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King of the World http://web.mid-day.com/co.../88012.htm
King of the world By: Uday Benegal July 18, 2004 New York: Women are into small packages (big-boned men, take note). That fact was evident last Tuesday, when I witnessed 10,000 or so women secretly—and openly—dreaming of indulging in acts too rude to print with a five-foot-two-inch tall man. His seemingly androgynous and sexually ambiguous appearance and nature did nothing to deter the stadium’s worth (or half-stadium’s worth, most having come with male partners) of girls-going-wild from writhing, winding and gyrating sinuously, insinuatingly to the beck and call of the little wonder. But it wasn’t just the women. The men couldn’t but help themselves either. Dance, that is. (Although there must have been plenty with fantasies rivalling the women’s, this being New York, town for the out and about an’all.) For, the little man was so funky, so incredibly funky, that within his grasp possibly lay the cure to all stiffness, to all formality—hell, to war, fergodsake! I can just see it: men standing askance of other bellicose men, in boardrooms and battlefields, poised to destroy the other, vanquish the foe, kill the mofo. Then someone pushes a button, a right-pointing isosceles triangle-shaped protuberance labelled “play,” that instigates a sound: of drums bouncing in deliberate syncopation, urged by the sanded-down rumble of a fat-toned bass guitar, spanked and sprinkled with the tasty interjections of an electric guitar, peppered by a horn section, awash in the swirl of a well-lubricated organ. And as the crazy beat, this relentlessly, impossibly infectious groove, fills the angry air, a voice starts up, whispering, trilling, ululating its falsettoed appeal, its growled urgency, its impassioned screech, and the men, those scarred, battle-ready men, suddenly lose all hostility and begin to sway, move, cast all inhibition to the dirty wind, and dance, wildly, wantonly with gay abandon, the body responding with primordial instinct: For such is the magic of the music of the artist once again known as Prince! And so we, all us 20,000 eager souls in New York’s packed-to-capacity Madison Square Garden stadium, were subjected to an unbelievable two-and-a-half-hour display of sheer, unbridled genius bursting forth: Prince dancing, spinning, weaving, jumping like few mortals can; Prince playing blistering blues, rock and funk guitar that few maestros are capable of; Prince singing and talking and charming like few entertainers know how. And equal opportunity employer Prince, with a battery of phenomenal musicians—black, white, man, woman — enthralled his subjects with song, soul and virtuosity, delivering hits and heavies: “Let’s Go Crazy,” “Cream,” “Sign ‘O’ the Times,” “Musicology” and many more, even Led Zeppelin’s “A Whole Lotta Love,” ending the electrifying evening with “Purple Rain.” A perfect end punctuation to a perfect evening. Bush and Kerry should have been there. Sharon and Arafat, too. And India’s mullahs — the Muslim and Hindu versions. They would have all danced and then gone home and made sweet love to each other. I propose Prince for world peace. Fourteen bucks a quickie And as Prince aroused NYC with his amazing grace, other denizens of the city that never sleeps exhorted fellow residents to do just that — grab some shuteye. On the 24th floor of the Empire State Building, Arshad Chowdhury was offering 40 winks at his two-month-old high-rise rest-stop called MetroNaps. Apparently, 14 dollars gets you 20 minutes in one of the napping pods, specially designed reclining seats, each of which is equipped with a blanket to cover the legs and piped music to block out all sounds from the frenetic city, the better to soothe you, my dear. 20 minutes later, vibrations and light gently nudge the sleepers out of their golden slumber, ready to take on the world, and those bellicose brutes in the boardroom, again. udayb@mid-day.com | |
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Like That!
PeAcE It's Tight, But I Think I Could Fit U In! | |
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"I propose Prince for world peace!"
That's a fantastic fucking quote, no? No confusion, no tears. No enemies, no fear. No sorrow, no pain. No ball, no chain.
Sex is not love. Love is not sex. Putting words in other people's mouths will only get you elected. Need more sleep than coke or methamphetamine. | |
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Prince rips it up. | |
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Now that was freakin' great stuff!! Thanks for posting it!! "I would say that Prince's top thirty percent is great. Of that thirty percent, I'll bet the public has heard twenty percent of it." - Susan Rogers, "Hunting for Prince's Vault", BBC, 2015 | |
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Inspiration comes from some of the funkiest places! [This message was edited Sat Jul 17 22:03:01 2004 by ELBOOGY] U,ME,WE!....2FUNKY! | |
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So, did Prince sell-out all three dates of Madison Square Garden? SPREAD LOVE UNTIL THE SUN'S FINAL RISE--The Duality a.k.a. "WYNTER SKYE" | |
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Prince is King of the World
Through his music Prince arouses and awakens the best of hope and desire of those who listen. Prince can illuminate the oneness in the hearts and souls of those who listen. Through the sounds he creates he feeds us 'seeds of hope' for a better future. Only music can span the space between the finite and the infinite. And Prince can reach all nations through the universal expression and language of his music. | |
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"I saw a woman with major Hammer pants on the subway a few weeks ago and totally thought of you." - sextonseven | |
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good article, althogh its a little wordy for me. vi | |
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One question, though, about the article itself. Shouldn't it have just ENDED with "I propose Prince for world peace"? Where does all that stuff about the napping fit in? | |
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