Like bells on Christmas morning, Prince songs were blasting through boomboxes, nightclubs and cafe patios in Minnesota Thursday night and Friday morning. And that’s just the start of what will likely be our decades-long tribute to the coolest Minnesotan.

The Prince “glam” sometimes overshadowed the solid person, loyal friend and dedicated musician and artist behind the 5-foot-2, mixed-race kid with a pompadour from Minneapolis.

But Prince energized the youth of his time with a musical style we could call the “Minneapolis Sound” — a mix of rock, funk, rhythm and blues unique in the music world where everything was starting to sound the same. And the youth liked the music even better when they weren’t young anymore.

Prince had an energy on stage that showed he not only loved his music but believed in it. Add to that a musical talent with guitar playing that rivaled Clapton, and Minnesota had never been so lucky. Prince helped us define a music culture like no one had before.

Prince came from humble beginnings. His parents, who divorced when he was young, were singers and musicians. He attended public high school, and sometimes stayed with friends because his home life was not so like home.

But he played and sang from a very young age. He was not only a talented musician and arranger, but a songwriter who could capture the crazy world of youth. While his lyrics had a dark edge about “getting through life” in the “dearly beloved” introduction to “Let’s Go Crazy,” they left fans more energized than depressed.

He brought recognition to the state like no modern artist, with his Paisley Park recording studio in Chanhassen and the film “Purple Rain” made in Minneapolis. His “Minneapolis Sound” won him Grammys and an Oscar. He didn’t treat his Minnesota roots like a footnote when he became famous. Rather, he celebrated Minneapolis and its struggle to eventually embrace these multi-cultural, multi-racial, multi-sexual themes brought up in his music.

Unassuming, yet fiercely independent, Prince reflected the neighborhood from which he came. He was not in need of the spotlight or the megaphone. He let his music speak for him. But he also saw the absurd inequality in the music industry. And for that he let his symbol, guitar and facepaint speak.

Prince. The coolest Minnesotan who made a difference. We’ll miss him.

 

— Mankato Free Press, April 24