I enjoyed this when I read it at the time you published it on Overcooked. I wanted to mention that I also shared it recently with a class of university writing students. We had a really interesting discussion about the way that the piece weaves memoir with an exploration of Prince's music, and also the craft lessons we might learn from the piece when writing personal essays of our own.
Thanks so much, Emily! I feel privileged to know you shared my piece with your students and that they got something out of it. Let’s catch up properly soon x
This is just absolutely lovely. I read this twice. You quote Ian Penman in this, and this entire essay is Penmanesque. Have you read his Fassbinder book?
I was a lonely boy in the late 70s when I discovered Prince. "Uptown," an imaginary place of acceptance and love for all the outcasts, that's where I wanted to escape to, away from the violence in my broken family, away from the homophobia, away from friendlessness and alienation. I saw Prince live in 1984, the Purple Rain tour. I wish I could've gotten closer, all the tall people blocked my view, but the music did wash over me, I was enveloped in the utopian vibe of it. You hate to return to real life after being immersed in Prince's world.
I bought every Prince record starting with Dirty Mind. I clung to these records for dear life. His was the free, liberated persona I could never inhabit, however much I wanted to. In the lonely evenings when I couldn't take being cooped up in my apartment, I'd take a midnight walk through the city, Prince in my headphones. I'd see people, groups of friends and happy couples, pouring out of bars and restaurants, climbing into taxis. The darkest times were always Prince times.
Prince's death devastated me. When I read the news my body went numb. I still can't listen to "Sometimes It Snows in April." I accidentally watched D'Angelo and Maya Rudolph's rendition of it and fell apart.
Thanks so much for this - it made my day. It's so good to hear an answering voice sometimes... Your own story is very compelling: I love the way you describe the lonely evening walks with the headphones. So Prince was a good friend to you too! Could be a book. When I hit London in the late 80s to form a band Prince became an even more vital lifeline. Lovesexy had just been released and every word of that album helped me through those times. I went to see him when he played Wembley in 88 and it was like a surreal hallucination, the stage in the round, the bed, the Caddy and the fabulous clothes, his baritone voice so commanding and ironic. You were ahead of the curve with Dirty Mind - it must have been great to track his progress as those early albums came out... I haven't read Penman on Fassbinder yet, but he's on the TBR list. Thanks once again for the kind words.
I enjoyed this when I read it at the time you published it on Overcooked. I wanted to mention that I also shared it recently with a class of university writing students. We had a really interesting discussion about the way that the piece weaves memoir with an exploration of Prince's music, and also the craft lessons we might learn from the piece when writing personal essays of our own.
Thanks so much, Emily! I feel privileged to know you shared my piece with your students and that they got something out of it. Let’s catch up properly soon x
When I read ‘Memory Songs’, I wondered how you must have felt about all those personal details being shared, eg the abusive stepdad.
Noel Gallagher has said his traumatic childhood helped him become an artist. In many respects, Noel Gallagher is a prick.
This is just absolutely lovely. I read this twice. You quote Ian Penman in this, and this entire essay is Penmanesque. Have you read his Fassbinder book?
I was a lonely boy in the late 70s when I discovered Prince. "Uptown," an imaginary place of acceptance and love for all the outcasts, that's where I wanted to escape to, away from the violence in my broken family, away from the homophobia, away from friendlessness and alienation. I saw Prince live in 1984, the Purple Rain tour. I wish I could've gotten closer, all the tall people blocked my view, but the music did wash over me, I was enveloped in the utopian vibe of it. You hate to return to real life after being immersed in Prince's world.
I bought every Prince record starting with Dirty Mind. I clung to these records for dear life. His was the free, liberated persona I could never inhabit, however much I wanted to. In the lonely evenings when I couldn't take being cooped up in my apartment, I'd take a midnight walk through the city, Prince in my headphones. I'd see people, groups of friends and happy couples, pouring out of bars and restaurants, climbing into taxis. The darkest times were always Prince times.
Prince's death devastated me. When I read the news my body went numb. I still can't listen to "Sometimes It Snows in April." I accidentally watched D'Angelo and Maya Rudolph's rendition of it and fell apart.
Thank you for writing this.
Thanks so much for this - it made my day. It's so good to hear an answering voice sometimes... Your own story is very compelling: I love the way you describe the lonely evening walks with the headphones. So Prince was a good friend to you too! Could be a book. When I hit London in the late 80s to form a band Prince became an even more vital lifeline. Lovesexy had just been released and every word of that album helped me through those times. I went to see him when he played Wembley in 88 and it was like a surreal hallucination, the stage in the round, the bed, the Caddy and the fabulous clothes, his baritone voice so commanding and ironic. You were ahead of the curve with Dirty Mind - it must have been great to track his progress as those early albums came out... I haven't read Penman on Fassbinder yet, but he's on the TBR list. Thanks once again for the kind words.