Bottom line: Prince is back, and he's superbad in a show that was superloud and superslick.

Staples Center, Los Angeles
Monday, March 29
By Tony Gieske


"For if everything is considered carefully," wrote Nicolo Machiavelli in "The Prince," "it will be found that something which looks like virtue, if followed, would be (the prince's) ruin; whilst something else, which looks like vice, yet followed brings him security and prosperity."

The Prince we all know followed that advice to the letter as he blasted off on his Musicology tour, his first arena tour in six years after dropping his rejection of capitalism and signing with Columbia Records. As Alicia Keys put it when he was inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame this month: "He's superbad, and he makes you feel supergood."

"Somebody take my picture," he cried after making a sensational entrance dressed in a flowing purple tailcoat and flowing white slacks like Fred Astaire used to wear. "Baby I'm a Star," he sang in that famous clear soprano.

Swooping boom cameras and burrowing TV cameramen took his picture ceaselessly as the music flooded down from a frightening array of speakers hanging from the ceiling. Streamers and confetti filled the air.

Four little gaffers in tiny seats way up there trained lights down upon runways where Prince roamed back and forth, singing about his baby and similar topics from a set list that included "When Doves Cry," "Controversy," "Kiss," 'Let's Work," "Soul Man," "Take Me With U" and "Hot Pants."

The sizable but not overflowing crowd squealed as one when the star took the stage, and they stayed on their feet until he bowed off 90 minutes or so later after an extended version of "Life O' the Party," in which numerous limber female patrons shook their booties onstage.

"Sex and the City!" exclaimed Prince as he rubbed backs with several abject ladies.

No one in the audience seemed deprived by the bloated amplification, the revenge no doubt of the poor Malaysian laborers who spent their childhoods building the countless speakers through which Prince's words indecipherably boomed.

Certainly, the men and women present waved their hands over their heads obediently when cued by Mike Phillips, who held a note forever while he walked the length of the stage concluding a passionate ballad on his alto saxophone.

"We don't believe in lip synching," Prince shouted. "This is real music." And so it was: The seemingly primitive beat grew unobtrusively more complex as the show progressed. John Blackwell (drums) and Rhonda Smith (bass) made it work in a clean-cut but sweaty way.

Greg Boyer squealed with accuracy on his trombone, and so did Candy Dulfer on her alto saxophone. Renato Neto wore a madman haircut as he handled his musically well-conceived segues on keyboards and synthesizers.

When it came Prince's turn to do his soprano Jimi Hendrix thing on his guitar, he kept it lean and mean, and a couple of times you thought you heard the ghost of Dexter Gordon whisper something in his ear.

Prince's tunes, too, lived up to their reputation for deceptive simplicity; despite much go-go repetition and cries of baby, baby, they never became boring. Deafening, yes, contrived for sure, but palatable all the same from a musical point of view.

"The party was gay," the triumphant monarch interjected as he sang "Life O' the Party." "I ain't ever had my nose done!" However, you had to wonder about the abundance and blackness of his hair.

[quote]The sizable but not overflowing crowd squealed as one when the star took the stage, and they stayed on their feet until he bowed off 90 minutes or so later after an extended version of "Life O' the Party," in which numerous limber female patrons shook their booties onstage.

I read it was not only soldout, but the largest crowd in Staples' history. What show is this person reviewing?

"The party was gay"! crackin' up at all the mis-interpretations reviewers are getting for P's lyrics!

JediMaster said:

Yeah, it's really getting bad. These people must be listening to the show while balancing plates on their heads and counting backwards from 100.