Prince wanted to know if he could get an amen.

He knew the answer before he asked the question. A consummate entertainer, Prince can get an arena full of enthusiastic amens any time he pleases.

On Wednesday at Oakland's sold-out Paramount Theatre, the dapper bandleader earned his amens with some actual sermonizing. His latest CD, "The Rainbow Children," is nakedly religious, an open call for "a new nation" of devout souls. The Holy Scriptures were a recurring touchstone of his spoken interludes.

He was preaching to the converted. "This is what you hear when people agree, " he said sweetly, cupping an ear to an audience sing-along of the wordless trill from his most durable anthem, "Purple Rain." "It's called harmony."

That kind of harmony, he said, makes those in the room "feel like we can save the world." And it's true: With Prince in the pulpit, anything seems possible.

At its root, charisma is a religious quality. It's the ability to perform miracles. Musically speaking, Prince has more than a few of those up his sleeve, and his formidable talent has blessed him with a cultlike following.

The first hour or so of his three-hour performance was reserved for his new direction, a jazzy gospel fusion that often had little to do with the ecstatic pop soul for which he is famous. His band -- a trio of virtuosos on drums, bass and keyboards and a two-man horn section including former James Brown sideman Maceo Parker -- grooved masterfully on the material, some of it fuzzed- out funky metal, some of it noodly keyboard chintz.

The mostly instrumental music gave Prince plenty of opportunity for his trademark guitar grandstanding, a personalized blend of squalling Hendrix, bent-note Santana and the chunky rhythms of James Brown fixture Jimmy Nolen. The late Frank Zappa called one of his albums "Shut Up 'n' Play Yer Guitar," and for a while that seemed a likely subtitle for Prince's new bag.

Though a few in the audience were dismayed by the prospect of all new material, most seemed amenable to anything the artist cared to play. "All y'all came to get your 'Purple Rain' on tonight?" he wondered a few minutes into the show. "Well, you came to the wrong place."

He was kidding, of course. Just after the seductive languor of "Mellow," he launched into the familiar down-and-up riff of the Ohio Players' funk monster "Love Rollercoaster," and the party was under way.

One by one, he plucked fans from the front rows. (The choice seats go to members of Prince's inner sanctum, the NPG Music Club.) An older gentleman in a denim jacket and a white baseball cap scrambled onstage to demonstrate his self-assured chicken strut, and the crowd ate it up.

"Oakland, you claimin' him?" Prince asked, jerking a thumb over his shoulder, his wry smile framed by his floppy bangs and an upturned collar.

A few minutes later, the singer was executing his own funky strut. As Greg Boyer played a boozy, muted trombone break on the cat-walking hipster cool of "The Other Side of the Pillow," the bandleader waggled his rear end comically high in the air, joking that it was a dance step every family could recognize - - the "Drunk Uncle."

As he often does in his larger stadium shows, Prince soon began tantalizing the audience with abbreviated versions of several of his hits -- "Take Me With U," "Raspberry Beret," "I Wanna Be Your Lover."

He asked for his amen, then let the audience carry the melody of "Nothing Compares 2 U."

Having divorced himself from the corporate music industry, he may no longer be quite the blockbuster he was. But his fans know better: Two decades on, nothing compares 2 Prince.

E-mail James Sullivan at jamessullivan@sfchronicle.com

http://www.sfgate.com/cgi...DD5938.DTL

James

Sullivan said:

DAMN STRAIGHT!!! Erm... uh... I mean, "AMEN!"








.
[This message was edited Fri Apr 26 15:24:06 PDT 2002 by CalhounSq]

Amen is right..... Very good write up.




Y'all stay funky.....