Thursday, Jul 24, 2008
After nearly two decades as rock royalty, his inner flame still burns hot purple -- rain or shine.
Sep 27, 1999 | So here it is, 1999, and what's the dude who used to go by his real name, Prince, up to?
Well, for one thing, he's keeping up his hissy fit against Warner Bros., the label he broke free from three years ago after 17 years of spinning out the hits. Because Warner Bros. owns the tune "1999" -- as it does all of the former Prince music recorded under contract -- the purple wonder has gone and rerecorded a whole bunch of new versions of the song, from hip-hop "1999" to Latino "1999," and made them available through his retail arm. Warner Bros. still may have its own plans for the song; in the meantime it has just released a disc of previously unreleased Prince material called "The Vault -- Old Friends 4 Sale," which the ex-Prince has dissed on his Web site thus: "An anonymous in4mer who just recently heard a testing pressing 4 the upcoming "PRINCE" release (aptly titled) 'Old Friends 4 Sale' said this recording sounds like a CONtractual obligation ... nothing more or less."
Ah, the hissy fit. It seems the Prince who dare not speak his name can't let go of what he has already let go of.
And how else is the purple wonder preparing for the millennium? Why, by suing his fans. Not just the fans who buy his music. But the fans who love him so much they actually took the time to create Web site shrines to his greatness. The little litigator has accused these devotees of infringing his copyright by using that nifty symbol he now goes by. But here's a catch: He not only gave them permission years ago to use the symbol, he e-mailed it to them and said, "Here, please use it."
The Artist -- his default name these days -- is acting a bit fevered in this, the year of his storied prognostication. You'd think he'd be partying all the time. After all, he's rich, he had a huge success with "Emancipation" -- the triple-CD tour de force he made to celebrate his divorce from Warner Bros. -- he seems happily married and all his Olympian music-making gifts appear intact. This spawn of Jimi and Joni, of James Brown and Gershwin, of the Beatles and Al Green, of Ellington, Dylan, Aretha -- you name it, he's synthesized them all into soundscapes unprecedented in their scope and grandeur -- could hardly be better positioned to exit 1999 with a bang. From now on he gets the glory and owns his masters. And on top of all that, he has a really cute ass.
So whence the peevishness? Well, there have been setbacks. He and his wife, Mayte, lost their kid, for one thing. Two years ago their 1-week-old son died of a rare skeletal disorder called Pfeiffer Syndrome Type 2. The Artist has never discussed the death publicly.
Beyond that, there's the problem with the limelight: It has dimmed, even while his own inner flame hasn't. The limelight's flicker is fickle, of course, and it's remarkable that the Artist has basked in it for as long as he has. Who would have thought, back in 1982 when the 24-year-old Prince cut "1999," that he'd actually still be working when the big year came to pass? Much less that he'd have made hits virtually the entire time? This accomplishment alone gains him admission to the exclusive club occupied by the likes of Elvis and the Stones.
But where in the '80s Prince could do no wrong, the '90s have been fraught. First he was attacked for selling out by incorporating rap into his music. Then there was the name change to the unpronounceable glyph. Next came the disgruntlement with Warner Bros. -- which had just lavished a $100 million contract on him. Record sales declined a bit, and that alone was enough to sour the taste makers who once considered the Artist their darling. Then, once free from his contract, he released so much product -- 10 discs of material in the past three years alone -- that no one but the die-hard fan could possibly keep up.
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