The Swiper returns
JuvenileHi
Playing God
The Artist gives a divine performance while saying to hell with the music
industry
By Mr. P-body
Don’t utter his name in vain. The Artist--or whatever he chooses to call
himself--is once again part of a revolution. The Minneapolitan maestro has
moved into a brave new world, and he sends a message: For fans, The Artist
still wants to party until 1999 with his new concert tour. For the people, he
pronounces peace and equality along with love and education for children. For
himself, he brandishes freedom by defying the established music industry.
By now, the former Prince has established an unmatchable reputation as a
control freak, so his pulling the plug on the life-supporting industry machine
should come as no surprise. He’s been described as “rebellious,”
“unpredictable” and “arrogant,” and these terms are probably as familiar as
the symbol that represents his name.
But The Artist has merely committed a sort of entrepreneurial euthanasia--a
longtime suffering put to an end. As a teenage Prince, he signed with
major-label giant Warner Bros., back in 1978. During the course of 18 years
and 23 releases, the singer-songwriter became increasingly unhappy with the
label. Trapped by contractual agreements, The Artist made his statement by
painting the word “slave” on his face. He left it there for all to see and
continued to perform more or less as a pawn until the contract terms were
complete.
Moving on to EMI Records, he wished to establish a joint venture with a major
and his own label, NPG (New Power Generation). Seemingly unrestrained for the
first time in years, he released Emancipation, a three-hour, three-CD set.
With a much more lucrative deal penned, the ex-Prince is enjoying royalties
that surpass earnings from Purple Rain.
The Artist’s stairway to heaven became an escalator when EMI folded earlier
this year. Now, with the powers that be out of the way, the Godfather is truly
the ruler of his own destiny.
He plans to sell future releases solely on the Internet. Through his toll-free
number and Web site, fans can place orders for the upcoming four-disc set
titled Crystal Ball. The collection will contain underground and bootleg
classics. The $50 set is packaged in an actual crystal ball, a Plexiglas case,
but won’t be manufactured until 100,000 preorders are received. The Artist,
like the Men in Black, will make you forget what you don’t need to remember.
Basically, he has decided that his success will not be defined by charts, award
shows or platinum sales. Taking in $50 on each sale, he figures, “I don’t need
2 go platinum; at the bank, I’m platinum at 50,000 copies.”
Of course, the career risks are great. Without a traditional music-industry
publicity campaign behind him, his new recordings could easily slip under the
radar screen of the masses. On the other hand, if The Artist does indeed
triumph, he will be the Moses of music marketing--a savior parting the red
tape who will lead musicians to freedom.
In an interview conducted online, he declared, “Being unsigned 2 a major label
is the most rewarding, least constricting way of life I’ve led in 20 years.
Everything I do now is on the spur of the moment, which allows me freedom 2
better follow my own divine design.”
Well, you can question all you want how “divine” this man’s design is. Fact is,
The Artist is a star--self-proclaimed, and echoed by everyone within his
orbit. He loves the limelight, and he’s got it so licked, it will never sour.
This pintsize visionary hearkened to the millennium and has sustained his own
career long enough to actually escort us into it. Sure, we remember the Batman
soundtrack, butt-out yellow trousers and a few recent studio shortcomings.
But, so what? Besides, have you seen his show? If not, let it be known that
The Artist, like the Men in Black, will make you forget what you don’t need to
remember.
When it gets down to it, nobody really cares about his few missteps or later
releases that have fallen from grace. The Artist’s two-hour set on October 25
at Desert Sky Pavilion captivated every audience member. All types, colors,
incomes and preferences; this mixed crowd came to party. Fans were asked if
they knew the titles of some of the newer material. They did not and did not
care--happy to resume their dancing with mouths agape.
And the gods smiled. Well, at least The Artist did. Probably because Desert Sky
was bursting at the seams and spilled many people into the lawn areas. Even
those “seats” were $35, while those seated closer to the phenomenon dropped as
much as $65 into the collection plate.
The night’s warm-up act was Larry Graham and his Graham Central Station. They
tried to take everyone higher with their “Proud Mary” routines, but for many
it was a time for rest-room visits and refreshments.
About 9:30, the lights went out, and an automated woman’s voice announced the
beginning of the “Jam of the Year.” The ominous intro music began, and
everyone stood as a giant “symbol” was raised for the stage backdrop. Then,
the infamous guitar lick from “Kiss” was heard, but that was all; it was just
a tease. Likewise, a lick from “When Doves Cry” played momentarily. First
onstage was the New Power Generation, and the band kicked into “Jam of the
Year,” a track from Emancipation.
Finally, from deep center stage, a trademark falsetto scream pierced the Desert
Sky, and the crowd went crazy. On a staircase, under beams of light, The
Artist came down. Dressed in red, close-knit stretch pants and a red jacket
with white furred edges, he looked like a pimped-out Santa Claus.
Within the first minute, he stood atop his piano, shook his ass at the crowd
and outdanced a choreographer’s convention. Spinning like a top, with
effortless James Brown splits, he motioned to the crowd with his hands pushing
up above his head. “Raise the roof up!”
And he saw that it was good. Every single mortal in the audience did exactly as
he was told. A sea of hands was pushed toward the roof (lawn seats pushed to
the heavens). “Let’s Work,” he shouted as the band cut into a classic slice of
Controversy.
Everyone became a full-time employee as The Artist inspired 100 percent crowd
participation. Sitting atop a bass cabinet, he pretended to file his nails
while guitarist Mike Scott stepped to the stage’s edge with an invigorating
solo. Back at center stage, The Artist feigned the lighting, smoking and
stamping-out of a cigarette with all movements perfectly choreographed. The
band didn’t miss a beat. It musically accented his every move with perfection
just before “Let’s Work” ground to a halt.
Four songs into the set, the crowd was awarded with a purple testament. The
showman strapped on a white-and-gold, “symbol”-shaped guitar, strumming the
opening chords to “Purple Rain.” Of course, after a fantastic guitar solo from
the maestro himself, the audience swayed and sang along.
But for The Artist, cleanliness is not necessarily next to godliness. Forget
what you’ve heard, because, despite all of the new spiritualism, a dirty mind
(and mouth) are still prevalent in his show. Bathed in red light, The Artist
mopped up the stage with his sexual gyrations and gymnastics during the
metaphorical “Little Red Corvette,” the song that put him on the map to stay.
Still, he’s pure musician. He performed a wondrous piano medley, teasing out
the tunes “Darling Nikki,” “Diamonds and Pearls” and “The Beautiful Ones.” On
“Facedown,” the musician handled the bass like a hedonistic Hendrix by playing
it behind his head or with one leg wrapped over the neck.
In fact, The Artist played his four-string almost as well as NPG bassist Rhonda
Smith. She showed herself to be most accomplished in low-end theory. The
goddess played at least four separate and technically diverse solos with all
the sweetness you’d expect from a tall, voluptuous package of brown sugar.
“Do Me Baby,” another song from Controversy, began rich with instrumental solos
from the entire band, allowing The Artist a sabbatical. He returned to sing
and squeal its ultrasexy lyrics into the ear of every woman in attendance. He
continued to elevate moods with a spiritual version of Joan Osborne’s “One of
Us,” his classic “If I Was Your Girlfriend,” and climactic performances of
“Take Me With U” and “Raspberry Beret.”
After 10 minutes of encore rumbling from the crowd, NPG band members returned
to strike up the band. Once the groove was solidified, the man of the cloth
returned--this time dressed in a gold outfit with high collars like a lord of
vampires. He waved a crystal cane, and random audience members were allowed
onto his stage. The chosen ones were commanded to dance behind The Artist as
he performed “Baby I’m a Star.”
Clearing the stage, the former Prince performed his prophetic party jam “1999,”
and it’s hard to believe that it was recorded 15 years ago. The frenzied crowd
chanted every lyric. But soon, a flash of showering gold confetti marked the
end of the “Jam of the Year.” It was 11:30 p.m., and The Artist had blessed an
entire congregation with one voice and an almighty performance. <Picture>
uh-oh. Kiss My Grits!!!!
And I guess I have a life because I never update my web page.
http://members.aol.com/JuvenileHi/index.html
JERRY W DUKE
THIS LEE GUY IS SO FULL OF SHIT,HE DOESN'T HAVE ANY IDEA OF WHAT
HE IS TALKING ABOUT.LEE HARRIS IS A BLUEGRASS AND COUNTRY WESTERN FAN
WHO HAS NEVER ENJOYED A GOOD PRINCE ALBUM.WHAT ABOUT THOSE RACIST
REMARKS ABOUT BROWN SUGAR,I AM OUTRAGED.THE JUVENILE IN JUVENILE HI SUMS
UP WHAT LEE IS, A KID TRYING TO FIND HAPPINESS IN THE PITY OF THE
NEWSGROUPS.
ONE RULE, NO RULES,ONE LOVE, FREE ZONE
LONG LIVE THE DIVINE
DIVINITI
Syrinx7
>
>THIS LEE GUY IS SO FULL OF SHIT YOU COULD STICK A CICKEN UP HIS ASS AND
>ROAST IT.WHATS THESE RACISTS REMARKS ABOUT BROWN SUGAR?I AM TRULY
>OUTRAGED BY THIS SO CALLED PRINCE WORSHIPER.THE JUVENILE IN JUVENILE HI
>SUMS UP WHATS HE IS; NOTHING BUT A FOOLISH KID TRYING TO PROVE A POINT
>THAT ISN'T THERE.
> ONE RULE, NO RULES, ONE LOVE, FREE ZONE
> LONG LIVE THE DIVINE,
> DIVINITI
>>>OSBOURNE T SHIRT ,DON'T LET HIM FOOL YA. >ONE RULE, NO RULES,
>ONE LOVE ,FREE ZONE
LONG LIVE THE DIVINE
>DIVINITI
That's not true...Lee would not wear velvet pants.
Syrinx7
Mukamuk
jwdu...@idt.net spake thus:
>
>THIS LEE GUY IS SO FULL OF SHIT YOU COULD STICK A CICKEN UP HIS ASS AND
>ROAST IT.WHATS THESE RACISTS REMARKS ABOUT BROWN SUGAR?I AM TRULY
>OUTRAGED BY THIS SO CALLED PRINCE WORSHIPER.THE JUVENILE IN JUVENILE HI
>SUMS UP WHATS HE IS; NOTHING BUT A FOOLISH KID TRYING TO PROVE A POINT
>THAT ISN'T THERE.
> ONE RULE, NO RULES, ONE LOVE, FREE ZONE
> LONG LIVE THE DIVINE,
> DIVINITI
huh?
Do you often roast chickens in shit, Jerry?
What's the invisible point Lee's review was trying to prove?
If you have a problem with the "brown sugar" remark (which I also think is
racist), why not just say that? I mean, what the hell does any of the
rest of your post mean? Nothing.
Jerry W Duke
JuvenileHi
Yeah, well Jerry, you can lick my ass!
Lee, who might go buy a pair of velvet Pants.
uh-oh. There are other websites I am involved in!
http://www.mindspring.com/~kickthechimp/Index.html
http://members.aol.com/JuvenileHi/index.html
Anuhstesia
>RACISTS REMARKS ABOUT BROWN SUGAR?
My good good God.Hey, I enjoyed your review, Mr. Lee whether I agree with every
word or not, it was quite witty as usual. Someone is really stretching it to
call "brown sugar" racist. Come on......
Whitey Marky
"Twit? I thought you called me a wit."
HiRizeBear
>From: JERRY W DUKE
>THIS LEE GUY IS SO FULL OF SHIT
%#$^#&^@%%#@^T@^@#^&^@^#^@%#^@^%#^%*#$(*$&*)*&#$)^@)^)&^^!%@^%)&^$_#$*&_#&
^&@^&#@%^^!%@!%^$@^!%%@)@^#$#_$&_#*&$*&$#&^@%#^%%$@%!$@#&#*&&
HiRize
resisting the urge to take the bait
Ds319
>My good good God.Hey, I enjoyed your review, Mr. Lee whether I agree with
>every
> word or not, it was quite witty as usual. Someone is really stretching it to
> call "brown sugar" racist. Come on......
>
>
I'm a little confused with this thread (note the title 'The Swiper)...aren't
you talking about the review he posted which was from the 'Phoenix New Times',
which I also had posted?
It's by-line is a Mr. P-Body, so that's who your concerns should be addressed
to. (unless that is that Lee, did you come to the Phx show?) I didn't find
the way 'brown sugar' was used racist at all, more in the vein of the Rolling
Stones I think....
debbie
JuvenileHi
Actually, Jerry has poor comprehension skills due to the fact that he went to
high school in Donelson Tennessee. The review I swiped was, in fact, not
written by me.
I am secretly in love with Divinity.
Lee
Rhastus69
Hey Lee is this another one of your egos playing with us again or just some
asshole
Rhastus