August 1998  Nieuwe Revu magazine - August 1998
   Symbolically spoken: 'My skin has thickened a lot.'  by Serge Simonart
                                  (Kindly translated by Gerard van den Ijssel)

The-Artist-Everybody-Still-Calls-Prince, in other words Symbol, or love-symbol, is starting to show human characteristics: he's
just released a new album Newpower Soul and is giving an interview. 'No, it's not an interview, it's a conversation'. That's fine
with me.

The Hit Factory in New York. A recording studio that's almost as legendary as The Artist himself. The elevator looks like it's
been lifted out of Blade Runner. The walls are plastered with platinum CD's. Here John Lennon recorded Double Fantasy,
Michael Jackson HIStory and The Stones many songs on various albums.

More than any other musical competitor, the ex-Prince has managed in the past fifteen years to cross all boundaries (race,
color, musical taste, radio formats, styles). No one started singing about race and sex as early and as well as he did. He
managed to sell records to fans of funk, but also to Bruce Springsteen fans. Nowadays none of this is shockingly new. But that's
because everybody -black soul artists and white MTV alike - have absorbed Prince's influence. For a long time so-called direct
competitor Michael Jackson and Prince were always mentioned together. But look at the facts: MJ released five records in
fifteen years, of which he wrote less than two thirds himself. Symbol/Prince released twenty albums in the same period, every
song written by himself. Symbol plays six different instruments both live and in the studio. MJ does not. Symbol in concert wins
over his audience with his music and charisma. MJ with pathos and special effects. Looking back, it's mostly Prince's ambition
and determination that are impressive. Who else could mentally deal with the humiliation (in '81) of being booed as the opening
act for the American tour of the Rolling Stones and have beer cans thrown at him?

Who else could have written 'Baby I'm A Star' before he was one? On the other hand, this is the man who, during an earlier
meeting, seemed careless, with a smile showing the children's room at Paisley Park, while later the news broke out that his
newborn baby had died a few days before. Ofcourse today everybody wonders why The Artist (as everybody around him calls
him) suddenly wants to talk. Some insist he's bankrupt and needs the money and attention. But that's nonsense: Prince always
got attention, despite (or maybe because of) his silence, and the royalties from Purple Rain alone are enough to stay a
millionaire. Others suggest he wants a hit. That's nonsense too. The Artists latest worldwide hit was 'The Most Beautiful Girl',
and that record was distributed through a small record label without any promotion. Newpower Soul, his latest album, has
plenty of good grooves, but intentionally no hits.

On the other hand, the hype surrounding his name change and the release of his last four CD's through different channels have
done him no good. There are more dark clouds in the sky; The Artist's Glam Slam night clubs in Minneapolis and LA are
closed, just like his NPG stores in Minneapolis and London. Some Paisley park employees got fired. Because of these financial
issues, cynics now call The Artist The Accountant.

I for myself think that Symbol just is fed up with being called an eccentric, a recluse. He is talking because he wants to prove
that's he is a normal person who happens to be passionate and obsessive when it comes to music. When you get close to Mayte
- a gorgeous, nice, no-nonsense girl, free of any pose - it's clear that she has had a great influence on this man's openness. A
few myths were already thrown away during an earlier visit to Paisley Park eighteen months ago. The man is indeed intelligent
and not shy at all. And he has a sense of humor. Recently, on American TV, he unexpectedly showed up in a show hosted by
comedian Sinbad. When asked why he stayed silent for so long, Symbol answered with a high voice 'I've been ashamed of my
voice for so long'.

In reality the dark voice of The Artist resembles that of Barry White. But I can't prove it. Symbol still refuses to have his voice
recorded. Before our conversation ('No, it's not an interview, it's a conversation') I was told that I had to take notes. A disaster.
How can you talk with your idol, listen, look at him in the eyes, think of your next question and at the same time write down
what's being said? Just before the interview, someone came up with the idea of having the conversation written down by a
professional stenography writer. Alright then. No recorder, no notebook. Just sit down and talk. The Artist likes to surprise
people. All of a sudden he's there. I'm behind the console in Studio 2 watching the video for 'The One'. At the beginning of the
video you can see The Artist and Mayte in black and white. He is a dirty tramp, she is a poor girl living with her mother. The
sentimental but also funny video has just ended when I see The Artist in a dark corner all dressed in black silk. He wears a
platinum earpiece and carries a glass cane in which blue things glitter. We greet and soon after an assistant brings in the
stenography writer. It turns out to be a middle aged woman who looks like the missing link (judging from her behavior and
appearance) between Peggy Bundy and Roseanne Barr. She takes a seat between us. I anticipate a catastrophe.

I show The Artist a British ad for Beck's beer, in which the Symbol is copied and the slogan says: 'The beer formerly known as
hop, yeast, barley and glacial water.' I ask him if he's seen it before. He grins, points at the Symbol on his cane and says: "I'm,
eh.., I'm not that good at names." Then he looks at the advertisement. "No, this is not allowed. This is piracy. 'Symbol' is a
registered trademark. I was smart enough to do that. Much to the annoyance of Warner's lawyers. An ad like this one is meant
for people who make fun of my name. I don't care. It's their problem, not mine. My skin has thickened a lot." (In the meantime
the stenography writer is ticking on her annoying zooming machine).

I just saw the video for The One.

"Mayte directed it."

What? The stenography writer asks with a terrible voice. What was that strange word? Mawpe?

Mayte. That's the wife of this gentleman.

"Really" she replies. "What a strange name. Can you spell it?"

"M-A-Y-" spells The Artist. He roles his eyes and says. "Sorry, I have to make a call." Then he walks out.

"He's weird" the woman says. "He's probably pissing, don't you think?" I feel like strangling her. For a moment I think Symbol is
gone, when an assistant calls the stenography writer away. I can see The Artist walking toward the recording studio where the
piano stands. I follow him.

The Artist plays some improvised music on the piano. Beautiful! I tell him that I'm prepared to skip our talk if I can just hear him
play for the next hour. "Ha! No. Alright, what you wanna know?"

Well, I don't want to nag. But why can't I record our conversation. I know how much you hate people writing crap about you,
but how can you be sure that they don't write those strange things when there is no recording of this talk?"

"To me using a cassette recorder during a conversation is like a contract. And I don't want a formal contract with you. I want an
informal talk about something we hopefully both are passionate about: music. Without a recorder our relation can be based on
trust. If you write lies you'll break that trust and then you'll suck all that bad energy into your karma. I trust you, so we don't
need a recorder. I'm free, my music is free, so I can talk freely." He points at his cheek where not so long ago 'slave' was
written.

OK, you recently released Crystal Ball. A three to five CD album. With outtakes and unreleased songs. But what I don't get is
why you, the best performer of your generation, have not released a live album in twenty years. Fans are waiting for CD's of
your aftershows where you play brilliant jams.

"I've got it all on tape man, even all the jams. I record everything! Just like Jimi Hendrix used to do. And some day those live
recordings will be released. People have to let an artist grow completely. I've just recorded a 45-minutes jam with bass player
Larry Graham. It's called 'The War' and I've edited it down to 26 minutes. It's a fantastic song. Finally I can release stuff like
that. Like Miles Davis, in his days, released records like 'Bitches Brew' on which in some cases one song lasted one side of the
record. When I suggested something like that to Warner they nearly had a heart attack and brought in a battery of lawyers.
They thought it was ridiculous to release 'Sign 'O' The Times' as a double LP. While I wanted it to be a triple album. They are
the kind of people who would have said to Orson Welles that Citizen Kane was too long or that Mozart used to many notes."
What are the best jams you ever played?

"God, there are so many. To play with Sonny T. and Michael Bland was fantastic. The interaction between them is phenomenal.
When we recorded 'I Hate U', I was called away. When I came back they had finished the mid-part. I'm not so self-centered
as people think. I really enjoy the chemistry between musicians. Recently Larry Graham, Chaka Khan and me, we jammed for
forty minutes on 'I Wanna Take You Higher' (Sly Stone). When I used to jam with Miles (Davis) we made music that can not
be described. Miles played the piano in my house. Just a few notes. Beautiful notes! A wonderful melody. And Miles wasn't
even a piano player! I've got many long improvisations of us on tape. But I'm waiting for the right time spiritually to release them.
Maybe on Miles' birthday or on his Dying Day when he was freed of the cycle of life and death. Again: I want to do things
because they feel right, not because some record company says I have to."

Apparently you have also enlisted Chaka Khan in the New Power Generation? "Chaka is another artist who has been silenced
for years by obscure managers and greedy record companies that restricted her. When in the past, Chaka wanted to jam with
someone, she had to ask for permission. Now she's free and able to release as many records as she wants. What a voice this
woman has! Look, that's the best thing about my stardom. I can not only work with my idols but I can also save them form the
greedy people in the business. That's how I pay back my spiritual debt to them. Because I don't forget where I came from.
When we play live, in a song like 'Cream', I insert a bit of 'Chain Of Fools' (Aretha Franklin) as a nod to those who inspired
me. And not all of them are black - I've also played 'Jailhouse Rock'."

On Newpower Soul it looks like you don't care about hits. Cynics say you don't know how to write hits anymore.

"Ha, they said the same just before 'The Most Beautiful Girl'. I wrote that song the day after some suit at Warners told me I no
longer 'had it'. They said that after Purple Rain. And when Around The World In A Day sold less than the one before they
predicted my end. And then 'Kiss' scored all over the world. And after that came ten more hits. I read a lot that Lovesexy was a
failure. But still every day I get letters from people who say that this record saved their lives. So I don't care what 'they' say. I
know who I am and what really counts. I just want it to be like the old days. When people bought a record, an album, not just a
single."

Is there a lyric whose meaning to you changed over the years?

"Yes, 'The One'. That started as an ordinary love song. But it turned out to be a respectful hymn to The Creator, God. The
lyrics had a new meaning for me after reading the New World translation of the Bible. 'The One' now has a kind of Garden Of
Eden feel to it. It's one of the purest songs I've ever written. It's a song about pursuing and realizing your ideals. In that sense the
commandments in The Bible are still the a call for justice and goodness. 'Let's Go Crazy' was originally meant as a psalm to The
Creator. But Warner made me tone down the meaning of the song, cuz there was 'no market for pop songs about God' they
said."

Rumor has it that you didn't want to give interviews because you were afraid of being asked what your musical influence is. But
I guess that someone like James Brown must have been a great influence?

"James Brown was and is absolutely an inspiration. Why should I deny that? We always play James Brown riffs in rehearsal or
just for fun. I saw James Brown play live when I was very young. I admired his absolute control over his band and the gorgeous
dancers he had. These are the things I wanted."

What about your influence on hip-hop artists and the new soul scene like R. Kelly, Brandy, D'Angelo, Maxwell and even
Tricky?

"It's not up to me to talk about that. I can say that I don't want to pretend that admiration and respect mean nothing to me. I
was very happy when I heard that 'Purple Rain' was Eric Clapton's favorite song. I was moved when Carlos Santana - an idol
and friend - showed that this admiration is mutual. Or when The Fugees covered 'The Cross'. But I don't think in terms of
competition. I'm only in competition with myself."

Some people use your music to make love to. What music do you use to get in the mood?

"The same."

On the long version of 'I Hate U', you whisper to a girl 'remember when we did it to Mahler'.

"That has happened, yes. But I also make love with my own music on. I make music for every occasion. I also compose
soundtracks for driving in a car, or just to relax. Kamasutra (the fifth Crystal Ball CD) is very ambient and therefore perfect for
sex. Hence the title. "Crystal Ball" was partly inspired by the idea of making love during the Apocalypse while the world falls
apart."

You have sung about sex a lot. Like in 'International Lover' ('I know where your G-Spot is, do you want me to show you?'). Or
in the jam 'Rock Hard In A Funky Place': 'I hate to see a good erection go to waste'. And all those years you had a reputation
for being a super-lover. Were you?

"I did not sing about sex that much. If you count my songs, maybe ten percent is about sex. But now I am a married man and
I've found spiritual peace. Everything with less to offer seems irrelevant. Sex without love. Well, with sex it's the truth of the day.
I wanted to prove so much. I wrestled with demons. I had moods in which I wasn't what or who I wanted to be, or couldn't
obtain what I wanted to obtain. For me, as for many other people, sin was the easiest way out. Too much alcohol, too many
women, the wrong women or working too hard to ignore the problem."

With virtual reality it's possible to have the dead come back to life. In the States they already have a dead Elvis singing along
with an orchestra. Would you consider a virtual jam session like that?

"Absolutely not. To me that's a demonic idea. I am strongly against things like that. Everything is how it is and how it should be.
If God wanted me to jam with Duke Ellington, he would have created us in the same time. What they did with John Lennon -
use his voice for that song 'Free As A Bird' fifteen years after his death - is terrible. It won't happen to me. That's another
reason why I want total artistic control."

Then there's the sign. The Artist has to leave. "We'll meet again" he says. I run to the nearest toilet. Not to use it but to quickly
write down all the details of the conversation. After one hour, when The Artist is probably already busy making music, I'm
done.

Copyright © 1998 Nieuwe Revu magazine