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See You at #1plus1plus1is3 This Weekend!

When I shared the 1983 Piano Rehearsal post on social media a few weeks ago, I mentioned that March is going to be a “quality-over-quantity month” on the blog. Well, here’s why: This Sunday, March 28, I will be presenting at the latest in De Angela Duff’s series of academic symposia commemorating Prince album anniversaries. This year’s symposium, the aptly-named #1plus1plus1is3, is a three-for-one: celebrating 20 years of 2001’s The Rainbow Children, 30 years of 1991’s Diamonds and Pearls, and 40 years of 1981’s Controversy.

My presentation–on Allen Beaulieu’s infamous Controversy “shower poster”–will be part of a panel featuring Christopher A. Daniel, Steven G Fullwood, and Edgar Kruize, moderated by C. Liegh McInnis. Presenting on other panels and roundtables are longtime friends of the blog Darling Nisi, Harold Pride, Erica Thompson, Laura Tiebert, Karen Turman, and others; there will also be special guest appearances by Rainbow Children cover artist Cbabi Bayoc, Revolution keyboardist Dr. Fink, longtime NPG Records webmaster/art director Sam Jennings, music video director Scott McCullough, recording artist Nicolay, and photographer Afshin Shahidi. I can’t wait to hear from each and every one.

Like last year’s #DM40GB30 symposium, #1plus1plus1is3 is a virtual symposium–so, no masks/vaccines required–and also 100% free (though the organizers do suggest a small donation to the PRN Alumni Foundation). You can register to attend at the link below:

Free Registration: #1plus1plus1is3

I will, of course, be live-tweeting the event as it happens, and will post a summary of my thoughts early next week. Then, it’ll be back to regularly scheduled programming with what is shaping up to be a very hefty post on “Let’s Go Crazy.” Thank you all for your patience during this quiet month; I hope that the deluge of Prince content coming this weekend, from myself and so many others, will help make up for my radio silence otherwise! Last but not least, thank you to Joseph Swafford for (re-)joining the Patreon last week! There will be plenty more quality and quantity in April.

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#PrinceTwitterThread: “Crystal Ball”

Well, looks like I’m beginning another year by apologizing for my inactivity at the end of the previous one; at this point, is there any more predictable tradition? I’m not a big believer in New Year’s resolutions, so I’ll refrain from making any grand promises. Just know that I’m eager to get back to work and out of the months-long rut that my “Cloreen Bacon Skin” post has become, so the drought should be over soon.

In the meantime, embedded below is the #PrinceTwitterThread with which I technically broke my two-month break from writing about and even, largely, listening to Prince. In a real “famine to feast” move, the subject was “Crystal Ball,” one of the densest and headiest tracks in Prince’s greater oeuvre. “Doing it justice” was, of course, an impossibility; but I think I at least succeeded in starting a conversation. Thanks as always for sticking with me, and here’s to a happy and fruitful 2021.

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Podcast

Podcast: I Know That the Lord is Coming Soon – Erica Thompson on the Salford Purple Reign Conference

It’s been just under two months since I started interviewing presenters from this spring’s interdisciplinary Prince conference at the University of Salford, and I’ve been absolutely thrilled with the results. But all good things must come to an end, so I had planned to make this chat with writer Erica Thompson the last of my post-conference podcasts. It would have been a great choice, too; Erica’s presentation was the result of many years of research for a book project on Prince’s spiritual journey, so our conversation was less about the conference in particular and more about her findings more generally: a nice segue into future, less Manchester-centric episodes.

But just when I think I’m out, they keep pulling me back in. Contrary to my own statements in this episode, I have already set up another interview with a few presenters from one of the conference’s gender and sexuality panels. So basically, expect me to keep interviewing scholars from the Purple Reign conference until the next milestone in Prince scholarship comes along. And in the meantime, please enjoy my and Erica’s conversation about the importance–and, sometimes, difficulty–of understanding Prince’s religious faith in relationship with his art.

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Podcast

Podcast: Everybody Shut Up, Listen to the Band – Felicia Holman and Harold Pride on the Salford Purple Reign Conference

Settle in, folks, because today we’ve got not one, but two presenters from this spring’s Prince conference at the University of Salford: interdisciplinary artist/activist Felicia Holman and independent scholar/activist Harold Pride. Both were part of the organic community of Black artists and academics who came together in Manchester and, each in their own way, helped to reclaim Prince’s legacy as a specifically African American artist. The three of us talk about that, as well as their specific papers–Harold’s on the underrated, short-lived “Band with No Name” from 198788; Felicia’s on Prince’s autodidacticism and its connection to traditions of Black self-determination–and, as usual, a lot of other things along the way. It’s a great conversation that could have easily been twice as long; I hope you enjoy it as much as I did!

I still have a handful of these interviews lined up, and will be posting them at least through Labor Day. Appearances to the contrary, I’m also still writing: I’ll be back to the ol’ grind next week. See you then!

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Reviews

Review: Dig If You Will the Picture

The first anniversary of Prince’s passing has been an unsurprisingly busy time for publishers. At the end of February, there was Alex Hahn’s and Laura Tiebert’s authoritative biography on the artist’s first three decades, The Rise of Prince 1958-1988. Then, in the first week of April, we had Mayte Garcia’s touching, intimate memoir of her time with Prince, The Most Beautiful. Finally, coming in just last week–ten days prior to the anniversary itself–was Ben Greenman’s Dig If You Will the Picture: Funk, Sex, God, & Genius in the Music of Prince. Greenman’s book is neither a conventional biography like Hahn’s and Tiebert’s, nor a personal narrative like Mayte’s–though it does contain elements of both of these approaches. In the canon of “Prince literature,” it most closely resembles two other books: Brian Morton’s 2007 Prince: A Thief in the Temple (later reprinted in the wake of Prince’s death last year), and Touré’s 2013 I Would Die 4 U: Why Prince Became an Icon.

Like those earlier books, Dig If You Will attempts to present an overarching analysis of Prince’s body of work, the bulk of which occurs in a middle section of thematically-grouped chapters: “Sex,” “Self,” “Others,” “Virtue and Sin,” “Race and Politics.” But while Touré organized his analysis as a set of extended, interlinked essays–making it, for me, the most successful entry in this “genre” of Prince books–Greenman can’t seem to settle on an argument; he glosses over the surface of these major themes in Prince’s work, moving on to the next subject just when things are starting to get good. Perhaps, as Questlove suggests in the foreword (between this and Duane Tudahl’s recently-announced Prince and the Purple Rain Era Studio Sessions, Quest has had a busy year of foreword-writing), Dig If You Will works best as a kind of frame, laying the groundwork for deeper dives in the future. But if you’re the kind of hardcore fan who would purchase an extended, quasi-scholarly analysis of Prince’s music, it’s sort of questionable that you would need such a frame in the first place.

This is not to say that Dig If You Will isn’t an enjoyable read–it clearly is. Greenman’s writerly credentials are evident: he’s a novelist, a frequent contributor to The New Yorker, and has co-authored books with Questlove, Brian Wilson, and George Clinton. He is, I have little doubt, smarter than I am (he certainly knows more about the oeuvre of William Blake than I do). At its best, his book puts aspects of Prince’s music into fresh perspective, even for someone like me who has also spent the last 12 months fully immersed in the work. His chapter on the “Slave” era is perhaps the clearest explication I’ve read of that thorny period; and the section on Hungarian psychologist Mihaly Csikszentmihályi’s concept of “flow” offers a fascinating and plausible theory for both Prince’s near-supernatural focus and (implicitly) the coping strategies that led to his death. But Prince fans, as Greenman noted in a recent New Yorker essay, can be unforgiving; and, while dwelling on minor factual errors can be nitpicky, I suspect that there are a few such errors that the community will find unforgivable. Particularly unfortunate, in light of Mayte’s book, is the misidentification of Prince’s deceased son Amiir by the tabloid-proliferated moniker “Boy Gregory”:  an avoidable mistake made actively tasteless by the accompanying misreading of the lyrics for “Anna Stesia.”

In the aforementioned New Yorker essay, Greenman described Dig If You Will as both a “passion project” and an “opportunistic” one. Both of these descriptors are accurate. Greenman’s passion for and knowledge of Prince are obvious, and some of the most compelling passages are when he’s writing from a fan’s position: recalling his teenage record-shopping experiences in the 1980s, or providing a discography annotated with brief writeups on his favorite tracks, or describing a writing break in which he watches a flock of birds in the sky and waits for them to form, True Detective-like, into the artist’s “Love Symbol.” But the book’s “opportunism” makes it difficult to recommend: it feels rushed and padded, like it could have used a little more time in the oven or a more demanding editor, but was nevertheless pushed out the door to make that all-important mid-April deadline.

For that reason, it’s for the best that the next major Prince book (Tudahl’s) isn’t scheduled for release until November. Greenman, like many of us, clearly had something to work out in the wake of Prince’s death, and I’m glad he did what he had to do; his contributions are appreciated and well worth checking out, especially in this week of sad memories and ghoulish speculations. But at this point, we need polished, rigorous books more than we need timely ones. There isn’t as much money in the former for the publishing industry, of course, but there’s a lot more potential benefit for Prince’s legacy.

You can support dance / music / sex / romance by purchasing Dig If You Will the Picture (or anything else!) using my Amazon affiliate link. We’ll be back tomorrow with another, more conventional post.

(This review was revised and expanded for publication in the Journal of African American Studies. You can access that much better version here.)