheers greet “Empty Room,” one can only assume that I’m not the only one out there listening to bootlegs. The opening line and history of the performance are immediately undone by Prince speaking to the crowd. It derails the mood of those first few moments of recognition and palpably excitement. However, the uniqueness of the moment is restored as he returns to the song. Supported slightly by the band, it is the gentle performance that the song deserves, and the lightness of touch from Najee adds just a crack of light to Prince’s despairing lyrics. The teasing opening by Prince is soon forgiven and with a well-balanced rendition that again pulls at the heartstrings, it gains a luster. I lose myself in the music for the next few minutes as the world melts away behind the veil of affecting lyrics and melodramatic vocal delivery. 

The familiar “How Come U Don’t Call Me Anymore” pales in comparison, and the addition of the full band early detracts from rather than enhances the performance. One can see why it is here in the concert, but it doesn’t have the depth of the other material and suffers from over-familiarity. While one rejoices to see a song such as “Condition Of The Heart” in the setlist, “How Come U Don’t Call Me Anymore” has been heard plenty of times over the years and can’t compare. 

I should have the same feeling for “Nothing Compares 2 U,” yet I can’t help but be warmed by the appearance of Eric Leeds and all he brings to the song. The fact that it is much shorter than the previous song also helps its cause and in this case, less is more. Prince still gives us what we need from the song, but he doesn’t overwork the material and lets the song stand on its own. The only thing missing is perhaps a strong counter vocal, but with Eric Leeds on stage, there is nothing to gripe about here. 

Prince’s speech gives thanks, but for me, the most interesting part comes with an audience member calls “I love you,” to which Prince responds “I love U 2, but not the band.” He follows this with “But Bono’s cool. That’s pretty slick, calling your band U2, every day someone’s giving you love.” 

Prince’s history with U2 is well documented with his famous quote “But you’ll be sitting there at the Grammys, and U2 will beat you and you say to yourself, ‘Wait a minute. I can play that kind of music, too. But you will not do ‘Housequake.” 

Add to that Bono’s disastrous appearance at an aftershow in the ’90s and we can see U2 gets a bad rap in the Prince world. But it is heartening to hear Prince say something positive about Bono at this concert and it seems he is at peace with his place in the world. His religious beliefs and maturity are at odds with the combative mood of the world at the time, and this brief speech gives equilibrium to the past. 

 

The concert increases in intensity for a forceful rendition of “Shake.” Built primarily around a keyboard riff and crowd chant it is a primeval stomp that appeals to the raw side of me. The piano draws heavily from the “Automatic” groove and it is no surprise to hear Prince dip into those lyrics. Delivered with a husky growl it adds another layer to the song and propels it beyond the “Shake” chorus. It is deceivingly simple, but one revels in the groove of the song after a concert of slower ballads. 

There comes a surprising performance next with NPGMC member Connie Castillo pulled from the crowd for a karaoke rendition of “Manic Monday.” With Prince playing his baroque lines almost like a harpsichord the song has a lightness that immediately lifts the concert. It is the most heartwarming song of the show, and the joy of the audience seeing one of their own on stage carries the performance. The final cheer is as much for the courage of the Connie as the song itself, and although I probably wouldn’t return to the song it remains my favorite part of the concert. 

We have another live debut next with “Soul Sanctuary.” It remains faithful to the album version and retains warmth. With the lightest of brush strokes, Najee rounds out Prince’s piano and gives the song just enough muscle to stand out in a setlist of piano songs. The song elicits several loud cheers, and it is obvious that the crowd enjoys it just as much as I do. 

“God” is a sprawling celebration of the players in the band besides Prince, the shape of the song barely formed in Prince’s piano part before he hands it over to the saxophone and later Rachelle Ferrell. Both pull the song to their strengths, and Prince’s original becomes barely a light on a distant shore as the music ventures into new sonic waters. It is a gentle exploration of the song even as the band joins Prince, and although it pushes almost twenty minutes it still feels as if the band has places to go. When I first saw “God” in the setlist, I could have never expected this, and it delights in its unexpected experimentation and exploration of a well-worn theme. 

There is a community spirit present for “Last December,” the song carried at first by Prince’s speech and the clapping of the audience. It quickly morphs into something all the more powerful, the force of the band behind it driving it far beyond this tranquil opening. There is much to recommend in it, Prince’s vocals are answered with a counter punch from the guitar, not too hard but enough to remind us what a weapon the guitar is in his hands. As the dust settles, and the song falls subdued at the feet of this guitar work, Prince brings his full attention to bear on some outstanding guitar playing that kneads the music into a fuller and more expressive sound. 

 

There is just enough time to draw a breath before the opening strains of “Purple Rain” casts us back into the purple sea of that era. Overplayed for many, there is no understating its quiet dignity and importance in Prince’s canon. This version draws from the opening piano work, making for an expressive yet light rendition of the beloved behemoth. There is no guitar bellow to end the song, Prince forgoing it for a quiet speech about his spiritual beliefs. It fits in well with the flow of the song, and after years of hearing “Purple Rain” overworked, I quite enjoy his quiet moment of reflection. 

Although this would be a splendid way to finish the concert, Prince instead chooses to indulge us with one more jam. There is plenty in there for the Prince aficionado to pick apart, the groove drawing from “The Greatest Romance Ever Sold” and “Anna Stesia.” We get “Party until the sun comes up” chants, a wave of saxophones, and Prince singing the lyrics of “Anna Stesia,” in a manner removed from what is heard on the album, the cold loneliness instead plugged into a groove and subservient to what the rest of the band of doing. The horn work comes sharply into focus and carries the song both musically and emotionally as the feel of the song bleeds through my speakers. A close listen reveals the piano is still busy underneath, and some heavy keyboard from Prince helps steal the moment from the horns. With Larry Graham in the mix, this is a typical jam that we are all familiar with over the years, a long-drawn-out groove, plenty of audience moments, and one last chance for Prince to flex his musical muscle. 

And as this concert ends, so too does my musical adventure through the 2002 Celebration. This journey started from a comment on social media that these concerts are often overlooked, and I have been just as guilty of that as anyone. These shows are drawn from Prince’s creative peak of 2002 and sit at the very heart of his creativity, Paisley Park, and his spiritual beliefs. This final concert is the equal of all that has proceeded it, yet as with each of these seven concerts, it is its own beast and throws yet another light on Prince at that time. All these seven concerts are uniquely special, all drawn from the same source yet presented in different forms. It would be impossible for me to choose one over another. The best way to hear these concerts is to take them as a whole -set aside half a day and reacquaint yourself with them, it is well worth the effort. 

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. 

Paisley Park 25 June 2002

 “Writing about music is like dancing about architecture” is a quote that haunts me every time I sit down to write my blog. As many words as I throw at the page, capturing the essence of Prince’s performances remain elusive. I take comfort in the fact that many of my favorite writers, for all their concise and beautiful prose, also fail to touch the flame. Like Kerouac’s Dean Moriarty and his search for “it”, this essence remains beyond words and the confines of the page. This is a lesson I am learning hard as I continue my quest of listening to the run of concerts from the 2002 Celebration. 

Each concert is impossibly good, the songs belonging not to Prince or his audience, but instead existing as their own entities. Music has always moved me, but never more so than these concerts as I have listened to them over the last couple of months. The show on 24th June had me almost speechless, and a sneaky listen to the show from 25th June suggests that Prince is about to take me in a completely different direction, a direction I am quite happy to follow him in. Just don’t expect me to find the words to describe it for you. 

25 June 2002, Paisley Park 

The rock show. While the previous concert saw Prince draw us into his bosom with a warm intimacy, this show has him pushing us back with a fierce wall of shock trooper guitar. His opening salvo of solo guitar sketches out a loose framework for him to work in, not settling on a groove or song, instead Prince working his way into the music. He does briefly touch on the riff from Chicago’s “25 or 6 to 4,” although he quickly backs away from it before the concert bursts into flame with “Bambi” 

There is nothing left to tell of “Bambi,” all the song’s secrets have been revealed in different performances across the years. Even so, it remains compulsory listening as Prince blisters his guitar board with a hard electric fury. I long for the song to slap me in the face one more time, but for all Prince’s roaring guitar I am left feeling empty and removed from the burning tone of the music. 

Things loosen up with an elastic take on “Whole Lotta Love,” the song played with an abandon not heard in the previous “Bambi.’ Here Prince makes good on the promise his opening guitar intro suggested, the guitar free to roam across a song well-grounded in our musical consciousness. The song is merely a foundation upon which Prince builds a perilous structure of howling guitar, shrieking vocals, and a driving rhythm section. It brings to mind Dave Grohl’s story of rehearsing this song with Prince and listening here I only wish that I could have seen that particular performance. This performance is equally compelling, and not once in its ten minutes can I relax as Prince has me on the hook with every note, every inflection, and every squeal. 

 

“Something In The Water (Does Not Compute)” rides in the back of an unexpected groove, an organ, and a guitar plowing a bow wave and leaving space for the lyrics. Prince gives the song a kiss of guitar, just enough to bring a flush to its cheeks and elevate the song above this newfound groove. Although emotionally barren, it is highly recommended as Prince refreshes the song for the era. 

A lightning flash of guitar brings “The Question Of U” to life, all the other instruments caught in sharp relief as the guitar illuminates the song. Prince could easily dominate this song, but instead, he gives it away to Renato Neto who brings his personality to the center section with a piano solo that has you staring at the ceiling for answers. Prince replies with his incandescent guitar howl, but Renato has already stolen the song with his emotionally charged solo. 

 

Confession time. “The One” is one of my favorite Prince songs. The performances throughout 2002 remain unsurpassed in my opinion, and this one is no exception. The lyrics tell their own story but amplified with Prince’s smoky vocal and heart-crushing guitar sound the song becomes a thing of exquisite beauty. Prince knows the power of what he has here, he is unhurried, letting the song permeate the room. The song settles, almost drifting in the latter part, as Prince delicately touches his guitar, letting the lyrics of “Fallin” flow easily in and out of the music. Even with the audience noise present, I feel as if I am sitting alone with him, the song weaving around us, and holding us close together. The band picks up “Take Five,” and like a hypnotist snapping his fingers I am raised back into the real world only to find myself in the middle of a Renato solo. What a wonderful place to be. 

It is the organic raw version of “I Could Never Take The Place Of Your Man,” that follows. Stripped of its 80’s glamour and rooted in the blues, the song stands strong. Laid bare, it is the poignant lyrics that carry the song. Their message stands stark against this new backdrop, we now feel them as well as hear them. Prince knows that the lyrics are merely the beginning of the story he wants to tell, and as the lyrics fall away an organ and guitar rise from the mix, turning every word true with their anguished sound. This abstract pain saturates the final minutes as Prince expresses these darker sentiments with his carefully pitched guitar sound. A picture is worth a thousand words, and the music created by this band is worth ten thousand. 

The quiet intensity remains on the canvas for the cover of Bill Wither’s “Ain’t No Sunshine.” Within a few brush strokes, we know where Prince is taking this, a powerful yet graceful version of a beloved classic. An unexpected flute solo brings an extra sense of sophistication, Prince letting it breathe through the song as he steps back from the microphone. There is a wistfulness to the sound as Prince lets the song sprawl, its initial shape lost as the band indulges themselves, and us, with luxuriant solos. 

 

The propulsive sound of “She’s Always In My Hair” shatters the moment. With this bristle and crunch, it harks back to the era in which it was born, Prince again taking command of his ship to plow through the song. It is uncompelling, even colored as it is by its former glories. Perhaps it is too short for Prince to bring his thrilling attention to it. It certainly sounds like it is preparing to launch but compared to the previous indulgences of the evening it is all too flash in the pan. 

We return to a languid crawl for an expressive “The Ride.” Prince feels disengaged from the vocal delivery, and it is his considerable guitar arsenal that expresses all he needs in the song. You can feel your breathing slowing down as you listen, Prince’s meditation on the blues is a healer in its own way. It’s not all about the guitar, there are plenty of keyboard moments for Morris Haynes aficionados, Mr. Haynes piano playing Batman to Prince’s Joker guitar in a struggle that remains unresolved, although each needs each other equally. 

“Alphabet St” cannon’s into the setlist, shooting us all into the light. It is fast and light, even for “Alphabet St,” and tumbles us quickly to “Sex Machine” 

A Sly Stone cover, “Sex Machine” comes off as a psychedelic take on “The Ride.” It has the same easy pace, but instead of being crushed under the weight of the guitar and keys, Prince applies a lighter touch. This lighter touch lifts it beyond the steady groove, and as Renato Neto comes on board with his keyboard solo the song begins to reach for the stars. Prince willingly encourages this, his vocals coming intergalactic and distorted. It matters not what he is singing, but how he is singing it. Unfortunately, the song loses me with John Blackwell’s drum solo. As much as I love John, his solo snaps me out of the moment and I lose sight of the song and its mood. 

We stay on the psychedelic trip with the beguiling saunter of “Elephants And Flowers.” It is a song that neatly encapsulates Prince’s dalliances with this genre, the psychedelia tempered by an undercurrent of funk and piercing guitar. It remains fresh twenty years after its birth, and it is heartwarming to hear the crowd take easy to the lyrics for a sing-along. It is one of the less demanding songs of the evening, but it holds its position with a dynamic performance. 

A galloping bassline and driving drum power us into “All The Critics Love U In New York.” With a triumphant rumble, it belongs on the dance floor, and one can hear Prince call for dancers in a nod to this. With a cyclic rain, the song doesn’t let up, the power of the rhythm section unrelenting as Prince brings some light-fingered guitar work to the party. It is a timely reminder of Prince’s funkier moments, especially in an evening that has seen some heavy-handed guitar, and remains impossible to listen to without moving. One interesting lyric change stands out -“It’s time for a new direction, it’s time for hate to die,” Prince turns his back on the original “Jazz to die,” in light of his current influences and flirtations with Jazz over the years. 

“Beautiful Strange” lives up to its title, the song giving life to the words it inhabits. With a melancholic and brooding introduction, there is time to reflect and gather thoughts, before Prince arrives at the microphone, murmuring words of beauty before his snorting guitar grunt swallows the room. It is a delicately balanced performance, the guitar disappearing back into the ether between choruses before Prince pulls back the curtain to reveal its immutable sound in contrast to his carefully pitched vocals. The brooding becomes urgent with its appearance, the guitar a steel fist concealed by the velvet glove of Prince’s vocals. It is the guitar that looms large over the second half of the song, playing as a searing revelation of the title. Untouchable. Unforgettable. This is Prince. 

 

It is a rough and tumble “Calhoun Square” that finishes the show. With a tangle of fuzzy guitar, Prince plays with pure joy, unburdened by the weight of what has come before. It is an uplifting way to close out the concert, the music climbing steadily higher with every sweep of Prince’s scythe-like guitar. Playful and brimming with ideas, Prince is still delivering to his audience two hours into the show, his passion undiminished by the time or energy spent. With this final surge, we stumble over the finish line to find ourselves in silence, the concert is over. 

I can’t dance about architecture, and I can’t write about this show. There is very little objectivity here. I lack the tools and musical background to break down the music, I can only write about what feel, which to be honest is what music is all about. I only know what I like and don’t like, and at this concert, there is a lot I like, and very little I don’t like. The lesser moments of the concert left me unmoved, but a great deal of the concert seemed to plug into my very heart, Prince’s music pushing unseen emotional buttons. When a musician plays like this, beyond words and in the realm of pure feeling, there is very little left to be said. Like Dean Moriarty in “On The Road” I am left clutching at loose words like “It.” To quote Kerouac’s character himself “Now, man, that alto man last night had IT— he held it once he found it; I’ve never seen a guy who could hold so long.”

Prince had “It” throughout his career, especially in these 2002 concerts, and like Dean Moriarty, all I can do is cling to the edge of the stage and behold the glory of his musical kingdom

Paisley Park 24 June 2002

 We have reached the halfway point of the Celebration 2002 shows and it feels as if our journey has yet to begin. The first few shows have been of astounding quality while covering a large sonic territory. This concert on the 24th of June 2002 is no different as Prince foregoes the band and complex arrangements to give us an intimate acoustic set that sees Prince take the stage as a solo performer. We have heard acoustic sets on the piano throughout his career, but here he performs alone with his guitar. It is a first at the time and a concept that he would return to for the acoustic set that would appear during his Musicology shows. It is a fast-moving show, the songs aren’t drawn out too long, and Prince covers a lot of ground over the two hours. The best way to appreciate it is to jump right in, so take a deep breath and prepare to immerse yourself. 

24 June 2002, Paisley Park 

I must admit, it is not very often that I pull out The Truth album, but when I do it is like meeting an old friend. I think of this as I listen to the opening song of this concert – “Don’t Play Me.” I reacquaint myself with its clever lyrics and laugh at Prince’s humor that appears at every twist and turn in the music. This is the live debut of this song and it deserves every whoop of approval that it gains from the crowd. The music is bright and sharp, much like Prince’s humor, and his guitar playing to the fore as he draws rhythm and melody from his instrument. 

“Whole Lotta Love” follows fast, the music quick and just as forceful as the electrified version. Prince’s vocals balance the performance and I find my ear drifting easily between the two, neither one quite holding power over me as the song moves back and forth. Much like the previous “Don’t Play Me,” it is kept neatly trimmed, clocking in at just over a couple of minutes. This is par for the course for the evening, and most of the songs to follow will be equally brief. That is not to say they are mere tasters, Prince does play the bulk of the song, but he knows when to rein it in and move on to the next. 

The next song is unsurprising “7”. It is a song well suited to such a performance, the acoustic guitar of the song dovetailing beautifully into the theme of the evening. It is not the best version I have heard. With a hollow feel, its power is rendered impotent in comparison to the first two songs. Enjoyable enough, it fails to linger in my mind once it has passed. 

I am much more interested in “Tangerine,” especially since this is its only appearance in a live concert. It almost skips by too fast for me, I find myself listening to the lyrics, and then it’s gone. The guitar is light in Prince’s hands, barely raising a ripple, leaving space for his lyrics to carry the song. He doesn’t disappoint, his gleaming vocals matching the wordplay and making for a great concert moment, a moment that flutters by and leaves us thinking “Did that just really happen?” 

 

There have been some wonderful versions of “A Case Of U” over the years, sadly this isn’t one of them. Prince’s guitar playing is exquisite, but it is not matched by his vocal delivery. While technically his vocals are good, they fail to cut to the heart of the song, and not once do I hear a thread of real emotion coming from Prince. I don’t expect Prince to constantly suffer for his art, but it would have been good to hear him draw from his well of emotional experience to perhaps give us just a little more for this song. The final minutes when Prince points his guitar at the funk are his finest and give me just enough that I might return to this song. 

“Pink Cashmere” is a perfect fit for the evening, with Prince’s vocals, and his guitar intertwining in such a way that the world seems to stand still for a couple of minutes. Like the best things in life it is all too short, the song barely coming to fruition before Prince moves us forward. 

Another live debut next with “One Kiss At A Time.” The music lingers longer for this number, and Prince’s call for us to indulge him is well rewarded. With the guitar stepping back and forth, Prince spins his lyrics out, each line dripping sweetly from his tongue. It is one of the more substantial songs of this first part of the concert, and the perfumed intoxication of the music makes it feel longer than it is. Some of the previous songs have been lightweight, but here we have a song that will be drawing me back again. 

“Alphabet St” suffers from its familiarity, even more so in its stripped-back form. Despite its sprightly sense of fun, it fails to offer the ear anything new, and as such I find myself nodding and clapping without ever being moved by it. With its eighties sheen stripped off, it becomes just another number in this long setlist. It’s hard to imagine this performance without it, yet it doesn’t add anything to the occasion. 

The following “Girls & Boys” is short, yet worth hearing, the insistent guitar strum drawing the lyrics from Prince and the crowd at the same moment. Shedding its 1986 skin, it is reborn and is essential in a way that “Alphabet St.” wasn’t. The fact that it is so short suggests that there aren’t perhaps too many more directions Prince could take it, but in the spotlight, it shimmers and shines in a way that some of the other songs of the evening don’t. 

The raw intensity so often associated with “Motherless Child,” is strangely lacking in this intimate setting. The quick rhythm guitar does it a disservice, as do Prince’s vocals which skim over the lyrics without scratching beneath the surface as I have heard elsewhere. I yearn for him to unleash something more primeval, perhaps a guttural roar or howl, but it remains buttoned up and oddly removed from the surroundings and context of the performance. 

It is with the next song, “The Truth,” that the true nature of the evening is revealed. The concert isn’t about Prince’s shining guitar or bright vocals. It isn’t about the performance, or even Prince himself. It’s about the moment, about the community. The words performer and concert are worthless because neither are to be found here. This is a community-bought-together, a campfire moment brought to life as we huddle around singing songs that, while they may have originated with Prince, now belong to all of us. This is a man singing to, and with, his tribe. And now that I understand that, the rest of the night makes perfect sense. None of these songs exist singularly, they belong together in this context, trapped in the amber of this one night. The title “One Night Alone” has never been more apt. 

 

With this new-found knowledge, it matters little how I feel about “Telemarketer Blues,” the way it sounds, or the performance. What matters is the audience’s response, which is resoundingly positive as they share in Prince’s humor, laughing and cheering after every line. Another show and this may disrupt the flow of the evening, but not in this case as it becomes the epitome of what the night is about – togetherness. 

“The Other Side Of The Pillow,” brings a calm serenity to proceedings, the song glassy smooth throughout, not a single moment that raises the pulse but in the very best way. It is as cool as the lyrics Prince is singing, the song an embodiment of the lyrical content in beautiful symmetry. 

Prince vocals come to prominence for an angelic “She Loves Me 4 Me.” The guitar remains in the mix, but it is the singer that holds the spotlight as he plays vocal gymnastics with the lyrics. Here the song finds its natural place in the surrounding material and is all the better for it. 

I’m not convinced that “Peach” works in an acoustic setlist, and Prince does nothing here to sway my opinion. It is barely a minute and a half though, and that feels about the right length for it in this show. We can enjoy the swagger of the song and appreciate it through a different lens without it wearing out its welcome and becoming overblown. 

“It Ain’t Over” belongs to the crowd. Prince may stop and start, but the audience carries the moment, the song nothing more than a chant and a chance for Prince to emote without words. It sounds like a lot of fun on record, and even more so for those there, as once again we return to the core of the evening, audience and performer bonding as one. 

The only known live performance of “Wherever U Go, Whatever U Do” leaves me in two minds. While I rejoice in hearing a live performance of the song, it fails to reach my unrealistic expectations. I can only wish for more, as Prince interrupts himself a couple of times, before bringing the curtain down on it before we can get to grips with the true nature of the song. It’s more than a tease of the song but not much more, and that makes it all the more frustrating. 

 

As much as I want to hear Prince himself sing “Forever In My Life,” I can’t deny there is an innate beauty in the audience singing Princes’s own song back to him as he strums along. One could easily see Prince stretching this out and playing the audience for several minutes, but he doesn’t. Instead, he gives enough to satisfy without overindulging in the moment, proving once again that timing is everything. 

This guitar set finishes with the sweetest version of “Last December” you might ever hear. Accompanied by not only his guitar but also the audience, Prince delivers the song straight down the barrel, with no flourishes or embellishments, leaving the song bare and pure in the soft light of this concert. It’s surprisingly moving and becomes a song you can feel as much as you hear, Prince once again proving that music is a powerful force in the right circumstance. 

The piano set that finishes the set appears to offer more than it really does. The real meat of the show is the guitar set, and while the piano set offers several songs, many of them are mere tasters with the bulk of the set clocking in under twenty minutes. The opening “Things Ain’t What They Used To Be,” is a band performance, a chance to introduce the horns and a more rounded jazz sound that is representative of the era. It has an easy swing, although it moves quickly, “Take The A-train,” suddenly appears before it comes to an abrupt halt. 

 

A solo piano and we are off with “How Come U Don’t Call Me Anymore.” It is a song purpose-built for a show like this, yet Prince does it a great disservice, the thirty seconds of it we hear reducing it to a mere shell of what it could have been. We can cry all we want, but it is what it is, and sadly the next few minutes see many beloved songs get the same treatment. Prince’s line of “I got too many hits,” signposting a street we have walked down many times before. 

“Diamonds And Pearls,” becomes a single verse and chorus, albeit a pretty verse and chorus, before the inevitable segue into “The Beautiful Ones.” Shorn of its length, “The Beautiful Ones” has none of the sense of drama and tension that made the song so essential in the first place. I want to like it more, but there isn’t enough there to hold onto, and as much as I try, I find it quickly slips through my fingers. 

The evening swings upwards and takes flight with first “Free,” and then “Starfish and Coffee” lighting up the venue. They both have a brightness that remains undiminished by their brevity, surprisingly the slightest songs of the set deliver far more than the heavy hitters in their abridged forms. 

“Sometimes It Snows In April” has become impossible to detach from April 2016, and as such listening to this concert, sounds more poignant than probably was the case at the time. It's gracefully melancholy receives a resounding response from the crowd, the song yet to be weighed down by the sense of history it has here in 2020. 

Prince has a rounded sound to “I Love U But I Don’t Trust U Anymore,” the band joins him to bolster the song. He doesn’t need them, in this case, the song would have gained more from a bare performance, the stark intimacy of the lyrics laid bare would have had much more impact than could be gained from a keyboard wash or a drizzle of a cymbal. However, the song remains drenched in sadness, and even with the band onboard I can feel the lyrics dragging me under. 

The band comes to the fore for the appropriately titled “Prince And The Band.” The song takes a long time to reveal itself, hiding in the skirts of the long-opening jam that spins and twirls across the funky bassline. When Prince does bring the lyrics out of the closet he keeps it short, preferring for the music and the band to carry the ideals he sings about. Maceo is front and center for large portions of the song, and it is his sound that becomes the signature of the song, no matter what Prince or the crowd are doing it all comes back to his riff and sense of style. With Renato providing a soft shower of a piano the song continues to evolve, Prince returning to the lyrics, this time pitching them in a way that fits with the jazz tilt the music has moved towards. It’s smooth, yet they retain their bite enough to remind us what the song is really about. 

 

We stay firmly in the realm of the band, the music continuing to be enthralled by the horn section. “Xenophobia” belongs not to Prince, but to the players he has surrounded himself with, and for all his proclamations and lyrics they continue to hold sway over the music. The audience is not to be ignored, and with the chant “I feel like bustin loose,” it is down to the band to provide a soundtrack to this desire. After such an austere show it does feel like an extravagance, but one well deserved as the band throws off the chains of the acoustic set with a funk jam that matches anything heard in the main shows of the tour. The fact that the chant “I feel like bustin loose” rattles around in my brain for ten minutes after the end of the show speaks to the power of repetition and the fish hooks embedded in Prince’s music. 

Of the celebration shows of 2002, I have listened to so far this is my favorite. It doesn’t have the heavy funk of some other shows, or shredding guitar, but it does have a group of songs that work coherently together in the setlist. No one song stands out, but together they form a powerful brew, one that sustains the first half of the concert. Likewise, the audience and sense of community pervade through the music, and it is hard to untangle this sense of togetherness from the music just as it is hard to untangle the songs from each other. A lesson in intimacy, this concert is Prince building his own world through must and inviting us all to join him. Maybe I am overstating it, but it is hard not to feel it yourself as you listen. Try it and you might just see what I mean. 

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…. 

Paisley Park 23 June 2002 (am)

 We have been in lockdown for a month now, and to be honest it hasn’t exactly been as I planned. I thought I would be updating my blog daily and enjoying some well-earned sleep. Instead, my sleep has been poor, and I have spent most of my days moping around the house feeling listless. But right now the sunshine is streaming through my windows, and I feel it is time to snap out of it and continue to enjoy Prince’s 2002 celebration. I am working my way through each of the nights, and today I will be listening to (rather loudly I might add) the second show from that run. It differs from the first show in its setlist, and indeed in its feel, as Prince plays an early morning show that is more aftershow than a proper concert. The setlist has me drooling from the start, and I can already see that with this particular band the setlist is pitched firmly at their individual talents. For any fan of the One Night Alone band, this is a mouth-water proposition, as you will soon see when I start listening. So, without further ado, let’s dive right in. 

23 June 2002 (a.m.), Paisley Park 

“Power Fantastic”.

Let me say that again – “Power Fantastic”. I am missing the opening “Rainbow Children” instrumental and the concert starts with “Power Fantastic”. My, my, my, what a dream come true. And even better, it lives up to the hype, sounding exquisite from the outset. Prince’s vocals ache and bend, all the while inviting the listener into his world. It’s not just a nod to his past though. He is fully invested in the moment as the band weaves its craft around him. With each line I find myself deeper and deeper into Prince’s universe, I am no longer a mere listener, but part of the experience as the song envelops me. People talk about songs having a life of their own, but here the song exists as a world unto itself. It is no longer something to be listened to but to be experienced on every level. Prince speaking to the crowd snaps me out of my reverie, and I am briefly disappointed to open my eyes and find I am still in the real world. 

 

Prince’s assertion that this is a rehearsal is borne out by “Extraordinary.” He calls out chords to the band, before stopping and starting again from the beginning. It is lush without becoming over-indulgent in the first few minutes. Prince keeps the song and the band tightly reined in, before allowing it to come to full bloom with several solos in the final minutes. The song frees itself of its previous shackles as Renato explores the boundaries with his keyboard solo, a solo that highlights just why he is so vital to this band. When Prince returns to the vocals the song tilts again, throwing us back into something all the more structured and familiar, but nowhere near as much fun. 

“Here On Earth” rises slowly, languidly, from the ether. It remains a stranger to me throughout, I can’t quite penetrate its lazy facade, and as it drifts smokily by there is nothing that draws me in. As a mood, it fits in well with the rest of the evening, but nothing is outstanding about it and it becomes faceless around its esteemed colleges. 

Prince gives us another rare treat with his performance of “With You”. Like a fine wine it has aged well, and in this performance has an earthy warmth to it that lingers on the ear. With no sharp edges, it could become as toothless as the previous song, but Prince injects enough of his personality into it to give it shape and life. He delivers the last line with a wistfulness that has him briefly looking back before the next song snaps us back to the present day. 

An instrumental “Pearls B4 The Swine” is the meat and potatoes of this band, and although short has them playing to their signature sound. Led by the piano, the band plays with a lightness of touch, an easy airiness that gives the song space and room. Unfortunately, it is all too short and leaves me wanting more in the best possible way. 

 

“The Ghetto” belongs to Maceo Parker with his sound firmly stamped across it. Prince gives him plenty of time to show us what he can do, and he provides us a good couple of minutes of swirling sax before Prince comes to the microphone. There isn’t much more to Prince’s contribution as the crowd joins before leaving Maceo to again dominate. Even when Prince breaks into “Prince and The Band,” it stays firmly in the realm of his surrounding players as they continue to give light to the performance. Singing about the ghetto has never sounded so good, nor so liberating. 

I don’t recall the last time I heard “Sweet Baby,” and as it slowly reveals its charms I wonder why I don’t give it a spin more often. It is a testament to Prince’s impressive back catalog that a gem like this is barely mentioned when discussing his canon. As I once more reacquainted I quietly rejoice in its subtle charms. It doesn’t know its own beauty, and it’s only after the passing of years that we see what was really there all along, a song as easy and natural as you like, just waiting for us to rediscover. Such is the wonder of this setlist, as Prince digs deeper into his past bringing unexpected joys. 

 

Prince digs further into the vault for “When The Lights Go Down,” a song that deserved better than appearing on a compilation album. Paired with the previous “Sweet Baby,” we get some sense of where its roots might lay. But where “Sweet Baby” had a teenage innocence, “When The Lights Go Down” brings sophistication as Prince speaks of more adult themes. I enjoy both for what they are, but I appreciate the former for its pure joy, while the latter has my heart for its musical muscle. As a one-two punch, this is the beating heart of the concert. 

One could well imagine this band coming up with “Strollin,” a song that predates them by ten years. There is no need for them to bend the song to their sound, it is already there. With Renato and Maceo in the band, they pick up the central sound of the song and run with it, dragging it forward into new territory, while remaining firmly with the same vibe that always infused it. “Strollin'” is familiar, but not once becoming stale as the band plays with a light touch and adds just enough of something new to keep my ear closely listening throughout. 

“Gotta Broken Heart Again,” practically drips out of the speakers as Prince spins his tale of woe. The band adds weight to the song, in particular, Maceo’s solo updates it for 2002, and future-proofs it for us listening today. Prince could have become overwrought in his delivery, but he remains restrained, and with the touches added by Maceo, it stays above its lyrical content. 

 

I could write a long list of potential cover versions for Prince, but I don’t think I could have foreseen a cover of a James Taylor song. “You’ve Got A Friend” works well in this context, it is evidently well known to the crowd as they can be heard singing along throughout. It does run out of steam after the third minute, and what promised so much fails to deliver in the second half. I may not enjoy the second half so much, but the first minutes were so good that I can see this may well be a song I will be returning to in the future. 

As much as I looked forward to “Pop Life,” what I hear in this case is disappointing. It lacks focus, and Prince’s vocals suffer through too much echo. His voice becomes a blunt instrument. Delicacy and nuance are lost to the echo and as much as I try I can’t listen past it. I wish for more, but I can’t undo what has been done, the more I listen the more frustrated I become. I remind myself of all the great songs that have come previously, which only makes me regret this last song further. The redeeming feature comes late in the song as Renato goes to work, Prince’s vocals no longer at the forefront of the song as his piano man kicks into high gear to round out the song. Oh yes, that’s much better now, and we finally end on a high. 

And so ends this second part of Prince’s 2002. It would be lazy of me to call this set and Prince’s band “jazz-inspired,” but there is no doubt from which well they are drawing their inspiration. However, what elevates this band though is their ability to stretch and knead Prince’s material, pulling it further into the dark, or into the light, as required. This setlist plays on their strengths, all the while giving them the freedom to move the material as they see fit. As a reminder of the symbiotic relationships Prince has with his bands, this is a fine example, and even twenty years on one can hear the push and pull of Prince and his band. Ignoring the final “Pop Life,” this is a good record of the band in their prime, and the era in general. 

Paisley Park 21 June 2002

 KaNisa is going to kill me. 

I want to tell you about 2002. I want to tell you about the glory of the One Night Alone Tour. I want to share the incredible music and concerts played over this period. I want you to love it as much as I do.

But this iteration of Prince is KaNisa’s Prince. This period is her greatest pleasure, her private joy. We should keep it quiet among ourselves she whispers. This is just for those of us in the know. But I can’t keep it to myself anymore and I’m sorry. This is one of Prince’s finest hours, and I’m going to tell you all about it. 

The 2002 celebration occurred amid the One Night Alone Tour. Titled Xenophobia Celebration 2002, it took place at Paisley Park between the 21st – 24th of June. A lot of the music played is not new to the audience with Prince having already been on tour since 1st March. Although familiar, the music has a weirdness that can’t be shaken and it continues to excite and fascinate throughout the year and beyond. 

Over the next few weeks, I will listen to some of these concerts from the 2002 celebration (who am I kidding, I’m probably going to listen to them all) and offer my thoughts. I’m starting with the concert from June 21st – probably the closest to the setlist Prince had been playing on the road and a good introduction to the vibe of the era. I can’t wait, I love this era and look forward to sharing it with you. 

As I said, KaNisa is going to kill me.

21 June 2002, Paisley Park 

A John Blackwell drum solo is a great way to open any show, and it kicks down the door on a flurry of Maceo Parker's saxophone work. There is freedom to his playing, and for a few minutes it sounds as if anything might be possible. The saxophone tears down barriers between genres, opening the mind to the new soundscape Prince envisages. With his distorted vocals and a lacerating guitar sound, it becomes a concentrated deconstruction of his 1980’s legacy as he seeks new inspirations and muses. “The Rainbow Children” sprawls across the opening of the concert, everything contained within offering a glimpse into this new vision. You don’t have to buy into it, you don’t even have to like it, but you do have to understand that Prince is seeking new horizons and he’s taking us all with him. With a band that relishes this free-form open playing, Prince has the right team around him to get him where he needs to go. Hold on to your hat, it’s going to be quite a trip. 

 

After the wild and woolly “The Rainbow Children,” the music solidifies around “Muse 2 The Pharoah,” and it feels like we are on safer ground. A smooth vocal delivery gives a sense of safety and warmth, this might just be the Prince we always knew, but that illusion is shattered with the dark clouds of the keyboard suddenly closing in and Prince spinning off into his darker lyrics. It’s a trap door in an otherwise innocuous song. It falls to Renato Neto to provide some soothing balm after this pitfall, but Prince isn’t finished as he returns to his theme for the evening. Easy listening it ain’t, but seeing an artist create something on stage before us, now that is something special. 

He continues in this vein through “Xenophobia,” his brooding music matching the lyrical content. Rising from the swirling darkness comes an ecstatic solo from Maceo, the brightness of his playing in sharp context to what is going around him. The solo from Renato Neto matches him, at times hinting at The Commodore's “Machine Gun” before he drags the sound far into the future with creative finesse. The song becomes a celebration of the band, each member playing off each other while taking it to ever-spiraling heights. I am giddy just listening to it, I can’t imagine how great it would have sounded to be there. Prince’s final gift of a guitar solo isn’t just a gift to the crowd, it’s a gift to all that love good music, and it cuts right through some of the former unsettling moments. 

Prince’s opening vocal stretches gently out as notes condense around the lyric of “A Case Of U.” With the backdrop of a lush piano, Prince enthralls with a performance that offers intimacy without sappiness, delicacy without weakness, the song carefully pitched so it never once falls into the nostalgic trap that often befalls such songs of the past. This is helped no end by the tail of the song that takes on a far more strident sound, Prince twisting it to his current sound and the heaviness of the band pulling it firmly into their orbit. It becomes of the era, and never once suffers for it. 

On a firm foundation of keyboards and horns, like so many of the songs of this era, “Mellow” is slow to reveal itself. Upon this foundation Prince gives us a spiky vocal performance, for a song titled “Mellow,” it often isn’t. It twists and turns, never settling one way or another. Out of kilter, it holds my attention with its constant evolution. I hold onto Prince’s vocals, his primary instrument never once faltering as he negotiates the twisted path of the song. 

A heavy dose of funk drives the concert for the next fifteen minutes as the band plays a pummeling version of “1+1+1=3.” With some brittle funk guitar lifted straight from 1981, the band underpins it with a heavier funk style more associated with Prince’s mid-nineties style. With Maceo Parker in the mix, it is brought up to his current era, an amalgamation of funk that comes together in a heady mix that intoxicates the mind while your body moves on the dance floor. Prince plays the crowd as well as the music, inter-cutting several times to chat, encourage and tease. It speaks to his comfort on stage and in Paisley Park, the show at times becoming a community gathering rather than the normal audience/performer divide. 

 

Stepping away from the Rainbow Children album and into the blues, Prince tortures and teases with a powerful rendition of “The Ride.” The opening guitar pleads and whimpers at his command, never settling on a lick, instead stretching and reaching into the darkness with its aching plea. It gains strength from the surrounding music, the atmosphere becoming crushing as the guitar rises to an untamed tower of electric discourse. It mutes all else in its rage and rough-edged fury, all the nuance and delicacy of the previous jazz fusion swept away with a single sweep of Prince’s guitar crunch. 

“The Other Side Of The Pillow” matches the aesthetic of the Rainbow Children material and it’s like jazz swing is complimented by some thoughtful keyboard work from Renato Neto. Greg Boyer and his trombone emerge from this as the star of the piece, the final minutes belonging to him and him alone as he bounces and loops us to an uplifting conclusion. 

The concert is ignited by “Strange Relationship.” A song long stuck in the groove of the original vinyl records with no secrets left to reveal or surprises to be sprung, here Prince lifts it from 1987 and gives it a spring clean for 2002. Vibrant and dazzlingly fun, it bleeds funk, the song flowing with a sumptuous groove across the audience. With Rhonda’s attitude burning through her bass work she becomes the most important member onstage, the center around which all revolves. 

Rhonda stays equally important for “Sing A Simple Song,” even with Larry Graham on stage my ears stayed attuned to what she is doing. The song pales in comparison to the previous “Strange Relationship,” and although each part of it shines in its own way, it never becomes more than the sum of parts. 

The cover version of “La, La, La Means I Love U” feels much more at home in this setlist. Safe and warm, it balances some of the more challenging moments of the first half of the concert. It becomes a communal moment, with plenty of time for the audience to sing along to the music. We again become aware that we are in Prince’s house as the feeling of a concert disappears beneath the soft waves of Prince’s vocals. 

“Didn’t Cha Know” hits me in my weak spot. With Rhonda Smith taking vocal duties I briefly forget Erykah Badu, the vocals interweaving with the mellow vibe crafted by the band around her. It creates an atmosphere of sweet soul and briefly is just as good as anything else heard in the evening. 

A performance of “When You Were Mine” accelerates the concert back into rock n roll territory and snaps me out of this revery. It is not as essential or urgent as elsewhere, but its stark, stripped-back sound brings Prince into sharp relief after the previous prominence of the band. The final guitar flourish has me listening for clues where this electrical storm might go next, but it’s all flash in the pan as the song dissolves into “Avalanche” 

 

The music slinks into the shadows as Prince’s vocals take center stage. He sings in a cursive style, his vocals flowing easily from line to line in an elegant loop and smooth transition. There is a simmering tension every time he is on the microphone, and although Renato Neto’s piano solo is commendable it cannot displace the vocal performance as the key element in the song. “Avalanche” barely registers in my consciousnesses most of the time, but I would gladly return to this performance any day. 

There is a hint of Stevie Wonder’s influence in the keyboard work of “Family Name.” I can’t shake the feeling as the keyboard sticks to me throughout the song, forever nudging me and whispering its influence in my ear. A jabbing guitar lick briefly banishes any of these thoughts, it’s rugged charm dismantling my infatuation with the keyboard. With its raw and real sound, it cuts to the bone of the song, its angst and fury turning Prince’s words into music in a turbulent ending to the song. 

I try and pretend that I have never heard “Take Me With U” before. It doesn’t work. It becomes wallpaper to me and with its everyday familiarity, I barely hear it. Funk guitar front-loads “Raspberry Beret,” but it too suffers the same fate. I am just too familiar with it to hear it as it is here. I may sing along, but this could be any performance from the last thirty years. 

The last jam is “The Everlasting Now,” and it is pleasingly upbeat and dance-able. It delivers all that it promises as a final jam, each member playing with a freedom and expressing themselves musically. None more so than Maceo, who in a flurry of horn work stamps his particular brand of funk across this ostensibly Prince song. 

From the smokey atmosphere emerges one final number, “Joy In Repetition.” It takes some time to assume its solid form as the various strands slowly come together to reveal their true nature, each instrument creeping towards a convergence point. It is hard to tell where the song starts and the atmosphere ends, the song becoming one with its own sound, swallowing the room with its suffocating dense sound. For the next fifteen minutes, I live the song rather than listen to it, it becomes its own world, a world crafted around us by this phenomenal band. Prince continues to craft this world, carving out a guitar solo so real you can almost touch it, a solo that feels as if it has always existed in all of us. A few lines of “Prince And The Band” pull at this illusion, temporarily warping this new land, before the song slowly returns us to the here and now. I never want it to end, but end it must, and I feel sadness at the end of it as if waking from a strange unknown dream. 

 

2002 – what a year. As a glorious celebration of Prince’s newfound muse, these concerts from Paisley Park can’t be matched. They deserve to be spoken about in the same reverential tones as the Purple Rain tour, after all, they are every bit as exhilarating and groundbreaking and a joy to listen to even as the passing of years consigns them to history. In the following weeks, I look forward to indulging in the other concerts from this celebration as a personal celebration myself. A celebration of life, of music, of Prince, and the pure joy that live music provides. Music that demands we all come together and rejoice in its undeniable power. 

Sorry KaNisa.