Just like David Bowie in the Labyrinth. I wish Prince would've taken this role. If they were okay with Chris Tucker turning the outfit down I'm sure they would have been okay with Prince doing the same. Such a shame, what a missed opportunity. I remember when I first saw that movie I thought Chris Tucker was just doing a spot on Prince impersonation. Fuck Prince whyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy?!!!!

aaroncanderson said:

7.14.1994 @ the Palladium in NYC

Benefit for the Dance Theater of Harlem New
1.) Gold
2.) the Jam
3.) I Believe In You
4.) Endorphinmachine
5.) Space

6.) Days of Wild
7.) Now
8.) the Most Beautiful Girl in the World
9.) Billy Jack Bitch
10.) Papa

11.) Shhh
12.) Mary Don't You Weep w/ Lenny Kravitz & Vernon Reid(Living Color)
13.) None of Your Business
14.) Get Wild

aaroncanderson said:

Just like David Bowie in the Labyrinth. I wish Prince would've taken this role. If they were okay with Chris Tucker turning the outfit down I'm sure they would have been okay with Prince doing the same. Such a shame, what a missed opportunity. I remember when I first saw that movie I thought Chris Tucker was just doing a spot on Prince impersonation. Fuck Prince whyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy?!!!!

Yep
Like a few discussion last year or so on Prince being in a movie..
This is what Prince should be doing. He isn't an actor, and his persona is to strong for him to change into a different role. Prince 1976-1994 @ the time had so many individual identities and characters he could have pulled from various parts of himself

Definately a missed opportunity

iZsaZsa said:

Or something!

This is enough right here, one of these feather boas he used etc

OldFriends4Sale said:

Prince - Q Magazine [United Kingdom] (July 1994)

'I am normal!'
Talks To Q
By Adrian Deevoy

Pleased to meet you... Hope you've guessed my name. For the first time since God alone knows when, the artist formerly known as Prince talks exclusively and extensively about identity, insecurity, George Michael, Nelson Mandela, ballet, boogie, opera, orgasm, freedom and the future. "I follow the advice of my spirit," he tells Adrian Deevoy.

His name is not Prince. And he is not funky. His name is Albert. And he is lurching across the dancefloor in search of accommodating company. Slightly balding and chunkier than he looks in photographs, he moors behind a gyrating female and clumsily interfaces.

Up on the stage another man whose name is not Prince says, "This is dedicated to Prince Albert, the funkiest man in Monaco." It's a wonder he can get the words out with his tongue buried so deep in his cheek. Prince Albert beams and grinds arhythmically on. Prince laughs, throws a swift shape and stops the funk on the one. It's his party and he'll lie if he wants to.

One hundred and twenty people have been invited to the Stars &alt; Bars club in Monte Carlo for this most exclusive of celebrations. The champagne is free, the spirits are freer and the house band is possibly the best live act on the planet. You probably remember them as Prince And The New Power Generation. They're still the NPG but he's not Prince any more. He is 0{+> (to give him his full title). Sir Hieroglyphicford for short.

Ursula Andress is at the bar, sipping sensually at a flute of champagne. A few generations and a couple of yards along, Claudia Shiffer is doing likewise. It's that sort of a do. Everyone is wearing impossibly shiny shoes and gold epaulettes. If God weren't resting his suave old soul, you'd expect David Niven to walk in with Peter Wyngarde on his arm. Without trying too hard, you can imagine Fellini standing in the corner saying, "Christ, this is weird!" Quit what the gnarled jet-setters are making of the music programme is anyone's guess. At 1.15am the Barry Manilow tape was exchanged for a stripped down five-piece (and non- stop disco dancer Mayte - pronounced My Tie - Garcia) who have just embarked upon the most daunting funk experience of a lifetime. A knot of maybe 15 perfumed debs cluster around the lip of the stage. Naturally you join them and find yourself standing so close to the Artist Formerly Known As Prince (AFKAP to use the diminutive) that you can hear him singing unamplified behind his microphone.

As the franc-trillionaires dance like your dad or simply stand looking bemused, a set of entirely new material is unleashed: a slamming funk madhouse named "Now"; a total headshag of a thing called "Interactive"; "Glam Slam Boogie", a swinging R & B shuffle; this scorching rap, Days Of Wild; "Space", a superb mid-paced chug; a Prince-of-yore smutathon which boasts the chorus "Pop goes the zipper"; "Race", another blistering rap and a freshly minted song which may not have been called "Jogging Machine". Amazingly, despite performing for over two hours and dancing like an amphetamined primate, he doesn't break sweat. It's only during the very last song (during which he takes to calling out "Bass - hallowed be thy name" and "You know you're funky!") that minute moist tresses begin to glisten at the back of his neck. Shirtless now, you can't help but notice as he cavorts on the floor with Mayte that here is a man who has no truck with underwear. The trained medical eye can also detect, through sheer yellow matador trousers, that he is circumcised. And she isn't. It is indecently, maybe even illegally, sexy. "Doesn't anyone have to go to work tomorrow." he asks rhetorically as the monied merry-makers bay for another encore. "Guess not."

The Prince camp are an odd crew: all are deeply aware of the idiosyncrasies of their bonsai boss - and they call him "Boss" - but they hold him in unutterably high esteem. One lunchtime, his American PR, face poker-straight, tells me that her charge is "an instrument of God." Over drinks, his European PR is a little more terrestrial: "He doesn't talk a lot," he says, reflecting on Prince's visit, a few days ago, to his newly opened London shop. "He just came in and sat on the stairs sucking a lollipop. Then he wandered around for a while, looking at things. Of course, the next day I get long lists of changes he wants made."

The band plainly find his celebrity both a convenient distraction and a bit of a laugh. They are more than used to fencing questions about their commander, invariably dismissing enquiries with "He's just a regular cat like you and me", but in their hearts they know he isn't. I ask them one Fleet Street-type question about their shrift: "Is he Mayte's boyfriend?" "No," they say firmly. "She don't have a boyfriend."

Amusingly, among the entourage, the P word is rarely mentioned for fear it might result in the P45 word. There is a mild panic when a poster advertising his appearance at Monte Carlo's World Music Awards is spotted with the dread legend on it. In the blink of an eye the name is erased and the now familiar gold unisex symbol drawn in its place. "If he'd seen that," says a relieved minder, "he might have just have turned around and gone home."

A telling scene occurs one night as the band are sitting around talking nonsense and drinking beer in the lobby of the oppressively posh Hotel De Paris. A huge horde of fans have gathered outside having heard that their hero is dining with Prince Albert tonight and will soon be emerging from the hotel. At 8.30, Prince ghosts up by your side (you soon learn that he has this unnerving habit of just appearing) and in an unimaginably deep voice asks, "Shall I go out the front?" He is resplendent in full battle dress: a jacket made from what once must have been fold doily, lace strides, heels, walking cane and lollipop. "Yeah," cry the band, "go out the front! Freak 'em out!" With the cheekiest of smirks, he pops the lolly decisively into his mouth and steps boldly out through the revolving door. The crowd screech his old name as, surrounded by three minders, he steps - head down, mouth corners curling knowingly - into a waiting car.

Only once during our five-day stay do we see Prince out of his stage gear. He is in a lift heading down to have his hair re-teased and is wearing a black jumper, leather jeans and impenetrable dark glasses, presumably because he hasn't bothered to put on any make-up on. He looks remarkably pale but then he has just got up. It's 5pm.

Similarly, the only time you truly find him off-duty is when you wander early into the empty Stars & Bars club and he is standing on the dancefloor on his own picking out a riff on a bass guitar. After thrumbing absently for a while he mutters "Sounds like shit" to himself. Then the enigmatic song and dance man looks over to the technicians and says, "Can we get separate EQ for the bass in the monitors?"

Such was the success of the gig at Prince Albert's party, a decision is made to play the same club the following evening. Sadly, the show isn't nearly half as good. It is merely transcendent.

"Do you feel ready to meet him?" It's been four days now. It's a little after midnight. You're not going to feel much readier. I'm escorted up to a small room that features a large white bed an not much else. The doors are open and, below, the guano-festooned roof of the Monte Carlo Casino looks monumentally unimpressive. The junior suite is the temporary home of Prince's brother and head of security, Duane Nelson. In keeping with the name change game, he has been re-christened The Former Duane. Prince's pe rsonal minder, a mightily be-blazered individual called Tracy, who looks and sounds alarmingly like Mike Tyson, informs is that "he" will be arriving soon.

Within a minute, there is a tiny commotion in the doorway and Prince is suddenly standing before you like a virgin bride on her wedding night. Dressed completely in white silk and wearing full make-up, he only breaks a long floor-bound stare to flash one coquettish glance upwards by way of a greeting. I'm introduced by name. He isn't. We are left alone.

An agreement made prior to this meeting stipulated, in no uncertain terms, that three rules were to by obeyed if intercourse of any description were to occur: firstly, that no tape recorder be used; secondly, that no notepad or pen be brought into the room; and thirdly, and most strangely, that no questions be asked. He wanted to enjoy a half-hour conversation unencumbered by the paraphernalia of nosy journalism.

He paces around the cramped boudoir in deliberate, even steps, as if he needed to fit the place with a new carpet and had forgotten his tape measure. He wanders out on to the balcony, still having not uttered a word and then comes back in, shutting the doors behind him. He is small but in perfect proportion, like a scale model of an adult. A doll, an Action Mannequin. He sits down next to me on the bed in a semi-lotus position and fixes his gaze on the middle distance, smiling secretly. No-one has said anything for a full minute. Then he turns with this curious expression. It's somewhere between the shamed but surly look of someone that has been wrongly reprimanded and the suggestive yet intense glare of someone who is about to shag you. Oh no! He leans forward and you can smell him. It is just like the band said: he smells of flowers, music and innocence. I smell of lager. Eventually, he says this:

"I don't say much."

Oh dear. Silence.

Why not?

He shrugs in slow-motion and looks sideways and downwards. It's a sad, apologetic gesture, like he just killed your dog. This will serve as an answer for many of the questions he's initially asked. Once again. Why is that? Why don't you say much?

"You don't need to."

That doesn't bode well for this conversation really, does it?

"Guess not."

A different tack: "Speak to me only with thine eyes." Have you heard that phrase?

"Mm".

He turns on the bed and laughs, rolling his eyes to heaven. He is wearing an extraordinary amount of slap - foundation, eyeliner, black mascara (on lashes of which Bambi is alleged to be fiercely jealous), brown eye shadow on the outermost corners of his lids. He has the most slender line of facial hair that runs from one temple, down his cheek across his upper lip and up the other side. There are black, phallic rockets on the sleeves of his shirt.

We look at each other for a while. It isn't quite uncomfortable, more exhilarating, like a first date. In keeping with this, I say: "You look lovely, by the way."

He exhales almost sexually, bites his lower lip and whispers, "Why, thank you."

This is becoming ludicrous. We've got 30 minutes and 10 of those have just been swallowed up with nothing more than a handful of sighs, some peculiar body language and one dodgy chat-up line to show for it. I decide to forget the rules and fire a volley of questions at him.

How did you feel when you heard Jimi Hendrix for the first time? He stops and thinks and arranges his hands in a steeple in front of his mouth.

"That was before Puerto Rico," he says quietly and, to be honest, mystifyingly. "I can't remember much before then. That was before I changed my name."

Why have you changed your name?

"I acted on the advice of my spirit."

Do you normally do that. Is it reliable, your spirit's advice?

"Of course."

Is it significant that you've changed your name?

"It's very significant."

Did you dream last night?

He frowns. "No, can't remember. Although I had a dream recently and I was telling Mo Ostin (Chairman of Warner Brothers Records) to be all a man and not half a man."

Last night I dreamt I saw this article in print. Believe it or not, the headline was Funny Little Fucker.

Seriously.

He laughs. "Oh."

Do you fall in love easily?

"No."

You're a slow burner then?

"Uh-huh."

It isn't going tremendously well. Knocking it on the head and suggesting we just go out for a curry begins to seem like an excellent idea. Then something highly bizarre and Prince-like happens: a sound starts to crackle through a previously unnoticed and inert TV. Without missing a beat, he nods towards the set and says, "It's a sign. It's a sign that we should go to my room." He makes for the door, leading with his shoulders. Duane appears in the hall and asks what the problem is. "A sound came through the TV," explains Prince. "It's a sign." "Nah, says Duane, "you probably just sat on the remote control." And with that, he ushers us back into the bedroom to continue our "conversation".

Q: Do you think you're underrated as a lyricist?

"Well, underrated by who? Against what? You know? Some people get them. That's what counts."

Q: Do people not get the humour in your work?

"Maybe, but there's a lot of things that I don't get the humour in."

Q: What's the most moving piece of music you've heard recently?

(Long, sigh-strewn pause) "Sonny's bass solo last night."

Q: What is your preoccupation with sex all about? It features in nearly all your songs. Does sex really loom that large in your life?

"My songs aren't all about sex. People read that into them."

Q: But sex is such a dominant theme. Your new song called "Come" is unarguably about orgasm.

"Is it? That's your interpretation? Come where? Come to whom? Come for what?"

Q: Oh, come on!

(Laughs) "That's just the way you see it. It's in your mind."

This is the first subject he warms to: different perceptions. How one man's meat is another man's muesli. This, he explains, is why we can't label music, feelings, people. He says something convoluted like: everything is something else to everyone. When I begin to ask him about how he thinks other people perceive him, it obviously touches a nerve. He adopts the voice of an especially demented mynah bird and asks, "Are you normal? Are you normal? Is that what you're asking me? Do I think I'm normal? Yes, I do. I think I'm normal. I am normal."

Q: What happens in your life when you're not doing music?

(Hikes, eyebrows, looks incredulous) "When I'm not doing music?"

Q: Do you have a life outside of your work?

"Yes."

Q: And what does that involve?

(Pinteresque pause) "Have you never read about me? I'm a very private person."

Q: I'm not prying, I'm just interested.

"I know. I understand."

The subject of his recording contract with Warner Brothers comes up, as does the topic of Prince's work - he speaks about Prince in the third person. Whether or not Prince the recording artist is finished, consigned to the bunker of history, is unclear. He says several times that the body of work is complete but later admits that he hasn't ruled out the possibility of adding to it, under the name Prince or otherwise, in the future.

Q: Is it possible to shed a entire personality?

It's not like it's a real personality."

Q: It's a person then?

"Yeah, I think it is."

Q: Have you turned your back on pop music?

"What's pop music? It's different things to different people."

Q: Beatles-derived four-chord tunes that everyone can sing along to.

"Still don't help. Is The Most Beautiful Girl pop music? I can't say? You can't say."

He mentions George Michael's court case for the first time. It's a subject he'll return to with astonishing regularity and persistence. At one point, he almost shouts, "Why can't George Michael do what he wants? Why can't he write a ballet if he wants to?" What he is talking about is artistic freedom and its place in the future. By the end of the rant, and it is a rant, I suggest that he should get in touch with George Michael as he might find such supportive words encouraging. "Oh," he says breezily. "We speak."

Q: What do you think about when you're playing a guitar solo?

"I'm normally just listening."

Q: You look like you're about to cry sometimes.

"Really? Mm. Maybe."

Q: You seem at your most relaxed on stage.

If it's all going well, I'm pretty happy up there. It's a very natural thing for me."

Q: Offstage you seem to be having a good old laugh at us sometimes.

He laughs.

Is this the whole interview?

OldFriends4Sale said:

aaroncanderson said:

OldFriends4Sale said:

Is this the whole interview?

The categorisation of music is another area which gets his goat. How on earth can we categorise something like music when everybody hears and feels it differently? How many people do you know that have just one type of music in their record collections? None, right? You don't get home and think, I'll listen to some ambient jazz punk, do you? You just have a mood in your head and yet we, or at least the record companies, feel the need to compartmentalise everything. Tell you what, when you play a song live, and it's a jam, man, and you think up some little vocal line and everyone is still singing that when you've left that stage. That's marketing. Period. Wouldn't it be great if someone made an album and gave it away for free? Like air. You could just have it. Anyway, what type of music do The Sundays play? Is it pop, indie, rock? Who cares? When eventually, I say that anyone who heard Prince play would assume that his new direction was big funk, he says cryptically, "You could ask those people what they saw and they might say that they didn't see Prince play at all..."

Q: Do you ever have a problem translating the sounds you hear in your hear into music?

"No, that's never been a problem. The problem is getting it all out before another idea comes along."

Q: Do you exhaust people?

(Laughs) "Yes, I do."

Q: A joke: you used to be called Prince and then you were Victor. Why not just call yourself Vince?

"I read that somewhere. I was never called Victor. That was the line in the song, 'I will be called Victor,' I never called myself Victor."

He launches into a stream of consciousness monologue about names. What they mean. This seems to confuse him. He has, he says, a friend called Gilbert Davidson, and one day he said to Gilbert, Who is David? Is he your father? No, said Gilbert. Is he your grandfather? No. Then, man, you'd better look back and find out who he is. Then Prince started thinking, My name is Nelson. Who was Nel? My mother? No. My grandmother? Uh-uh. Then he thought, Maybe she's someone that I don't want to know about.

Q: I asked the band, individually, what you smell of?

"What I smell of? What'd Sonny say?"

He said you smell of music.

(Delighted smile) "That's a good answer, Sonny. That's a like, yeah, yeah, let's have the next question type answer, isn't it?

Q: And I asked them to sum you up in one word. The word one of them chase was, Wow!

(Laughs) "Who said that? No, let me guess. Was it Michael?

Q: Yes.

"That's funny. Wow. We don't normally talk about that kind of stuff."

Now he's getting excited. He has moved to a chair and is sitting with his boots - high-heeled silver stage numbers covered in mini mirrors - up on the counterpane. At one pint, whilst agreeing about something with particular enthusiasm, I grab hold of his boot. He doesn't flinch, but his toes wriggle inside. He has left behind the cautious customer of yesterhour an is freewheeling through the thoughts as they enter his head. Suddenly it strikes you. Blimey! It's just like having a chat with a normal bloke.

Q: Tell me about the opera you've written.

"I don't want to give too much away. It's just a story.

Q: What sort of story? A love story?

"Could be."

Q: Did you write the libretto?

"Yeah, (he laughs at the pretentiousness of the word) I wrote the story."

Q: Did you find opera difficult to get into?

"I don't really listen to opera."

He had spoken to Placido Domingo earlier in the evening. "He said some very beautiful things and you could sense that he had a feeling of all the power that was in the room and what it could achieve if we did something with it." While they were talking, Prince got this tune in his head that he's going to get down pretty quickly.

Q: I've been told that you're an instrument of God.

"Oh yeah, stuff's been written about that. Who said that?"

Q: Your PR.

(Laughs) "Really?"

Q: Do you seriously feel like you are a conduit for some higher power?

"No, I just practice a lot."

Q: Do you ever feel a certain telepathy exists between you and the NPG?

"Sure, musically, that happens sometimes. But we rehearse too."

He tells a long story about the making of the video for The Most Beautiful Girl In The World. They placed ads and got shedloads of letters and home videos back. They selected a cross section of women all from different backgrounds and invited them to meet Prince. He asked them what their dreams were and then to the best of his mortal abilities set about making those dreams come true. Like Jim'll fix it with "O" Levels. Then they filmed the women watching footage of their fantasies. One of the women, and he get quite emotional as he relates this, wrote to him afterwards saying that although she was overweight, he had made her feel beautiful and she would lose weight with the intention of modelling one day.

Q: Is physical beauty an overrated virtue?

"Yes. See, you understand."

Q: Did you sit on The Most Beautiful Girl In The World so Warners couldn't have it and you could release it on your own terms?

No, I didn't sit on it. I heard that I did that but I only wrote it recently."

Q: What would you have done if it had stiffed?

"If it had stiffed? (Laughs) It wouldn't have mattered. I put the record out, that was the important thing. People got to hear it."

Q: Did you feel vindicated when it was so successful?

Well, it's nice when people appreciate what you do."

We discuss the future again. He says, "That's why I wanted you to help me - and I need some help with this - because you think that anything is possible." He peels off at a tangent. "In the future," he announces, "I might be interactive. You might be able to access me and tell me what to play." It's certainly a thought. He says he's found a you drummer "who plays things you can't even think. And if he wants to do an album of drum solos, then I'm prepared to go out on tour to finance that." He reveals that he's got a blues album completed and in the can and lets out a vocal wail of anguished guitar to illustrate just how good it is. He brings up Nelson Mandela and the current situation in South Africa. Mr. Mandela, as he calls him, must have had a very clear vision of what would happen. He envies this and would like to have that gift. Something of a basketball fan, he alludes to Magic Johnson time and time again. "He wants to form his own team," he says. "How long will that take?" He looks at his non-existing watch and shoots a look to the ceiling. "Look at South Africa," he says, palms upturned. "Bosnia. You can't tell people what to do for that long." He appears to be equating racial and artistic freedom, then he has to be prepared to put up with that Mick Hucknall jazz harmonica album, which, under these terms, could easily emerge. "But would that be a bad thing?" he asks, his argument crumbling. "OK", he concedes, giggling. "I guess you wouldn't have to listen to everything."

Q: Won't people say, It's all very well Prince banging on about artistic freedom when we've got bill to pay and mundane reality to cope with? Aren't you speaking from a privileged position?

"If you're shackled and restricted, it doesn't matter how much money you got. Money don't help. And I've got bills to pay. People at Paisley (Park), they're like my family, I have responsibility towards them."

Q: Would you like to have children?

"That's something I haven't thought about."

Q: You've been thinking about the future so much and you haven't considered children?

"No, but I'd like to contribute to the future generation."

He's tearing up and down the room now, having talked for almost an hour and a half. His voice has become excited and slipped up a key. Not suite Kiss standards but getting there. Now and then, he slips into black slang. He even belches once, very gently but it's a belch nonetheless. It's like the Queen farting and lighting it. He enthuses about his new songs, Now and Days Of Wild. "What the fuck is that all about?" he asks, shimming around the bed with one arm stiff behind his back, rapping the opening lines, which involve copious use of the Oedipal compound noun. He raves about the genius of George Clinton, froths about his Smell My Finger album and is plainly in awe of his talents. "George is the funk," he explains breathlessly. He speaks about purity in music. "Rock N' Roll, man", he says, "was so much better when people were hungry. It was better when you didn't automatically make money. When James (Brown) was putting out an album every four months, that was the stuff."

It's getting on for 2am now and we have one final bash at distilling what he really wants to convey. Before that, he asks about magazine editorial practice and is stimulated by the fact that an article can go from writer to reader virtually untampered with. He speculates about producing music that you would listen to as you read this article. "That would be great, wouldn't it? And although I am an artist without a contract, that's just the sort of thing I can't do."

He recaps one last time: artistic freedom for everyone with fearlessness and limitlessness well of the fore; love and care to be liberally distributed and accepted; peace to reign; dolphins to leap; choirs of children to sing and, um, George Michael to write that ballet.

"So," he says spinning on his spangly heels. "Are we gonna party?" He dances towards the door, flicks a final seductive glance over his shoulder and sashays out. Funny little fucker.
End

OldFriends4Sale said:

aaroncanderson said:

Is this the whole interview?

The categorisation of music is another area which gets his goat. How on earth can we categorise something like music when everybody hears and feels it differently? How many people do you know that have just one type of music in their record collections? None, right? You don't get home and think, I'll listen to some ambient jazz punk, do you? You just have a mood in your head and yet we, or at least the record companies, feel the need to compartmentalise everything. Tell you what, when you play a song live, and it's a jam, man, and you think up some little vocal line and everyone is still singing that when you've left that stage. That's marketing. Period. Wouldn't it be great if someone made an album and gave it away for free? Like air. You could just have it. Anyway, what type of music do The Sundays play? Is it pop, indie, rock? Who cares? When eventually, I say that anyone who heard Prince play would assume that his new direction was big funk, he says cryptically, "You could ask those people what they saw and they might say that they didn't see Prince play at all..."

Q: Do you ever have a problem translating the sounds you hear in your hear into music?

"No, that's never been a problem. The problem is getting it all out before another idea comes along."

Q: Do you exhaust people?

(Laughs) "Yes, I do."

Q: A joke: you used to be called Prince and then you were Victor. Why not just call yourself Vince?

"I read that somewhere. I was never called Victor. That was the line in the song, 'I will be called Victor,' I never called myself Victor."

He launches into a stream of consciousness monologue about names. What they mean. This seems to confuse him. He has, he says, a friend called Gilbert Davidson, and one day he said to Gilbert, Who is David? Is he your father? No, said Gilbert. Is he your grandfather? No. Then, man, you'd better look back and find out who he is. Then Prince started thinking, My name is Nelson. Who was Nel? My mother? No. My grandmother? Uh-uh. Then he thought, Maybe she's someone that I don't want to know about.

Q: I asked the band, individually, what you smell of?

"What I smell of? What'd Sonny say?"

He said you smell of music.

(Delighted smile) "That's a good answer, Sonny. That's a like, yeah, yeah, let's have the next question type answer, isn't it?

Q: And I asked them to sum you up in one word. The word one of them chase was, Wow!

(Laughs) "Who said that? No, let me guess. Was it Michael?

Q: Yes.

"That's funny. Wow. We don't normally talk about that kind of stuff."

Now he's getting excited. He has moved to a chair and is sitting with his boots - high-heeled silver stage numbers covered in mini mirrors - up on the counterpane. At one pint, whilst agreeing about something with particular enthusiasm, I grab hold of his boot. He doesn't flinch, but his toes wriggle inside. He has left behind the cautious customer of yesterhour an is freewheeling through the thoughts as they enter his head. Suddenly it strikes you. Blimey! It's just like having a chat with a normal bloke.

Q: Tell me about the opera you've written.

"I don't want to give too much away. It's just a story.

Q: What sort of story? A love story?

"Could be."

Q: Did you write the libretto?

"Yeah, (he laughs at the pretentiousness of the word) I wrote the story."

Q: Did you find opera difficult to get into?

"I don't really listen to opera."

He had spoken to Placido Domingo earlier in the evening. "He said some very beautiful things and you could sense that he had a feeling of all the power that was in the room and what it could achieve if we did something with it." While they were talking, Prince got this tune in his head that he's going to get down pretty quickly.

Q: I've been told that you're an instrument of God.

"Oh yeah, stuff's been written about that. Who said that?"

Q: Your PR.

(Laughs) "Really?"

Q: Do you seriously feel like you are a conduit for some higher power?

"No, I just practice a lot."

Q: Do you ever feel a certain telepathy exists between you and the NPG?

"Sure, musically, that happens sometimes. But we rehearse too."

He tells a long story about the making of the video for The Most Beautiful Girl In The World. They placed ads and got shedloads of letters and home videos back. They selected a cross section of women all from different backgrounds and invited them to meet Prince. He asked them what their dreams were and then to the best of his mortal abilities set about making those dreams come true. Like Jim'll fix it with "O" Levels. Then they filmed the women watching footage of their fantasies. One of the women, and he get quite emotional as he relates this, wrote to him afterwards saying that although she was overweight, he had made her feel beautiful and she would lose weight with the intention of modelling one day.

Q: Is physical beauty an overrated virtue?

"Yes. See, you understand."

Q: Did you sit on The Most Beautiful Girl In The World so Warners couldn't have it and you could release it on your own terms?

No, I didn't sit on it. I heard that I did that but I only wrote it recently."

Q: What would you have done if it had stiffed?

"If it had stiffed? (Laughs) It wouldn't have mattered. I put the record out, that was the important thing. People got to hear it."

Q: Did you feel vindicated when it was so successful?

Well, it's nice when people appreciate what you do."

We discuss the future again. He says, "That's why I wanted you to help me - and I need some help with this - because you think that anything is possible." He peels off at a tangent. "In the future," he announces, "I might be interactive. You might be able to access me and tell me what to play." It's certainly a thought. He says he's found a you drummer "who plays things you can't even think. And if he wants to do an album of drum solos, then I'm prepared to go out on tour to finance that." He reveals that he's got a blues album completed and in the can and lets out a vocal wail of anguished guitar to illustrate just how good it is. He brings up Nelson Mandela and the current situation in South Africa. Mr. Mandela, as he calls him, must have had a very clear vision of what would happen. He envies this and would like to have that gift. Something of a basketball fan, he alludes to Magic Johnson time and time again. "He wants to form his own team," he says. "How long will that take?" He looks at his non-existing watch and shoots a look to the ceiling. "Look at South Africa," he says, palms upturned. "Bosnia. You can't tell people what to do for that long." He appears to be equating racial and artistic freedom, then he has to be prepared to put up with that Mick Hucknall jazz harmonica album, which, under these terms, could easily emerge. "But would that be a bad thing?" he asks, his argument crumbling. "OK", he concedes, giggling. "I guess you wouldn't have to listen to everything."

Q: Won't people say, It's all very well Prince banging on about artistic freedom when we've got bill to pay and mundane reality to cope with? Aren't you speaking from a privileged position?

"If you're shackled and restricted, it doesn't matter how much money you got. Money don't help. And I've got bills to pay. People at Paisley (Park), they're like my family, I have responsibility towards them."

Q: Would you like to have children?

"That's something I haven't thought about."

Q: You've been thinking about the future so much and you haven't considered children?

"No, but I'd like to contribute to the future generation."

He's tearing up and down the room now, having talked for almost an hour and a half. His voice has become excited and slipped up a key. Not suite Kiss standards but getting there. Now and then, he slips into black slang. He even belches once, very gently but it's a belch nonetheless. It's like the Queen farting and lighting it. He enthuses about his new songs, Now and Days Of Wild. "What the fuck is that all about?" he asks, shimming around the bed with one arm stiff behind his back, rapping the opening lines, which involve copious use of the Oedipal compound noun. He raves about the genius of George Clinton, froths about his Smell My Finger album and is plainly in awe of his talents. "George is the funk," he explains breathlessly. He speaks about purity in music. "Rock N' Roll, man", he says, "was so much better when people were hungry. It was better when you didn't automatically make money. When James (Brown) was putting out an album every four months, that was the stuff."

It's getting on for 2am now and we have one final bash at distilling what he really wants to convey. Before that, he asks about magazine editorial practice and is stimulated by the fact that an article can go from writer to reader virtually untampered with. He speculates about producing music that you would listen to as you read this article. "That would be great, wouldn't it? And although I am an artist without a contract, that's just the sort of thing I can't do."

He recaps one last time: artistic freedom for everyone with fearlessness and limitlessness well of the fore; love and care to be liberally distributed and accepted; peace to reign; dolphins to leap; choirs of children to sing and, um, George Michael to write that ballet.

"So," he says spinning on his spangly heels. "Are we gonna party?" He dances towards the door, flicks a final seductive glance over his shoulder and sashays out. Funny little fucker.
End

For your every post I thank you so much. For this interview, I wish you love, I wish you heaven...

aaroncanderson said:

OldFriends4Sale said:

For your every post

I thank you so much.

For this interview,

I wish you love,

I wish you heaven...

what in the Gold experience can match that
thank U

OldFriends4Sale said:

purplemajesty23 said:

OldFriends4Sale said:

wow! This picture is just perfect!

the angelic and cherubic images with the shadows are perfect in this picture

2.12.1994 @ Paisley Park

1.) Interactive
2.) Days of Wild
3.) Now
4.) the Ride
5.) the Jam
6.) I Believe In You
7.) Shhh
8.) What I Say
9.) Peak the Technique
10.) None Of Your Business

4.30.1994 @ the NPG Store in London

WE MARCH

- all vocals and instruments, except where noted

Nona Gaye - co-lead vocals

Sonny T. - co-lead vocals

Kirk Johnson - drum programming

Ricky Peterson - additional keyboards (as "Ricky P.")

5.4.1994 @ the Monaco World Music Awards

1.) the Most Beautiful Girl In the World

May 4.1994

Afterparty. Monaco

Scotsman1999 said:

That Q interview was incredibly vague to the point of being...well, pointless. Prince didn't say anything seriously and just seemed to want to play with words. I'd have been so frustrated as an interviewer. This did nothing to ingratiate himself with the neutrals who thought he was weird and unapproachable.

Yeah

I think that is what he was going for

World Music Awards 1994 Monte Carlo

5.5.1994 @ Le Batacian in Paris, France
1.) Gold
2.) the Jam
3.) I Believe In You
4.) Interactive
5.) Days of Wild
6.) Now
7.) the Ride
8.) Acknowledge Me

9.) Dark
10. Instrumental
11.) Solo
12.) Race
13.) Peach

14.) drum solo*

OldFriends4Sale said:

World Music Awards 1994 Monte Carlo

Bizarrely I remember going to a Leicester City football (soccer) reserve (2nd team) match around this period and there was an advert for TMBGITW. I was gob smacked on two fronts, one that there was some actual promotion for a TAFKAP single and secondly that it appeared in a football programme for a second-string reserve team of an middle England soccer team.

I've got a copy somewhere in my collection, I'll dig it out and share it

gripper28 said:

Bizarrely I remember going to a Leicester City football (soccer) reserve (2nd team) match around this period and there was an advert for TMBGITW. I was gob smacked on two fronts, one that there was some actual promotion for a TAFKAP single and secondly that it appeared in a football programme for a second-string reserve team of an middle England soccer team.

I've got a copy somewhere in my collection, I'll dig it out and share it

That is bizarre - someone going to watch Leicester reserves

Maybe P was a secret Muzzy Izzet fan.

iZsaZsa said:

OldFriends4Sale said:

World Music Awards 1994 Monte Carlo [img:$uid]http://images6.fanpop.com/image/photos/33800000/-Prince-prince-33881282-200-200.jpg[/img:$uid]

Who is he turning to ashes?

that is a stare of death

THE SUNDAYS SHOW EXCLUSIVE INTERVIEW W THE ARTIST FORMERLY KNOWN AS PRINCE

BY MODEL VERONICA WEBB

P = The Artist Formerly Known As Prince

Veronica Webb: I'm here with the New Power Generation and the artist formerly known as Prince is a member of the band. He's agreed to his first TV interview in over a decade, but he's refused to answer any questions. Now what's the reason to give an interview and not speak?

[P Holds up newspaper]

Veronica Webb: "Prince is dead - Long live rock's tiny sex symbol". So Prince has nothing to say, and the Artist FKA Prince is forever in silence which I suppose is golden. But don't you think you're blowing your chance for people to understand what your case is, why you won't speak?

[P whispers to Mayte]

Mayte: He never blows chances.

Veronica Webb: Well, there you go. That's incredible confidence, but how do you expect people to be sympathetic to what's going on with you if they can't understand your situation?

Mayte: Next question.

Veronica Webb: OK, by the way this is Mayte -- do you want to introduce yourself and tell people about your official role in the New Power Generation?

Mayte: My name is Mayte, and I'm the dancer of the NPG, wait...

[P Points to something]

Veronica Webb: I'm looking at Mayte's new video. How do the rest of you feel? You're serious musicians and now suddenly you're the major eccentric pop star situation where you're getting into like weird behavours and stuff that people question?

Unknown male: [Moans] Well, you know in the immortal words of a former friend of ours, It's Rock 'n Roll, baby, it's Rock 'n Roll.

Michael: It's Rock 'n Roll

Sonny: It's funk

Veronica Webb: And does it make you funkier to be eccentric?

Morris: Well, you know I think that the key is that we strive to be a bit different than the run of the mill or the norm, and so if that means eccentric, then so be it, but you know I just wanna groove.

Mayte: True.

Veronica Webb: What was that?

Mayte: True.

[P Points to video.]

Veronica Webb: What's this video called?

Mayte: "If I Love U 2night"

Veronica Webb: Now is this your singing debut? You were on the pulp.

Mayte: Yeah, I was on the pulp.

Veronica Webb: What else?

Mayte: What else...different songs, but this is my first solo debut song.

Veronica Webb: Is it a single or is it an album?

Mayte: It's a single, but soon to be an album. I'm working on this right now.

Veronica Webb: How long before we get your album?

Mayte: Very soon.

Veronica Webb: So, rumour has it you're going to tour until 1999.

Morris: Woooo!

Mayte: Yes.

Veronica Webb: What was that "woooo" about, Morris?

Morris: Well, you know, baby needs some new shoes.

[Laughter]

Veronica Webb: Well, how do you feel about not returning to America until almost the next century?

Michael: Well, how do they feel about me not returning to the states?

Veronica Webb: Well, are you punishing America?

Sonny: Are you punishing yourself?

Veronica Webb: What do you think? Are you punishing America?

[P whispers to Mayte]

Mayte: What's America?

Veronica Webb: The United States of America, where Minneapolis is placed and where we grew up.

[P whispers to Mayte]

Mayte: I know Minneapolis.

Veronica Webb: I know you know Minneapolis, but are you staying away from America because of your record company?

[whisper]

Mayte: Yes.

[Break for music to be turned off. P whispers to Veronica.]

Veronica Webb: But wait, let's go back to this America boycott thing. I mean, 1999. You're not going to tour America till 1999?

Mayte: America's been good to us, we just can't release our music until 1999.

Veronica Webb: But yet you have The Gold Experience, you have Exodus, you have a lot of stuff coming out.

Sonny: Yet we got the, you know, we got the you know...

Morris: Show 'em the bomb the world you Sonny, show 'em the bomb that would be the bomb.

Veronica Webb: Now what is Exodus about? Is Exodus about...

Morris: Hey, don't drop the bomb...

Veronica Webb: Where are you getting out of though -- where's the Exodus from?

Mayte: Well, you know, the Exodus you can look at in a lot of different ways. It's an exit from a lot of things, an exit from a way of thinking and a way of doing things to do something new. To do something other so, you know, we've taken off on this Exodus stuff and we're gonna make a mark out here and do some different things.

Veronica Webb: Don't delude your own press, but isn't Exodus also about the future of the record industry?

Tommy: Excuse me, I'm deaf.

Veronica Webb: Oh, you are. This is actually Tommy, but Tommy, and Exodus is it also about the future of the recording industry?

Tommy: It could be.

Veronica Webb: It could be?

Tommy: It very well could be.

Veronica Webb: What do you say, Morris?

Morris: Times are a'changing and you know I think people have to start understanding that as things progress, things, situations have to change, that's the natural progression of life. As things change, then you either change or you're left behind.

PRINCE: Ain't that right!

Veronica Webb: Oh my God, I missed that! I didn't have the mic over there. I blew my chance, but what do you think? How do you want the music industry to change? I mean, does this have to do with music should be free, is that about the way it's played or the way it's paid for? Cause you say that on stage music should be free for all.

Morris: Is that y'all a quote?

Veronica Webb: Yes.

Mayte: Just one thing -- you know -- make sure.

Veronica Webb: What does that mean?

Mayte: [P is nodding] Well, I mean it just basically means the way we look at music, is what's from the heart, or reached the heart, you know, and it just seems to be a lot of things in between each heart there's a lot of bureaucracy, and we understand that this is the way it's been, but you know the Exodus is about, you know, a lot of that stuff's gotta change, because you know we have to be able to give the music to the people -- the people are basically the ones and technology being the way it is, it's a new day today.

Veronica Webb: But, how do you see giving music to the people? You know this is a little cryptic, you know, I'm having trouble understanding. I'm not trying to make anyone uncomfortable, but...

Morris: Well, you get to the people, so if you get to the people you bring the music.

Veronica Webb: Are you going door to door? I mean...

Morris: Yes, we gonna start that Monday.

Mayte: By forcing, we get what we want.

Veronica Webb: Well, what is that you want?

Mayte: The music, it's free, they get to listen to it.

Veronica Webb: I don't understand what that means. I mean, people still have to buy tickets, what do you mean it's free?

Sonny: In the infamous words of George Clinton, Free Your Mind and your ass will follow.

Veronica Webb: But this is still too cryptic. I really want to get to the heart of this. I mean you know people think that the NPG and the other members of the band here are into because they can't understand the costumes, they can't understand the antics, and now they can't understand why the music should be free. Somebody explain this to me.

Michael: They don't think we're nuts?

Mayte: Everything you need to know is right here.

Veronica Webb: So are these the lyrics or are these the liner notes?

Morris: That is great isn't it?

Mayte: They are the map to his house.

Veronica Webb: A map to his house! Alright, well who wants to help me navigate this a little bit?

Tommy: That's the Milky Way Galaxy.

Veronica Webb: Down here on the right. Now this is the cover for Exodus?

Morris: This would be a lunar eclipse over here.

Veronica Webb: Let me hold this so they can see the map a little better. So, Sonny's house is on the moon, there's a lunar eclipse... What other clues are there? I see a lot of mystery.

Unknown male: There's the moon.

Veronica Webb: Is that Aaron? Who's that, you?

[P points to himself]

Veronica Webb: Wait, no...No, that's Sonny.

[laughter]

Morris: This is Ant B3?

Mayte: That's Tommy.

Veronica Webb: Who's Ant B3?

Mayte: That's the B3, the Plexi-glass Wonder.

Veronica Webb: Oh, that's your instrument. Don't you think that this is a little bit distracting? All these cryptic notes, name changes? Is it that you're trying to tell people? I really want to get this out.

Morris: We want to come to the people with a concept basically that's about having fun. That music is about having fun. We're getting out there. We want everyone to get into music. real music - like you know we play. So that's the strength of what we do. We play, we know our instrument, and so we utilise that ability [P is drumming] and computers are cool. I use one to do my accounting with. So they're really cool. We pick up an instrument and then it's time to go, and so this album represents that, it represents, you know, people sitting down with an instrument and putting something together, you know, that's about what we do. I mean, it's about what we do. I mean it's just us, what we wanna bring.

Veronica Webb: What happens after Exodus? D'you wanna talk about that a little bit, 'cause it seems like Act 3. What d'you say?

[Sonny whistles]

Veronica Webb: Good to know.

[P whispers to Veronica]

Veronica Webb: I'm told that Exodus never ends. Now, you seem to be fighting for freedom. What is it exactly that you want to be free from when you're talking about your record company? Is there something that you want to own? Is there something that you want to edit? Is there something that you want to say? [silence] Maybe Mayte could tell me what. Maybe Michael could tell me what. Maybe Sonny could tell me what. Maybe Morris could tell me what. [silence] Do you wanna own your own masters, no?

[P waves his arms around]

Veronica Webb: Get rid of that!

[Ian Stewart in background asks question about record company. Is there a dispute there?]

Veronica Webb: Do you want to go into that or not? Maybe you just like to sit there and avoid that question?

[Someone speaks. Unintelligible.]

Veronica Webb: That's right. Well, we have to ask all these questions. So, the press keeps talking about the dispute with your record company. Is there a dispute there?

[P wiggles his hand]

Veronica Webb: I mean seems that's what's driven you out of America, that's what's made you change your name to an unpronounceable symbol?

Mayte: He changed his name because his spirit told him to.

Veronica Webb: A spirit?

Mike: His spirit.

Veronica Webb: And do you feel free now you can't be addressed?

[P symbols "a little bit."]

Veronica Webb: A little bit? I mean, Michael. Is he a normal guy? that's what people are saying at home right now. Saying, is he a normal guy?

[P stands up]

Michael: Veronica, normal is a relative term, sweetheart.

Veronica Webb: Or does he rule the band with an iron fist and you all live in fear of being fired.

Maurice: Yes, let me tell you.

Veronica Webb: He work for who?

Michael: Us.

Veronica Webb: What happens if you slip up and you call him by his old name. Is there a fine?

Michael: Well, I'm getting my windshield replaced, right now.

Veronica Webb: That you had a brick thrown through your windshield by the artist formally known as Prince for calling him that now.

Maurice: And it's getting fixed right now. The windshield is coming on.

Veronica Webb: Well, have you gone broke from name violations yet?

Maurice: But do you know if he's always around you? You don't never have to call him.

Mayte: True.

Veronica Webb: What you say, Mayte? You had something to say a second ago. Very interesting. We'll talk about The Gold Experience.

[P coughs]

Veronica Webb: You definitely do, 'cause I mean it's very up to date with the glitter front and back.

Maurice: Look at it all that funk got it cracked up.

Veronica Webb: Now, The Gold Experience is all R&B. Am I correct?

[P shakes his head]

Veronica Webb: Aah, my stockings.

Maurice: Oh, my goodness.

Veronica Webb: I'm gonna knock you out.

[P opens CD]

Maurice: Down, girl. Give us all the pieces. Look at that funk can't even look at the funk.

Veronica Webb: Now this a map to wear.

[P opens CD book]

Veronica Webb: Now how much of this do you actually perform?

[P stretches his arms wide.]

Veronica Webb: Right, OK, so you're the whole universe, but aren't there, erm, well...

[P looks at Veronica Webb]

Veronica Webb: But are there a lot of other artists on there with you, beside the people who are seating around us today? Please speak up.

Maurice: This is it, what you see.

Sonny: What you see.

Michael: This is the whole thing from top to bottom.

Veronica Webb: This is the entire Gold Experience.

Maurice: We're sitting in it. You're soaking in it, The Gold Experience.

Veronica Webb: Is it different from other albums you've done?

Michael: Cause the difference you can't buy it.

Veronica Webb: You can't buy it.

Michael: Noooo. It's not for sale.

Veronica Webb: Will it ever come on the market?

Maurice: Only time will tell.

Veronica Webb: So, in order to have music, you have to come to the music. See now, I'm getting somewhere. I'm starting to understand.

Maurice: You see how that works. The moment it starts to absorb and starts to sit in and then the next thing you know you're starting to see things in a different light.

Michael: Yeah, you're using your whole mind, right?

Maurice: Ya see, what you American people got to do you got to use your whole mind, see that the thing right there. America people got to use their whole mind. So not only America people, but European people and everybody else got to use their whole mind then you can absorb all this music we're trying to give to you.

Veronica Webb: Are you trying to help young kids transform their whole musical experience as something new?

Michael: We actually want them to have a musical experience, we want them to stop relying on...

Veronica Webb: Sampling?

Sonny: They think fantastic voyage is a new tune.

Veronica Webb: They do Julio right.

Sonny: It's just to the point where you know it's so amazing when people come to see us play because we're playing, like in my knowledge if there's a nuclear war and there's electro-magnetic pulse and all electricity goes out and there's acoustic instruments who's going to be left to play it? Us.

Maurice: Right you are, Sonny, I couldn't have said it any better.

Michael: There lies The Gold Experience.

Maurice: But it's true. It's about kids gotta go and pick up the instruments. I know you like thinking I wanna play Nintendo, I wanna play Sega Genesis. Hey you know that's fine, play a b flat in major 7 and if you can do that speak up and do your thing.

Veronica Webb: Do you ever miss playing the old music? I Mean, cause there's 15 years of fan --

Sonny: No.

Veronica Webb: Excuse me, what was that?

Sonny: No.

Mayte: So in your job can you leave it if you want to?

Veronica Webb: Yes I can.

Mayte: You can't. Well, in the record industry you can't.

Veronica Webb: But can't you just stop performing?

Mayte: Yes, you can but...

Veronica Webb: That doesn't count as leaving it.

Mayte: Yes, it doesn't count.

Veronica Webb: What is this, The Firm?

Mayte: Yes.

[P puts his thumb up]

Maurice: Yes, well, I guess there you have it, then again you're starting to absorb the information that is put in front...

[All start doing a hand movement.]

Veronica Webb: I feel as though I'm being hypnotised I tell you I was here 2 nights ago and people were screaming for encores you had to come out 3 times for encores both nights and normally when fans are like stamping their feet and clapping their hands and screaming and whistling going crazy, they'll scream the artist name. No one called you by your former name. Now that's mind control for real. How's that happening?

[P whispers in Mayte's ear]

Mayte: They're part of the NPG.

Veronica Webb: What are the new powers of this generation exactly? Can you flame on, can you transform...

Michael: In this day and age...

Veronica Webb: Wait one second, Michael.

Mayte: We own the things we create.

Veronica Webb: So power is ownership?

[P puts his thumb up]

Michael: Power is also creativity, you have to be able to make something, first.

Veronica Webb: And what

Sonny: And for first and foremost.

Maurice: And not only that, without the project, you have nothing, so you know you got to come with something, something to put in the teel, you see.

[All start doing hand movement again]

Veronica Webb: Now how do you deal with the fact that Prince is a ghost?

Sonny: Whoop whoop whoop!

Maurice: Red alert!

Veronica Webb: What? I got a broken windshield now?

Maurice: No, again, things have to progress and you get left behind, you have to move forward or you get left behind.

[Hand movements again]

Veronica Webb: Is this a band ritual.

Maurice: No, I was a tax accountant at one time, and there was a bit of hand gestures.

Michael: And he took a lot of money.

Maurice: I worked in legal, so...

Michael: Yeah, and that belongs to me, yes and...

Maurice: That what we call the hand over fist technique exercise quite a bit.

Veronica Webb: Are there things you get to do in this band that you can't do in any other band, besides own the material?

Maurice: Yeah, play with all these guys, play period.

Michael: Play, we play.

Veronica Webb: You get to do what, Tommy?

Tommy: I get to fly.

Veronica Webb: On, on an aeroplane or on that harness?

Tommy: No, there's no harness. What harness?

Veronica Webb: Oh, you're flying for real?

Tommy: What you thought there was a harness?

Veronica Webb: Sorry, I guess it's that Peter Pan Syndrome. Nothing fake, right?

Maurice: Forgive them for what they not know, it's alright, Tommy used to work at NASA, he worked with the jet parts so you know he's bringing that experience back here, so you know he can put some use to it.

Veronica Webb: What's it like to be rehearsed by him, 'cause this man plays every instrument he's good at all of them. I know it's gotta tear you up right?

Sonny: We good too, though.

Veronica Webb: I didn't say you weren't, I asked you what it was like to be rehearsed by him.

Maurice: You get Sonny cranked up, get behind, Sonny it's OK Sonny, she didn't mean anything it's OK, alright, Sonny saying don't touch me it's alright.

Veronica Webb: No, come on, tell the truth, how grueling is it?

Maurice: Oh, course you know we all try to be perfectionists so it just so happens that he play everything so he knows everyone's part.

Michael: That's a shared concern, though we are all perfectionists, the guy on the truck who's asking me says usually when a drummer has a bunch of loops going you hear a bunch of flaming and said how do you get it like that and I said it just comes out that way 'cos that's how I hear it. I want it that way.

Veronica Webb: Sonny, how much do you all practice?

Sonny: A lot, and it's well worth it.

Veronica Webb: 2hrs, 5hrs, 10?

Sonny: Whatever is required to get to the end result of what we're trying to do.

[P whispers in Veronica Webb's ear. Veronica Webb whispers in Mike's ear]

Veronica Webb: Oh, sorry, we're having another conversation over here, no seriously, 2hrs, 5 hrs, 10 hrs, you gig all night, you play Wembley, you go into town.

Michael: Whatever it takes, Veronica, whatever it takes. We are men, we'll do it all evening if we have to, to get it right.

Maurice: And if we were women we'd do the same thing.

Veronica Webb: Yeah, that's another thing about women because I remember when the Revolution came out and Wendy and Lisa were in it and there were so prominent in the band I was like, damn!

Maurice: We'd do the same thing if we were women, it just so happened we're men so we do it now.

Veronica Webb: Excuse me Maurice, but we're in the land of Wendy and Lisa. Are you ever going to bring Wendy and Lisa back? Yeah, there from here.

[P does come back gestures]

Veronica Webb: Yes, Wendy and Lisa might come back.

Maurice: There from what.

Veronica Webb: There from what.

Maurice: I just saw them in what, I just saw them in Compton before I left LA.

Veronica Webb: Now at High School, you had a band called the Grand Central Corporation, now when you refer to the NPG you call it the Organisation. Are you trying to get back to the way you saw music when you were a kid?

Mike: Who does your hair?

Veronica Webb: Who does my hair, well I did it myself this morning.

Maurice: And it really smells good, too.

Veronica Webb: Oh, thank you.

Maurice: If you were the viewing public at home, could smell this woman's hair, you would know why she is what she is.

Veronica Webb: And what I am where I am today...

Maurice: But that's another story.

Veronica Webb: Who does your hair though, 'cause...

Maurice: I could tell you who that one is.

Veronica Webb: No, we really want to know.

[P stands up]

Veronica Webb: Yeah, I guess we should keep that a secret, 'cause really on a person hairdressers know for sure, right? [Pause] Erm, so what about singing all these sexy, sexy, sexy songs every night, since you in the band, the women like you more. Tell the truth, Michael.

Michael: To me, I got my initial thing, I gotta get that on television.

Veronica Webb: Wait, put that right up in the camera.

Michael: My one and only there it is, Valerie how ya doing, shut up.

Veronica Webb: Sonny, your sitting over here crying, what have you got to say?

Sonny: Hey, my instrument, is my women damn it.

Veronica Webb: Maurice, I know you trying to get shoes for the baby, but...

Maurice: I'm the baby. She was up on me, I'm sorry I'm touched by what's going on here. I'm seeing this. This is unrehearsed, totally unrehearsed, and I'm sorry, I'm just, this is an emotional thing for me, I'm sorry, I need a second to pull myself together and I'll be right back.

Veronica Webb: Does anyone have a tissue? Tito, do you have a tissue? So, what do you think? You gonna be doing more TV? Richard and Judy, Regis and Cathy Lee, Oprah, Barbara, you waiting for them?

[P puts his thumbs up.]

Veronica Webb: But I mean, how could you not return to America 'til 1999? Did you know that back in 1981 when you made the record?

[P shakes his head]

Veronica Webb: You had no idea?

Mayte: Everything was good back then, he was under hypnosis.

Veronica Webb: Hypnotised by...? This is getting complicated.

Mayte: Your Mum.

[P stands up]

Veronica Webb: I'm not even gonna say anything about yo' Momma, OK?, so let me tell you about yo' Momma cause it's over. You wanna know who does my hair, yo' Momma does my hair, honey and she can't work a processor comb anyway...

[A note is handed to Veronica Webb]

Maurice: Would the owner of a blue Buick please move your car, you're blocking in the kitchen. Would you please move your car, a blue Buick.

Veronica Webb: But still, keep your blue blockers on, anyway why are you giving interviews and refusing to speak, why? And don't tell me you lost your voice, 'cause I heard you say something 5 minutes ago.

Mayte: He has to sing tonight.

Veronica Webb: But couldn't you like sing your answers, I mean, I just don't understand why you won't speak.

[P mimes speaking]

Veronica Webb: Cause it's like that, and that's the way it is? Erm, and what about the mask?

Mayte: He's too ugly to look upon.

Veronica Webb: No, you gotta do better than that. You're too ugly to look upon, 'cause that is not true. You get out there, and shake your thing every night.

Mayte: That's to cover up for his ugliness.

Veronica Webb: What ugliness, though, I mean?

Maurice: You're not ugly.

Veronica Webb: You not, little baby. You give people so much love and fantasy and don't understand how you could think you're ugly, that's nuts in the nicest possible way. What did you say?

Maurice: He's just modest.

[Whispers in Veronica Webb's ear]

Veronica Webb: You do, I don't think we have quite yet, there's just one last thing I wanna ask you. I mean, don't you think, I mean, you've created a whole universe of music, it's as big as what Duke Wellington was doing in his time, and I'm sure that somewhere along the line you feel as though you're not really getting your props and do you ever think that maybe if there was a sort of more mature kind of styling or you got away from eccentric behaviours that people might take you more seriously?

Mayte: Who does your hair?

Veronica Webb: I told you.

Ian Stewart: Veronica, can I just jump in -- there's a thought that I'm trying to follow this process, this logic processes, through the music as well, if you have the experience and you have the live experience, you gonna have to ask this question your own way but you have the live experience and you decide to understand that and you do want more of it the only thing more you can have is the live experience, cause there are no albums, cause the albums aren't released and therefore you run straight into a brick wall, because unless you can follow round and see every concert every night, then that's the end of the music for you, and that's why we recorded Prince in the first place, so how do you get more of the experience?

Veronica Webb: OK, so now there's The Gold Experience and there's the live experience and you can't buy the album, I'm not sure whether you can hear it on the radio, so unless you can follow the tour, how can you get more of the music?

Mayte: In 1999 we'll be free and we can sell the music directly to the consumer, and we can give it away if we want.

Veronica Webb: So, you expect your fans to stick with you and be faithful for the next 4 years of not being able to buy music?

Mayte: The ones that care about us will.

Veronica Webb: Do you ever get nervous that this could ruin your career?

Mayte: He never takes chances.

Veronica Webb: Right, who does your hair?

Mayte: Mrs Webb.

Veronica Webb: What are you doing to Mayte?

[P walks off with Mayte]

Copyright of the British Broadcasting Corporation