Purple Rain (song)

I’m sure I’m not the only one who has fallen down some YouTube rabbit holes following Prince’s passing in April. There are amazing live performances out there encompassing every phase of his career, including many full-length concerts, but the clip I keep coming back to is only 31 seconds long. It’s simply a clip of Prince in Paisley Park, laying down a bass guitar fill for an extended version of “Partyman.”

It highlights his underrated abilities on the bass, of course, but more than anything, it makes me think about the hundreds of songs (released and unreleased) that Prince recorded solo over the years. The end result often sounds like a full band jamming, complete with a choir of background vocals. But as talented as Prince was, he couldn’t lay down a dozen different percussion, keyboard, guitar and vocal tracks at once. Having to repeatedly add tracks like this seems like drudgery on one hand, but on the other hand, just think of the countless moments of studio brilliance over the years that approach or surpass that “Partyman” bass fill.

And that brings me to Side Two of Purple Rain. (I discussed Side One last month.) When I daydream about what might be released from The Vault someday, my “white whale” almost certainly doesn’t exist: footage of Prince laying down all of the tracks to “When Doves Cry” on March 1, 1984 at Sunset Sound in Hollywood.

Dr. Fink claims that Prince set the recorder to half speed so he could lay down the final dazzling keyboard solo at a more reasonable tempo. What other tricks did he use?

How did he layer in the vocals? Were ad-libs dropped in individually, or did he run the entire track waiting for inspiration to strike? Of course, there are also questions that these videos couldn’t answer even if they existed, questions at the heart of the creative process. What makes an artist think “this sounds great, but it needs some groaning-in-key at 1:52 and 1:56”?

How much trial and error was involved with programming the drum machines? What did the infamous missing bass line sound like, and did Prince seem disinterested in it from the beginning? (As much has been written about Prince dropping the bass line, it’s not as if that decision left the track undistinguished on the low end. Is there a Prince song that’s more recognizable blasting in a truck three blocks away than “When Doves Cry?”)

More than anything, I’d like to see Prince recording the guitar solo that begins just as the radio edit is fading out. Although “solo” might not be the right word. As with much of Prince’s greatest guitar work, the guitar isn’t right up front in the mix, and it has to contend with vocals. It’s particularly hard to focus on the guitar track’s crescendo, as Prince is literally shrieking by that point. The guitar abruptly stops during the middle of the shrieks; in my mind, the guitar just gave up trying to compete and sulked out of the studio at that point.

(Moments after his shrieks subside, Prince beings singing “don’t cry, darling, don’t cry” as the song draws to a close. You don’t want me to cry? Don’t worry about me, sweetie. There’s someone in this room who has been barking in agony for the past minute, and it ain’t me.)

Lyrically, he was still in the same frustration mode he had been in since the back nine of 1999, but there’s a new level of maturity and introspection here. “Maybe I’m just too demanding” is a long way from “must be something in the water they drink.” His ability to build a lyrical framework around a turn of phrase (“I guess I should have…”, “what’s the matter with your…”, “you don’t have to be…”) is underappreciated, and he never found a more poetic and Princely framework than “dig if U will…”

I could go on for hours about this song, but we’re already deep into “dancing about architecture” territory. So let’s move on and… oh, wait… one more thing…

…funkiest Rorschach test EVER!

***

The rest of the album was recorded live on August 3, 1983 at First Avenue. (Although overdubs were added, including some crowd noise from a football game, as the actual crowd didn’t know what to make of these new songs yet and didn’t make a lot of noise.) Side One meandered into more challenging and eclectic territory after an irresistible start, but Side Two would not let up.

On one hand, “I Would Die 4 U” feels like nothing more than an irresistible and disposable pop song, and it lacks the musical sophistication that marks much of the album. Still, like so many of Prince’s hits, it is also completely unique. I don’t remember ever hearing a song and thinking “this reminds me of ‘I Would Die 4 U’.”

I cannot describe just how happy this song made me in 1984. The clicking percussion track propels the song forward like a bicycle-chain, a little bit faster than a typical pop song, and I’m guessing the song’s pace had something to do with the giddiness I’d feel when I heard it. Or maybe the vocal flourishes were a factor. Prince decided that the song needed a “chicka chicka chicka” at 1:18, and history has proven him right. “All I really need” is a decent lyric, but Prince’s staccato interpretation (“oh oh AH AH really need”) brings a smile to my face every time.

Until recently, I didn’t think about the lyrics very much. In the context of the movie, “I Would Die 4 U” appears to be The Kid’s simple declaration of love and devotion to Apollonia, and the title is taken from a line The Kid’s father speaks to his mother in the film. Prince finds Apollonia in the crowd while performing the song and makes his “I Would Die 4 U” hand gesture. She responds with her patented “I Make Kiss 4 U” move.

So, case closed: love song. (There are some very twisted circumstances surrounding the performance of this love song in the film, but that’s a discussion for another day.) Even if it’s a bit messianic for a love song, it’s still a love song. Quick litmus test for whether or not your song is messianic: does it contain the lyric “I’m your messiah”? Yes? Then it’s probably messianic.

Following Prince’s death, I (and others) have thought a lot about how the first lyrics he ever put on record in 1978 were the perfect start to a long relationship with his fans.

All of this and more
Is for you
With love, sincerity and deepest care
My life with you I’ll share

I kinda like the idea of it all being about me. Could “I Would Die 4 U” be about us fans as well? There are some lyrics that fit this interpretation. “I am something that you’ll never understand”? Check. “All I really need is to know that you believe”? Prince did ask us to take a leap of faith with almost every new release. He would change the lyrics in concert (“I’m not your lover; I’m not your friend” became “I’m not your lover, but I’ll be your friend” and “I’m your messiah” became “He’s your messiah”) in a way that made it feel like he was singing directly to his fans.

There’s a third explanation that, after a quick glance around the internet, I see that everyone in the world has already discovered. So let me be the last to tell you that “I Would Die 4 U” makes perfect sense if presented from the perspective of God (or Jesus or the Holy Trinity). And not just by using the forced “maybe if you bend 20% of the lyrics and ignore the other 80%” method that your pothead roommate used to employ in college. “Dude, if you open your mind, it’s obvious that ‘Every Rose Has Its Thorn’ is really about how America helped Pinochet rise to power in Chile.” I mean, in a direct, literal way. None of the lyrics in “I Would Die 4 U” contradict this interpretation, and many of the lyrics fit perfectly, and not simply as metaphor. If this is a hidden meaning of the song, it is hiding in plain sight.

If you’re evil, I’ll forgive U…
I would die 4 U…
I am something that you’ll never comprehend…
I’m your messiah…
You’re just a sinner…
Make U good when U are bad…
All I really need is 2 know that U believe…

Some fans have broken this down even further, assigning each verse to a different part of the Holy Trinity. God is not a woman or man, and will forgive you if you’re evil. Jesus is not your lover or your friend; he’s your messiah. “All I really need is to know that you believe” is sung by The Holy Spirit. I have not been approached to rewrite the Bible (yet), but the Book of Psalms must have room for a pearl like…

not a human
I’m a dove
I’m your conscience
I am love.

Singing as the voice of God requires a healthy ego, but it’s not unheard of, and it does help a line like “I’m your messiah” go down a little easier. Food for thought.

And… we’re at the 8:51 mark of Side Two. I think I could use all of my allotted WordPress space on this album alone, but let’s keep this brief.

“I Would Die 4 U” flows seamlessly into “Baby I’m A Star” without a drop-off in BPM or energy. The mission statement now is “you’ll see what I’m all about, if I have to scream and shout” as Prince throws every vocal trick in the book at this jam. There are screams, shrieks, sighs, and what would become a favorite feature of Prince lyrics for me: brutal grammar.

Baby I’m a star
You might not know it now, baby,
But I are

If delivered with a “can you believe how impish I am?” wink, this would be insufferable. But Prince rarely cracks a smile or draws any extra attention to lyrics like this. I love it.

I only had one problem with “I Would Die 4 U” and “Baby I’m A Star,” and I’m sure I’m not alone here: it was too hard to separate these conjoined twins when making a mix tape. Not only was it difficult, it just felt wrong. They were meant to be together; it tore me apart to break them up.

Baby I’m A Star (weeping): Stay, “I Would Die 4 U”
I Would Die 4 U: I’ll… be… right… here, “Baby I’m A Star”

Between the “dearly beloved” sermon and the triumphant conclusion of “Baby I’m A Star,” it’s been a breathtaking musical journey. And before we have time to towel off, here comes the opening chord of “Purple Rain.” My word. I covered “Purple Rain” and the key role it played in creating this Prince fanatic in detail here, so let’s call it a day.

There are many magnificent Prince albums, and they all triumph in different ways. Few albums have been as audacious as Dirty Mind. You’ve never heard a sequence of sexy pop funk quite like Disc One of 1999. Parade was brilliantly diverse and inventive. Lovesexy was focused thematically and had a sound all its own. Put a gun to my head…

…and tell me I can only listen to one Prince album for the rest of my life, and I would probably choose Sign O’ The Times.

But there has never been an album quite like Purple Rain, and there never will be. The amount of musicianship, emotion, charisma and sweat that was poured into these 44 minutes is astounding, and it sold 20 million copies to boot. If Prince wanted the world to “see what he’s all about,” he succeeded like few ever have.

On Christmas Day in 1983, cassettes of Rock ‘n Soul Part 1 by Hall & Oates and Billy Joel’s An Innocent Man were waiting under the tree for me. And since none of you can prove otherwise, let’s say that I didn’t receive Air Supply’s Greatest Hits as well. I was a 13-year-old suburban kid raised on AM radio, and I didn’t have an older brother who was into Violent Femmes or Afrika Bambaataa or anything, so I was thrilled with these gifts (and with Heartbeat City by The Cars, which I would score on my 14^th birthday in May). I loved pop music, but like most youngsters, I had no appreciation for subtext or complexity. I was immediately grabbed by the synth-pop hooks of The Cars, and by Billy Joel’s wordplay, and by the simple yet lovely melodies of Air Supply (would you stop looking at me like that, please?), and that was as deep as it got.

Prince? By the summer of 1984, I had literally only heard two songs from his four pre-1999 albums. “I Wanna Be Your Lover” was a perfect pop song, and one of my favorite songs of 1979. Its suggestiveness sailed right over my 9-year-old head, of course. I immediately knew something deeper was going on when I heard “Controversy,” but I had no idea what that might be. I caught the album version while making a rare exploration of the right side of the AM dial when I was 11. A few seconds in, it already sounded like nothing I had heard before, and by the time Prince recited the Lord’s Prayer and chanted “I wish we all were nude,” I nearly broke out in hives. But the song would soon fade from my consciousness as I journeyed back to 610 KFRC, where “Controversy” was not bumping “Jessie’s Girl” off of the playlist.

“1999” and “Little Red Corvette” stormed Top 40 radio in 1983, and, as a human with functioning ears, I found them irresistible. Still, I had little appreciation for their lyrical audacity or their shattering of musical genres. On the Billboard Hot 100 for 1983, “Little Red Corvette” is nestled between Toto’s “Africa” and Styx’s “Mr. Roboto,” and in my worldview, that made perfect sense. I wasn’t quite ready to peel back the layers of “When Doves Cry,” the #1 single of the summer of 1984. I remember watching the music video, where a naked Prince emerges from a steamy bathtub and beckons the viewer to join him.

My heart was racing, but I told him “I… I… I’ve got homework to do” as I scampered out of the room.

And so, like most true fans, I have Harrison Ford to thank for opening my eyes to the power of Prince’s music.

***

In August of 1984, some friends and I went to see Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom, which had finally made it to our small-town movie house after opening in May. We were crushed to learn that the Spielberg blockbuster was sold out, and we begrudgingly decided to see the only other film that was playing at the theater: Purple Rain. The summer of 1984 was an inescapable Princely pop culture avalanche that we were collectively sick of, but the Seavue Twin was pretty much the only entertainment option for a group of 14-year-olds in Pacifica, so Purple Rain it was.

As I watched the movie, I quickly became enamored with the clownish funk of the Time, but despite the raucous performance of “Let’s Go Crazy” that opened the film, I still couldn’t quite get on board with Prince. I wasn’t equipped to process the shrieking of “The Beautiful Ones” or the shredding of “Computer Blue” or the stage humping of “Darling Nikki.” My friends and I spent the first hour laughing at the obviously amateur cast, although things became somewhat quieter as the story took a darker turn. When Prince’s character somberly took the stage following his father’s suicide attempt, I had no idea that Hall & Oates were minutes away from being a part of my past.

After an awkward silence and a mumbled introduction, the Revolution laid out the opening chords of “Purple Rain.” I had heard the radio-edit of the song that summer and hadn’t been impressed with it, but within the context of the film, Prince’s emotional performance was riveting. During the final chorus, the giggling teenagers in the theater waved their hands at Prince’s urging (“if ya know what I’m singing about up here, come on raise your hands”), and while most of them were being sarcastic, I was secretly being sincere.

The song then continued past the radio cutoff to reveal a soaring solo that I had never heard before, and I was mesmerized. Prince fought his guitar as if it was trying to escape him, beating out a series of seemingly random sounds that somehow struck me as beautiful and moving. He eventually stumbled upon a simple mid-tempo riff and repeated it again and again with increasing desperation, grinding hope, frustration, glory and countless other emotions out of his helpless instrument. The solo eventually gave way to Prince’s majestic howls of redemption, after which he triumphantly revisited the guitar riff a few times before leaving the stage.

I did not have the vocabulary to describe it, and judging by that last paragraph, maybe I still don’t. But a door had been opened to a vast and vivid new world that only moments ago I was completely unaware of. Nothing I had heard before had prepared me for (or even hinted at) this world. Granted, Air Supply seemed pretty shaken up when they realized they were all out of love, but it wasn’t the same. The idea that a guitar can convey so much more than a lyric sheet may seem obvious to mature music fans, but it was a revelation to me at the time. In seven minutes, my entire outlook on music had changed. The film’s final performances of “I Would Die 4 U” and “Baby I’m a Star” were simply a coronation. A lifelong Prince fan was born.

If Indiana Jones was a little less popular, would I have got there on my own? I mean, I wouldn’t be an Air Supply enthusiast, okay? College girls would have beat that out of me. But beyond that? It’s impossible to tell. Maybe I would have enjoyed Purple Rain on HBO that fall, but wouldn’t have been spellbound by the guitar solo as heard on the tinny speakers of our 20” Zenith. I’d still be a casual fan, but keep in mind that Prince provided annual excuses for casual fans to jump off the bandwagon.

1985: Prince releases Around The World In A Day, an abrupt right turn after Purple Rain
1986: Under The Cherry Moon bombs spectacularly on the big screen
1987: The Revolution is unceremoniously disbanded
1988: An airbrushed Prince absurdly poses naked on the cover of Lovesexy

Prince-lovesexy — “Last call! Everybody off the bandwagon!”

I could have checked out at any time, leaving a void to be filled by… Metallica? Dungeons & Dragons? Ayn Rand? Maybe right now you’d be reading Yes Can Do, my wildly popular Hall & Oates blog. I’ll never know. When the Purple Rain guitar solo opened a door to a new world that August night in Pacifica, I walked through, and the door closed behind me. There was no going back. He could have followed up Lovesexy with a double album featuring only bagpipes and armpit farts, but I wasn’t going anywhere. In my Prince fan origin story, that guitar solo is my radioactive spider.

Tag: Purple Rain (song)

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