Wax Poetics - Issue 67

Blue Tuesday

dark to him. Something hit him that night that made him change—an enlightenment, a higher power.” The black dog of The Black Album , as a concept (though not necessarily the individual songs themselves, as Prince would include the gorgeous “When 2 R in Love” on Lovesexy and delight in performing selections on his next tour), appeared tethered to the negative feelings he was experiencing at the time, in both his life and his music. The desolate and as yet unreleased “Grand Progression”— recorded just weeks before The Black Album was compiled—perhaps offers the most meaningful insight into his mind-set at this point. Questioning his faith, Prince sings, “If there really is a God up above,” sounding like he’s four bars from cutting his ear off. “He had shown signs of depression,” says Alan. “On the personal side, I believe he was reaching the point where he longed for a meaningful romantic relationship in place of the rotating girlfriends he was known for. The Black Album was also made at a time when he was struggling to find direction. For the first time in his career, he was feeling threatened by young artists and peers, and more significantly, the rise and crossover of hip-hop into the mainstream. In a sense, he was wrestling with maintaining his place at the cutting edge of music.” “We all felt The Black Album would have been an interesting thing to happen for him,” says saxophonist (and Alan’s brother) Eric Leeds. “Prince was an artist who was very determined not to be pigeonholed as an R&B act, but there was a feeling that he had been losing support from his Black base.” The competition was cranking up. Funk-lite, white-skinned British pop-start George Michael had unexpectedly conquered the Billboard R&B charts, an audience that hadn’t been quite as effusive in support of Sign “O” the Times (and by association, the R&B masterwork “Housequake,” a song many believe to be an unnoticed attempt to subjugate hip-hop). Michael Jackson’s number one crossover hit Bad had also retained its core audience. With Ingrid Chavez still waiting in the rehearsal room at Paisley Park, Prince summoned ex-employee, recording engineer Susan Rogers to a late-night rendezvous. It was Rogers, talking to Per Nilsen, the editor of Prince fanzine Uptown , who noticed that Prince’s pupils seemed dilated. That it looked like he was tripping. According to Alan, “Everyone began speculating on what might have so dramatically changed Prince’s mind about the record.”

In Minneapolis, sometimes it snows in April. In winter, it’s cold as hell. On Tuesday, December 1, 1987, it was four below freezing outside. Poet Ingrid Chavez was in a bar called Williams Pub, waiting alone for a friend; thinking about braving the chill. “That’s when Prince walked in,” says Ingrid, gently, like rain is wet and sugar is sweet. “I had actually seen him before, at First Avenue, but I didn’t know then if he noticed me. This time, I could tell he was watching me, and so I sat at the bar and sent him a cute note,” Ingrid says, rolling her eyes and breaking into a chuckle. “Yeah, I know—classic.” The note read: “Hi, remember me? Probably not, but that’s okay. Smile, I love it when you smile.” Gilbert Davison, Prince’s bodyguard, acted as the go-between. Prince was wearing little mirror-heart bracelets. He gave one to Ingrid, placed it on her wrist. “He asked me what my name was, and so I said, ‘Gertrude,’ and he said his name was ‘Dexter,’ ” Ingrid laughs. “That’s what we called each other.” It was a week before the The Black Album was due to be released—not that Ingrid was aware of that, being more into the Cure and Ryuichi Sakamoto. “I wasn’t really following him musically at the time,” she admits. “I was totally out of context in his life; I was like this person that just dropped in.” Instead of going to his crib, which might have offered a more intimate setting, Dexter had Gilbert drive him and Gertrude forty- five minutes out of town to his new ten-million-dollar recording complex, Paisley Park. Upon arriving, Prince ushered Ingrid into a rehearsal room, which, she says, had been “pimped out in candles, drapes, and feathers.” Leaving her alone to write, he then disappeared. Alan Leeds—Prince’s tour manager and the management rep on behalf of managers Bob Cavallo and Steven Fargnoli—recalls, “I was awakened by a call from our [Paisley Park] office manager, Karen Krattinger. Karen worked very closely as a personal assistant to Prince, and he had called her in the middle of the night insisting that The Black Album be stopped.” “I was actually there when he canceled the album,” says Cat Glover, who remembers being seated with Prince at the kitchen table. “He opened up his heart and told me things that I’m sure he had never told anyone before. He loved that album, but it seemed

Artist: Prince Album: Lovesexy

Label: Paisley Park Release year: 1988 Performed, produced, and composed by: Prince Engineered and mixed by: Joe Blaney, Eddie Miller, and Prince Recorded at: Paisley Park Drums, percussion, and vocal: Sheila E. Computer keyboards: Doctor Fink Vocal: Cat Brass and vocals: Eric Leeds and Atlanta Bliss Guitar and vocal: Miko Vocal and Hammond organ: Boni Boyer Bass and vocal: Levi Seacer Jr. The Spirit Child on various songs is: Ingrid Cover photo by: Jean Baptiste Mondino

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