I’m sorry Universe, but I will not accept the fact that Prince Rogers Nelson is no longer on this planet. If you need a few moments to correct this mistake, then please, do so quickly, because you’re ruining a lot of people’s days right about now.
This is simply a truth I, and surely a countless number of fans, cannot entertain.
Not when we’re talking about The Purple One, The Artist Formerly Known As, His Royal Badass, The Prince of Funk, The High Priest of Pop, Alexander Nevermind, Joey Coco, Jamie Starr, or simply even Skipper. Not when one of the last few musical geniuses on this planet is now without him. Not when a whole world’s worth of purple tears will be shed once this tragedy becomes a sad truth.
I’ll refuse to believe it still.
Even as I go home and pull out my vinyl collection of his music to listen to a pure masterclass in becoming the baddest damn artist to ever bestow the gift of music to a world that needed every last note of it.
Nope. This is not what I will believe.
Because as I look through old footage I recorded of Prince when I saw him at The Forum back in 2011, I will only remember the man that gave an audience one thousand percent of himself within one set, yet somehow still gave a little more by way of SIX encores. That night I was privileged to bare witness to the best live performance that I had ever seen even up until now, from a purple deity that’s reigned for 40 years over our playlists, collections, and mixes. Seeing a Prince guitar solo live was a spiritual experience. A cleansing that rid you of every other guitar solo before it that you once thought to be worthwhile. Watching him perform live was an affirmation that if there ever were a higher power, they were a Prince fan.
I simply can’t believe Prince is dead. How can he be? Not when a purple rain is washing over Minneapolis right now. Not when his voice is at this very moment is breathing life into our speakers and headphones, reminding all of his undying presence through a virtuosic talent and an enduring spirit that touched every individual with an appreciation for the power of music.
The possibility of him being gone is absolutely foreign to me, especially when the memory of hearing “Raspberry Beret” as a baby and it being my first recollection of ever enjoying music, is still clear in my mind.
As far as I’m concerned, Prince lives on, beyond his earthly existence, in the place where we connect music with meaning. He is there, eluding the void of nothing, exceeding eternal. Where the carnal lick of his guitar and the infinite funk of his brilliance continue endlessly to show us how one truly lives forever.