Entertainment Weekly Interview
April 23rd 2004
Don't Call It a Comeback

   

Interview: Meet Prince, the clean version. With critics praising his latest album and fans packing stadiums to see him play, the musical genius is back in the limelight -- but decidedly different by Jeff Jensen

The last time we paid attention to Prince, it was as much for his increasingly bizarre behavior as for the brilliant rock/funk/R&B fusion that made him one of the greatest artists of modern pop. Changing his name to an unpronounceable symbol. Scrawling the word ''slave'' on his cheek. Releasing half-assed albums like ''Come'' to burn off his contract with Warner Bros. His most notable cultural contribution of the past decade? Carmen Electra. Thanks, Prince. Thanks a lot.

Yet through it all, there still existed the hope that a talent called ''genius'' time and again could return to form. That moment finally seems to have arrived. In February, his electrifying Grammy duet with Beyoncé opened the show, and stole it. That was followed by Prince's induction into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame; his guitar heroics were the highlight of the ceremony. His current tour -- on which he's allegedly playing his hits for the last time -- is selling out across the country. Critics are calling his new CD, ''Musicology'' (in stores April 20), his best in years. It's the kind of thing we media types like to call a comeback, though according to Prince, we media types, as usual, are mistaken.

Two nights after playing to an ecstatic L.A. crowd -- the largest ever to see a concert at the Staples Center -- Prince is backstage before a sound check at the Glendale Arena outside Phoenix. Clad in a black sleeveless tunic and cranberry pants, Prince takes a plate from his bodyguard and loads it up with fruit, pasta slathered in cream sauce, and salad. Yes, Prince eats. Though 5 foot 2, Prince does not radiate ''short.'' From his complicated poodle haircut, to his dark doe eyes and the geometrically groomed stubble along his razor-sharp features, to his toned arms and quirky, customized attire, Prince's carefully considered visage is a superconductor for his considerable charm, and it tricks the eye. He even has a scent, though an elusive one. Not a perfume but a powder, like he's been dusted with incense. Prince in the flesh is pop evanescence incarnate. It's only when he opens his mouth that he resembles the rest of us mortals.

Hearing him talk about ordinary things is almost a shock. He speaks in hushed-voice gushes -- megabyte downloads of wit, logic, and Christian evangelism. In one rant about the nature of democracy, how the media shape perception, and the decline of morality in America, Prince links terrorism-induced regime change in Spain, ''Bowling for Columbine,'' ''The Matrix,'' Adam and Eve and the Fall of Man, the Jayson Blair/New York Times scandal, Mariah Carey, MTV's ''Jackass,'' and Santa Claus. (We were discussing whether he thinks he's misunderstood.) Strangely, the whole thing makes sense.

Of course, he does have his obsessions. Or perhaps ''obsession'' would be more accurate. Nearly every answer to questions about ''Musicology'' or his career is colored by his battle with Warner Bros. over ownership of his master recordings and the pace of his output (beginning with 1978's ''For You,'' Warner released 20 albums in 21 years). Talking to him can be like chatting with a flashback-racked war veteran, or a heartbroken ex dumped for no good reason.

Prince's attitude about the music industry in a nutshell: He wishes it would go away. He hates how labels have exploited our warp-speed culture at the expense of nurturing long-term careers. ''It took me four albums to get on the cover of Rolling Stone. Now it takes new artists only one. There should be rules for that kind of thing!''

In 2001 Prince created the NPG Music Club, an online service that is now the official outlet for most of his music. He's giving ''Musicology'' away to everyone who attends his concerts, an experiment he's been itching to try since 1994 (the cost -- about $9.99 -- is included in the ticket price). With its focused songcraft and shout-outs to James Brown, Earth, Wind & Fire, and Sly & the Family Stone, ''Musicology'' has an old-school vibe that reflects Prince's belief in old-fashioned musicianship. If today's young artists just knew their stuff, Prince suggests, they could have greater control over their careers and gain the clout to transform the industry.

But Prince does see a place in his new world order for the current power players. ''You know that guy who dances funny on 'American Idol'? The Asian-American kid?'' He means William Hung. ''That works for the record industry,'' he says with a laugh. ''We need somebody to release those kind of records.'' Does his implied critique include packaged popsters like Britney Spears, too? Prince begs off, not wanting to name names. Kinda. ''I mean no disrespect,'' he says. ''But I see it as my duty to school young people coming up. Lip-synchers? What does a kid -- what do other artists get out of that? I don't mind if Mariah Carey hits bad notes.''


There are two things Prince doesn't talk about. The first is his personal life, which means that we won't be chatting about his wife, Manuela Testolini, whom I meet briefly in Prince's candlelit dressing room after the sound check. She shakes my hand and tells me it's a pleasure, all without breaking stride as she leaves the room. Her husband looks longingly toward the door, then invites me to sit on a small sofa. ''Musicology'' is steeped in the pining of a man not only in love but in love with fidelity. Yet when I ask him about this seemingly more mature Prince -- a man almost as infamous for his romantic conquests as his music -- he shuts me down. ''That's for all of you to decide. I don't intellectualize my music.''

The second off-limits topic is Prince's past...which rules out almost everything else you'd want to discuss with him. ''I've changed. I'm a different person. I'm about the present and moving forward. New joke, new anecdote, new lesson to be discovered,'' he says. ''You know that old lady in 'Sunset Boulevard,' trapped in her mansion and past glories? Getting ready for her close-up? I don't run with that.'' Even so, Prince begins concerts with a self-venerating video quoting extensively from a speech by Alicia Keys at his Hall induction.

Much of what has changed in Prince's life has occurred in the several years since he committed to the Jehovah's Witness faith. His music has always wrestled with Christian-tinged spirituality, but Prince says he didn't start reading the Bible until he'd become a Witness. His religious fervor was evident in the 2001 concept album ''The Rainbow Children,'' which was roundly knocked by critics.

As a result of his faith, Prince has developed an uncharacteristic modesty. In concert, he's taken to changing ''I'm your messiah and you're the reason why'' in ''I Would Die 4 U'' to ''He's your messiah...'' Still, it appears he has some kinks to work out in squaring his dogma with his golden-god persona. Asked if he feels he's alienated his fans over the years, Prince says: ''No. The love has never left. I've always felt that there were people in my corner. It's a gift, that God gives us the chance to feel such love. And it's all for His glory: I don't believe in idol worship. That's why I don't sign autographs. When I get asked for my autograph, I say no and tell them why, because I'm giving them something to think about.'' This from a man who often prompts his concert audiences to scream his name. Ironies, contradictions, and exceptions escape Prince like doves from a cage.

There is also the predicament of his own potty-mouthed past -- the one where he sang of erotic cities and a love that is soft and wet. But Prince has this problem solved as well. He doesn't perform those songs anymore. The founding father of the warning label freely concedes he's come full circle since he scandalized Tipper Gore with the word ''masturbating'' in ''Darling Nikki.'' ''Look at this situation with the FCC after Janet: We've gone too far now. We've pushed the envelope off the table and forgotten there was a table. You can't push the envelope any further than I pushed it. So stop! What's the point?''

But the more Prince talks about the sign of the times, the more he ends up talking about his past -- and defending it. ''We've all used shock value to sell things,'' he says. ''I used shock to get attention. But back when I was doing the freaky songs in the freaky outfits, we were exploring ideas. I wanted my band to be multiracial, male and female, to reflect society. The song 'Sexuality' was about education and literacy. 'P Control' and 'Sexy MF' were about respect for women. Go and listen to the verses. All people focus on is the hooks.''

The Return of Prince

Whatever you call Prince's resurging popularity, don't use the C-word. ''People are calling this my comeback. Comeback? I never went anywhere!'' Prince, in fact, denies that his Grammy appearance, his oldies-packed tour, and the nationwide movie-theater simulcast of his Staples Center concert were part of an orchestrated effort to kick-start his career. ''I never stopped playing and recording. Never had a problem filling arenas. My appearance on 'Ellen' wasn't part of some master strategy. She asked if I would perform; I said yes.''

Back in Phoenix, concert starts an hour late, due, perhaps, to a certain interview ending right at showtime. As a result, Prince has to cut the acoustic set, which means no ''Little Red Corvette'' -- the song that brought the Staples Center crowd to its feet. But don't worry, Phoenix: You should take the whole last-time-for-the-hits thing with a grain of salt. ''Well, it is called the 2004ever tour,'' says Prince when pressed on the subject. ''And time is forever.'' So...probably not the last time? ''Probably not.''

Earlier, I asked Prince what the ''Little Red Corvette'' ovation at Staples meant to him. ''What I was thinking in that moment was, Without any real sacrifice, there's no reward. The affirmation of the Staples show was a blessing from God. You've read the magazines, the gossips. I'm not supposed to be here. But here I am.''

(This is an online-only excerpt of Entertainment Weekly's April 23, 2004, cover story.)

Complete article in the print edition