I thought that I'd share with this group the message that I'm sending to friends when they ask me about my time in MPLS. I think it will resonate with those who attended and even those who didn't.

I returned last night from some PTO in Minneapolis. My wife and I (and thousands of people from every continent on the globe) descended on the twin cities to do “all things Prince.” It was a pleasure trip and a wake of sorts, all at the same time. The official tribute concert was epic. 5.5 hours of amazing performers (Chaka and Stevie among them) performing all of Prince’s hits. While that show was good, there was clearly a giant hole right in the middle of the stage where my hero was supposed to be standing. After a while, it started to feel like Prince Karaoke. It was good, great even, but unsatisfying. And sorta sad.

The tour of Paisley Park was humbling. All of what you’d expect. Platinum plaques, purple carpet, costumes, recording studios, actual doves in cages. Wait… Am I actually standing inside of Prince’s recording studio?! This can’t be real. The takeaway for me was this… Just when you start to be proud of your achievements in life, you are reminded while standing in this impressive 65,000 square foot compound that many have achieved far more, with far less. This little guy literally changed our culture. And he’s Black. And he’s from Minneapolis, not the musical hotbeds of Detroit or Ohio. However, this was also unsatisfying because, while we’re walking around his house, he no longer lives there.

But it was what happened after the tribute concert that was made the entire trip worth it. We got word of a last minute “after concert” at the legendary First Avenue dance club. This is the club where all of the Purple Rain movie performance scenes were shot, the club that gave Prince his first platform and the real birthplace of the so-called “Minneapolis Sound.” For me, this place is like a church for the Prince faithful. We get to this mythical place and the DJ is spinning nothing but Prince, album cover art projected on the walls, purple lights and about 300 middle-aged people hoping to feel better about the reason that we’re all in Minneapolis.

At 1am, the curtain goes up and Morris Day & The Time destroyed the stage. Here I am with my wife and it all happened right in front of my face. Morris in the canary yellow pimp suit. Jerome (some other guy, actually) holding the mirror so that Morris could check his hair. All of the dance moves. Every song. Every memory that has been burned into my brain. And suddenly, it was 1984. And I was a 14 year old kid. This was my adolescence.

It is not often that a time machine actually works. Whenever I’ve tried before (e.g. HS reunion), I’m always left feeling disappointed because nothing is ever as good as I remember it. But not this time. We screamed along with every lyric at the top of our lungs. We danced and were transported back to a much simpler time. It was exactly what I needed.

I am the luckiest guy that I know. Not many people at 46 years old have the opportunity to indulge their adolescent fantasy. But I did it. I feel privileged to have lived through that era. And I feel so grateful to have had the opportunity to re-live it, even if just for a moment. Sometimes, you just need a little “Jungle Love” to make you feel better about the end of the Purple Rain.

#Grateful

^ BEAUTIFUL Diddle..

THank you...

Gratitude is one of those things that never goes astray...

F'n LOVE this.

wrong forum..but well said nonetheless

CDinwiddie said:

Great post and thank you for sharing. Happy to hear you had a good time.

CDinwiddie said:

I thought that I'd share with this group the message that I'm sending to friends when they ask me about my time in MPLS. I think it will resonate with those who attended and even those who didn't.

I returned last night from some PTO in Minneapolis. My wife and I (and thousands of people from every continent on the globe) descended on the twin cities to do “all things Prince.” It was a pleasure trip and a wake of sorts, all at the same time. The official tribute concert was epic. 5.5 hours of amazing performers (Chaka and Stevie among them) performing all of Prince’s hits. While that show was good, there was clearly a giant hole right in the middle of the stage where my hero was supposed to be standing. After a while, it started to feel like Prince Karaoke. It was good, great even, but unsatisfying. And sorta sad.

The tour of Paisley Park was humbling. All of what you’d expect. Platinum plaques, purple carpet, costumes, recording studios, actual doves in cages. Wait… Am I actually standing inside of Prince’s recording studio?! This can’t be real. The takeaway for me was this… Just when you start to be proud of your achievements in life, you are reminded while standing in this impressive 65,000 square foot compound that many have achieved far more, with far less. This little guy literally changed our culture. And he’s Black. And he’s from Minneapolis, not the musical hotbeds of Detroit or Ohio. However, this was also unsatisfying because, while we’re walking around his house, he no longer lives there.

But it was what happened after the tribute concert that was made the entire trip worth it. We got word of a last minute “after concert” at the legendary First Avenue dance club. This is the club where all of the Purple Rain movie performance scenes were shot, the club that gave Prince his first platform and the real birthplace of the so-called “Minneapolis Sound.” For me, this place is like a church for the Prince faithful. We get to this mythical place and the DJ is spinning nothing but Prince, album cover art projected on the walls, purple lights and about 300 middle-aged people hoping to feel better about the reason that we’re all in Minneapolis.

At 1am, the curtain goes up and Morris Day & The Time destroyed the stage. Here I am with my wife and it all happened right in front of my face. Morris in the canary yellow pimp suit. Jerome (some other guy, actually) holding the mirror so that Morris could check his hair. All of the dance moves. Every song. Every memory that has been burned into my brain. And suddenly, it was 1984. And I was a 14 year old kid. This was my adolescence.

It is not often that a time machine actually works. Whenever I’ve tried before (e.g. HS reunion), I’m always left feeling disappointed because nothing is ever as good as I remember it. But not this time. We screamed along with every lyric at the top of our lungs. We danced and were transported back to a much simpler time. It was exactly what I needed.

I am the luckiest guy that I know. Not many people at 46 years old have the opportunity to indulge their adolescent fantasy. But I did it. I feel privileged to have lived through that era. And I feel so grateful to have had the opportunity to re-live it, even if just for a moment. Sometimes, you just need a little “Jungle Love” to make you feel better about the end of the Purple Rain.

#Grateful

I felt the same way about the concert-good but not satisfying.