Tome On The Range

Le Grind: The Ongoing Enigma Of

Prince
Wyn d h a m Wal l a c e , O c t o b e r 4 t h , 2 0 1 2 0 0 : 0 4

Wyndham Wallace ploughs his way through another Prince biography to find more
questions than answers
AD D YO UR COM ME NT

Sitting up late one night not so long ago with a bunch of musicians, I found myself
immersed in the sounds of Princes Parade - a record that, at the time of its release,
became something of an obsession of mine. But, in recent years, its been neglected on
my shelves, pulled out only occasionally, and almost always for its closing track, the
exquisite Sometimes It Snows In April. That night we played the record without
pause, marvelling at the lack of bass on Kiss, and the way its percussion seems to
distort ever so slightly; at the brilliant absurdity of the Caribbean steel drum on New
Position; and at the swooning romance of Under The Cherry Moon, which flows
like a river despite its deliberately plodding drum beat. We thrilled to Mountains,
chuckled admiringly at the French pretensions of Do U Lie and gasped at the
sublimely inventive brass and wind arrangements on I Wonder U. We all agreed:
Prince, at his finest and1986s Parade is unquestionably one of Princes finest
albums is triumphant.

The arrival of Matt Thornes mighty tome, Prince, was therefore a welcome one.
Despite my youthful passion for Princes work which lasted five years from the first
moment I heard 1984s When Doves Cry (from Purple Rain) to 1989s Batman, after
which my interest began to wane as his output became increasingly uneven and my
love of indie rock correspondingly gained strength I knew little about the man.
Thornes definitive portrait of the artist and his incomparable musical catalogue
seemed like a good place to start. Though my ignorance of the topic might initially
seem to make me an inappropriate critic, it is not a unique condition. According
to PrinceVault the website named after the legendary depository for all of the mans
unreleased material there have been 48 publications devoted to Prince (though this
seems to include giveaways with magazines and the like), and yet he remains
reclusive, unpredictable and mysterious. These 476 pages plus a further fifty sides of
notes would surely be able to shine a light on his personality and music.

They do, but its a light that dazzles and blinds as much as it reveals. Matt Thorne is
clearly as infatuated with Prince as anyone on this earth, and has undeniably invested a
great deal of effort and time into this encyclopaedic volume seven years of research,
apparently. But working ones way through this book is sometimes a grind, and not in
the sexual sense that Prince himself might use the word. Theres no doubt that its
packed with the minutiae of Princes recording career: the roots of huge numbers of
songs are explored, set lists have been diligently digested to provide an intricate
knowledge of which tracks the artist himself has most favoured, and where possible
collaborators have been interviewed to better understand the mans working methods.
Somehow, though, little sense of Princes personality emerges, beyond a sex obsessed,
progressively more controlling, musically gifted but often misguided individual who
was a late convert to the Jehovahs Witnesses.

The book starts promisingly with a prologue describing a party at the Purple Ones
house in 2006 to promote the release of 3121, and hints that whats to follow will be a
personal voyage into the mans music. Descriptions of sinister Walt Disney-meets-
David-Lynch architecture and depictions of neighbours trying to gain access to the
event are teasing and initially gripping: few people, asides from inner circle
celebrities, are offered the privilege to get this close. But such intimacy is short-lived:
before long weve set off on a journey that, while unafraid to criticise, remains
nervous of prodding too deep below the surface, instead operating as a handbook, a
comprehensive guide to huge amounts of material that, to the average music fan,
remain frustratingly hard to track down.

Of course, theres a certain fascination in discovering how Prince cannibalises his own
work, lifting lyrics and musical phrases, even sometimes arrangements provided by Dr
Clare Fisher a man who hes always, somewhat ungratefully, refused to meet, lest he
jinx their work together to create new music, and Thorne tracks these progressions
carefully. He also plots a shrewd course through the many musicians with whom
Prince has worked, as well as the side projects, protgs and business associates. But
for those looking to learn more about the mans life, its short of revelations,
something Thorne concedes early on when he admits that, it doesnt help that
Princes mythological approach to his past is shared by some of his family members.
Furthermore, for those looking for a deconstruction of that very mythology, its also a
little superficial, dependent upon conjecture and insights from those who have worked
with him but whom, for the most part, seem wary of giving away too many secrets.
(Prince, inevitably, played no role in the book at all.)

Thornes academic and highly specialised approach might perhaps be less troubling if
he didnt draw attention to certain themes without offering significant investigation of
them. The most disconcerting of all is Princes preoccupation with sex. Early on,
Thorne refers to two unreleased tracks from the Controversy sessions that both
feature Prince threatening rape. The sentence is surely enough to stop most readers in
their tracks, and Thorne briefly recognises this. If we are troubled by the songs, he
continues, then does the fact that having recorded them Prince has (so far) exercised
self-censorship and withheld them from a wide audience excuse their content? But
the question remains unanswered, as it does repeatedly the further one reads, beyond a
subtle exercise in whitewash: its easy to argue convincingly that he (Prince) needed
to visit these artistic extremes.
Later on, Thorne discusses another unreleased track, Big Tall Wall, about his onetime
lover Susannah Melvoin, the sister of Wendy (of Wendy and Lisa): Lyrically its
unbelievably reactionary, a throwback to the lock-her-up-in-a-trunk misogynist crap of
Cliff Richards Living Doll, he writes, but though he appears to feel strongly about
this, hes soon acting as an apologist, excusing it as a definite exercise in black
humour. Unable to hear it, or even read the words lyrics are never quoted in depth,
presumably something inflicted upon Thorne by Princes publishers were left
trusting the author, and hes not given us great reason to do so, especially when he
later refers to Schoolyard, a track dropped from Diamonds And Pearls, which
Thorne coolly describes as a sexually explicit autobiographical track which moves
from a graphic description of the experience of entering 14-year-old Carries vagina
(compared to a glove filled with baby lotion) to a strange sermonising about how the
listener might wish to protect their own children from similar experiences. There are
few attempts to reconcile these themes and next to no judgement about the
sexualisation of a young girl, even if, in the notes, Thorne refers to a Rolling Stone
interview in which Prince confesses its about the first time I ever got any, as though
this makes it more warrantable.

Thorne is largely forgiving of Princes dirty mind something that is naturally a huge
factor in his work, and which is indeed sometimes comically played its arguably
more indicative of the fact hes not as enquiring a writer as the subject deserves from a
book this lengthy. The contradictions and sexual, political implications of Princes
boasting, androgyny and his frequent attempts to write for women often his lovers
remain disappointingly unscrutinised, just as his later spiritual awakening seems
somehow glossed over.

Thorne also has a predisposition to superlatives, and there are only so many times that
one can face down such declarations as only here can you get a sense of the true
power of a Prince And The Revolution show from this era. One particularly effusive
passage grates more than most, as Thorne gets carried away so far he seems to be
deifying his subject: Princes show at the Het Paard van Troje in The Hague was the
third of nine after-shows he would play on the Lovesexytour, he writes, and has
become the most legendary after-show he ever performed. That Prince had the mental
and physical stamina to create such an overwhelming experience in the middle of the
night for the favoured few after what must have been an extraordinarily draining show
in front of 30,000 people is a feat beyond any other (pop) musician. Yeah. Right.
Beyond any other (pop) musician. Of course.

It is perhaps unfair to criticise a book for not being something rather than acknowledge
what it actually is. Prince is a thorough examination of almost every single song
Prince has ever composed, as well as a handful that he didnt but has still performed,
given extra context by those who were around at the time of the writing or recording
sessions. It draws upon a lifetimes worth of listening to albums, live recordings,
fanclub only downloads and more with the ear of an enthusiast. It will surely delight
those for whom the knowledge that Graffiti Bridge started out as a thirty page script,
one that Princes manager at the time suggested might make a better Broadway
musical, is exciting. Furthermore, if you want to know what Thorne made of Princes
21 date residency at Londons O2 Arena he attended nineteen shows and thirteen of
the fourteen aftershows then theres an entire chapter for you.

But if these seem to be of little interest and one can only presume that theyre not
going to be of much interest except to the kinds of people who, in less than two
months, would want to attend nineteen shows and thirteen after-shows in which Prince
isnt even guaranteed to perform thenPrince is perhaps not the book for you.
Sometimes too much information is a bad thing, after all. What keeps us intrigued,
despite Princes frequent stumbles, is his mystery. As the man himself might say:
Shut up, already. Damn!

Prince is released on the 4th of October by Faber & Faber