I Don’t Wanna Leave You

I Don’t Wanna Leave You

(Featured Image: The Time’s Morris Day and his sparring partner, the Artist Formerly Known as Jamie Starr, circa 1982; photo by Allen Beaulieu.)

The Time’s second album, What Time is It?, was released on August 25, 1982–just two weeks after the self-titled debut by Vanity 6. It easily outperformed both Vanity 6 and the Time’s own debut, and effectively tied with Prince’s previous album Controversy: peaking at Number 26 on the Billboard 200 and Number 2 on the Black Albums (recently renamed from “Soul”) chart.

Despite their success–or, more likely, because of it–Prince was determined to keep the spinoff group in their place. Studio tech Don Batts recalled him showing up to one of the band’s rehearsals with a rough mix of the finished record: “He threw the cassette at [guitarist] Jesse [Johnson] and said, ‘Hey man, you play really good on your album,’” Batts told biographer Per Nilsen. “That kind of comment, it was like saying, ‘Hey puppets!’” (Nilsen 1999 108).

More than anything, though, Prince kept his grip on the Time’s strings by saving their best material for himself. It’s hard to hear What Time is It?’s underwhelming closing track, “I Don’t Wanna Leave You,” without imagining a stronger alternative in its place: something that would end the album with a bang, rather than a whimper. Something, that is, like “International Lover,” which Prince had originally conceived for his side project back in January before poaching it for the finale of his own forthcoming album

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Press Rewind: “Little Red Corvette”

Press Rewind: “Little Red Corvette”

(Featured Image: U.K. picture sleeve for “Little Red Corvette,” 1983; © Warner Bros.)

Last month, I wrote a little more than 3,500 words about Prince’s first Top 10 single, “Little Red Corvette.” Lest you think that’s all I have to say about the song, here’s a little under an hour and a half of me on Jason Breininger’s Press Rewind podcast continuing to sing its praises:

Press Rewind: “Little Red Corvette”

That, at least for the time being, is the last I have to say about “Little Red Corvette”–though, as I note in the podcast, I could have gone on even longer than I did. Back here on the blog, I’ll be wrapping up the Time’s second album in the next couple of weeks. And, if you’ve been missing my beautiful voice, good news: not only am I scheduled to make another guest appearance on Press Rewind in the near future, but I am also a measly eight dollars away from my Patreon goal to relaunch the d / m / s / r podcast. The next person who supports the Patreon could easily be the person to push us over the edge! If you want to be that person, just click the link below:

Support dance / music / sex / romance on Patreon

Patreon Exclusive: Preliminary Thoughts on the New 1999 Reissue

Patreon Exclusive: Preliminary Thoughts on the New 1999 Reissue

(Featured Image: The very shiny cover of the new “Super Deluxe” edition of 1999; © Warner Bros./NPG Records.)

When I saw yesterday’s official announcement of the long-rumored deluxe reissue of 1999–the album, to state the obvious, which I’m currently working through on the blog–I realized that my private goal to get started on Purple Rain by the end of the year had become, to put it mildly, complicated. If I’m going to hit a scheduling snag, though, a compilation with two new discs of previously-unreleased material is pretty much the best possible way for that to happen. If you’ve been reading my posts this year, you already know that 1999 is one of my favorite Prince albums: easily in the top three. So it goes without saying that I am very, very excited by this release, and have already spent money I don’t technically have to get my paws on that frankly excessive 10-LP configuration.

But I’m also a blogger, which means that I am duty-bound to turn this exciting new announcement into content. So, much like I did with the deluxe Purple Rain reissue over two years ago, I’ve written down some quick thoughts on the (very, very long) track list, which you can now read on the d / m / s / r Patreon:

Preliminary Thoughts on the New 1999 Reissue

Speaking of Patreon, thanks to Freek Claassen for becoming my 18th patron this week! If you’re interested in joining Freek and supporting the blog for just a dollar a month (or more!), you can sign up from the link above. It really does help me make time for writing, has massively increased my productivity, and starting this week, it will also allow you to read my song posts a week ahead of when I release them to the public! If you don’t care to become a patron–and seriously, no hard feelings if that’s the case–you can also support the blog by preordering 1999 Deluxe using these Amazon affiliate links for the CD, 2-LP, 2-CD, 4-LP, 5-CD/1-DVD, or 10-LP/1-DVD versions of the set. If you (quite reasonably) don’t want to line Jeff Bezos’ already well-laden pockets, that’s fine too; I appreciate all of you just for reading. Patrons, look forward to “777-9311” by Friday night; everyone else, see you next week!

Patreon Exclusive: You’re My Love

Patreon Exclusive: You’re My Love

(Featured Image: Official artwork for the Originals version of “You’re My Love”; © NPG Records/Warner Bros.)

Got something today for the patrons: an exclusive post on “You’re My Love,” the most surprising–and arguably the most controversial–track on last month’s Originals. For those who haven’t yet become patrons, here’s a taste:

Last month’s Originals had plenty of surprises for even dedicated Prince collectors–but none quite as surprising as “You’re My Love,” a track recorded in March 1982 at Prince’s Kiowa Trail home studio and later gifted to, of all people, country music crooner and rotisserie chicken mogul Kenny Rogers. Most reviews of the collection greeted the song with mild (or not-so-mild) bafflement. Paste’s Zach Schonfeld intimated that “there’s a reason” Prince didn’t keep “You’re My Love” for himself. PopMatters’ Chris Ingalls panned it as a “bland-yet-serviceable 1980s pop song” that “sees Prince almost veering into parody with a Vegas-style croon.” In her excellent piece for The Quietus, Soma Ghosh dismissed the song as “schmaltzy.” Even Michael Howe, the A&R professional in charge of Prince’s posthumous Vault releases, described it as a “full-on Holiday Inn lounge vibe” in an interview with The West Australian.

To hear what I have to say about the track, it will cost you a buck a month–but that buck a month also helps make it possible for me to post regular blog posts each week, and will entitle you to more exclusive content in the weeks to come. If that sounds like a good deal to you, then check it out here:

Patreon Exclusive: You’re My Love

Otherwise, I’ll be posting my next regular piece on “How Come U Don’t Call Me Anymore?” tomorrow, which will cost you–to coin the phrase–not even one lousy dime. See you then.

D.M.S.R.

D.M.S.R.

(Featured Image: DJ Steve Holbrook in the booth at the Taste Show Lounge in Minneapolis, circa 1983. Note the Time poster on the right. Photo by Charles Chamblis, stolen from the Minnesota Historical Society.)

Beginning with his third album in 1980, Prince had been steadily building up a mythology–occasionally bordering on a philosophy–for himself. Dirty Mind had “Uptown,” a clarion call for hedonism that eradicated all racial and sexual boundaries. 1981’s Controversy, of course, had its epic title track, a declaration of selfhood through the negation of fixed identities; as well as “Sexuality,” a return to the themes of “Uptown” with a new quasi-religious fervor. For his fifth album in 1982, he offered something even more blunt and to the point: a musical manifesto based around the four words, “Dance, Music, Sex, Romance.”

Though it was never released as a single–and, in fact, was left off the original CD release of 1999 due to space constraints–“D.M.S.R.” holds a privileged position in Prince’s discography. Dance Music Sex Romance was of course the title of the 1999 biography and session chronicle by Per Nilsen, long considered definitive by fans of the artist’s early career. It’s also, obviously, the title of this very blog, because I figured if Per’s not going to use it anymore, somebody’s gonna have to. Its attraction to writers on Prince is self-evident: as Dave Lifton wrote on the song for Diffuser’s 365 Prince Songs in a Year series, “Dance. Music. Sex. Romance. Add God into the mixture and you’ve more or less got the formula for every song Prince released in his life” (Lifton 2017). Way back when I first started d / m / s / r in 2016, I posited that it would make a great title for a career-spanning collection like Johnny Cash’s Love, God, Murder, with a disc devoted to each theme.

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