IN MEMORIAM: PRINCE ROGERS NELSON (1958–2016)
(photo courtesy: The Root)
Seeing the text my brother sent about midday yesterday seemed surreal, like it was a terrible prank: “I guess you guys may have already heard the news about Prince passing away?” “Nooooooo!” I texted in reply. I had not heard. I had to suppress the urge to throw my phone. Although I did not know Prince personally, the news of his death hit me like being blindsided on the football field and getting the wind knocked out of me. It felt like family had died and I was not ready.
Prince’s music constituted a significant part of the soundtrack of my life during the late 1970’s — early 1980’s. His songs resonated with so much of what I was experiencing in those tumultuous adolescent years: discovering my emerging sexuality; feeling misunderstood and misidentified as a youth trying to find his identity and purpose in life; growing up in a dysfunctional home environment; and partying “like it’s 1999!” to escape the pressures and stresses that are part of growing up. He represented the mystical Peter Pan of my generation, telling us to flaunt society’s conventions and norms to pursue freedom and happiness on our own terms while we are still young, bold and adaptable. Everything about him, from his seriously funky music; his off-the-chart vocal range and ; his edgy videos and energetic dance moves; his controversial lyrics, presentation and subject matter; his androgynous good looks; his high sense of fashion style and self-defined lifestyle, all irreverently defied categorization and broke down all kinds of social, gender and even racial barriers. He was an innovator and revolutionary and tore many inner doors off the hinges that had been shut to Black artists and entertainers even then. I along with many of my peers considered Prince to be far ahead of his own time. When his motion picture semi-biopic, “Purple Rain,” debuted on the big screen, I went to see it at least 5 times within the 1st few weeks it played at the local cinema. I was really into all things Prince. A few very notable exceptions aside, I felt like he was peerless in terms of sheer prodigious talent and magnetic mystique.
Fast forward from then to 2016. I had not listened much to Prince’s music since I was a teen, mostly because my musical preferences shifted heavily towards the gospel genre to support my growing Christian faith. But I never lost touch with Prince and could not even conceivably escape the profound personal impact of his artistry and legacy. After all, I felt like I grew up with him. I kept up as much as I could with his many TV appearances and interviews and previews of his new music. I changed, I grew up; but I didn’t outgrow my fandom nor my fascination with knowing Prince the person. If anything, I have a better appreciation of his accomplishments within the music industry and beyond. I totally admired his indefatiguable sense of self and his unapologetic self-identification with blackness. Seemingly ageless and possessed of an undeniable charisma and presence, I would sit and watch and listen to his interviews, spellbound as he fluently articulated his own personal truth: his [healthy] cynicism towards the government “system;” his spirituality and his faith in his God; his evolution and longevity in the constantly shifting (and fickle) music and entertainment business; and any small, leaked details of his intensely-guarded personal life. He could be an enigma offstage and away from the lights. But what I saw on screen was his authentic self: an often paradoxical mixture of a playful but intense creative; a sensitive, melancholy shape-shifter; a living, walking, breathing Picasso; a man who knew who he was and was true to his art and who he was; an outsized persona that belied his diminutive, petite, stiletto-wearing stature.
The impact Prince made on the music and entertainment industry, heck, on this planet, was earth-shattering. His departure is even more earth-shattering. A day after his death, the planet seems that much brighter for what he gave to it, yet that much darker for his having left it. Prince Rogers Nelson, you were aptly named and sorely missed. Respect, gratitude and honor to the Prince of Peace Who loaned you to us and called you to your sweet rest.
