by Ronin Ro
Prince initially pretended to ignore it. “I never believe anything in The Enquirer,” he told Rolling Stone. Someone must have inflated Chick’s comments to create “a better story,” he added. “They’re just doing their thing. Right on for them.” However, the story didn’t just go away. Several newspapers ran excerpts.
Reporters were already covering former associates who claimed he dominated them all and reported on him not letting Warner promote Around through the usual means, his nonappearance on the USA for Africa record, his bodyguards’ attack on a photographer, and why he wouldn’t grant interviews (quoting an insider who claimed, “Prince does it to create controversy”). Then there was a recent TV commercial. It started with flashing purple lights and the sound of a cheering concert audience. An announcer said, “Ladies and gentlemen, in concert, Prince.” The camera panned to a box of spaghetti. His lawyers wrote the company to demand they stop using his name to sell pasta. The ad’s creator expressed surprise to the Associated Press. “After all, Prince spaghetti has had its name since 1912.” Prince, himself, had nothing to do with that letter but saw his name dragged into that controversy. Now there was this Enquirer story. He had to do something.
Around was still No. 1. But talk of him selling out—ignoring his black core audience and creating softer music for a new white following—filtered into press coverage. He denied abandoning his funk roots. He never left anything behind “anywhere along the line,” he claimed. “Around the World in a Day is a funky album. Live, it’s even funkier.” Then, a few reporters claimed it failed commercially, despite topping the chart. Prince said his three million customers for 1999 bought Around because they wanted his message. And soon he called recording Around before Purple Rain’s release his best decision yet. But Around’s departure from the No. 1 spot after a mere three weeks had Prince scrambling to film a video for “Raspberry Beret.” In a blue suit covered with white cloud patterns, he showed off his new short hair and cleared his throat before performing with his interracial band.
May 15, Warner rushed the single into stores with a painted cover. On it, a moody white brunette with dark lipstick, a black shirt, and the raspberry beret held an apple. His fans liked it. So did the media. MTV premiered his clip with host Mark Goodman asking a guest what his cough actually meant. Watching at home, Prince laughed. “I just did it to be sick, to do something no one else would do.”
His video helped the breezy song reach No. 2 on Billboard’s Hot 100.
Then he scheduled an image-building interview with Rolling Stone. While creating a recent Wendy and Lisa cover story, contributing editor Neal Karlen hadn’t bothered asking them to ask Prince for an interview. “But they told him I was an okay guy, I guess, and his people called Minneapolis,” Karlen explained.
In his car, Prince had Karlen put away his recorder. He had the local writer watch The Family rehearse in the warehouse; ride with him in his car to First Avenue; visit his home and see it wasn’t a shrine; and even drive over to his father John’s neighborhood, where he would pick up the aging musician to celebrate his birthday with a game of pool. “He seemed very proud of his son,” Karlen noted. And Prince “was probably on his best behavior his whole time with me.”
During a drive, he played Karlen “Old Friends 4 Sale,” his autobiographical work about friends spreading rumors and betraying him. While it played, he looked satisified, Karlen recalled. At every turn, Prince defended himself. His home wasn’t a prison. He was sending Live Aid organizers a song. He wore paisley jumpsuits because they were all he owned. “I wear heels because the women like ’em.”
The interview, however, did little to stop the backlash that followed his nonappearance at the USA for Africa session.
In frustration, Prince decided to discuss it all at length on a new song. May 24, he sang his version of events, a song called “Hello.” Its lyric told everyone the photographer invaded his car; Safford and Gibson were friends, not security; he didn’t give “4 The Tears in Your Eyes” to charities to improve his image; he sincerely wanted to help. He ended by saying reporters needed to get a life and leave him alone already.
But Prince had to do more. He’d be filming overseas soon and couldn’t just let reporters keep turning his audience against him. With his twenty-eighth birthday approaching, he had Fargnoli arrange a concert in his ever-supportive key black market, Detroit. After a promoter there booked Cobo, a large venue that could hold twelve thousand people, most tickets sold out in less than thirty minutes, the fastest sales in arena history.
For the show, he had Mazarati open. Then he took the stage with his guests Sheila and André Cymone. Thirty minutes into the two-hour set, Wendy grabbed the microphone. “Listen, this is a very special day.” She had everyone sing “Happy Birthday.” With a grin, Prince grabbed the mic. “Does that mean I can come back?”
Prince was touched to see a high turnout, indicating his audience had ignored media claims that he sold out. Riding in a car with Billy Sparks, who played the black club owner in Purple Rain, Prince wiped sweat from his brow. He heard “Automatic” on the radio. “And we just got through playin’ it,” Prince said. “We don’t normally play that one.” He asked Sparks to call the deejay, “The Electrifying Mojo.” Born Charles Johnson, Mojo routinely filled his airtime with Prince’s hits, album cuts, and B-sides.
Sparks had him on the line. “Hey Mojo! Prince wants to talk to you. You got a minute?”
Prince grabbed the phone. “Hey Mojo! What’s happening? This is Prince.” Mojo quickly put him on the air. Prince greeted Detroit. After small talk, Mojo mentioned Around. “My favorite!” Prince blurted. He used the interview to assure black fans he remembered where he came from.
16
LIFE AIN’T ALWAYS THE WAY
PRINCE THREW HIMSELF INTO CREATING HIS NEXT FILM, Under the Cherry Moon. June 18, co-manager Steve Fargnoli joined him on a flight to Paris. There, they scouted locations, and met potential cast members. On the second day, new melodies arrived. After Fargnoli got him some equipment, he recorded his latest ideas. By June 26, Prince decided the French Riviera would do. The next day, he flew home to Minneapolis to hire a director. Fargnoli wanted Jean-Baptiste Mondino, a French photographer whose black-and-white video for Don Henley’s “The Boys of Summer” was in heavy rotation on MTV. In the end, they picked Mary Lambert, who handled Madonna’s “Borderline” and “Material Girl,” and Sheila E.’s “The Glamorous Life.”
Prince invited Madonna to play the rich girl. He had met her at a 1985 awards show and enjoyed her turn in Desperately Seeking Susan. But Madonna met with him and Fargnoli, heard about the part, and turned it down. Prince’s first instinct was to cast Wendy’s sister Susannah, instead. Eventually, lithe newcomer Kristin Scott Thomas got the part. He cast Jerome Benton as his sidekick Tricky. Britain’s Francesca Annis signed on to play an older lover and Terence Stamp handled the disapproving father. In his Eden Prairie warehouse, he continued handing out roles, and recording the album Parade after a song he initially wrote about Wendy.
In early July, Warner released “Pop Life” as a single. Along with another painted cover—a gray-haired black woman crying into a handkerchief—it included a longer version that ended with him joking about his high heels. Warner wanted a video but he was too busy with the film. Even without one, the single reached No. 7 and got him back on black radio. But his heartfelt B-side, “Hello,” went largely ignored, and reporters kept offering backhanded compliments. In San Diego, a Union-Tribune writer’s July 31 column claimed he was misunderstood, mysterious, possibly a jerk, and “without doubt responsible for some of the decade’s best music.” Within days, the August issue of Seventeen opined, “In truth, it wouldn’t hurt Prince—or his career—if he started acting a little less enigmatically.” Around was one of the fastest-selling albums ever (almost three million in its first two months without advertising, promotion, or a single), Seventeen noted. “But let’s be honest: Prince’s image is tarnished, and it’s his own fault.�
� According to the teen magazine, three Grammies, an Oscar, and 1984 earnings of about $17 million “seemed to turn him into an egomaniac.” He didn’t attend the “We Are the World” session. “Then he snubbed new-fan Elizabeth Taylor.” At her home, he wouldn’t speak, pose for photos, or leave bodyguards outside, Seventeen claimed. He sent crystal doves in apology but she returned them. “And then there was the night of Prince’s farewell concert in Miami.” During the post-show party, the magazine claimed, a bodyguard shoved through crowds, demanding no one face Prince, ejecting many “uninvited guests,” and ending the celebration quickly. “These incidents are only part of a distressingly long list.”
Commercially, Prince was doing better than ever. His 1999 album ended a 153-week stay on the chart that led to over 3 million sales. And despite negative press, Around had reached No. 1, spawned two Top 10 pop hits, appeared at No. 4 on the Black Chart, and sold about 2.4 million copies in the United States. His image had seen better days but his success continued in early August, when pop radio embraced The Family’s first single, “The Screams of Passion.”
August 13, 1985, Prince went to see the group at the warehouse. “We’re going to play First Avenue tonight,” he announced. They were shocked, but they dutifully took the stage that night. The crowd knew nothing about them but that they were the new Prince group. Still, they gave a great performance. “He hugged me after the show, he was so ecstatic,” said Peterson.
Three days later, Prince and Susannah flew to Paris, for some quality time, before he had to start shooting the film. As a couple, they had experienced a few difficulties. With Prince supposedly seeing other women during trips to California, Susannah wasn’t thrilled. By autumn 1984, they reached a stage where they had to decide whether to remain together or split. The incident inspired his heartrending classic “Condition of the Heart.” They stayed together, but he bristled when the occasional press report claimed he and she would eventually marry. Nevertheless, they weathered the storms: They lived together; he had her audition for the lead role in Under the Cherry Moon; she kept exposing him to rock albums from the sixties and seventies and listening to him discuss his own music; he included her in The Family, and on his own album Parade; and kept writing lyrics about her. Now, he had her join him overseas (although he would soon have an employee accompany her back to the States).
Since Jerome was also overseas, The Family’s rehearsals stopped. Paisley Park and Warner released The Family on August 19, but it didn’t make the Pop Chart. It reached No. 9 on the R&B Chart. With him overseas, there was little promotion. The band had to wait until Prince finished the movie. After rehearsing for months, they were, Jellybean said, “in a limbo.” Paisley Park, run out of his management’s office, didn’t effectively promote their album. Warner didn’t either, assuming Paisley Park would handle this. Lead singer Paul Peterson was livid but agreed to fly to LA for acting, dancing, and singing lessons—since Prince wanted Peterson to play a rival in another of his films. “Still making $250 a week,” Peterson claimed.
Prince’s managers offered The Family a contract but Peterson’s lawyer said, “Don’t sign it.” When Peterson asked Prince questions, he remembered Prince saying, “Don’t talk business to me. Talk to my managers.” The group contract went unsigned but they kept rehearsing for a big Paisley Park package tour with Sheila and Mazarati.
In France, Prince and the cast tried to work with director Mary Lambert. But they felt she had an attitude. Someone—it’s not clear who—fired her after only three days, Michael Shore reported. A day later, Prince told the cast he was taking over. Terence Stamp quickly left the cast. They rebounded quickly, recruiting Steven Berkoff, a heavy in Beverly Hills Cop and Rambo, but most onlookers expected the worst. The sight of Prince filming scenes in one take—to finish on time—didn’t exactly inspire confidence.
In mid-September, a month into the two-month shoot, Prince remained optimistic, envisioning a nine-month world tour, his longest ever, after the film opened. But there was no band music in the film, only him alone at an acoustic piano singing “Sometimes It Snows in April.” He also planned to appear by himself on the Parade cover.
In Nice’s La Victorine studios, he had photographer Jeff Katz working hard. Katz had been there for four months and wanted something natural. Prince didn’t. “It was like, ‘This is my look, and this is how it has to be all the time,”’ Katz explained. The huge room was empty, save for them and a tiny portable radio. After Katz filled a few rolls, Prince changed the music and posed even more. “This went on for a couple of hours, not really talking,” Katz said. Finally, they got the shot.
October 2, Warner released the third Around single, “America.” Radio response was lukewarm. But MTV wanted a half-hour special about the single’s release. They also wanted an interview. Prince agreed so quickly, the network couldn’t possibly fly someone over in time. Instead, Fargnoli would read him their questions in front of a video camera. By late October, The Revolution arrived in the South of France, to join him for an “America” video.
Wendy felt France had inspired in him a different, sleeker look she compared to Cary Grant. He was also happy “working with all those new people,” she noticed, and wanted a hand in every creative aspect of his career. October 27, during a break, he shot the “America” video. That night, he and the band took a stage at the Theatre de la Verdure, actually a huge tent on Nice’s Promenade des Anglais. Two thousand kids watched. He directed the clip. When he finished, he had the band play a ninety-minute concert.
Next, he sat at the center of a young entourage, heard MTV’s questions, and in many cases, ignored them. When one MTV question noted that critics called Purple Rain sexist and “a lot of people” were offended, Prince said, “Now, wait, wait. I didn’t write Purple Rain. Someone else did.” It was fiction “and should be perceived that way.” Violence was an everyday thing. They were only telling a story. He didn’t think they did anything gratuitous. But if they went too far for humor’s sake, “then I’m sorry, but it was not the intention.”
The dailies were pretty lousy. But he kept composing music. He rented Wendy and Lisa an apartment in London and they booked time in Advision Studios. He recorded their instrumental “Mountains,” but tried another version with the entire band and preferred that one.
Back on the set, he wondered about his character, Christopher. He was unsympathetic so he would die at the end. Warner wanted a happy conclusion, him a changed man and part of a couple. He shot the alternate ending. “Warner Brothers insisted on him getting the girl at the end and it really worked,” said a publicist. “This little asshole character that was so hard to identify with, you bonded with by the end.” But Prince changed his mind. He fought for and got the real ending, a gunman killing Christopher.
By early November, Prince was almost finished with the film. But things came to a head with The Family. Peterson was frustrated. “We weren’t officially signed,” said Jellybean. “That was the problem. It was more like a handshake.” Paul also had a very high-ranking A&M Records executive telling him, “I want you to leave Prince” and accept a $250,000 deal. “That was a lot more than $250 a week,” Peterson said. Steve Fargnoli caught wind of this, and threatened lawsuits and injunctions. Band member Jellybean urged Peterson to stay, saying they’d tour in six months, and have more opportunities waiting. But Peterson wanted out. Finally, Prince reached for a phone.
Peterson told him, “If you’re gonna be in charge of this band, you can’t do four million other things at the same time.”
“Yes, I can! I did it with The Time, didn’t I?” He did it with Sheila E. and Vanity 6, too. But Peterson was unmoved. Finally, Prince asked, “What is this about? Money? You want a house? I can get you a house.”
“It’s too late. I’ve made up my mind.”
Peterson quit, effectively ending The Family. “Prince was devastated,” he said.
Prince angrily blamed yes-men for the departure. “I shouldn’t have let him go so far away
from me and out of my control,” he reportedly told David Rivkin.
At the Cherry Moon wrap party in November, Prince saw Eric Leeds, guitarist Miko Weaver, valet Jerome Benton, and Susannah—all of whom were supposed to perform live with The Family. Afterward, over lunch in a studio commissary, Eric asked, “Well, what do we do now?”
“Why don’t you just come on with us?”
“Sounds good to me!”
He made his own band twice as large but also considered what to do with The Family’s dancers. He tapped bodyguards Gregory Allan Brooks and Wally Safford to help Jerome Benton form what Rolling Stone called “a Pips-like dance line” near him on stage. He was teaching them simple moves to perform but Matt Fink felt, “They weren’t even good dancers.”
Wendy and Lisa learned about the expanded lineup when they arrived to shoot a video for “Girls and Boys.” And while they practiced their own dance steps for the clip, they kept complaining. In the commissary, during one break, Wendy sat with drummer Bobby Z, keyboardist Matt Fink, and horn players Eric Leeds and Matt Blistan. The black bodyguards were within earshot, but Wendy said, “Prince is out of his mind. He’s ruined everything. At least you guys are musicians, but now we’re just an everyday funk band. We look like a circus. Doesn’t he know what an ass his fans will think he is?”
17
GOTTA BROKEN HEART AGAIN
EVERYTHING FELT FRESH AND NEW NOW THAT HE WAS BACK from making Cherry Moon in France. The film would soon unveil a new musical direction, and sophisticated look: an Elvis-like do with square-shouldered French-cut suits. The sense of newness extended to his home. His new place was ready—a three-story yellow number on thirty acres, with purple balconies and a tall black gate. And soon, workers would have his huge complex Paisley Park Studios finished.