Prince, elusive, mysterious, and to a lot of western journalists, sexual, which partly is the problem with this collection of interviews; don’t let the title and subtitle fool you: this is a collection of interviews and an introduction by Hanif Abdurraqib.

From the introduction, by Abdurraqib:

Reading these interviews now is to see just how much Prince adhered to this type of negotiation. Not included here are several interviews where Prince barely offered up more than one-sentence answers, and even in the more substantial interviews this collection gathers, interviewers clearly had to work to get Prince into an actual dialogue, sometimes with wince-inducing results. In an interview for Q Magazine in 1994, when pushed on a question about why sex was such a dominant theme in his work (the interviewer insisted that “Come,” the title track of his then newest album, had to be about orgasm), Prince responds: “Is it? That’s your interpretation? Come where? Come to whom? Come for what? [laughs] That’s just the way you see it. It’s your mind.”

Prince was old-school. I love this recollection:

For a lascivious figure, he followed for much of his life (and up to a point) the strict orthodoxy of the Jehovah’s Witnesses. No alcohol or drugs; he didn’t even swear. On Twitter, Talib Kweli recounted the story about DJing gangsta rap at a party that Prince had attended. He approached Kweli to tell him: “I ain’t get dressed up to come out and hear curses.”

I also must add this, which is something:

Also mysterious was how, in one performance of “My Guitar Gently Weeps” with Tom Petty for the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame, he finished an astounding solo by throwing his guitar up into the rafters. It never came back down.

Regardless of the above, after the introduction, the interviews flow in chronological order. It’s sweet to see a magazine from Minneapolis draw this out:

Prince plays by ear. “I’ve had about two lessons, but they didn’t help much. I think you’ll always be able to do what your ear tells you, so just think how great you’d be with lessons also,” he said. “I advise anyone who wants to learn guitar to get a teacher unless they are very musically inclined. One should learn all their scales too. That is very important,” he continued.

This one’s quite sweet as well:

SCHWARTZ: Are there any records of the last few months or year that struck you as particularly exciting or special?

PRINCE: I wish there was, but I guess if there were we wouldn’t be in the slump we are in the music business.

What strikes me as one of Prince’s most lovely aspects in handling stupid, non-researched, and tabloidish questions, is how he turned them into gold. This quote is inspirational:

SCHWARTZ: How about your stage show? Like don’t you think you look a little silly to some people when you’re up there in a jockstrap?

PRINCE: Maybe to people who only read about it, but I think the people who come to see it already expect it and wanna get into that [i.e., his underpants]. I’ve gotten a lot of criticism from outsiders, but once they see the show they understand why I wear what I wear. The show’s real athletic and we run around a lot. and I have to be real comfortable. The decision was left up to me, and when I thought about what I was most comfortable in, it’s what I sleep in . . . I just can’t stand clothes.

The man went from “don’t you think you look a little silly?” to completely leaving the interviewer, as it were, in a state of undress, by stating that he doesn’t stand clothes? Again, I must state that Prince was an interview alchemist.

This, from a live TV interview, is also brilliant:

FARGNOLI: Speaking of movies, when and how did you first get the idea for Purple Rain? Did you really spend a year or so taking notes in a purple notebook, like some people have said?

PRINCE: Yes.

I also dig this quote:

PRINCE: James Brown played a big influence in my style. When I was about ten years old, my stepdad put me on stage with him, and I danced a little bit until the bodyguard took me off. The reason I liked James Brown so much is that, on my way out, I saw some of the finest dancing girls I ever seen in my life. And I think, in that respect, he influenced me by his control over his group. Another big influence was Joni Mitchell. She taught me a lot about color and sound, and to her, I’m very grateful.

As Abdurraqib writes in his introduction, it’s easy to spot the points where Prince reacts to insipid, vapid, and stupid interviewers:

DEEVOY: What happens in your life when you’re not doing music?

THE ARTIST: [Hikes, eyebrows, looks incredulous] When I’m not doing music?

DEEVOY: Do you have a life outside of your work?

THE ARTIST: Yes.

DEEVOY: And what does that involve?

THE ARTIST: [Pinteresque pause] Have you never read about me? I’m a very private person.

DEEVOY: I’m not prying, I’m just interested.

THE ARTIST: I know. I understand.

His words on vegetarianism are laudable; I dig the last part of the first paragraph in this quote:

Mayte cooks for us. She’s always trying new things. The wonderful thing about vegetarianism is there is no favorite dish because there is no addiction. Non-vegetarians always speak about their favorite because it usually involves something artificial or something that doesn’t belong in them. Ah, the universe keeps expanding!

Compassion is an action word with no boundaries. It is never wasted. To eat a tomato and then replant it for your nutrition as opposed to killing a cow or a pig for your meal is reducing the amount of suffering in the world. Besides, pigs are too cute to die.

Here’s another part, from the same interview as the above, that fascinates me:

CENSOR: Do you worry that fans of your music might be put off by the message of songs like “Animal Kingdom” or by the public declaration of your vegetarianism?

THE ARTIST: Fan is short for “fanatic.” I call my supporters “friends.” My friends are very forward-thinking individuals. I’m not sure how many are meat eaters but soon all will know the consequences of a barbarian lifestyle. It’s called karma! My music is dictated by the spirit. Not worrying about people’s reaction is what has sustained me. I believe.

The man was early on Internet, describing the inevitable death of record companies. Here, he speaks with some Yahoo! Internet interviewer, in 1997:

GREENMAN: Are there any sites that you think are especially good?

THE ARTIST: Love 4 One Another. I also like the news section on AOL.

GREENMAN: Are there any sites that you think are especially bad?

THE ARTIST: Bad is not a word I use unless I am describing a fine girl.

GREENMAN: Since you broke with Warner Bros., you’ve explored alternatives to traditional distribution. Do you have any plans to sell your music directly to consumers via the Net?

THE ARTIST: Yes. NPG Records will sell as well as give away a lot of new and old music over the internet in the not-toodistant future.

GREENMAN: Will record labels eventually disappear?

THE ARTIST: The writing is on the wall. Other souls were successful in their divide-and-conquer approach 4 a while. But now that we communicate with each other on a worldwide basis, the need 4 an “in4mation censor” is no longer a reality. The process of manufacturing and delivering music 2 a “friend” is not brain surgery.

Towards the later part of his life, he had an all-female band (bar himself, of course).

Prince specifically wanted a female band, seeking out members via YouTube—back in 2010, he had discovered Nielsen on MySpace. “We’re in the feminine aspect now,” he says. “That’s where society is. You’re gonna get a woman president soon. Men have gone as far as they can, right? . . . I learn from women a lot quicker than I do from men . . . At a certain point, you’re supposed to know what it means to be a man, but now what do you know about what it means to be a woman? Do you know how to listen? Most men don’t know how to listen.”

I dig some of his weird conspiracy theories thrown in:

He has thoughts on the JFK assassination (“The car slows down—why doesn’t it speed up?”); AIDS (“It’s rising in some communities, and it’s not rising in others—any primate could figure out why”); and the airplane trails known in some circles as chemtrails (“Think about where they appear, why they appear, how often and what particular times of the year”).

Regardless of how I loathe Chris Brown for his sexism, abuse of women, and homophobia, it’s still quite easy to get why Prince says the following:

He mentions a desire to mentor Chris Brown, says he invited him to Paisley Park. I note that some people think what Brown did to Rihanna was unforgivable. He’s shocked. “Unforgivable?” he says. “Goodness. That’s when we go check the master, Christ . . . Have you ever instantly forgiven somebody?” I shake my head. “It’s the best feeling in the world, and it totally dismantles that person’s whole stance.”

He talks more about mentoring and helping peers, so I wonder aloud if he thinks he could’ve forestalled Michael Jackson’s fate. “I don’t want to talk about it,” Prince says at first. “I’m too close to it.” He goes on: “He is just one of many who have gone through that door—Amy Winehouse and folks. We’re all connected, right, we’re all brothers and sisters, and the minute we lock that in, we wouldn’t let anybody in our family fall. That’s why I called Chris Brown. All of us need to be able to reach out and just fix stuff. There’s nothing that’s unforgivable.”

During his last published interview:

Nevertheless, it’s turning out to be harder to ask questions than you might think. Prince is seated at a microphone behind a keyboard, which he keeps playing. This is quite disconcerting: if he doesn’t like a question, he strikes up with the theme from The Twilight Zone and shakes his head.

Brilliant.

There’s a lot of weirdness left after the book is read, but this is—I feel—from the dregs of interviews that weren’t conducted properly. The naïvité of the first interview is just sweet, but the most sensationalistic stuff…I gather that Prince graciously put up with that to get through the day.

I’ll leave you with a part from the very last interview, that wraps things up fairly lovely:

Last night, he says, he sat here alone, after everyone else had gone home, and played and sang for three hours straight. “I just couldn’t stop,” he says. He’d got “in the zone . . . like an out-of-body experience”: it felt like he was sitting in the audience watching himself. “That’s what you want. Transcendence. When that happens”—he shakes his head—“Oh, boy.”

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