Rave 2000: Hell is Made of Ice




This is what it was like outside Paisley Park on Saturday
night, from one of the many lost souls who did not get into
the show. If you want the cheery brain-washed version,
read "Le Grind." The truth, as usual, can only be found on
Prince.org.



Zoom in on Chanhassen, Minnesota, December 18th, 1999. The
wind chill factor: fourteen degrees below zero. The stars,
which had been so still and welcoming the night before, sat
unappreciated above the heads of those who could not cast
their eyes skyward. Their necks were locked in place as
the wind whipped over the Minnesota tundra.
The shivering mass of 200 people tried in vain to cover
every open spot of skin on their bodies. Prince's words
from the previous night rang in the ears of the faithful
ice zombies. "Everybody come on back tomorrow night," he
pleaded, as if he needed help, scared of another weak
turnout and a another half-empty room. "Doors open at 9:00.
Tomorrow night is the real show and I want all of you to
come back."



And so they came, bundling up against all reason, carrying
faith in their musical genius hero. They obeyed, they
traveled, and they trusted. Some lined up at 5:00 p.m.,
and when 9:00 came and went, they shivered in desolation.
No entry, not even a word of hope or resolution.
As 9:00 turned into 10:00, the crowd began chants of "Let
us in! (Please!) Let us in! (Please!) Let us in! (Please!)"
The chants reflected the contradictory nature of the Prince
fans, and how appropriate, given the wealth of contradictions
inside Prince himself. The fans demanded their rights, but
at the same time pleaded pathetically, as if they were wary
of angering their impetulant master. Their desperate cries
echoed across the wind-whipped fields. "Frostbite!!
Frostbite!! Frostbite!!" the chants continued, but still no
word.



Bodies huddled against each other out of sheer survival
instinct. Blue lips passed clouds of visible breath into
the forbidding chain-link fence that separated the haves
from the have-nots. Like the spoiled, distant queen of the
French Revolution, the pampered Prince seemed to cast his
gaze out from the warm Paisley Park tower and utter, "Let
them eat cake."



The scene outside Paisley looked like the pictures I have
seen of the German concentration camps. Bodies lined up
on the side of a road, no shelter, not even the wall of a
building to offer any solace from grim fate. Lives and
dreams being disregarded and discarded like cheap
advertorial newspapers. Inside, Prince was laughing with
the VIPs, obscenely reveling with plenty of warm floor space
for all, wearing the figurative hat of the SS. I am not
trivializing the Holocaust, I am giving you a realistic
perception of what I saw. This was truly one of the
sickest scenes I have ever witnessed, with the ultimate
disregard for the health and well-being of the fans. Ashen
blue faces cried and whimpered against the ungodly elements.
No mercy, not even a gesture. Anyone who chalks this up to
"show biz" and "paying dues" is a fool who wasn't there.



At 11:00 it was clear, like a steel knife in the back, that
Prince had merely been counting on his loyal minions as an
insurance policy. With everything on the line and the
cameras rolling, he wanted extra bodies at his disposal
"just in case" the ticketed crowd didn't show up as heavily
as expected. As the realization seeped over me like a
cracked egg dripping down from the top of my head, I turned
and staggered to my car. If I stayed any longer, I felt I
would have been like a beaten wife who keeps coming back.
A pathetic flunky begging to be abused one more time. To
salvage my own self-respect, I abandoned the crowd and didn't
look back. If you ever consider a trip to Minneapolis in
the winter, remember, Hell is Made of Ice.



In closing, words of Peace this holiday season. Peace to
all the music lovers, who could not match the luck of the
sycophants, nor the skill of the d*ck s*ckers. Peace to
the doctors treating the scarred brochial tubes, the
frostbitten fingers and toes, the coughs and hypothermia.
Peace to the Love4oneanother web site, which falsely
advertised the irresponsible fiasco and lured the willing
moths to the icy flame. Peace to all those who got inside
and enjoyed the music, despite the crimes against humanity
that were going on outside the chain-link fence. Peace
to the man who takes all the love, and abuses it, like an
incestuous father destroying the faith and hope of the
innocent unwitting children.