I ’ ll admit , I was a little reluctant to write about Prince ’ s death . By the time this publishes , it will have been a week since the world learned of the icon ’ s sudden and unexpected death at Paisley Park . So much has been written , much of it more profound than anything I ’ m able to muster . On the other hand , it doesn ’ t seem quite right to let Prince ’ s passing go unacknowledged . As has been noted , this has been a rough year for Rock Gods — Bowie , Prince , Lemmy , Glenn Frey , Maurice White ; and then , of course , there was Merle Haggard , Paul Kantner and Keith Emerson . It ’ s only April !
But Prince ’ s death was profoundly shocking — much as the artist lived his life , consistently relying upon the element of surprise . The nation , it ’ s clear , was not ready for the news . I was not ready for the news , either . In the week since his death , I ’ ve heard lots of Prince anecdotes , and friends , music critics and reporters have turned all sorts of phrases — from sentimental to stirring , many poignant and profound — as they struggle to make sense of the loss , and to put his career into context . In the hours news of his death broke , I heard at least a dozen people conjure Michael Jackson , for reasons that are obvious . But I kept coming back to David Bowie , for reasons I couldn ’ t put my finger on , but there was something more . Alyssa Rosenberg , a columnist for the Washington Post , tweeted something that better captured what I was feeling : “ A ( very ) brief Prince and Bowie thought : we ' ve lost two artists who acted as reminders that there ' s no one right way to be a man .”
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I was reminded of an interview Prince did with Kurt Loder of MTV News , shortly after he changed his name to , well ...
Loder asked him , “ Isn ' t it problematic to change your name to an unpronounceable symbol ?” Prince replied : “ For whom ?”
Time and again , I was reminded of Prince ’ s penchant for surprising us . In fact , he seemed to enjoy surprises , in general . Last Thursday , after learning of his death , I went home and fished out two CDs . They were of a live show , recorded in the middle of one summer night in 1988 . The show has become mythologized , lionized and passed down as legend — rock folklore . As such , there are numerous accounts . After extensive internet research , the consensus among Prince fanatics is that it was Aug . 18 , 1988 , at a little nightclub called Het Paard Van Troje , in The Hague , Holland , and Prince had played an arena show in the city earlier that night .
Sometime around 2 a . m ., the club management stopped letting people into the building . A certain restless energy filled the air . Around 3 a . m ., Prince and his band took the stage — entirely unannounced , unplanned and unscheduled . What happened over the course of the next two hours is part of music legend — a jazzy , funky , sexy , soulful strut through a dozen songs , including " Just My Imagination ," " Kansas City " and " I ' ll Take You There ."
After the first song , a 13-minute instrumental jam , he stared out at the crowd : " Well , this beats goin ' to sleep , don ' t it ?" When he finished , the sun was beginning to rise . The crowd roared . Fortunately , the guy running the soundboard was taping the whole thing . It has become one of the essential Prince bootlegs , called , " Small Club , Second Show That Night ." Last Thursday night , as listened to that performance and remembered Prince — pure , powerful , playful and profound — I listened to the sounds , the story , as it unfolded that night inside that tiny nightclub before an unsuspecting audience of about 200 . That sums up the Prince that I remember , and the one that made a believer out of me , one October night in 1997 at Albuquerque ’ s Tingley Coliseum .
- Damien Willis
Lawless Entertainment Magazine – www . llemag . com