Evening drives between Long Beach and San Diego with the fam usually guarantees a feature from the following old school jamz:

1. Forget Me Nots- Patrice Rushen
2. The Glamorous Life- Sheila E
3. Oh Sheila- Ready For The World
4. Erotic City- Prince

Two of these songs(2,4) are written and produced by Prince, and I’m thinking about how this dude’s funky music would keep me up on road trips, how prior to his passing, I heard a mourning dove take off as I was taking out the trash and immediately thought to myself: this is what it sounds like when doves cry, how I spotted a clean classic car parked in Ocean Beach that screamed Little Red Corvette in my head, how my brother and I still reference lines from this dude’s immortalization in that hilarious Dave Chappelle sketch, how I opted to catch New Girl after the Super Bowl because Prince was a guest star and absolutely killed it.

When I was younger, I heavily pitted the two against each other: MJ and Prince. Prince and MJ. Musical geniuses, innovative artists, pop culture icons, and legends with mysterious but intriguing personas, manufactured in the Midwest in 1958 with successful careers that kickstarted in the 80s, and took the music world by storm, with lyrics that have resonated with me since childhood, both gone too soon. Though I always leaned towards MJ, I know these two are insanely incomparable–Prince in his full eclectic glory and exceptional guitar skills strongly defined individuality and himself with a color, at one point changed his name to a symbol, challenged social/gender norms with his fashion & style, and honestly gave no fucks of what people thought of him. Thanks for the all music Prince, Rest in Purple.


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