Well, I made it to the top five on my Countdown to 40, which means in a few days I will cross that bridge into a new decade. You'd think I'd be nervous or scared, but I'm not. The looming birthday also means the inevitable end to this little introspective project of mine, with several of the best and most important films, books, and music yet to come. Like today's feature post on Prince's Purple Rain album.
When it broke last April, the news of Prince's death hit me pretty hard, more so than the passing of fellow icons Michael Jackson and Whitney Houston in the decade prior. More so than George Michael and Carrie Fisher in the year afterwards. More so than any other famous person, to be honest. Up until that time, I never really understood how people could get so emotionally bent out of shape over the loss of a celebrity. I mean, we typically only know the public persona and not the person, so how could a pop star's death really mean all that much to anyone? When Prince died, though, I could finally empathize. In the earliest years of my cultural development, he laid the foundation for my love and understanding of pop music with the soundtrack to Purple Rain, which, to this day, remains my all-time favorite. No other album made a larger impact on me or my taste in music, thanks in large part to my sister Missy. I certainly wasn't alone in feeling that sense of loss. The outpouring of memories and odes to Prince filled my social media news feeds in the hours and days following the announcement of his death. I dedicated an entire Flashback Friday segment to Prince for my United States History class, to which a number of students expressed their dismay at his passing. The death also affected my sister, Missy, who introduced me to Prince more than 30 years ago. Like it did for me, Purple Rain played an important role in Missy's life, prompting her to write: Ah, the memories that flow into my mind when remembering Prince and Purple Rain. I recall my parents weighing in with their opinion of Prince's "so-called music"...which in their eyes was "just noise". But I loved it. I connected to the lyrics and the music itself was so different from what I was used to hearing. Not to mention the mysteriousness of Prince himself. I couldn't help but be drawn into it all.
She was right, too. Her adoration of Prince and constant replaying of Purple Rain helped me fall in love with it, too. I proudly showcased my liking for Prince, dancing around (was I really gyrating?) and lip syncing to my favorite songs from the album, like "I Would Die 4 U" and "Baby I'm a Star." The applause, laughter, and support I earned from Missy and my parents only encouraged me to continue my performances, each one likely more flamboyant that the last. Which brings up another trait of Prince's that made him such a big influence--he appeared fearless and confident to be whoever he wanted to be. He wore boots with heels. He changed his name to a symbol that represented equal parts male and female. And he challenged people's preconceived gender biases in rock music by featuring artists like Wendy and Lisa as prominent members. He also sponsored and wrote music specifically for women as a way to help promote their talents, serving as a champion for women in music.
There truly was no one else like Prince. He taught me just how great pop music could be, and even when I listen to Purple Rain today, I am constantly amazed at how timeless the album really is. He also showed me how powerful being true to oneself can be, unafraid and unashamed, a lesson I carried with me into adulthood as I grappled with my homosexuality. Prince and Purple Rain therefore form core elements of my sense of identity, and when he passed away, it felt as though I somehow lost a connection to that foundational part of myself.
0 Comments
|
AUTHOR
I am a self-proclaimed pop culture geek and list enthusiast who is celebrating the big four-zero by counting down the most important, influential, and favorite music, movies, television shows, books, and video games of my life so far. Categories
All
Archives |