Growing up, I wasn’t the biggest Prince fan. My first memories of Prince were of him being better known as “the artist formerly known as Prince.” That alone positioned his impressive 1980s catalogue – which, while I loved his big hits, I never dove into a full album, partly knowing doing so would take a lot from me – as a relic of a past Era. I sat amazed at his superfluous body of work, but was never fully engaged. That being said, in the days since his death ripped a hole in the public discourse, while listening to his body of work, it’s impossible not to be moved by his nonchalant ability to conquer each and every genre he pursued. He was a musician, a pop star, a symbol. There was nothing quite like a Prince composition. Equal parts sincere and dramatic, Prince had the ability to expose his soul in ways that would make the most expressive artist green with envy. In the midst of all, it never seemed like a contest for Prince. As much as he pushed his own boundaries, he appeared most excited in pushing the boundaries of artists that would push his narrative forward. The losses that affect us most are the ones that leave the biggest gaps in our histories and lives. Prince is one of those losses. He gave us so much, of his artistry, of his personality, of his warmth. In return, we gave him our ears, our hearts, our minds and our souls. He was a darling one. And even though he’s gone, he’ll never be missed. Prince will always be with us. I can’t think of a greater consolation prize.
Thank you for everything,