You could be church
A love letter to the lyrics of North, East, West, South by The Last Poets
You were that whirling dervish that baptised us
In the name of feeling good about ourselves
In the absence of prior warning it slowly dawns on you that North, East, West South is a tribute to Prince. Here is a generous poet paying homage to a genius musician. The words are sincere and exultant and they belong to Umar Bin Hassan. This post is my love letter to his love letter.
Hard core honky tonk of St Louis
Jimi Hendrix sounding and rebounding
The cool slick of Chicago bop
The suave and sexiness of Motown
The soft winds of a desert breeze
The horns, piano and drums
Feeling astronomical, intergalactic
The sound of sounds, charming snakes
The news, North, East, West, South.
Verbal jazz is an ill-defined, lawless genre. So I state with little fear of contradiction that this is a fine example, served on a bed of reggae and brass. North, East, West, South has structure but feels spontaneous. The improvised aesthetic. The syncopated delivery. The deliberate repetition of words and phrases, as if buying time for the next wave of inspiration to break — “music, music”, “The women, the women”, “And every moment, and every moment”. North, East, West, South is the heartfelt, unrehearsed and yet eloquent testimony of a man standing on a chair at the wake of someone who demanded that their life be celebrated rather than their death be mourned.
It is a patchwork of testimonies. There is one voice but there are many memories, many anecdotes and frequent changes in the style of langauge. North, East, West, South is a jumble sale of second hand imagery and associations.
You could be church Prince.
That Sunday morning solo,
That voice that could bring the congregation
To the best of themselves.
You could be that doo-wop singer on the corner,
Holding and preserving
The highest note of our pleasures and fantasies.
North, East, West, South is intensely personal. It is addressed directly to Prince in the second person, not the third. It is all about “you” rather than “he”. The rest of us are privileged eavesdroppers on a private conversation.
Perversely, the precision metaphors, the private feelings and the insider references serve to the make the lyrics inclusive, if not universal. Yes! Exactly! The listener rushes to appropriate the peculiarity of these free-wheeing associations.
The swiftness and elegance of a magic carpet ride,
Veiled women teasing and tantalising
From the outer fringes of the market place
A sharp, crisp military strut
Little drummer boys playing with big drums
Innocent flirtations of the big band sound
Some astral traveling
Blues and funk gone amok
Some Broadway and Hollywood sound
Tracking down the truth of this beginning
Next the poet has a story to share. Something exemplary. A true story of versatility, virtuosity, chutzpah, showmanship and coy cool. Every fan will have one of these, the defining moment of his or her relationship with the artist. Bin Hassan chooses a performance that we can all share. It is embedded at the foot of this post. Eight minutes of solo splendour and orchestrated brilliance. Bin Hassan’s description is a stream of musical consciousness, a verbal run along a lyrical scale. He is jamming along with the band, his jazz in harmony with theirs. Do you see what he sees?
The 2007 Alma Awards.
Sheila E. coming down the aisle.
Prince already at the altar.
This night, this time, this union
Will become a force,
A direct assault upon our senses.
The audience had better check their immune systems.
They could catch cold
Because it is about to become very, very cool
Up in here.
That soaring guitar,
Those scorching timbales.
See mommy, see pappy.
Yo brother, yo sister!
We can do this.
We are this.
That high order of Afro-Cuban-American
Musical collaborations.
Thank you Dizzy, thank you Chano.
A marvellous rendition of call and response
The meringue, the salsa,
That piano, that horn,
Giving a shout out to their cousins of the Blues.
The jazz and the funk of the dancers on stage
Giving credence to who we are
And where we came from.
Another change of tack, from testimony to communion. The poet speaks now for all fans. This tribute has struck a chord with them in their forums. How he feels is how they feel. They are a family, a community, united in admiration and a deep sense of loss. But North, East, West, South does not wallow. In jazz the emphasis is on the upbeat, and Bin Hassan obeys that convention, both musically and spiritually.
Music, music is the sound of beauty
And you displayed and dispensed that beauty
As well as anybody Prince.
A new symbol for your fans,
Avid followers,
Deeply devoted believers in your talent and humanity.
Wherever you were was where they wanted to be
By bus, by car, by train, by plane
And you mesmerised, you tantalised,
You romanticised them
With death defying acts of musical genius.
The speed, the speed and velocity and depth of your splits and turns
The acrobatic atmosphere you brung
To every corner of the stage.
This is some charismatic rambling. You would happily listen to Bin Hassan reading the phone book. But there are facets of Prince the man, as well as Prince the musician, that the poet must explore and explain. His compassion, his empathy, his magnetism. How Prince allowed the women in his life to feel secure and trusting in their vulnerability. In this era of toxic masculinity, how we could do with more role models like this.
The women!
The women in your life
Loved you, trusted you,
They allowed you to explore their passions,
Their doubts,
Their moments of joy.
And every moment,
And every moment that you were accepted into their presence
You always tried to make them feel big about themselves.
They adored that.
They cherished that.
Because they knew that as long as you were trying to love and accept them,
That you would truly learn how to love yourself.
Seven minutes of sincere, uninhibited adulation is rounded off with this touching, sentimental coda. The most fitting tribute to Prince is not just that he inspires people to share such deep, unconditional love, but that they feel able to do so with no hint of self-consciousness.
Sleep well brave Prince
For your deeds and proclamations
Shall be forever renowned throughout the land.
And I pledge to you
That with all my heart and words
I will try to make sure that
No Purple Rain ever gets stuck in the clouds again.
If you liked this, you might also like the love letter to A Letter To The New York post by Public Enemy below.
