​Minnesota mourns Prince

As a Minnesota native, my love of music was formed right around the time “Purple Rain” came out. I was 8 years old, already going to concerts, and while I am pretty sure my parents didn’t let me watch the movie at the time, I certainly gave the album several hundred spins. My brother did cover my ears during the masturbation line in “Darling Nikki,” but of course I found it on the lyric sheet. We all know 8-year-old boys know nothing about masturbation.

It was so incredible that this out-of-this-world musician was from our state. Being from rural west central Minnesota, the Twin Cities was where we went for fun on the weekends, and my parents constantly took us there. We frequently stayed in a hotel in the IDS Center, which was used for the scene of a fight between Prince and Apollonia in “Purple Rain.” I remember distinctly me and my father trying to find Prince’s purple house before Paisley Park was built during a Twin Cities excursion, probably for a Twins game or Valleyfair. We never found it but had a good afternoon driving around the suburbs looking.

Several years later during high school in St. Cloud, my love of music received a tremendous shot in the arm from being able to attend shows at First Avenue, where I saw everyone from Nirvana to Sonic Youth to Ween and everything in between. I started to get into punk and the rest is history. My dad would pile me and some friends in a car and take us around once or twice a month before we all could drive there. Some of my friends who still play in bands credit those trips for their music bug.

All this nostalgia came rushing back with the incredible shock that Prince died last week at the age of 57. He was an institution in Minnesota musical history. There will never be another musician from the state who will make as big of an impact as he did. Without him and his hometown club First Avenue where he got his start and put it on the national map with his film, I may be doing much different with my life entirely. I am definitely proud to be from there and it was so amazing to see the response from all over the world where you could see the tremendous impact his life and music had on so many people.

One of my biggest regrets is not seeing him live, despite a few chances to do so, mainly deferring to cost and responsibility. He did so many last minute shows where you had to go within a couple days notice. I tried last Memorial Day ahead of the release of his new album and at least got to visit Paisley Park studios. Of course in typical Prince fashion, he didn’t perform live all weekend despite the $40.00 price tag. I went on the last day and while the experience was still something to behold, it wasn’t like an impromptu four hour Prince concert. But that was the deal with Paisley Park concerts, you had to go on short notice and you may have received a Prince concert or you may not. Some people said it was about 50 percent of the time.

But that’s the deal with Prince, he remained an enigma and was shrouded in mystery and secrecy throughout his prolific career. He’s the only musician who could get people to shell out $25 to $40 on a regular basis on the chance he MIGHT perform live. No guarantees. The rumors about him and his life remain abound even to his fans from this area. I thought he was no longer a member of Jehovah's Witness religion and that’s why he had gone back to playing his older, sexy songs again. Turns out he was still a practicing member and had attended a meeting in suburban Minneapolis as recently as late March. Another friend remarked to me about how he had owned First Avenue back in the day. And while he may have metaphorically “owned” the club especially around the time of “Purple Rain” (it closed 25 days for its filming), he never physically owned the club where he got his start. He did own a club called Glam Slam in downtown Minneapolis for an eight year run but it never could get a foothold against the more established First Avenue, in part probably because of his work making it the place bands from all over the world wanted to play.

I, like many other people, will never forget the roles these things had in shaping my life; my late father who nourished my love of music, the nightclub where I grew up at and the music of my youth, listening to it in my room and helping me get through crappy days not to mention the state where I grew up. As we get older and time passes, sometimes you forget how much these things meant. I guess that’s why I went on a whim with no guarantee of getting into the Prince memorial dance party at First Avenue on Thursday evening. We didn’t get in until 3:00 a.m. but then we danced our sorrows away to “When Doves Cry,” “Raspberry Beret,” and so many more. The room was packed even at 4:00 and 5:00 in the morning and there was so much energy and love as images of Prince filled the screen. It was the kind of wake or funeral he would’ve wanted. He gave us so much joy and we all gave it back. Being amongst thousands in downtown Minneapolis with the eyes of the world upon us, there was nowhere else I’d rather be. A Minnesota boy dancing his cares away. Once again, music saves the day.