September 24, 2003 @ 10:44 am

Prince - 1999 (Warner Bros.)

Harry Allen

What is influence, and how does one measure it? It can be intangibly subtle, even invisible.

What is influence, and how does one measure it? It can be intangibly subtle, even invisible. But it changes that which it occupies so completely that a world without its effects becomes difficult, or impossible, to imagine. Try picturing a world without telephones or automobiles. Similarly, what would the last 10 years of music have been without the preceding example and legacy of Prince Rogers Nelson and his landmark 1983 breakthrough album 1999? After all, the album's somber "Little Red Corvette" did introduce Prince to millions and set the stage for his biggest selling album, Purple Rain. Prince's influence includes, of course, all the artists who sprung directly from his Minneapolis/Paisley Park loins -- Sheila E., Vanity, Morris Day, the Time. But that's just the easy part. Take Janet Jackson: Her longtime association with the Time's core members -- Jimmy Jam and Terry Lewis -- marks her as one of Prince's progeny, too. (This is something those who listen to Control or peep Janet's early eye-hidden-behind-a-curl styling will not dispute.) Then there are those who weren't in Prince's camp, didn't necessarily cover his records, and didn't record during his years of peak sales, but have, without a doubt, lifted more than a lick from him. Certainly, Prince's fearless puree of funk, rock, pop, soul, and other genres has shaped many careers, including any post-1999 popular musician whose work is deemed a "seamless blend" of those forms -- such as Me'Shell Ndegéocello, Beck, Lenny Kravitz, and No Doubt. Sometimes Prince's presence is more overt: TLC's "Red Light Special" -- from T-Boz's sandy, slow-drag vocal, to the mournful, bruised guitar solo, to the salacious lyrics -- practically screams "Prince was here!" Hands down, though, the award for "Best Recording of a Prince Song That Isn't a Prince Song" goes to D'Angelo, for "Untitled (How Does It Feel)." D's entire career suggests he was conceived under a full purple moon. But "Untitled" -- with its soft and wet, just-behind-the-beat bass and guitar, and D'Angelo's alternately tender, then banshee-howl falsetto -- shows that even the most remarkable talents copy -- whether deliberately or unconsciously. Ultimately, the best way to size up Prince's contribution is to envision its absence: To try and imagine, say, R. Kelly's, Jodeci's, OutKast's, N.E.R.D.'s, or Macy Gray's sexual freakiness without the precession of Prince's purple flasher's raincoat. Try and conceive hip hop's unlimited frankness, minus Prince having already declared, "I sincerely wanna fuck the taste out of your mouth" on 1999's "Let's Pretend We're Married," completely ripping the lid off what one could say on a record. Prince's influence has rarely been as concrete as a digital sample, like Timbaland's brief excise of the cooing baby from 1999's "Delirious" for Aaliyah's "Are You That Somebody?" More often than not, Prince has led by example, by showing that it's okay to go in a certain direction. Still, measuring his imprint on music is most difficult because his output has been so diverse. Trying to track his influence is like lighting a Roman candle, then trying to track every burning piece of gunpowder. All you can be expected to report is that it was loud, it was colorful, and, man, it lit up the sky like nothing anyone had ever seen before, or since.

Article tags: Prince, 1999, Warner, Bros 

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