Slow love

A great friend of mine, the Beeznutz, once told me an amusing little story about a conversation he had been involved in at a party. The musical discussion had turned to our favourite little funkster, Prince, of whom Beeznutz is something of an obsessive. I mean we all like Prince of course, worship him even, but Beez has a great knowledge of the man and his music.

Anyway, the two party guests were swapping tales of their devotion and generally engaging in some light-hearted one-upmanship of the ilk that boys tend to do, displaying their own depth of knowledge to themselves and each other. It is like some modern male competition ritual I suppose, instead of spears and war paint, settled by knowledge of obscure 12 inches. As the jousting went to and fro a third guest entered the fray, edging his way into the conversation claiming also to be “into Prince”. Beez and his colleague, having established their own credentials in this verbal contest were ready to dismiss this young pretender forthwith, and asked him which parts of his purple canon he particularly enjoyed. Without skipping a beat he replied in one of the most sincere and inspired statements ever, before turning and re-entering the party.

His reply? Simply “the ballads”. And there you have it, two men reduced to silence by a surprise broadside into their ships of smugness, reducing their own previous discussion to futility. For here was a man who had burst the bubble of train-spotting that often comes with the music fan. Not for him some obscure live funk jam from a Prince after-party, or a lost album from the late-80s purple patch of creativity. Not a b-side or bootleg. No, just Prince’s many and varied, and it is true, often incredible ballads.

This tale has always made me chuckle, but is actually a good introduction into an area of Prince’s work that it is easy to overlook, but in fact is as a valid an element of his work to admire as any other. If you count the hypnotic funk of the “Ballad of Dorothy Parker” as a slow song, then the stakes could hardly be any higher. But then let us consider also the falsetto genius of “Adore”, the reclamation of “Nothing Compares 2 U” live, the epic scale of “Purple Rain”, the unbridled brilliance of “The Beautiful Ones”, the sheer beauty of “Sometimes it Snows In April”. And these are only the beginning. “When We’re Dancing Close and Slow must be the soundtrack to a million conceptions, while the instrumental charm of “Venus De Milo” always stands out for me. “Do Me Baby”?, “Slow Love”?, “Insatiable”?.

Damn the man even dropped “Sacndalous” on the Batman soundtrack. You could even argue that “If I Was You’re Girlfriend” deserves inclusion. And so you see, what seems like a flippant comment, post-post-ironic even, actually stands up as a statement of genius. All I’m waiting for now is for the same conversation to play out, but upon being questioned as to their favourite Prince work, the respondent just says, “Oh, you know, the new stuff!”. Then we know that we have a serious aficionado on our hands, and the game is won.