Publication: San Jose Mercury News [US]
Date: April 20, 1997
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Title: " Goes Back To School"
Reviewed By: Brad Kava

It's so nice to finally see something that lives up to the hype. Between the strange and the canceled shows because of scalping, there was a whole-lotta-hype to live up to surrounding the artist born Prince Rogers Nelson 38 years ago.

The Artist who wants to be called The Artist painted a masterpiece in San Jose on Saturday night before an almost-sold-out crowd of 7,000. He laid down the guantlet after his second song, a suprising, chugging, churning funk rendition of James Brown's "Talkin' Loud and Sayin' Nothing" that was so down-to-earth and musical it made you forget all the wierd things written about him.

"San Jose, we ain't gonna worry about names tonight," he said in his first visit to the city.

This 2 1/2-hour show was so good and so revelatory that for the first time I understood why he changed his name and didn't think it was a publicity stunt.

Few performers have been hurt as much or underappreciated more because of labels and racial boundaries. The man formerly known as Prince has done more than almost anyone in creating music that bridges the gap betweeen white and black music.

Yet he is ignored by many people, particularly radio programers of both races, because of assumptions they make linked to his name and persona.

This show was a lesson for them. It was a rainbow bridge. At times sexy, at others earnest and pixie-like, Prince spanned the gamut from funk to jazz to folk to arena rock. It was a spectacle as big as a Rolling Stones show. But unlike Mick Jagger---another unquenchable hype machine---- when Prince bends genres, he is convincing. He owned them Saturday night. He didn't come off as a poseur. He alternated long jams with snippets of hits, confounding every expectation. He opened modestly, with a long "Jam of the Year" that was more a chance for the band to warm up than something that set the crowd on fire.

The Audience Danced

Then, there was the 15-minute James Brown cover, on which the Artist played boogie-woogie piano, throwing out jazz and rock riffs, taking breaks, and jumping back to the song. He had the house lights turned on and everyone in the general-admission audience danced.

The hall was transformed into a giant club, and I suddenly knew how people in Minneapolis must have felt when Prince played clubs, and they were to dance as much as to ogle. It was like a scene from "Purple Rain."

He kept switching gears, peripatetically bouncing from genre to genre. The show was mostly centered on his latest three-album set, "Emancipation," which was far better live than on disc. In concert, the songs had more levels as he stretched out and jammed on them.

One of the night's highlights was "Face Down" a spooky song about a dead rapper who ended "Face down like Elvis." That chorus kept repeating as his band, the New Power Generation, riffed over it. "The Cross," from the album "Sign of the Times," went in a different direction. It started with acoustic guitar and ended up with giant arena-rock chords.

Strumming the male/female symbol-shaped guitar with his boyish, straight hair and petite frame, he looked like John Mellencamp and sounded like classic Bob Dylan.

He ended that with a Santana-like guitar jam, playing as he wandered up into the crowd in seats along the upper reaches. There was another surprising cover:Joan Osborne's hit "One of Us," on which Prince changed the lyric about God being a "slob" to a "slave," a reference to his battles with his former record company, Warner Brothers. He played it passionately, reclaiming the spiritual side of the song from commercial overplay.

Greatest Hits, Too

He covered greatest hits including the Beatle-esque "Rasberry Beret" and funk jams on "How Come You Don't Call Me Any More," "Take Me With You," "Mr. Happy," "If I Was Your Girlfriend," "Do Me Baby" and "Sexy M.F."

Some of the songs may have seemed too long and the show didn't have the momentum of some arena-rock performances, more hit-oriented as they closed; it was focused more on music, on competent and inspired playing, than theatrics. It worked.

The Artist prowled the stage like a fluid Mick Jagger, picking up instruments not for show but to make them sing. He did the growling bass on "Face Down,"and the Chick Corea-inspired electric piano on "Johnny."

His backing band has recieved some criticsm for not being as strong as some of his past units, but they were competent and--- except for a few inspired solos by guitarist Mike Scott and some great riffs by an unnamed harmonica player --- they did what backing musicians should do. They threw out the music and let the man at center stage shine.