(Featured Image: Cover art for Innervisions, © Tamla Records.)
I know I’m behind on my “Don’t Let Him Fool Ya” post; it will be available to both patrons and regular readers before Thanksgiving! In the meantime, here’s another appearance on Darren Husted’s miniseries of track by track podcasts on the “classic era” of Stevie Wonder, where I got to talk about one of my favorite tracks from quite possibly my favorite Stevie Wonder album:
Thank you for your patience. See you soon!
(Featured Image: A queer moment on the Controversy tour, 1981; photo © Lynn Goldsmith.)
Note: This is the second of three posts on “Controversy”: a song that presents so much to unpack, I’ve opted to split my analysis into parts. You can–and should–read the first part here.
Am I straight or gay?
In the same 1981 Rolling Stone interview where Prince intentionally muddied the waters of his racial background, he made another thing uncharacteristically clear. “Appearances to the contrary,” reported journalist Bill Adler, “he says he’s not gay, and he has a standard rebuff for overenthusiastic male fans: ‘I’m not about that; we can be friends, but that’s as far as it goes. My sexual preferences really aren’t any of their business.’ A Penthouse ‘Pet of the Month’ centerfold laid out on a nearby table silently underscores his point” (Adler 1981).
The artist was similarly adamant in a Los Angeles Times interview the following year, when he took the opportunity to address three rumors that were apparently needling him: “One, my real name is Prince. It’s not something I made up. My dad’s stage name was Prince Rogers and he gave that to me: Prince Rogers Nelson… Two, I’m not gay. And three, I’m not Jamie Starr” (Hilburn 1982). Of course, as we now know, Prince in fact was Jamie Starr, the fictitious recluse credited with engineering Dirty Mind and, later, with producing the early albums by protégé acts the Time and Vanity 6. But he appeared to have been telling the truth about his sexuality: despite his surface ambiguities, by all credible accounts Prince was unequivocally and enthusiastically straight.
These surface ambiguities, however, are worth examining; because, while Prince was notably less coy about his sexual orientation than he was about his ethnicity, he was in many ways equally strategic. We’ve already mentioned the famous story told by guitarist Dez Dickerson in which Prince announced to his band that he would use his onstage persona to “portray pure sex” (Dickerson 62). What he understood better than most heterosexual performers was that in order to create this kind of fantasy, he would need to court the attentions of not only straight women, but also gay men and others.
Continue reading “Controversy, Part 2: Am I Straight or Gay?”
(Featured Image: Our co-conspirators, circa 1982.)
Over the weekend, I made another appearance on Darren Husted’s Prince: Track by Track podcast, discussing a song that Darren hates and I honestly kinda love: “Cloreen Bacon Skin,” the longest and quite possibly least consequential single track in Prince’s entire officially-released oeuvre. Listen to my spirited, albeit slightly sheepish defense, which goes on for just over the length of the song itself, at the link below:
I’m still hoping to get another proper post out by the end of the week, but it’s gonna be a long one, so apologies in advance if it doesn’t make it until next week. I’ll do my best to make it worth the wait!
(Featured Image: Prince on The Arsenio Hall Show, 1991; © Paramount Domestic Television.)
Happy New Year, everyone! I’m starting 2018 more excited about this project than ever, and I think you’ll enjoy what I have planned. But first, here’s something I did for another chronological Prince project: Darren Husted’s excellent podcast Prince: Track by Track. Our topic this time around is a bit of a guilty pleasure: the Diamonds and Pearls album cut “Daddy Pop.” But you should still listen, if only to hear my surprisingly spirited defense of Tony M:
While I’ve got you here, I guess I might as well talk about a few of those things I have planned for the months to come. First up will be another, imaginative look at what might have been for Prince’s relationship with André Cymone; then, starting next week, I’ll be jumping into the songs that became the debut album by Prince’s first official protégé group, the Time. On the podcast, you can also look forward to an interview with Kimberly Ransom, whose work appeared both at last spring’s University of Salford Prince conference and in last fall’s special Prince issue of the Journal of African American Studies. I’m also in the very, very early brainstorming period for a series of podcasts on each of Prince’s albums I’ve covered in writing so far, beginning with the 40th anniversary of For You in April. If you have any ideas for that–including suggestions for possible guests–you know where to find me.