Saw Prince recently and wore the raspberry beret that I bought for $2.50 at my local second hand store. Noticed they were selling brand spanking new ones for $100 a pop at the merchandise stalls but felt safe in the knowledge that you just can’t buy retro chic. It comes with years of practice. And op shop karma. I was also delivered a fushia leather top that had once been an 80s jacket complete with epaulettes but was now fashioned into sleeveless tails. It came as a timely gift from Reverse Garbage.
But fashion aside, this was one of the funkiest concerts I’ve ever seen. His royal purpleness pumped out the hits in a torrent of funky bliss. At one point he banished the rest of his awesome band and took to the keyboards alone shouting; “How many hits have I had?” I dunno. Hundreds? However many the answer may be, this little 55 year-old fellow Gemini groover has got the goods.
We were drenched in his purple rain, crooning along in our falsetto tones as iinstructed by the maestro until we were seriously hoarse. “Don’t stop! Don’t stop!” he urged as we began to fade; “Feels good, doesn’t it?”. It did. He took us to church and left us buzzing with bliss.