Prince: Maybe he’s just like his father


If you’d asked me a month ago to describe Prince’s piano style, I’d have come up short. I watched him play solo for ninety-something minutes two Thursdays ago at Paisley Park, as I struggled to scribble review notes, and the best I can say for now is “starkly bifurcated: all the blues in his left hand, all the pop in his right.” Maybe he’ll bring this show to a bootleggable venue and I won’t have to rely on memory, first impression, and bad handwriting.

Though we long ago accepted the fact that Prince is multi-instrumental whiz, he insisted throughout the night that piano is a second language in which he’s still striving for fluency. It was a touching admission of a flaw he simultaneously proved didn’t exist, an invitation to intimacy masking a display of mastery, because in Prince’s world, vulnerability and virtuosity are always inextricable.

Anyway, this is all just an excuse to get this two-week-old review upon the blog, for posterity and ICYMI.

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