If Michael Jackson is the soundtrack of my fourth-grade year, Prince is, for me, the sound of fifth grade. I don’t know if this tracks precisely with the release of Thriller and Purple Rain, but I absolutely remember becoming aware of MJ in one classroom and of Prince in another.
I also lived in Minnesota for six years, and at that time (mid to late 1990s), at least, Prince — or, more precisely, talk about Prince — was omnipresent. No dance party was complete without the ritual playing of a Prince song; everyone had their story of seeing/thinking they had seen/knowing someone who had seen The Purple One himself.
I never saw Prince (that I know of! Because he is teeny tiny, you know!), but like any good Minnesotan, legit or temporary, I have Prince stories, and think of them whenever I hear his tunes. I think of the dance my friends performed to “Kiss” when we were in college, which was a hilarious pantomime of shy-girl-busts-out-of-her-shell-and-gets-the-boy. I think of the friend — who was featured in that “Kiss” dance — who took the group of troubled teens he worked with to play basketball at Paisley Park one day, and insisted the hoops were regulation height (because Prince is SO SMALL!). I think of my college classmate who worked as a bouncer at Prince’s club, First Avenue, and of seeing They Might Be Giants in concert at First Avenue in later years, when I worked right down the street.
That’s my Prince ramble for today, after hearing “When Doves Cry” this morning. For some reason my head is all jumbly today and I am having a hard time coming up with anything brilliant.
I do know “Glee” comes back this week. That’ll make everything all better!
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