My third (and fourth) Prince concert one right after the other. The first was in the Tacoma Dome in Washington. No opening act, two solid hours of hits. No tracks from new albums that he’s selling. A cover of “Don’t Stop ‘Til You Get Enough” was a highlight. Prince and Michael Jackson had some mild back and forths over the 80s and 90s. Who knew Prince would end up the normal(ish) one?
Then got word of one of Prince’s common after-party shows which go late into the evening/morning. Got to the club in Seattle about 1:00 a.m. A house band was playing (and doing well). Then about an hour of a d.j. Then Prince’s band took the stage and worked the crowd for 45 minutes until Prince finally arrived. The only Prince “hit” played was “Musicology”, everything else was covers or jams. They were really good, including legendary saxophonist Maceo Parker. Prince didn’t take his sunglasses off the while time and left after an hour. About half the show I was dancing in place next to a young hippie dude with long strangly hair who felt obliged to loudly show how much he felt the groove by going “Woooo!” several times and doing a excited lean forward, lean back rocking twice every 4/4 measure in a way only done by demonstrative hippies and the mentally infirm with excited or anxious. Met up with a colleague from work, who sagely and kindly got a bottle of water for herself, for me, and her lifelong friend who is very funny.
Prince left about 3:50. Crowd inferred he wasn’t coming back when his band also packed up. Got in the car at 4:00 and drove 25 minutes to get back to the hotel in Tacoma.
During the big show, Prince asked “Do any of you remember the 80s?” It got a big roar. That decade would have been much better without that son of a bitch Reagan. Anyway, Prince seemed more interested and curious about the more free-form music after-party concert. Must be a slight drag being a jukebox, but he’s really good at it.
“When Doves Cry” and enough lens flares to be in the new ‘Star Trek’ movie.
“Purple Rain” showered us all in … strips of gold tinsel and purple crepe paper.
Prince has left the building.
At the club, NO PHOTOS OR VIDEOS WERE ALLOWED OF ANY KIND. Signs posted all over, announcements made from the stage, policy mentioned by bouncers at the pat-down. Didn’t keep assholes on two occasions from trying to take photos by holding their brightly illuminated rectangles high into the air above everyone’s heads for several seconds. It could not have been made handier of the security guards, who within a few seconds had their flashlights triangulate to pinpoint the sloppy guerilla photographer and bounce the person out. There ARE sneakier ways to take photos without holding a bright lamp over your head, kids.
Prince residue/holy relic. My dog suspects I have a treat for her in my hand (she was to be disappointed).
3 comments
Could anyone go to the after-party? How did you hear about such a thing? Did you wear your high-heeled boots for solidarity? I'm very impressed by your ability to party like it's 1999, yo!
Raspberry beret!!
After-party was open for all. Suspected it was taking place, but my reflex was to assume I would be automatically excluded from where the cool people gather. Finally, a less self-defeating friend LOOKED IT UP ON THE INTERNET and sorted out the location. Then I read up on it and saw tickets were no longer for sale online. Alas! I felt defeated again (making my own loser destiny, again). Then, the same friend did something crazy: CALLED THE CLUB ON THE TELEMAPHONE to ask what the deal was. She got the info, and we met there up in Seattle and got in like Flynn.
Oh Bruce, I wanna be more like you!