Prince
Musicology
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For $13.48

When the end of the world comes, I wanna be carousing with Prince. Even if the face of corruption, social injustice, and betrayal, he still just wants to get down James Brown-style and do it in a way that exercises all his strengths. Of course, he rightfully mixes the political with the sexual in such accomplished ways that ANY musician would be envious of, but Prince doesn’t dwell in being preachy about calamity, because there’s a party in his soul and everyone is invited. Although a couple of gaudy ballads weigh down his latest a bit here and there, Musicology, is an amalgam of all styles and fortes that Prince fans will rejoice in reclaiming in their speakerbox. Prince puts the fun back in funk and clearly has a great time doing it all on his own without Warner breathing down his throat.

At first you expect the entire Prince posse to be back in full swing, but no. Aside from a few guests sprinkled here and there, Prince plays nearly every instrument and turned every knob on the Mackie. He doesn’t need anyone else to hone his skills, especially “the man.” The man is a hideous bitch Goddess, and he’s sticking it to him by shoving down slippery saxophones and rigid dance beats down his esophagus. Yet, Prince keeps all the old-school trademarks intact: impenetrable production along with his standard screams of ecstasy, as well as quadruple harmony overdubs that pounce like machine gun choirs from both heaven and hell. In other words, it’s pretty much all here, and after putting up with rather mediocre efforts, you could call this a comeback of sorts. It sounds as if he's revived his muse with a kiss and now, they’re all about making out back at his crib.

Whereas Prince once seemed misplaced in his own bizarre diversions such as the unfocused drib mysticism of The Rainbow Children or the eclectically uninviting showoffishness of Rave Un2 the Joy Fantastic, Musicology is back to tell it like it is, how it once was, and how it should be. The entire record is an ode to the power and vitality of rock and roll, and how it could bring world peace if enough people believed it could. Even with 9/11 references scattered throughout, and of course, there are ballads of longing, Prince makes it all sound his own, if not all that pioneering and groundbreaking this time out. This is a record that is comfortably fun and full of ideas that very few would even dare to attempt. However, the epiphanies of the 80s probably won’t catch up to the artist formerly known as an unpronounceable symbol. Purple Rain and Sign O the Times remain as some of the greatest examples of music ever put on record. Yes, “When Doves Cry,” is just as monumental as anything by The Beatles, if not more so. The last thing anyone should do is expect those lightning bolts to strike again.

But he doesn’t have to aspire highly because he is, well, Prince for God’s sake! He owns music like very few do and expresses himself in a way that makes you wanna dance, make love, and talk about politics. In that order. Less is more, and for his latest outing Prince opts for consistency over eclecticism. The opening title track sets the tone beautifully by executing the “get your freak on” mentality all the while assimilating every brand of R&B soul funk known to man. The chord structures are anything but obvious, and he shouts his message from the rooftops: “Keep that party movin/Just like I told you/Kick the old school joint/4 the true funk soldiers.” The man does have a PHD in body movin, and it’s more than infectious, it’s intoxicating. The party doesn’t halt there, and the highlight comes with “Cinnamon Girl” in which he lets everything on his mind pour out. While reviving the psychedelic pop of the mid-'80s, he also speaks of peace and war in ways that seem to marry themselves. “O began the mass illusion/War on terror alibi/ What's the use when the god of confusion/Keeps on telling the same lie?” Even the lovelorn ode to a lover that leaves on “A Million Days” floats nicely, even if it doesn’t cohesively fit with the party vibe that ensues. The one disappointment comes in the fact that it leaves you wanting more. With twelve tracks that clock in under forty-eight minutes, you expect Prince to go all out at a longer pace, but he doesn’t. After such a strong statement and a welcome reminder how volatile and enticing the whole experience is, you simply want to go back and listen to more Prince. While some of his detours in the past ten years or so were exhausting and difficult to endure, it’s clear that the road has now come full circle as he hits 40. The diamonds and pearls era has dissolved (although I have to say that “7” is amongst my top five favorite Prince tracks), but the treasures haven’t dissipated along with the copious reinventions. Some have been good, some mediocre, but you can never say that the guy is uninteresting or never trying his best. Here, he gets back in tune with himself, the music, the world around him, and now Prince is ready to party like it’s 2999.

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