Reflections on Prince (The Beautiful One)

Celebrating Prince's birthday last week— his influence on me and our unexpected intersections.

This past Friday was Prince’s birthday. He would have been 67 years old.

Today I’m sharing an essay about Prince which I first posted in 2016 on the first blog I had.

I thought it would be meaningful to share it here on my Substack as I’ve been reflecting on him.

I was 26 when I wrote this but reading it back I still feel all the same ways now.

Happy Belated Birthday Prince.

On that day, a star was born.

Reflections on Prince (The Beautiful One)

There is perhaps no other artist in the world who has inspired me as much as Prince.

The day Prince died was heavy with his earthly absence. It felt as though the world tilted off balance for a moment. It’s so strange to go from talking about someone as a current, modern-day innovator to then speaking about that same person in the past tense. It’s hard to put it all into brief words so I’ve turned to a longer format in order to try process my feelings around his death. I also see it as a way of honoring his legacy and sharing more of his artistry—through my deep immersion into his work and fateful run-ins.

Prince, entirely changed the way I make, listen, think and feel about music. He held the tension between pop and experimental music in ways that I longed to myself and have done so across my career so far. He gave me courage to pursue these different sides of myself. He could be aggressive and explosive in ways that felt completely unhinged or on the brink of madness, then hold the most gentle, sensual and elegant posture in the next breath.

He rode the line between masculine and feminine, unveiling nuances I recognized in myself. Lyrically he explored, the primal, sexuality, God and the seeking soul. He never apologized for the things he wrote about and never censored his art to pacify the masses. He was controversial and daring but never used cheap tricks to shock audiences. He was a paradox that somehow also felt completely cohesive—the world signed up for his musical worldview, not him as a “brand.”

My first memories

With my saved pocket money, I bought Musicology at around 15 years old in a local record store in New Zealand. That year I also bought the album Frank by Amy Winehouse and Diorama by Silverchair—records that would also go on to shape my influence.

It goes without saying that most peoples entry point into Prince is not Musicology (2004). I came to his work pretty late, but in some ways I feel this album allowed me to discover Prince in a different way than perhaps others did. I was introduced to him from seeing the music video for Musicology on Juice TV in New Zealand which I fell in love with. I didn’t have the context of Purple Rain or the notion that he was a massive star, as I later realized. I knew his name but it was this album that turned me from being curious to enamored. This record also features the song Call My Name which I remember singing at the of my lungs while I blasted the CD in my bedroom after school.

Next, I ventured deeper and discovered his very first album, For You. This was around the time I was making music on my Boss 8 track recorder, creating demos completely out of my vocals. I heard the opening song for this record and got inspired to build arrangements like he did. I learned how to work with effects, panning and the basics of compression and EQ while playing around at home. This was also around the time that the first demo of Settle Down was born.

Not only was Prince 20 years old when he made this album but he played everything on it and produced it himself.

It wasn’t long till I was completely immersed in Prince’s entire catalogue. I’d become obsessed. I appreciated modern R&B music but when Prince did it, it was different…. the dimension and texture of everything felt tactile and soulful like nothing I’d heard before. There was a sense of wildness, as if he might jump OUT of the stereo at any moment. A the time I was into an eclectic range of music like post punk, grunge, indie rock and even metal as well as artists like Christina Aguilera and Beyonce.

I started to see threads of Prince in all the music I was listening to. His own starting points ranged from James Brown, Sly and the Family Stone, George Clinton, Jimi Hendrix and naturally he was the gateway for me to discover their music too, just like Jeff Buckley introduced me to Nusrat Fayeh Ali Khan and Nina Simone (who I would later go on to cover with my version of Plain Gold Ring.)

It all seemed to track back to Funk. He took me to school. While my friends went to University and got degrees, I studied Prince and the records he made. I always tell people that everything I needed to learn as a producer and a songwriter are found in his albums.

In 2011 I signed to Warner Bros and began working with Lenny Waronker, who signed Prince to the label at 18 years old and continued to work closely with him over the years…

I remember my first visit to Warner Bros and seeing photos of Prince all over the walls. I couldn’t believe he had walked those same floors and sat in the same rooms that I was now sitting in. I knew that he has also experienced many challenges in that same building— protests that Prince became famous for.

Lenny would often share Prince stories with me as I sat hanging on every word, excited to get further glimpses into his process.

”I remember when Prince played me, When Doves Cry” Lenny recalled as he sat in an office lined with framed Prince plaques all over the wall.

”He had concerns about there being no bass in the song” Lenny said as he smiled.

I couldn’t believe it, Prince had a concern with his song?! Part of me felt he must be free of self-doubt.

He explained to Lenny that he felt the song was finished but he wasn’t sure if it still needed the backbone of his bass, as so many of his other songs centered around. Could he leave it like this?

Lenny listened to the song and he hardly noticed what was “missing.” He told him the song was great. Prince went ahead and released it as is and it became one of his biggest hits.

I think of this story when I’m struggling to trust my own instincts in the final stages of my songs. It takes a lot of vulnerability to ask for feedback, but in this process we often discover that our inner reaction to that feedback tells us what we need to know. Sometimes you stand your ground on the original idea, sometimes the need to pivot becomes clear when you hear it in a room with someone else.

Luckily, the best A&R’s know when to get out of the way and let the intuition of the artist drive the path forward.

Diamond and Pearls

Lenny also recalled another story regarding Prince’s album Diamonds and Pearls (1991). When it was played for executives at the company, no one knew where it would fit. The A&Rs said there was no song that would work for urban radio. When Prince heard of this on the phone he said to Lenny:

“Well, it sounds like you’ve got a marketing problem” and hung up.

Lenny laughed as he fondly reflected on Prince’s stark honesty. He made sure to tell me that Prince was also an intent listener, incredibly smart and up for a challenge.

Turns out, straight after that phone call he went back into the studio.
Monday morning came around and he turned up with a fully completed song for Lenny announcing:

“You’ve got a new baby”.

He had written the song Get Off.

Dark, dirty, provoking. A song for urban radio, both uncompromising but undeniably brilliant and capable of mainstream success.

He could play the game but the game never played him.

One thing that inspires me the most about Prince is his wildly prolific and varied catalogue. There’s a lack of preciousness and even irreverence to the way he released music over the years. It’s not a neat, manicured body of work…. it’s raw and more faithful to capturing the moment he was at in time.

On God

There was another side to Prince and that was shown in his songs exploring faith. Most notably was my second favourite song of his called, The Cross.

I’ll never forget the power of this song when I first listened to it and it has continued to empower me in my own spiritual path. There was a lack of fear in his proclamations, no matter the subject matter. He could spin lyrics that were playful, comical and focused on the temporal then carry you into the profound and sacred. Spirit and Flesh. The human condition—the tension we all embody.

It was during the making of my debut album Vows that I deepened my appreciation of Prince as a producer…

I remember the day that Francois Tetaz and I started production on Old Fame. He started introducing me to Purple Rain and together we studied The Beautiful Ones. It became an inspiration for the drum approach on Old Flame (a reference I tried not to show too obviously but it’s definitely there). This is probably my all time favourite song of his. The passion, heartache, intensity and nuances of the production. The drums punched so boldly against the stabbing pianos lathered in dreamy reverbs. That haunting, gradually pitch-shifting drone of a single held synth note drunkenly shadowing the whole arrangement.

He could flaunt the most impeccable falsetto, dancing and shimmering like Diana Ross. This coupled with his fierce guitar solo was everything I wanted in a song.

Every new listen would reveal new ear candy and textures I hadn’t previously noticed before. This was my kind of Pop. Ear worms at the surface and a whole world of slow revealing, sonic secrets lurking underneath.

Crystal Ball was my next fascination.

I’d insist my friends sit down and listen to it while I pointed all of my favourite parts (probably quite annoying) from opening track (which is almost 11 minutes long) as it panned psychedelically around the speakers.

This track was also my introduction to Prince’s strange genderless alter ego called Camille. I also had this urge to shape shift vocally. I’d always written my songs with different characters in my head—from gangs of bratty girls to guttural male chants. Light and dark, soft then explosive. Why couldn’t all those energies exist in one song?

My other favourite song by Prince is a rare unreleased track called Dionne which was supposedly inspired by Dionne Warwick. I felt like I was in on a secret when I heard it.

In a burst of inspiration, I decided to do my own cover of it, making the entire thing in one evening.

The Grammy Awards

Fast-forward to 2013 and I was suddenly at the Grammys with Wally (aka Gotye) for the song Somebody I Used to Know which currently clocks 2,485,572,997 views on YouTube. I don’t even know how to comprehend that.

I remember our faces when we saw our idol walk on stage with cane in his hand—effortless and cool as ever.

For a moment I completely forgot we were even in the category for “Record Of The Year”. My attention was so focused on the fact that he was up there. We had no idea he would soon be handing us that golden gramophone.

Then he said it.

“And the Grammy award goes to… Somebody That I Used To Know. I love this song”

I remember our gazes locking and him bowing his head gracefully.

My smile was so wide it was starting to hurt. I had that particular look of elation that verges on disbelief.

I watched as some of the most iconic artists of the decade erupted into applause. Beyonce, Frank Ocean, Jenifer Lopez and Adele. Is this real?

When it came time to speak I could only think about Prince. Both Wally and I could hardly muster anyone else to thank but him and each other.

“I just want to thank Prince” I said nervously as the please-wrap-your-speech-up-now-music began to play behind me. Rude.

On the final moments…

I never interacted directly with Prince again though there were a couple of moments where it nearly happened.

In 2018 I played Minneapolis. Prince had requested VIP seating at my show in Minneapolis in 2018 although he never arrived (just like a true superstar).

I covered “Call My Name” by Prince that night (without knowing the rumours of his appearance) so he was still in the house.

The stories get wilder though. Janelle Monae, who I had collaborated with that year, revealed to me over a phone call that Prince had heard my album The Golden Echo and that he had listened to the whole thing. He wanted her to tell me he loved it and his favourite song was Carolina.

Then a request came to perform at Paisley Park.

Prince passed a few months later.

A Tribute with The Revolution

One of the great honours of my career was being asked to perform with The Revolution (Prince’s band from 1979 to 1986) at First Avenue alongside Bilal (my second favourite singer in the world), Maya Rudolph, Sheila E, Wendy and Lisa and Mayte Garcia.

They asked if I would sing Kiss. Another all time fav. Although no live footage of the performance exists. I have a voice memo of my rehearsal with The Revolution the day before the show. It sounded incredible, just like the records except with my voice!

Wendy Melvoin then began a stripped down version of Purple Rain and we all joined the stage for the final moments. I lifted my hands in the air as if to call him down from the Heaven to join us. Earlier in the show a central mic stand had been left symbolically at the front of the stage where he would have stood. The Revolution was not complete without their band leader on stage.

We ran off stage to the sound of cheers and the whole band huddled together, arms wrapped tightly around each other. Tears poured out from everyone. My eyes too. Grief. Transcendence. Celebration.

Prince left a legacy that I hope to continue through my work. I would not be the artist I am without his bravery to go first.

What have I learnt from The Artist Formerly Known As Prince?

There are no rules. You make them.