I remember when I first heard Prince on the radio. It was his first single, "I Wanna Be Your Lover," and I think I yelled out an enthusiastic "Me too!" and rushed out to buy his album.
(Yes, it was vinyl. Yes, I'm old. If you must know, I remember buying it with the money I made from selling those wooly mammoth skins I had stored in my cave.
) I didn't really care that he looked like he had stolen Diana Ross' wig, or that carny mustache, or the fact that he was three-feet-tall and wore six-inch platforms that he obviously had stolen from a hooker. I loved his music, and I just wanted to party like it was 1999.
And it's continued through the years, through Purple Rain, Controversy, Sign O The Times, and Graffiti Bridge.
I even forgave him for doing crazy ass shit like changing his name to a symbol, and for the disturbing cover of Lovesexy, where he posed in the nude and looked like some freakish man-child offspring of Groucho Marx and Cupid.
When I found out he was performing during halftime of the last Super Bowl, I thought it was the perfect opportunity to get my girls Princified. I would show them that 'When Doves Cry' was as good as it gets, that 'Rasberry Beret' was just as catchy as anything by The Frey.
So imagine how crushed I was when, as I danced around doing the Roger Rabbit to the first chords of "Let's Go Crazy," Kiyomi took a close look at the screen, turned to me and asked, "Is that a woman?"
Yesterday we were listening to the radio in the car and Sinead O'Conner's "Nothing Compares To U" came on. When Kira said that she "kind of" liked the song, I once again saw it as a chance to bring them over to the Purple side.
"Prince wrote this song" I mentioned nonchalantly.
"Ohhh," Kira said. "You mean that midget rocker dude?
"
I'm thinking of grounding her for a year. Or maybe just confiscating her iPod and then returning it to her filled with the entire Prince discography and every video clip I can find of him on YouTube. There isn't anything in my parenting books that discusses what discipline is appropriate when your child insults one of your musical idols.
Of course, summer's coming up, and on our next long road trip I plan to fill up the six-disc cd changer in the car with all my old Prince tunes. Perhaps that'll be punishment enough.
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