here's the link to the full article: http://www.popmatters.com...2003.shtml

and here are the Prince song mentions:

PRINCE
"1999"


The comically ominous opening line ("Don't worry, I won't hurt you…") was the first thing that grabbed your attention. But what really pulled you in was the rhythms: amidst the murk of the one-man band's synths and wah-wahs, an entrancing, undeniably funky syncopation, rapped out continuously on his trademark Linn drum machine. The percussion section anchored the song; then, the whoosh of a carnival organ -- riffing unabashedly on the Mamas and the Papas' "Monday Monday" -- lifted it off the ground. Finally, the melody line proper, delivered memorably by a lead vocal round-robin (first Jill Jones and Lisa Coleman, then Dez Dickerson, then the Artist himself), propelled the song into the cultural stratosphere, where it would linger for hours, days, years after its bang-and-whimper ending. "1999" was pretty grand conceptually, too: the apocalypse theme, a symptom of arrested development in the hands of most creative types, was more than redeemed by the exuberance of Prince's music, which rejected a dystopian future by stressing the pleasure principle over our collective death wish. In 1982, it may well have changed your life. So don't blame the song if you were revolted by its commercial renaissance four years ago: in the dystopia of mundanity that was 1999 A.D., "1999" could be little more than a painful reminder of how timid reality inevitably outstrips our boldest dreams.



PRINCE
"Little Red Corvette"


Prince playing the sexual naif. Genius. Forget "Get Off", "Cream", "Head" and even "Sister" -- when the purple wonder is the one on all fours with the glove stuck in his face, pure pop pleasure is a beautiful experience. "Little Red Corvette" captures the formerly-known artist at his playful best -- from the maintained-but-not-overdone lyric line to the slow groove of the verses to one of the better choruses written by a man who makes a living on the pop charts, the song cruises from beginning to end with no let up. Add in the layered vocals on the bridge, the always-perfect guitar fills, and you get a ride so smooth it charts amongst the best songs of its generation.



PRINCE
"When Doves Cry"


Me and Sam, a week from high school graduation, cruising to go meet some girls from Lake Oswego in his orange pickup (three on the tree, manhole-sized speakers), about to finally start our Real Lives -- and suddenly the DJ says "This is the new single from Prince" and plays the strangest and most beautiful pop single of all time. I mean, come on, it's heavy metal (that squall at the beginning, the gothic portent) and it's funk (even though the damned thing has no bass at all, just a fat drum whomp so big no bass is needed; apparently he programmed the drums IN ONE SESSION) and it's techno (what's with that growling synth voice anyway, where did that come from, can you just see the look on his face when he came up with that) and it's prog (in the album version my man is all like Rick Wakeman on the keys) and it's emo ("how can you just leave me standing alone in a world so cold") and it's pop too. Me and Sam, the chief rockers of all time, just started yelling. They played that song six more times that day. The girls brought beer.

up.