And on today's Cleavage Corner, we tell the tale of Prince . 
.
And what can unfold when you have the will to call things up(which incidentally, I have the unbeatable will to do).
My sweet and patient husband, whom you really must have sympathy for as he has endured these tales for over a decade now and who knows the playing of any such reminder will send me spiraling into telling the same fucking tale again, will STILL indulge me by playing me rare copies of music that will inevitably tailspin into my storytelling. One such gem was the Prince recording he shared with me this evening which has brought me to this:
When Prince hit the scene, and by scene (for a NJ girl) I mean MTV and video circuits, I thought I might die from the desire of the man. I was quickly and hopelessly obsessed as a 17-18 year old girl and I consumed everything Prince related that I could. I happened to have this handy pocket full of connections who, while living on entirely different coast, were willing and able to accommodate any concert or superstar need I had at that time. A quick phone call to the record producer pal and I had front row center tickets to the Prince Purple Rain show in Philadelphia at The Spectrum.
My darling Philadelphia street punk friend (homeless) Charles accompanied me with a nice baggie of "Demon Baker Brownies," which, because they appeared to be food items, containing nothing more than well...food...were not confiscated upon entering. Most excellent.
I have said it before, and I will say it again, and I will throw EVERY SINGLE genre of music I have seen live for my 43 years into this mix - Prince and the Revolution Purple Rain Tour was and is hands down the most spectacular, extensive, exhausting, entertaining and endless show I have ever, EVER seen. OH! And throughout the show, Sheila E (who is the fucking sexiest mutha fucking stand up kick ass drumma this little girl has ever seen) kept sitting next to us throughout Prince's set (all sweaty and abbed out and shit).
So, anyway - let's fast forward shall we? How about to oh, say, like 1993-ish, when June has just run away from her small minded small town AGAIN (oh and a small marital issue involving a small towned "big" boy) and moved in with her cohort from high school days, Blair, and his tiny little shack on the Venice Canals. Blair was/is a film maker and many of his friends from film school had also relocated to Venice and LA in general. His one very dear collaborator and friend, Paris, ended up being Prince's cinematographer for years (go figure) and Prince opened up this club in downtown LA (weird location) called Glam Slam and also enlisted my bestie Blair as one of his employees for the setting up of each club theme night at Glam Slam. What did this mean for me (who it is all about always)? It meant I became super-duper close friends with one of Prince's PR/Personal Managers in the midst of it all and was regularly at the club on an all comped holiday daily. SO (I do have a tendency to be wordy don't I)? This one night Blair tells me Prince is coming to the club and he is going to be watching the burlesque show and the dance floor and we have to go early and set up his "throne" (it really was a throne too with all these fucking rose petals we had to scatter all over the place for his excellency to walk upon to said throne) where he will observe it all from atop a high balcony within the club and I am all "I am gonna fucking APPOLONIA his ass on the dance floor and he is going to be watching me and he is going to make a video all about me because I will be the next Vanity 6/Appolonia/Talentless Boob Act Du Jour for Sir Prince Goddammit."
Okay, well the all comp deal? Seriously bad for this alcoholic, who DID dance her ass off on the dance floor IN FRONT of Prince, and then gracefully (in her comped over indulgent drunken delirium) dropped her full glass of alcoholic beverage all over the dance floor where it shattered and sprayed and injured a number of guests and I BELIEVE CAUSED Miss June to fall flatly on her ass in the slipperiness of it all.
What was that?
Did he call me for the video shoot?
Um, no.
. And what can unfold when you have the will to call things up(which incidentally, I have the unbeatable will to do).
My sweet and patient husband, whom you really must have sympathy for as he has endured these tales for over a decade now and who knows the playing of any such reminder will send me spiraling into telling the same fucking tale again, will STILL indulge me by playing me rare copies of music that will inevitably tailspin into my storytelling. One such gem was the Prince recording he shared with me this evening which has brought me to this:
When Prince hit the scene, and by scene (for a NJ girl) I mean MTV and video circuits, I thought I might die from the desire of the man. I was quickly and hopelessly obsessed as a 17-18 year old girl and I consumed everything Prince related that I could. I happened to have this handy pocket full of connections who, while living on entirely different coast, were willing and able to accommodate any concert or superstar need I had at that time. A quick phone call to the record producer pal and I had front row center tickets to the Prince Purple Rain show in Philadelphia at The Spectrum.
My darling Philadelphia street punk friend (homeless) Charles accompanied me with a nice baggie of "Demon Baker Brownies," which, because they appeared to be food items, containing nothing more than well...food...were not confiscated upon entering. Most excellent.
I have said it before, and I will say it again, and I will throw EVERY SINGLE genre of music I have seen live for my 43 years into this mix - Prince and the Revolution Purple Rain Tour was and is hands down the most spectacular, extensive, exhausting, entertaining and endless show I have ever, EVER seen. OH! And throughout the show, Sheila E (who is the fucking sexiest mutha fucking stand up kick ass drumma this little girl has ever seen) kept sitting next to us throughout Prince's set (all sweaty and abbed out and shit).
So, anyway - let's fast forward shall we? How about to oh, say, like 1993-ish, when June has just run away from her small minded small town AGAIN (oh and a small marital issue involving a small towned "big" boy) and moved in with her cohort from high school days, Blair, and his tiny little shack on the Venice Canals. Blair was/is a film maker and many of his friends from film school had also relocated to Venice and LA in general. His one very dear collaborator and friend, Paris, ended up being Prince's cinematographer for years (go figure) and Prince opened up this club in downtown LA (weird location) called Glam Slam and also enlisted my bestie Blair as one of his employees for the setting up of each club theme night at Glam Slam. What did this mean for me (who it is all about always)? It meant I became super-duper close friends with one of Prince's PR/Personal Managers in the midst of it all and was regularly at the club on an all comped holiday daily. SO (I do have a tendency to be wordy don't I)? This one night Blair tells me Prince is coming to the club and he is going to be watching the burlesque show and the dance floor and we have to go early and set up his "throne" (it really was a throne too with all these fucking rose petals we had to scatter all over the place for his excellency to walk upon to said throne) where he will observe it all from atop a high balcony within the club and I am all "I am gonna fucking APPOLONIA his ass on the dance floor and he is going to be watching me and he is going to make a video all about me because I will be the next Vanity 6/Appolonia/Talentless Boob Act Du Jour for Sir Prince Goddammit."
Okay, well the all comp deal? Seriously bad for this alcoholic, who DID dance her ass off on the dance floor IN FRONT of Prince, and then gracefully (in her comped over indulgent drunken delirium) dropped her full glass of alcoholic beverage all over the dance floor where it shattered and sprayed and injured a number of guests and I BELIEVE CAUSED Miss June to fall flatly on her ass in the slipperiness of it all.
What was that?
Did he call me for the video shoot?
Um, no.
VIEW 9 of 9 COMMENTS
"So it is actually likely that at some point or another paths were crossed."
maybe... though i don't go out much. did you go to many music stores when you were here?
While I wasn't a Prince fanatic, I still think he's a musical genius. I was more into the music than the actual personna though I would seriously do Geoff Tate from Queensryche rotten.