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| (Image: Michael Ochs Archives/Getty Images) |
Who is that freak asked my mother
when I proudly pulled out the Purple Rain vinyl record, from the HMV bag to
show my parents how I had spent my pocket money. Yes, I said defiantly, “he is
a freak and so am I”. I was thirteen years old, had just fallen in
love with the music of a freak named Prince, and was I damned proud of it.
As I turned and walked away I
chuckled to myself, wondering how my mother would react when she heard the
lyrics to Darling Nikki.
I knew a girl
named Nikki
I guess you
could say she was a sex fiend
I met her in
a hotel lobby
Masturbating
with a magazine…
My next act of
teenage defiance was to go see Purple Rain the movie, which was A rated, and
officially released the day after my birthday; which of course I took to be a
sign. Therein lies the magic of Prince; I truly believe that people who found
and loved his music will also have deeply personal connections, experiences and
memories of this discovery.
Prince once
said “I’m not a woman. I’m not a man. I am something that you’ll never
understand;” but yet it feels like he understood each one of us in a
way few artists ever do. I love music and admire many bands and singers but
there was something special about this freak. He was proud of being a freak. He
was not scared of being weird, of being different, of being himself. And
perhaps it was this deep, pure and unadulterated confidence in his being that
came through in his music and gave us all permission to be teenage freaks.
Being a teenager
is hard enough. Add pimples, girls, plumpness, girls and the complexities of navigating
teendom increase exponentially. For me Prince was the beacon who helped us
navigate those weird, wonderful and at times superficially torturous years. He
gave us permission to go forth and be ourselves; pimples, warts and all.
Part of his allure
was that unlike most pop stars he seemed shy, nervous and almost insular. It was
like he wanted to share the genius of his musical soul and then hide from the
fame that naturally accompanies it. Perhaps it was this quality that made him
more endearing and made him feel more like a family member than a distant pop
icon.
To a genius,
recluse, singer, performer, hermit, producer, man, songwriter, guitar God,
woman, dancer, the funk, the punk, the misfit, multi-instrumentalist and
mysterious enigma we knew and loved – we finally know what it feel like when
doves cry…
RIP Sweet, sweet
Prince.
