For the past year or so, Prince and his all-woman collective, 3rdEyeGirl, have been teasing us mercilessly with one-off singles, live video clips, and promises of a new album “soon.” The quartet offered audiences a taste of their new material during ferocious live shows in tiny venues, turned it all the way up on the now-defunkt but fun while it lasted ‘Arsenio Hall Show,’ and turned heads at the Brit Awards by snapping a cheeky selfie as they ascended the stage. At long last, Prince, in typical Prince “I’ll tell u what u need 2 no when u need 2 no it” fashion, announced just weeks ago that he would, in fact, release not one but two new albums on September 30: a solo project entitled Art Official Age, and 3rdEyeGirl’s debut, PLECTRUMELECTRUM.
With life-long, die-hard Prince fans on pins and needles waiting for the albums to come, and legions of “I liked his old stuff better” folks on the fence about whether a new Prince album would be worth the hype, the build-up to the release brought healthy servings of both excitement and scrutiny. As Prince and 3rdEyeGirl wrecked the stage at this year’s Essence Festival, I was not surprised that my (and a few others’) excitement for deep album cuts like “Sometimes it Snows in April” and rare party anthems like “Days of Wild” was met with shouts from the audience to “sing ‘Adore!’ ‘Adooooooooooore!’” I mean, really? But the truth is, there are two camps of Prince fans—the ones who’ve been down to ride since his debut release, ‘For You,’ in 1979 and have remained loyal through some admittedly rocky and uncertain years (cuz we can’t ever quit him!), and those who pretty much changed the channel shortly after his so-called mid-80s golden era. My wager is that the latter group far outnumbers the former, but maybe, just maybe, not for long.
After multiple listens—the first one being as I drifted off to sleep the night before the album’s official release (that was trippy and magical), it is safe to say that Art Official Age is the bridge that will unite these two classes of Prince fans. Thematically, the album follows a singular thread throughout; not since 2001’s The Rainbow Children—a regrettably slept on album—has Prince committed so wholeheartedly to one specific story or idea to tie an album together. With no breaks between tracks, the songs segue—sometimes smoothly, other times abruptly—into one another. Even the album’s artwork, featuring the Prince of now wearing those iconic round shades from back in the day augmented with an additional lens (his third eye, bien sur), positioned stoically before platinum Purple Rain albums, points to this sonic experience that will connect the dots between the past and the present. Actress/writer/activist Anna Deavere Smith teaches the concept of interrupted sentences, describing the natural flow of human conversations as something that is less about solid, linear thoughts followed by solid, linear words, but rather as disjointed, ruptured ideas and musings that eventually lead to a point. In its essence, this is what Art Official Age brings to mind, especially as it deals with the ways in which technology and lives played out on the “digital stage” disconnect us more and more from one another and, more significantly perhaps, from ourselves.
The opening track, “Art Official Cage,” is a funk/EDM mash-up featuring a Nicki Minaj-esque rap verse that quickly dissolves into yet another incarnation of Prince’s manipulated voice. With little warning, the song morphs into “Clouds,” by far one of the more “Prince-y” tracks on the album, and featuring British chanteuse Lianne LaHavas. As the song’s story unfolds, we learn through LaHavas’ buttery monologue that “Mr. Nelson” has been in suspended animation for forty-five years; throughout the remainder of the album, LaHavas guides her patient through a series of affirmations. The vibe is akin to Spike Jonez’s film Her, where a quiet, lonely, unassuming man falls in love with his artificial intelligence companion whose soothing voice and easy conversation provide a strange yet familiar comfort. It is clear that a journey to love in all its forms is at the heart of the album.
“The Gold Standard” is old school Prince, but whereas in decades of yore the lyrics may have been more along the lines of “DMSR,” new-age Prince invites us to act like we have some couth and behavior so we don’t end up with wasted crotch shots on Instagram and YouTube.
Ever the master of the sensual slow jam, Prince imbues “U Know” with the now-familiar monotone speak/singing employed by his current chart-topping contemporaries, all the while keeping the groove true to the Minneapolis sound (and, hallelujah, without the Autotune). Truth be told, if you can listen to this song without dropping at least one body roll…nevermind. You can’t. “Breakfast Can Wait,” one of the album’s early singles and the toast of winter 2013 with a slick video directed by dancer/choreographer Danielle Curiel, finds itself right at home on Art Official Age as one of its stand-outs.
Despite numerous proclamations that “the Internet is dead,” Prince is ever with his finger on the pulse of pop culture. Hence, the seriously delicious “This Could Be Us,” inspired by a meme featuring a still from ‘Purple Rain’ of him and Apollonia intertwined on The Kid’s motorcycle, bearing the caption, “This could be us…but you playin’.” The sublime Andy Allo, whose 2012 sophomore release Superconductor made major waves and was largely produced in collaboration with Prince, brings her lush vocals and guitar mastery to “What It Feels Like” (a sweet extension of her song “When Stars Collide,” wherein she repeats “what it feels like/this is what it feels like” throughout the vamp).
One of the most poignant and, perhaps, telling songs on the album is “Way Back Home.” Speaking directly to the loneliness, isolation, and different-ness any one of us has experienced in our lives, “Way Back Home” is almost like a companion to “Moonbeam Levels (Better Place to Die),” one of Prince’s most beloved rarities that paints a similar yet slightly more dissonant picture. The song plays like a reintegration of sorts, beginning with LaHavas explaining that “any person or object whatsoever that requires your attention is something that has veered from its path and pre-ordained destiny of total enlightenment,” as the exaggerated sound of a human heartbeat leads into the lyric.
“FunkNRoll” is probably the most energetic track Art Official Age has to offer, with Prince once again bringing the party home and suggesting that, “the only way to last til the break of dawn/is put your phone down, get your party on.” He’s so right. Why are we still trying to snap shots when it’s nothing but strobe lights and sweat?
Andy Allo returns for “Time,” the song you turn on when the party’s over, and it’s just you and your soul lover, and it’s time to get serious about what happens next. The album closes with a final interlude featuring Lianne LaHavas and what appear to be Allo’s and LaHavas’ vocals repeating the chorus from “Way Back Home.” The story ends with this gentle meditation.
Art Official Age is experimental and quirky, yet enticing. With the perfect blend of old and new, familiar and explorative, it harkens a new era for one of the most prolific, innovative, and imaginative musicians of all time.
Art Official Age is available on iTunes, and CD copies can be ordered through artofficialage.com. Follow Prince on Instagram @Prince for the fun of it.
—Rhonda Nicole
Rhonda Nicole is an independent singer/songwriter whose has given Prince chunks of her paycheck over the years, lovin’ and livin’ in Oakland, CA. Download her EP ‘Nuda Veritas’ on CDBaby and iTunes, keep up with her new music at soundcloud.com/rhonda-nicole, and follow her on Facebook and on Twitter @wildhoneyrock.
0 comments:
Post a Comment