http://www.nme.com/reviews/11629.htm

Prince : Musicology

There must have been some kind of weird astral alignment going on back in 1958. That year saw the births of not one, not two, but three certifiable American pop geniuses in the shapes of Michael Jackson, Madonna Louise Ciccione and Prince Rogers Nelson - a superhuman triumvirate who by the end of the 1980s had amassed more cultural currency and broken more new musical ground than any act since The Beatles. Yet, just as they were tied together by birth, so were they tied together by failure in the wilderness years of the 1990s - Jackson was the first to go, as child abuse allegations and their subsequent out-of-court settlements crippled his once-infallible empire. Madonna contented herself with an embarrassing movie career and an even more embarrassing conversion to full-blown Anglophile. However, it was Prince's own career implosion that was the most wilful, down to bloody-mindedness rather than dubious accusations or dubious acting.

Prince spent the 1990s on a musical journey that he found his fanbase was unwilling to undertake with him, encompassing as it did ridiculous name changes and fairly abominable records. It was a lesson in how to waste talent from arguably the most talented US pop star in decades. It's a lesson that still may not yet be over; as, according to reports, the one-time Sexy MF is now simply the Infuriating MF, spending his spare time going door to door in his native Minneapolis handing out pamphlets for the Jehovah's Witnesses.

And so the battle lines are drawn for 'Musicology', Prince's first major-label album in almost a decade, and the long-rumoured return to 'proper' pop music - you know, no symbols, no pulpit preaching, no triple-CD musical odysseys, that sort of thing. And on that level, 'Musicology' works perfectly well. It's a welcome return to the music that made him a superstar, and it's not just wishful thinking to say that 'Musicology''s better moments are worthy of a place on era-defining classics like 'Purple Rain' or 'Sign O' The Times'. Sadly, it is just wishful thinking to harbour hope that 'Musicology' could be Prince's first wholly satisfying album since his '80s heyday.

It starts off well. The James Brown-fuelled funk of the title track and the cinematic sweep of 'A Million Days' are the best things he's done in ages - the latter in particular seeming certain to yield his first actual hit in years. Bookending the dirty jamming of the brilliantly-titled 'Illusion, Coma, Pimp & Circumstance', as an opening salvo it's sexy, sassy and funky - sexier, sassier and funkier than any album by a hardline Jehovah's Witness has any right to be - and the funk-rock-soul amalgam that made him so exciting in the first place has rarely sounded so potent.

Sadly, it can't last. Though untroubled by the pretentiousness that has marred his recent releases, too often on 'Musicology' Prince reverts to formula as opposed to inverting it - the schmaltzy identikit R&B of 'Call My Name' sounds like a Boyz II Men B-side written to order by Lionel Richie. It's honestly that shit. 'Dear Mr Man''s hamfisted social commentary not only feels laboured, it's spectacularly out of sync with an album that's completely unconcerned with its themes.

Yet there's real genius at work here - from 'If Eye Was The Man In Ur Life''s inspired bling-bling piano lines, to the slow-burning, seductive 'On The Couch' (sample lyric: "I wanna go down south, baby") which serves to remind us that while there are Pygmy tribes in Africa who have a sly snigger at his height, he remains a giant of sex, with come-to-bed falsettos and the original superstar booty.

Ultimately, 'Musicology' is a kind of flawed redemption, neither inspired enough to be a true classic, nor insipid enough to make it unworthy of your attention. There are moments on here, however fleeting, that prove Prince Rogers Nelson will never lose the ability to surprise and astonish, and there are moments that likewise suggest he'll never lose the ability to frustrate and confound his audience. Nevertheless, at least one of the class of '58's most prodigal of sons has finally returned to something like form.

Barry Nicolson

Get 'Musicology' at the NME Shop
BUY!


Rating: 6

I think that's a pretty fair review. Thanks for posting it!

Interesting that NME now holds "Sign O' the Times" in such high regard considering what they said about it in 1987. Here are some excerpts:

"Apart from the title track, and two other songs, sides one and two contains some of the weakest material Prince ever committed to vinyl. Most of the songs here sound like demos, and are vapid and totally underdeveloped. As a reaction to the 80's emphasis on over-production, it's a brilliant statement. In reality, it simply doesn't work."

"'Ballad of Dorothy Parker' Weak Steely Dannish (really) soft funk that goes absolutely nowhere. One has to wonder about a mind that would want anyone to hear this."

So how is the NME review of "Musicology" supposed to have any merit. In my eyes, it doesn't.
[This message was edited Fri May 7 9:03:50 2004 by skywalker]

Case in point NME 1982 review of "1999". Thanks to Prince In Print:

New Musical Express
November 20, 1982


Flasher in the Pan

Prince
1999
(Warner Brothers)

DEAR Mixed-Up of Minnesota.

Well - don't you have problems!

Being the sole son and heir of Barry White and Jimi Hendrix is no easy burden for a young boy to bear, but when the only people who like you are the people who get their records free... Well, then comes the hour when the record company, in one last mad gasp of magpie marketing, puts out the "Specially-Priced Two Record Set" and almost audibly screams "Come and buy it, you bastards! It may stink, but at least it's free!"

You saw, you conquered, you came; that used to be your preoccupation, Prince, you pup! You were the Reeperbahn of rock; but now as you and your countrymen sit and contemplate your cold stores in the U.S.A.H (After Herpes) I detect a more chaste worldview, full of partying and vague romantic sadness rather than blow by blow cornporn. Yet even this can have its complications; you use partying, like many of your nasty nationality, as a carwash for the brain, having fun to hide from fear, most graphically in the title track. The end of the world, don't worry your pretty little head about it, Prince, leave the social comment to Grandmaster Flash and revel in your role of pretty boy's pin-up!

I also notice that you have one song, "Little Red Corvette", which implies that you want the world to know that you are a regular guy and not just a sex freak, a regular guy pace Noble, New Jersey, who always fall back on singing love songs to lumps of metal when he wants to show that he is as capable of having fun as the next guy; though falling in love with a lump of metal is a rather recherche way of having fun, I would venture, and far from normal!

I still remember your first communique, "I Wanna Be Your Lover", with som affection. You were the carnal castrati incarnate, there was a gurgling, glorious exuberance about you, all those sweet soaring runs and that nifty backcombed backchat, you were out of the closet and in your element, being just what you always wanted to be..... a girl group! But now your songs sound like an interminable string of Fame B-sides, and considering how Fame A-sides sound, that's some insult.

There is an ancient Leninist dictum heeded in the early days of the Russian Revolution and kept alive by many Third World freedom fighters; the One Glass of Water theory, which young revolutionaries applied to S.E.X., your very own cottage industry, in deciding that sex is of no more importance than one glass of water to a thirsty man. Well, I'm sure these baby Spartans enjoy their sparkling sustenance when they get it more than you and your countrymen have enjoyed the rather joyless orgies in which you have been partaking for the last couple of decades and albums. Your problem, Prince, is commercial post-coital triste on a cosmic scale.

The antidote? Get thee to a nunnery, or at least to Donna Summer's songwriter. Few things are such bets chartwise as a Bible-bashing black, Born Again. Sex is no manifesto, no saviour and certainly no shock. As my colleague Confucius likes to say, "Nothing sadder than a flasher who no one notices."

Thanks skywalker. Reviewers and critics are always calling Prince pretentious and self-indulgent. The funny thing is that most critical reviews are pretentious and self-indulgent (more about the critics playing with words). Talk about a kettle calling the pot black.

skywalker said:

Ok, it's official...NME has replaced Rolling Stone as THE most irrelevant musical magazine in existence.



...Prince needs to find Donna Summer's songwriter!! Oh, damn...
[This message was edited Fri May 7 10:00:01 2004 by Byron]

skywalker said:

this sounds like some of the early orger reviews of Musicology... case in point... things always look better in heinsight... its the true visionaries that can appreciate something for what it is right away... prince never let you down, you just never got it...

"...fairly abominable records" ???!!

and yo NME, nothing about musicology ever reminded me of pygmy tribes in Africa. Idiots!
but your magazine and review did remind me somehow of cheap ass single-ply teepee.

sho' some goddamm resepect fo' the greatest! damn!
[This message was edited Fri May 7 10:56:59 2004 by HiinEnkelte]

manonearth said:

Thanks for posting this Skywalker! It's amazing that in 22 years, the policy for NME reviewers to write biased, obscure and pretentious wank-juice has not changed.

the fact this review seems to think hes a mix of barry white and hendrix renders it shit straight away.

funkbabyandthebabysitters said:

really...barry white? how'd he come up with that?

Handclapsfingasnapz said:

cos he probably thinks all soul/funk musicians sound the same so cant tell the difference. he even says prince needs to contact donna summers songwriter in the last paragraph, lol. yeah, all prince needed in 82 was his 'dinner with gershwin'.

the review is quite a fun read I think. Some remarks are just plain dumb (reducing Prince's 90s output to "a musical journey that he found his fanbase was unwilling to undertake with him, encompassing as it did ridiculous name changes and fairly abominable records" and the Boyz II Men comparison), but overall it's not that negative. And he does show some respect for Prince, even stating there's quite some genius on this record! The only songs he doesn't like are Dear Mr Man and Call my name. (so why only a 6 then..?)

Call my name and Dear Mr Man are some of the best tracks on the album was the guy deaf?

The 1999 review is by Julie Burchill, isn't it? She was famously pro-punk in the 70s and went on to make quite a name for herself as a writer/columist, and now writes for the Times (ironically?). She basically burned with rage at Thatcher's Britain. Put it this way - NME was virtually "anarchist" in its politics. Prince, male rightish (?) pornographer [and American to boot! ed.], was the class enemy. Amazingly NME came round, once they/it saw the Parade tour. For a great Prince bashing article, search out Barney Hoyskns (sp?) piece for NME in 1983. Absolute classic!
[This message was edited Fri May 7 19:19:26 2004 by narcotizedmind]

I fucken HATE NME. It's a shit-rag.

Call My Name is one of the best tracks and as for his 90s output being bad, they obviously haven't listened.

Fuck em.

Musicology is great.

This just goes 2 show u y Prince does'nt respect most critics!

mrdespues said:

He’s too hard on “Call my Name” but I think the general sentiment of the review is dead

on it.