Tom: I remember when you wrote that unbelievable review of Prince’s love symbol album — called it “his Sergeant Pepper’s” as I recall — and couldn’t have agreed with you more (both then or now). I was in my car around 2 pm on Ridge Avenue here in Philly a couple of days ago when I heard two Prince songs in a row on the radio, and I just knew. I cursed at the drivers around me saying “why are you here when he is gone?” (Are you missing Philadelphia yet?) And then I came home and listened to the torrential rush of “My Name is Prince” through “The Continental” and was reminded, as if I needed to be, just how powerful his musical wake could be. It’s clear from this piece that you’re still feeling it too.