PRINCE, RIP

There will be longer pieces written, and better ones, about the death of Prince, but the main point is that there will be many, and each will demonstrate purely and powerfully how deeply he connected with those of us who loved his music, his spirit, his playfulness, his petulance, his bravery, his youth, his wisdom, his weirdness, his virtuosity, and his vision. Other articles will go through it all: his family, his father, 94 East, First Avenue, “Dirty Mind,” “Purple Rain,” the coughing on the extended “Raspberry Beret,” every second of every Sign O the Times show, the rest. I’m just making lists here to keep from sinking, just thinking to keep from feeling. “1999” was about the apocalypse, back in 1982. When the real 1999 came, people looked back seventeen years and laughed that nothing had ended. Seventeen years later, we’re all wrong.

We all discovered Prince at different times, but with the same sense—that he had discovered us. Tell your own stories about when you heard a song on the radio, or on a cassette, and how it lit you up from inside. The stories will be surprisingly similar.

Writing to mourn Prince doesn’t seem to make sense. Dreiser said, “Words are but vague shadows of the volumes we mean.” Prince said, “I’m not a woman / I’m not a man / I am something that you’ll never understand.” But we understood at least that. The lyric is from “I Would Die 4 U,” of course. Messianism turns to memorial.

Everyone will carry at least one song with him today. I’m carrying “Still Would Stand All Time,” the gospel ballad from “Graffiti Bridge.”

—Ben Greenman, The New Yorker.

I will carry with me this song of his today... Purple Rain. Here in stage at the NFL while rain poured down all.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EsRUAoUvP10