Personal essays
Not laughing in the Purple Rain
Prince
Prince’s song “Purple Rain” is forty years old.
I have many strong memories of the song. One was during my time working mornings at WDMT in Cleveland at the time. I’d play the song as the sun came up and walk outside the studio, out through the front doors of the building, and watch the sunrise as the song played.
We played the full eight minute version and watching the orange and pinks in the sky give way to the blue of the new day gave me a peace that I remember four decades later.
I head back into the studio and prepare the stack of commercials for the break after the song.
I put my headphones on and check that the mic is off before singing along, “Purple Rain, Purple Rain.”
My second memory is of the halftime show at Super Bowl XLI. Yes, I feel a little stupid using roman numerals for the Super owl but no one just says 41.
Seventeen years ago, it’s pouring down rain. There’s thunder and lightning. The stage is wet. Prince’s backup singers are wearing stiletto heels.
Prince is playing his ass off while nature provides the best stage effects ever. Better than flame, fireworks, or drones.
He’s singing “I only want to see you laughing in the purple rain” and it’s pouring.
The song’s been a hit for more than twenty years at that point and I’ve never stopped to think about what Purple Rain means.
In fact, I never considered it until today.
Club Style
Forty years ago I moved from working weekends and filling in as host of the morning show on WDMT, to doing news on the show when the permanent host, Matt Morgan, was hired, to taking over the seven to midnight show when that opened up.
Actually, his name wasn’t Matt Morgan.
Then again, my name wasn’t Mac Johnson or Fudge for that matter - but I worked under both names because that’s what we did in Urban Contemporary Radio in the 80’s.
Anyway, evenings featured a block where we invited in club DJs and street DJs and let them mix for two one-hour segments. I don’t remember whether this was every night but Sunday or just Friday and Saturday but this was what we called “Club Style.”
It was a cool idea started by Dean Rufus and meant that we played songs and club remixes of songs that weren’t on the air otherwise.
Actually, his name wasn’t Dean Rufus.
Though that was closer to his real name than Matt was to his or Mac was to mine.
His Club Style show made some of us chant a variant of what you’d hear in clubs.
We’d say, “Dean Rufus. Dean Rufus. Dean Rufus on fire.”
If that reminds you of the 80’s, you’ve no doubt completed that chant. If it doesn’t, no matter. On we go.
In a big way, Club Style was a reminder that we were really “Air Personalities” and not “Disk Jockeys”. We weren’t spinning records and we certainly weren’t matching beats and mixing them together.
DJ Deisel
Ten days ago, following the Guardians game I wrote about last week, the self-described “biggest DJ in the world” took the stage to play an after-game concert for the crowd.
By “biggest DJ”, they don’t mean most popular or best - they mean that Shaq, who is DJ Diesel, is a large man.
In fact, he was an awful DJ and the crowd loved him and every thing he did.
There was no mixing, no beat-matching, no smooth transitions. Whenever he turned on the mic - which was often - he turned the music low or off.
It didn’t matter. He was a big, lovable host. He was Traffic’s “Mr. Fantasy” who would “play us a tune, something to make us all happy.”
His music choice was good - the crowd was with him all the way. A couple hundred fans stood on the infield dirt and danced and cheered throughout his performance.
Somehow that made me enjoy the performance even more. It was like enjoying a comedy more because it was filmed in front of a live audience. Their enjoyment fed my enjoyment.
Throughout the performance, there were security and handlers who brought people up to have their pictures taken with Shaq. He never seemed to rush them along. Every once in a while someone would look at the camera and hand it back to someone to take another one. Shaq seemed to have endless energy and patience.
He knew the audience he was there to serve and he knew how to serve them.
They didn’t care if his mixes were good or bad - they were there for him.
He pandered. It was shameless. He told the crowd in Cleveland that their team was going to the World Series.
That’s the 2024 World Series. We use the year and not a roman numeral to mark them.
He no doubt said the same thing this week when he was in Philadelphia. Then again, these are the top teams in their respective leagues halfway through the season. They both could go to the World Series.
He told Cleveland their team was going and the crowd roared.
Then, of course, he played Journey’s “Don’t Stop Believing.” This time when he cut the mic - the crowd sang.
He told the crowd that if Cleveland made the World Series he would come back again and play another set.
The crowd roared.
He added, “for free.” The crowd roared again.
Purple Rain
I’ve been fighting to keep this essay light.
It’s been an awful week. Not awful as in Shaq didn’t mix the music well, awful as in I’m having trouble keeping a thought in my head.
With every Supreme Court opinion I think thoughts more eloquently expressed by Justice Sotomayor who wrote, “With fear for our democracy, I dissent.”
Much has been made of her not “respectfully” dissenting. Oh my goodness, the restraint she showed in not calling her colleagues a big back of –
Perhaps you can fill that one in too.
Meanwhile I guess we listen to Journey’s “Don’t Stop Believin”.
It was released in 1981. Two years later they released “Faithfully”.
I mention this because, according to this NME article 20 Things you didn’t know about Purple Rain, Prince had a moment where he was afraid that “Purple Rain” was too close to “Faithfully.” He called up Journey’s Jonathan Cain to ask if it was too similar.
Cain said it was fine. Prince begins the song, “I never meant to cause you any sorrow, I never meant to cause you any pain.”
The page also says that Prince wrote the song for Stevie Nicks and wanted her to write the lyrics.
She didn’t and it became Purple Rain. Even with those opening lyrics it could have been a country song.
But it wasn’t. It was so much more.
So, what is this Purple Rain?
I never asked because I assumed it was part of Prince’s personna and his purple-ness.
Nope.
Prince is quoted in the article as explaining, “When there’s blood in the sky – red and blue = purple.. purple rain pertains to the end of the world.”
Damn.
With fear for our democracy, I will continue to dissent, vote, and do what I can to keep us all from ending in the purple rain.
Essay from Dim Sum Thinking Newsletter 223. Read the rest of the Newsletter or subscribe