by Ronin Ro
His co-manager Steve Fargnoli suggested buying an existing workplace out west, but he wanted something local. He described his vision to a designer from Venice, California: a sixty-five-thousand-square-foot place that cost about $10 million; a two-story building with a white, almost cubist facade, pyramid-shaped skylights on towers at the main entrance, four skylights over an atrium, purple railings (and teal and taupe), a basketball court, and recording consoles taping sounds in about eight rooms. “He wanted blue mosque domes on it,” Fargnoli sighed, “which we, uh, didn’t get to.”
Prince also turned to helping his family. He let aging father John move into his purple place on Kiowa Drive, then he checked in on his mother Mattie and her husband Heyward. The couple was happy with the modest home they shared. Mattie, who still worked for the public school system, avoided speaking with John, who didn’t live that far away. Next, he checked in on Tyka.
Tyka had previously attended one of his crowded, local shows. In the balcony, she watched everyone scream for him. I don’t get it, she thought. “I could see it if it was Stevie Wonder or Michael Jackson. But it’s just Prince; he’s just my brother,” she told People. Yet, he continued to inspire her.
She was borrowing money to finance a demo and refusing his help. She, too, didn’t want articles to say Prince wrote and played everything, told her what to sing, and chose her outfits. “I didn’t want to be the next Vanity,” she explained.
In mid-December 1985, at Sunset Sound, Prince finished Parade. It started with “Christopher Tracy’s Parade,” a noisy, bustling, string-laden work. Wendy sang “I Wonder U.” Then his ballad “Under the Cherry Moon,” which included his father in writing credits, again. “Girls and Boys” evoked the style of “Erotic City” and Sheila’s “A Love Bizarre.” “Venus de Milo,” also supposedly co-written by his father, ended side one.
Side two included “Kiss,” sounding like a classic James Brown groove, updated with modern studio techniques. “Anotherloverholenyohead” was just as funky, with another glossy big beat, a strong bass line that suggested Stevie Wonder, emotive strings, jazzy piano chords, a pained vocal, and what critic Jon Bream later called “hip-hop scratch sounds rendered by rhythm machines.” He capped the album with “Sometimes It Snows in April,” set mostly to acoustic guitar and haunting piano notes.
One day, shortly after Christmas, Prince was on the Samuel Goldwyn soundstage in LA, recording musical cues for Under the Cherry Moon. Brunette actress Sherilyn Fenn was also present. Prince had everything set up: speakers to the left, right, and middle; a video monitor directly in front of him; his instruments around it; a 4-track recorder rolling tape. While watching silent footage, he improvised grooves for its score.
But Michael Jackson arrived, so Prince took a break. They spoke for a while, and when David Z arrived for a soundtrack mix with a huge reel under each arm, Prince proudly asked, “David, do you know Michael Jackson?”
David was stunned. “Hi, nice to meet you.”
Prince led Jackson and the bodyguards to a ping-pong table in the center of the stage. “You want to play ping-pong?”
Jackson replied, “I don’t know how to play but I’ll try.”
Prince grabbed a paddle, handed Jackson the other. Everyone stopped to watch. They softly hit the ball to each other until Prince said, “Come on, Michael, get into it.’” Then: “You want me to slam it?”
Jackson dropped his paddle. He raised his hands to cover his face but the ball slammed into his crotch. Observer Susan Rogers rolled her eyes. When the game ended, Michael chatted with Sherilyn Fenn. But Prince paced back and forth until he left. Then he started “strutting around like a rooster,” David Rivkin explained, asking, “Did you see that? He played like Helen Keller!”
By late January 1986, he had Parade and the movie done. Ordinarily, Prince would leap right into another project. But this time, he had no idea where to head next. He managed to record new ideas “Last Heart” and “It’s a Wonderful Day” but prepared for another image-building public appearance.
January 30, at the American Music Awards, instead of the blank facial expression, outlandish outfits, and cryptic comments he brought to last year’s nationally televised event, Prince wore a conservative, custom-made black tuxedo. He smiled more. He let Diana Ross kiss his cheek. He even shook hands with Huey Lewis and members of his band the News while handing them an award.
Then it was back to Minneapolis and his Paisley Park imprint. March 4, Paisley Park released Mazarati. The group posed for photos in the shiny pajama-style suits and big hair of The Family. They also had heels, Jheri curls, and wispy mustaches. However, Mark Brown was unhappy. Their singles “Player’s Ball” and “100 MPH.” didn’t make the Pop Chart. Mazarati made it only to No. 133 on the Pop Chart and 49 on the Black Chart. Mark blamed Paisley Park for not promoting the band. Alan Leeds remembered Paisley was just starting. “It didn’t have a single employee, really. Managers were administering the label out of their office. There was no Paisley label, it was on paper only.” Warner was supposed to promote the album, Leeds added. “And I don’t think Mazarati was a priority for them.”
Prince figured Warner could get “Kiss” out there as a single. Follow with Parade within two months, then get Under the Cherry Moon into theaters in August. But a Warner A&R executive hated “Kiss.” “We can’t put this out,” he said. “There’s no bass and it sounds like a demo.” Prince had Fargnoli tell the label, “You’re not getting another song. That’s the one we’re gonna put out.” The label wasn’t thrilled but David Z recalled, “He basically forced Warner to put it out.”
Before its release, however, Prince called David to claim Warner wanted song credits to read “Kiss” was “produced, composed, and written by Prince and The Revolution.” Rivkin was skeptical but happily accepted credit for arranging. This however alienated Mark Brown, who felt he deserved this title. Either way both accepted his decisions. Then Prince invited Wendy into his video for “Kiss.” Despite her vocal opposition to the eleven-member lineup, Wendy arrived at a bare, red-lit studio, and sat on a stool. While Prince performed with a veiled dancing partner, she strummed guitar. Then, with him chasing the dancer around, and doing a few dance steps, she smiled.
February 5, Warner released “Kiss” as Parade’s lead single. Fans rushed to buy copies, and helped it top Billboard’s Black Chart and reach No. 3 on the Pop Chart. The studio started cross promoting his new film and album. Parade wasn’t really a soundtrack, but was subtitled “Music from the Motion Picture Under the Cherry Moon.” Warner also erected a billboard in downtown Minneapolis and arranged another Rolling Stone cover and an interview with Ebony. Shortly after its March 31 release, Parade sat at No. 3 on the Billboard 200 Album Chart. It was also No. 2 on the R&B Album Chart. Reviews, however, were somewhat mixed. While many Americans saw a carryover of Around’s “psychedelic” sound, most European critics praised a work of art.
Prince decided on his next project, an album called Dream Factory. He had created eight songs since December 1985—including a lament about Peterson’s departure for Hollywood—but figured this could be a group effort with more contributions by Wendy and Lisa. Susan Rogers thought it was a great idea. “They thought of stuff that Prince could never dream of.”
Instead of rejecting their “Carousel,” Prince penned a new lyric, and recorded it with them in one take as “Power Fantastic.” He wrote “A Place in Heaven” for Lisa and took a day off while she recorded a vocal. He started “Witness 4 the Prosecution” but let them, and Eric Leeds, complete it. Then he tapped Lisa for a short riff. At a purple piano in the studio, Lisa played music that left Rogers and Wendy—downstairs in a control room—in tears. He decided Lisa’s two-minute “Visions” would open the album. Then he handed Wendy and Lisa a tape of 1982’s “Strange Relationship” with his vocals, piano playing, and drums. In this one, he sang about a man that loved to hurt his woman’s feelings. She always surrendered, he added. “What’s this strange relationship that
we hold on to?” The man couldn’t live with or without her, he explained, but was beginning to recognize it was an odd coupling. “Take it and finish it,” Prince told them. Wendy and Lisa returned to Los Angeles and created other parts.
Eventually, his relationship with Wendy’s sister affected his work. He had bought Susannah a ring and moved her into his home. Within months, he had her leave for an apartment he found in a nearby complex. Susannah considered leaving him and the city altogether, Per Nilsen reported. During rehearsals, Wendy and Lisa Coleman felt he was expecting Susannah to be faithful while he dated other women. If he arrived at his latest warehouse in a foul mood, they suspected he and Susannah had spent the night arguing.
Then he started working alone again, taking collaborations home and adding changes without consulting them. He was also leaning more toward the sort of funk grooves he once gave The Time. After playing them his funky instrumental, “And That Says What?,” he unveiled “Movie Star,” a Time-like work with him speaking over odd jazz, playing an uncouth ghetto guy attending a Hollywood party. Then he addressed Susannah. “Big Tall Wall” found him over nothing but a drum machine, describing how he moved her into a nearby apartment complex and wanted her all for himself. Just as quickly, “Starfish and Coffee” said he respected her art and paid attention when she talked about childhood schoolmates. Again, he sang over a drum machine, but flipped the tape upside down, so its four-chord piano riff and rippling harp covered a backward beat as compelling as the one on Jimi’s Electric Ladyland.
By March 15, his story lyric, “The Ballad of Dorothy Parker” came to him in a dream. He had a drink after fighting with his girl, he wrote. A blond waitress took him home and turned on the radio. While a Joni song played, Dorothy ignored a ringing phone. She made him laugh before he went home. “All the fighting stopped,” he concluded.
The song described the impact their arguments had on him, but stressed that he wanted to stick it out. After hearing about the song, Susannah asked if Dorothy really existed. Did he even know who Dorothy Parker was? He left. He had to get it on tape before he forgot how it sounded.
Despite a technician not having yet installed a state-of-the-art recording console at his complex in the making, Prince had Susan Rogers meet him there, and man the board while he programmed a drum machine beat he hoped would sound like a live player, throwing in unplanned drumrolls, pauses, and ever-changing snares. His melody had keys rising and falling when least expected. His vocal matched these highs and lows, sounding warm and personal in an age of corporate rock and Control. As he sang, Rogers saw the console had no high end. While mixing the song later that night, he learned of the malfunction, but liked his vocal anyway.
By April 19, 1986, Prince again owned the charts. “Kiss” had reached No. 1 on Billboard’s Hot 100. “Manic Monday,” The Bangles’ lead single from Different Light, was at No. 2. Sheila E.’s “Love Bizarre” also charted (for its last week) along with Meli’sa Morgan’s cover of “Do Me Baby.”
Within days, he had Dream Factory done. He put its eleven cuts on a cassette and viewed this as a group effort. May 7, Warner released his next Parade single “Mountains” and an instrumental B-side called “Alexa de Paris.” And its cover introduced his sleek new image. The black-and-white shot showed him in profile, in a black belly-baring shirt with raised collar and flared cuffs. His little cowboy hat (complete with string to slip under his chin) rode the back of his scalp, with brim pointed skyward. But the single stalled at No. 23. Fans just weren’t enthused about Wendy and Lisa’s cheerful horn-filled track.
Though he had supposedly finished recording Dream Factory, he entered Sunset Sound alone, four days later, to create an urgent, empty cut called “It.” He planned to use the Fairlight sampler’s limited array of orchestral hits, but also tried to see if it could sample drums. Once a big beat played, he decided against including hi-hats. With the beat tough and relentless, he added a simple keyboard riff, and freewheeling, raplike horn stabs. Some electronic drum fills and stylish guitar work added to a stark, new sound. Then he called in the band—and some of Sheila’s players—to join him for a live recording of “In a Large Room with No Light.”
In late May, Prince and the Revolution were ready for a surprise performance in LA. Rolling Stone wanted him on the cover again. Instead, he arranged for Rolling Stone to interview Wendy and Lisa and put them on the cover. When contributing editor Neal Karlen arrived, Prince didn’t address him at all. “It was understood they would speak for him,” Karlen remembered.
During their interviews, the ladies kept stressing band unity. Wendy vowed, “This band is going to be together a long, long time.” Lisa nodded agreement. Backstage at the Universal Amphitheatre, Lisa added, “We don’t want to leave and start our own thing, because this is our own thing. I don’t feel like we’re just hired musicians taking orders. He’s always asking for our ideas.” They were writing music for his third movie, they added; they didn’t know its plot, but he vowed to tailor it to their songs. “I’m sorry,” Wendy continued, “but no one can come close to what the three of us have together when we’re playing in the studio. Nobody!” At this point, an aide rushed in. “Prince wants you on stage ASAP.” They hopped to it.
Contributing editor Neal Karlen didn’t sense any growing resentment. If anything, he felt they were part of the inner circle; Prince loved them; he was letting them share the spotlight.
They were still unhappy with the expanded lineup but joined him for another rehearsal—and variation of “Kiss,” which he still felt insecure about. Prince cut the song short. “I think finger cymbals would be better,” he told the band. “Now when we film videos tomorrow, we’re going to drag it out so everybody will get their chance to be in it.” With that, he left.
Wendy removed her guitar. Lisa unplugged from the keyboard.
“We’ve got a much bigger sound now,” Lisa complained at some point. “And we’re a lot more funk oriented, that’s for sure.”
Rolling Stone titled its feature “Wendy, Lisa and Prince: A Musical Love Affair.” “It was a big deal for Rolling Stone when he agreed to pose for the cover,” Karlen recalled. He donned sunglasses and a skintight outfit, stood between Wendy and Lisa, and even smiled.
But he was actually retreating from his collaboration with them. While recording a ballad called “Slow Love,” he turned to Carole Davis for a few lyrics. Then June found him changing Dream Factory even more, replacing collaborations with solo works. Instead of finishing and releasing the album, he arranged the Hit and Run Tour, small dates in various cities. With Cherry Moon set for release any day now, he felt stressed. He had people claiming Wendy and Lisa inspired his new sounds, just as his Warner contract was up for another renewal. During a rehearsal at the warehouse, Matt Fink told author Alex Hahn, something upset Prince to the point where he raged, “You fucking lesbians, you’re gonna rot in hell for your lifestyle!”
And, as Fink told Hahn, Wendy shouted back. “You’re a fucking womanizer! You’re such a prick and a control freak. You’re just a womanizing pig.”
Seemingly out of nowhere, Prince set Dream Factory aside. “He talked a lot about doing a Broadway show,” Bobby Z explained. “He was writing a script and he really wanted to take it to the stage,” said Eric Leeds.
With Cherry Moon coming soon, he kept trying to sanitize his image. Sheila E. thought it was a good move since reporters described “a bad boy, a rude boy,” when Prince was really “an easygoing guy,” as she told People. Lisa Coleman agreed. Current work so consumed him he ignored the darkening tone of press coverage. “He realizes it now.”
Press coverage about the upcoming film remained far from glowing. He reportedly refused Warner Bros.’ calls for more conflict in the script, insisting ambiance and music would entertain audiences. Some predicted the film’s success would solidify his position as “a screen phenomenon.” Its failure, one writer explained, might end his movie career and have critics regarding Purple Rain “as a fluke.” This, man
y felt, was why he was suddenly so media-friendly. In his new home one night, Per Nilsen reported, advance word about the film reached him, and it was unfavorable. Lying on the floor, with Susannah standing nearby, he screamed that he hated the film.
Warner arranged a premiere that would mark the first time anyone apart from the studio or a San Diego preview audience saw Under the Cherry Moon. Sensing it had a turkey on its hands, Warner didn’t schedule advance press screenings, and wouldn’t say why. Yet they still believed the event would allow them to reach the film’s target audience.
The LA Times felt this premiere represented “the inevitable marriage of MTV and the movies.” The network, in fact, now seemed to be “the latest marketing tool in studio promotions.” Recent weeks saw it help open Orion’s Back to School, Lorimar’s American Anthem, Disney’s Ruthless People, and Columbia’s Karate Kid, Part II. Its target audience (aged twelve to thirty-four) was “the heart and soul of the moviegoing audience,” MTV senior vice president and general manager Tom Freston explained. “And it’s a perfect marriage.” The event gave Warner “a splashy premiere,” Prince “exposure for his movie and his record,” and MTV “a great promotion.” But events like this were unusual for Warner. For two years, the studio had outperformed every other. Warner had also spent over $200,000 for Purple Rain’s San Diego premiere, the first film opening MTV covered live. Now, it rarely arranged costly premieres common in the industry. “The only time they really spend big money like this is on a movie with a music tie-in,” said a high-ranking marketing executive at another major.