Publication: The Guardian [UK]
Date: November 22, 1996
Section:
Page Number(s):
Length:
Title: "Sign Of The Times"
Reviewed By: Dan Glaister

The artist known as sees his new record as his Citizen Kane. Dan Glaister prefers to reserve judgement

Rating **** (out of 5) Four = excellent (5 = indispensable)

After all the huffing and the puffing, the sulking and the name changes, the artist whose name is now a registered trademark celebrated his freedom last week with a concert at his Paisley Park studios. Boyz II Men were there to listen to his half-hour set, so were Donatella Versace, D'Angelo and, er, Grateful Dead wannabes Phish. The party food was Captain Crunch, the newly liberated one's favourite breakfast cereal. What a strange affair.

For 30 minutes, played three tracks from Emancipation, his long-awaited triple album, as well as three by another chap called Prince. A live broadcast of the album launch was relayed to a record shop in London, where 100 fans gathered at 7am to watch on a video screen. From such devotion are careers formed.

The set was remarkable for its energy, musicianship and consumate professionalism. At 38, the former purple imp looked to be at the peak of his powers. Dancing through the new CD's opening track Jam Of The Year, wigging out to his own guitar solo on Purple Rain, or leading some inspired ensemble playing on Get Yo Groove On, also from the new set, it was a singular warning to would-be pretenders.

The timing was no accident. Midnight, Minneapolis time, on November 18 marked the end of the Artist's contract with Warner Brothers, a relationship that had seen him through his early years but had grown increasingly acrimonious as he grew increasingly prolific. His belief that he should have some control over his output was a crazy notion for which many artists have paid in the past.

A series of tiresome disputes developed between artist and record company, Warner's insisting that he shouldn't release more than one set per year, Prince - as he then was - delivering product as he created it. A race evolved to complete his contract, with delivering out-takes and studio jams to make up the numbers. Warner's were aghast as their marketing strategies went by the board. The sales reflected their concerns, although the company's heart may not have been behind the product. From sales of 13 million for 1984's Purple Rain, the last album released by Warner's, the forgettable Chaos And Disorder, sold fewer than 100,000.

And all the while there was talk of a masterpiece in the vaults, the record he really wanted to make but wasn't going to give to Warner's, the one that would return him to his rightful place at the top.

Emancipation may be that record, or it may be something he knocked off over a long weekend. There's no way of telling. has spoken of the three-hour set as a cathartic recording: "I got everything out of my system with it. I let the music dictate what I want. Citizen Kane was a long movie; maybe this is my Citizen Kane".

Multi-styled, polished, fantastically produced, and superbly performed, after two listens the only thing I could remember about it was the line on Joint 2 Joint: "You think you're my soulmate, you don't even know which cereal I like - Captain Crunch". But maybe that's my problem.

Joint 2 Joint is emblematic of the beauty and the frustrations associated with following the man's music. It moves smoothly from style to style: mellow soul, rap, funk, but fails to deliver in any of them. The phrase "aural wallpaper" springs to mind, a crime for the sharpest pop brain of our time, possibly the sharpest musical brain: opera director Peter Sellars has compared to Mozart for his abundant creativity. He has called Emancipation the album he was born to make, but then he would say that. The new deal with EMI is unique in that the record company merely handles the distribution for the artist. He gets to keep the masters and dictate the release schedule. It is quite a coup.

But the music is the only reason anyone pays any attention to him, and there is a feeling when confronted by the bulk buy of Emancipation that lurking inside the triple-CD case lies a stunning album. Not that there is anything wrong with what is on offer. The man is like a small child let loose in the playpen of his dreams.

"Sometimes I stand in awe of what I do myself", he said recently as he listened to the album. "I feel like a regular person but I listen to this and wonder, where did it come from? If you could go in the studio alone and come out with this, you'd do it every day, wouldn't you?" Well, yes, but remember, more can also mean less.

The three CD's feel like three separate albums. The first features the jazz and gentle funk side of the Artist. The catchiest number is the single, a cover of the Stylistics' Betcha By Golly Wow. It is a fine, faithful tribute to a great song, the Artist scatting over the top of the original melody, adding layer upon layer.

There are even show tunes: Jam Of The Year and Courtin' Time where comes over all Louis Jordan. It wouldn't be out of place on the soundtrack to Under The Cherry Moon. The lost interesting number on the first set is In This Bed I Scream, dedicated to former soulmates Wendy and Lisa. It sounds like an out-take from Around The World In A Day.

CD two, the weakest of the three, gets all lovey-dovey, closing with a paean to the mother of his child, Friend, Lover, Sister, Mother/Wife. That comes just after Let's Have A Baby. Yuk. It has its funky moments, however. Emale is a soulful meditation on all things cyber, with the inspired chorus "www.emale.com".

The third CD gets more interesting. Slave is a Housequake-style atmospheric stormer, New World sounds like a hi-energy Giorgio Moroder, Face Down is a rap that actually comes off. This is the Artist where he works best, in a club setting, getting off on the groove. There's another cover, a rich, soulful version of the Delfonics' La La La means I love you, a bit of hard funk, some disco, and a rocking version of Joan Osborne's One Of Us. The set winds down with an epic synth-laden The Love We Make, before closing with the title track, a groover which sounds like Stevie Wonder with something naughty down his trousers.

It is a partial return to form. The good is very good, the worst is quite good. The best news is the final CD, which is reminiscent of some of the joy's of Prince's music. As for the rest - edit and enjoy.

[TEXT WITHIN IN A BOX]: Pop CD of the week. Prince. Emancipation (3CDs).