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Prince rocks and reigns in jubilant San Jose show

Joel Selvin, Chronicle Senior Pop Music Critic
Thursday, June 3, 2004



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If anybody deserves a golden microphone, it's Prince.

On his big "Musicology" tour, which stopped Tuesday and Wednesday at San Jose's HP Pavilion, Prince has reclaimed the pop spotlight with a mysterious combination of personality, music and marketing savvy. Onstage he was a wonder, effortlessly channeling James Brown, Jimi Hendrix, even Elvis Presley, and, for perhaps the first time in his more than quarter-century career, was confident and relaxed enough to fully be himself in front of an audience.

With the "Musicology" tour, Prince wants to make several points. First, Prince clearly wants to stake his claim to the throne, as proved in everything from the video of new-school soul star Alicia Keys inducting him into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame ("There may be many kings, but there is only one Prince . ..") to the anthemic closing "Purple Rain." Ever since his 1984 breakthrough, Prince has specialized in frustrating expectations -- his record company's, his audience's, probably even his own -- all in the name of preserving his integrity. But he distanced himself from audiences with elaborate productions and densely arranged, unfamiliar songs. Right from the start at the "Musicology" show, though, he presented his credentials, following an explosive performance of the title track of his new album, also called "Musicology," with four consecutive songs from his blockbuster album "Purple Rain'' "Let's Go Crazy," "I Would Die 4 U," "When Doves Cry," "Baby I'm a Star" -- transformed into scorching rock by his powerhouse nine-piece band.

He also apparently wanted to distinguish himself from the newcomers in the hip-hop world with their samples and tape loops. He and his band didn't just play hard, they demolished everything they touched. At one point, in the midst of an hourlong barrage of one hard, steaming funk number after another, he waved his hands over his head and shouted jubilantly.

"Can we play it?" he asked. "Can we play IT?"

Performing on a pair of intersecting runways, Prince has never let an audience get this close to him before. The most revealing portion came when he re-emerged from beneath the stage with an acoustic guitar on a swivel stool and his golden microphone now perched on the arm of his chair. He sang clear, beautiful versions of his songs such as "Little Red Corvette," "Cream" and "Raspberry Beret." He joked with crowd, laughed at himself, inveigled them into singing along and gently admonished them when they didn't sing along loudly enough.

"I don't care for lip-synchers," he said.

He didn't just want to entertain this audience. He wanted to pulverize it, smother it, rock it as hard as he could. His band members were mighty warriors, one and all, but special notice must go to stick-twirling drummer John Blackwell, who kept machine-gun riffs running through the rhythms all night, and bassist Rhonda Smith, who pumped a big, fat bottom into the sound.

The four-piece horn section, arrayed every which way on the crisscross stage, would come together to splash some intense, intricate ensemble parts over the hard-driving jams and then break apart for solos. Chief among his three tenor players were Candy Dulfer, the Dutch saxist whom Prince discovered when she was a teenager, and Maceo Parker, soloist on many of the greatest records by James Brown ("Maceo, take me to the bridge ...").

Prince also gave every person who came to the concert a copy of the "Musicology" CD as he or she walked in. "Gave" is not quite the right word because the price was built into the ticket price. But this novel marketing ploy is not only getting his new music into the hands of his fans -- a neat trick for someone who hasn't had a Top 10 hit since 1994 -- but it is also keeping the album in the Top 10 and turning it platinum through his tour alone.

Nobody ever doubted his talent. Many did question his sanity when he dropped his name and adopted an unpronounceable glyph instead. But in this comeback, he seems to have found his center.

He is a calmer, less devious performer, almost to the point of openness. He changed some of his lyrics and softened his frank sensuality, without turning into a prude. But he is certainly a long way from the gorgeous, androgynous young man in chaps and a jock strap who led an entire nightclub singing "Head" at his first San Francisco appearance 24 years ago.

He wants to restore faith in his brand-name funk. The new album was a start -- a fine record, maybe one of his 10 best, although certainly not among his top five -- but the heart of what he needs to say is in the show.

As a man onstage, singing, dancing, playing guitar, running his crisp, magnificent band, just being his crazy self, Prince is beyond compare, sui generis.

He earned that golden microphone.