While the radio and TV blares out the news of the sudden passing of Prince, and how everyone is in shock over the death, I am surprised – nay shocked – to discover I share in that shock and grief at his sudden passing. I find this bewildering, as I’m not a music person (the dust on my stereo system is coveted by archaeology students for stratigraphy practice), even if I did enjoy 1999 and Doves and others, so I’ve been wondering what’s going on here.
First, I think, is how he became identified, if only in my mind, with the essence of the USA – a relentless drive to push the envelope, to break the taboo to see what happens, to fly high and fulfill your promise. Mythological, to be sure, but sometimes even myths come literally true – and that’s what he did, from exploring the artistic landscape in a very personal way, to demanding complete control of his music in an era when such was not normally permitted by the companies controlling the gateways to public consumption of music. Through his leadership, artistic and business, he stood for a better, more optimistic future – and helped achieve it.
Second, his apparent fearlessness was, and should be, an inspiration to everyone everywhere, not just artists, but to people who consider undertaking any task which may be beyond them. All too often, fear, doubt, taboos, expectations, bullying, and many other personal and cultural features inhibit those of us who could be our best from attempting to achieve the best. Prince performed, composed, made a couple of films which stirred up controversy and interest, and, most important, was an exuberant part of our world, right or wrong.
Third, he was still active. He performed right up until he died; he was still composing, with one of his latest being Baltimore, a reaction to the riots over the death of Freddie Gray:
It’s one thing when a retired artist, who has become a sentimental favorite but lost relevance, passes away; but Prince was none of that. His surprise appearance at a local cafe could have even sober WCCO-TV in a tizzy of excitement. Some of that was that he was the hometown boy who not only made good, but never left, thus imparting a level of glamour to a pair of cities that otherwise have a minor frisson of insecurity. But it was ever more true that he was still relevant, still creating in his trailblazing style.
At the personal level, I may have run into him once. I lived in Chanhassen for years in a townhouse complex just to the north of the Byerly’s, and I recall its construction. Shortly after it opened, at about 2AM one night, being a computer hacker I conceived I needed a snack to fuel the fires, and so I strolled over to that Byerly’s. It was empty, except for one aisle with a short, slender guy with a gal, impeccably dressed in the style he affected at the time, both of whom looked quite distressed when they saw me. Being what I was then (which is to say, fairly tall and fully bearded), I gave them a polite nod, that being the extent of my sociability, and kept on going, no doubt to their relief. I speculate perhaps he needed a snack, or was curious about the new, upscale grocery store. I misdoubt that this contributes to my current shock, though.
But, whether or not that was him, it made him a fixed part of the Minnesota landscape for me. Whether you adored 1999, or When Doves Cry brings memories of an old love, or he was your inspiration, he was there, always a possibility to say something smart, or stupid, to try out a new song, or in the end, to stir up a culture that is nowhere near perfection. He made people think. Blessed are the people who make us better.
And that’s what we lost today.
