Today (April 21) marks the 10th anniversary of Prince’s death. Among the tributes saluting his enduring legacy are the Prince Estate’s concurrent release of a previously unissued recording, “With This Tear.” After penning the song, Prince gave the tender ballad to Céline Dion to record — which she did in 1992.
Now Prince’s own 1991 recorded version of “Tear,” among the gems in his storied Paisley Park vault, has been newly mixed and mastered by his frequent collaborator, engineer-producer Chris James (Art Official Age, Plectrumelectrum) for NPG Records. The track showcases the Purple One’s formidable skill set as a producer, arranger, composer, musician (he again handles all the instrumentation) and singer. His emotive, soaring tenor-to-falsetto vocals achingly relay his longing for a lost love.
Also in recognition of today’s anniversary, this writer is taking another route down memory lane. This trip dates back to January 2013 when Prince granted Billboard a face-to-face interview at Paisley Park. The occasion? A cover story (“The O Word”) about his legacy, upcoming projects and perspectives on the current music industry tied to being named Billboard’s 2013 Icon honoree — along with unveiling Billboard’s new redesign. Of course, Prince harbored his own ideas about how the interview would transpire — if at all. Revisiting that interview, accompanied by recollections that didn’t make the published piece, here’s a look back at a seeming mission impossible.
“Does he talk?”
That’s the question I asked whenever I ran into someone who had worked with or around Prince. Up until my sit-down with him, I’d only heard him speak — very briefly and barely above a whisper — during a couple of press conferences.
The last press event I attended took place late in 2005 at the Regent Beverly Wilshire Hotel in Beverly Hils. Prince was premiering the video for “Te Amo Corazón” from his upcoming album 3121, with him also announcing a new deal with Universal Records. While waiting … and waiting … for him to appear, I left the press gathering in search of a restroom. At the same time, I spied Prince stepping out of a room down the hall — only to immediately dart back inside once he saw me. Then I remembered that us media reporters had been told Prince wouldn’t make his grand entrance until everyone was seated in place.
So imagine my surprise when I get a phone call from then-Billboard editor Bill Werde on a Sunday afternoon saying I’d been tapped to fly out the next morning to interview Prince. That Prince had nixed other suggested writers until my name was mentioned, along with the fact that I’d earlier pitched the idea for a Billboard story about Black media ownership — a subject very close to Prince’s heart.
Naturally, I was thrilled to cross off a long hoped-for interview from my bucket list. But at the same time, my blood pressure ratcheted upward as I ran around town for the next several hours gathering interview prep items recommended by Prince’s then-manager. Like driving to a nearby Blockbuster (remember those??) to rent and watch the film The Adjustment Bureau. Then there was making last-minute arrangements to get my son to school the next day. And last, heeding an inner voice that had me dashing into Macy’s for a pair of low-heeled boots to (1) stay warm in the icy cold I’d encounter in Minneapolis and (2) make sure that given my 5’ 6” height, I wouldn’t tower over Prince.
Despite being sworn to the utmost secrecy by both sides, I still craved some advice on what to expect. So I called a trusted friend who’d worked with Prince for years. The advice: “Don’t let him intimidate you. If you do, the interview’s over.”
In rereading this story, additional moments seared into my memory bank cropped up. Such as me furiously fan-girling inside when Prince, wearing that sly smile, offered his hand to help me walk to the top of the platform on which he and his female band were rehearsing. I’m then seated less than five feet away from the guitar-strapped Purple One, who asks if there’s a song that I’d like him and the ladies to play. “Let’s Go Crazy,” one of my all-time faves, came to mind. Then I landed on “Sexy M.F.,” which I was blessed to watch him perform live at his Glam Slam West nightclub in the mid-‘90s.
However, I caught myself. Because I just as suddenly recalled that Prince had since become a devout Jehovah’s Witness. In relation to my friend’s advice, I smiled and thought, “Might this be a trick question that could end the interview before it begins?” So I simply said, “Just play anything.”
Before acceding to the interview, as the story relates, Prince still put me through my paces to “see if we vibe first.” With a piercing gaze, he asked questions about media ownership and the artistic freedom and power that comes with control of your own work (“Those are the issues that a magazine like Billboard needs to be writing about,” he noted. “Billboard needs to tell the truth, shake things up”). My answers passed muster. But I think what really helped put me over the top was when Prince mentioned ‘70s progressive soul/funk band Mandrill during another part of our prelim conversation. I told him the group’s “Fencewalk” (also covered by D’Angelo) was a classic. “You know Mandrill?” he queried as his eyes lit up.
He deflected questions about being presented with the Billboard Icon award. “It’s always nice to be recognized for what we’ve done,” he said. “But I’m all about moving forward.” For him that meant keeping in tune with next-gen talent. “I don’t talk to old people … they try to find ways to stay static. Young folks are the ones with the ideas and constantly moving forward.”
Over the course of three hours, I learned that Prince did talk, and had plenty to say when fired up. That his unparalleled creativity and innovation were matched by his savvy, innate business sense. Given his push for ownership, I’d love to converse with him now about the current indie scene and the future of major labels. About the still-raging debate over fair compensation for songwriters in this streaming era. And what would he say about AI’s encroaching presence? Although I only spent limited time with him, I think I can hazard a guess.
If he was still here, would he have finally finished one of his passion projects: a documentary about bassist Larry Graham (Sly and the Family Stone; Graham Central Station)? What might his own plans entail in regard to unveiling the musical treasures in his infamous vault? And I wish Prince had made good on a post-interview offer to catch a jam session with him and the band at a local club that evening. He didn’t call. What a cool memory that would have been.
But I did come away with an ultimate memory: the opportunity to chat with a one-of-one generational talent. When the cover story was published, I panicked a bit because I didn’t hear anything from Prince. Maybe I’d made some mistakes while trying to remember everything he’d said and done, since I wasn’t allowed to record the interview or take notes. I even offered a compromise. If I could record the interview, I’d transcribe the tape at Paisley Park and then give the recording to Prince to destroy it a la the TV series Mission: Impossible. No.
Then almost a week later, I received a bouquet of pale purple roses bearing a card that read, “UR pen Is like my guitar.” Enough said.