Prince’s Revolution in MOJO

Prince cover

It’s 1989, I’m 13, and perhaps the only thing that rivals my love for music is my obsession (since abated) for superhero comics. And 1989 is a good year to be a fan of superhero comics, as Tim Burton’s much-anticipated Batman movie is about to hit the big screen. I watch the movie three times at the Wimbledon Odeon that summer, before I can bring myself to admit that it’s not really all that great, but that’s a story for another day.

Anyway, that summer my best friend taped me a copy of his brother’s copy of Prince’s Batdance album. And, to be honest, I wasn’t all that crazy about that either. But, to fill out the b-side of the C90, he’d dubbed me Prince’s previous album, Lovesexy, too. And I became instantly obsessed with that album, wearing out the batteries on my fake Walkman spooling back to the beginning as soon as the ominous, oceanic sounds of Positivity drew to a close. I was an 80s kid with open ears and the radios in my life all seemed permanently tuned to Capital FM, so I was already aware of Prince. But Lovesexy was where I became a convert to the cult of Prince and his genius, albeit a year late, and that illicit cassette was my gateway to the rest of his catalogue.

Prince spread

Fast-forward to this June, and I find myself in my hotel room in Wichita, Kansas, engulfed by butterflies in anticipation of my guests: the members of The Revolution, the multi-racial, pan-sexual funk-pop geniuses who helped Prince cut all of his albums from Purple Rain to Sign O The Times (albeit uncredited on that final opus). I spent five or so hours with the wonderful, wonderful Wendy, Lisa, Brownmark, Bobby Z and Dr Fink, retracing the Purple one’s path genius and getting under the skin of what Prince was really like. My story’s spread across ten pages of the current MOJO, and it’s something I’m ridiculously proud of and giddily glad to have been a part of. Buy it!


About steviechick

Freelance journalist, author, lecturer, sub-editor.
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