I’m trying to write this quasi-intellectual thing for theloop21.com on the Prince show I went to last night. It’s kind of a look at the devaluation of vagina in the zeitgeist. This isn’t to be confused with the real world, where vagina, once again, has topped hotcakes on Amazon’s Top Zillion.
Yes, I’ll be using that line again.
Anyway, I can’t get that going. Instead, I’ll offer some observations from last night. Some can be found on this here segment of The Morning Jones.
1. Prince brings ’em all out. Don’t believe me? All you had to see was the array of attire. Black folks in get-right clothes, country folks in their good Dickies shirts, white folks in whatever the hell they felt like wearing. It’s the little things that indicate class and other sociological phenomenon, right? Well, last night pointed out something ironic: people expect me to watch how I dress and act at all times for people that are good to how up to a Prince concert in shorts and flip flops. Think about that for a second.
2. Not gonna see another Prince show if he’s not pushing an album. Dude pushing an album approaches a concert a different way. Without an album, you get a hits show. Hey, I’m OK with that. I’ll probably go see Frankie Beverly whenever he comes to town, even though I can probably tell you the set list now. However, I don’t want a hits show from Prince. I wanted to see what I saw on “Musicology” tour. He showed off then, because he wanted to show he was still contemporary. This time, I think Prince just wanted my money. That isn’t to say I didn’t have a ball, because I did, but there were no rewards for hardcore fans. I would rather see “1999” and “Delirious” dropped for ANY two songs from Dirty Mind. Speaking of which…
3. Can I please get one song from Dirty Mind in concert? There are still songs a sanctified Prince can sing. “Uptown” and “When You Were Mine” won’t get the lil fella sent to detention at the Kingdom Hall, will they? Sure, “Head” and “Sister” are too much to ask for, but I really, really, really wanna know what he’d do with those arrangements given the increased instrumentation that a concert can afford. Remember, there’s no piano on Dirty Mind because there wasn’t room for one in his basement in 1980.
4. I think Prince had that hip replacement. There was a question as to whether he could find a way to get that done without violating the rules of his religion (Jehovah’s Witnesses aren’t cool with blood transfusions). I’ll put it like this: you can’t do some of that James Brown-type stuff he was doing last night needing a new hip. And in heels? Yeah, somebody took care of that boo-boo for him.
5. Arena security commands NO respect. On the segment, you’ll hear me talk about the woman wantonly disregard arena security during the encore. I mean, at that point, what are they gonna do: kick you out? The throw-you-out boys aren’t trying to do anymore work. But understand: it wasn’t just a big-footed black woman with an attitude that dissed dude. Some white dude, looking he was either dancing or just trying not to fall off the chair he was standing on, was getting drilled with the flashlight like he was doing 45 in a 30. Man, he acted like the security man was blowing in a dog whistle. When the strongest thing you have to use comes with a bulb in it, you’re done (unless that Mag light is headed toward your dome, of course).
6. ALWAYS pay the extra money for the expensive parking pass. In and out of the RBC Center without having to hit the brakes.
7. “Adore” just might be the greatest love song ever. The carnality is somewhat absent from new Prince. Even “Little Red Corvette” doesn’t sound as nasty, even as he sings about soiled condoms (sold it with the arrangement). But without that raw sexuality that brims on the recorded version of “Adore,” left is the essence of the lyric. It’s exactly the same…except it’s totally different. And rarely, if ever, can someone change the underlying visceral emotion of a song and it remain nearly as strong. It’s like if Diet Coke tasted like chicken. Or something like that.
8. Prince, like other artists, greatly overestimate the solidarity of the Carolinas. Look I’m not a native, but I’ve been here for eight years. It’s home. And trust me: nobody thinks there is just one Carolina. North Carolina and South Carolina are about as similar and Paris, France and Paris, Texas. Further, we don’t want to be associated with South Carolina. And, by we, I mean me. Please say the North.
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9. I guess street teams are still around. But really, from them?

BTW, you know damn well I’ll pay the same money to sit in the same seat and do it all again. Was thisssss to going to see him in Greensboro, too.