Chasing Prince In The Shadow Of His Greatest Band: The Revolution

The first time I didn’t see Prince was in 2004. He was nearing the end of his Musicology Tour and booked a show at Arco Arena in Sacramento. At the time, I was a sophomore in high school with neither the funds, nor the transportation required to attend. I regretfully had to pass. The second time I didn’t see Prince was in 2011. He was playing the Tacoma Dome in Washington State near the end of December of that year, but I was out of town visiting family for the holidays. The third time I didn’t see Prince came in 2013. He announced a quick hit, two-day, four-set stand at the cozy Showbox at the Market in Seattle. I was a fledgling music writer at the time and did all that I could to try and get in, but to no avail.

And that was it. I couldn’t know it, but those three episodes were the only chances I would ever get to witness one of the greatest live entertainers in the history of music ply his trade in front of my eyes. I always thought there’d be another shot. You’d hear rumors of a gig coming up here or there, but he never materialized in my geographical vicinity in his lifetime. Then, came that terrible day in April 2016. Prince was gone. I was inconsolable. Crushed. Devastated. Of all the many inexplicable losses we experienced in the pop music world that fateful year, his death was the one that hit the hardest. It’s the one I continue to feel the most.

It seems like a silly thing, but I don’t know that I’ll ever get over missing out on seeing Prince live. I just finished writing my first book, which is about the greatest concerts of the last six decades, and let me tell you, I could have easily profiled the “Purple One” for a full quarter of the chapters of that work and felt quite at ease. The man had it all. Musical chops, charm, charisma and a boundless, bewildering energy. When his greatest band, The Revolution, announced this year that they were hitting the road to celebrate the life and music of their iconic collaborator, I knew that I couldn’t miss out on this opportunity.

The Revolution booked a two-night stand at the Metro in Chicago just days after the one-year anniversary of Prince’s death. Going into the show I was prepared to feel sad. Feel contemplative. Feel mournful. I should’ve known that Prince’s music wouldn’t allow room for those emotions. Even without his physical presence to spirit them forward, his songs remain joyful, funky, and full of life. You don’t decide to dance when tracks like “Kiss,” “When Doves Cry” or “Baby I’m A Star” blast out the speakers; your body moves of its own accord.

The Revolution as they were comprised on this night, with original members Wendy Melvoin on guitar, Bobby Z on drums, Brownmark on bass, and Lisa Coleman and Doctor Fink on Keyboards, and some added help from guitarist Rob Bacon and singer Stokely Williams sounded absolutely phenomenal. Hearing that incredible catalog of music being brought to life by the people who were in the studio, pulling it of thin air with one of the most incredible musical minds of the 20th century was an indescribable thrill and one I never thought I would get the chance to experience firsthand. It was overwhelming to say the least.

Of course, it wasn’t all “Little Red Corvettes” and “Raspberry Berets.” In the middle of the show, most of the band departed the stage leaving just Melvoin and Coleman. As soon as the guitarist mentioned Prince’s death, it felt like the air got sucked out of the room. “The reason to be here with everybody is that feeling you just have,” Melvoin said. “We don’t know what to do with that. The only way for us to manage and navigate that is for us to do it together.”

The two women slipped into a heartachingly tender rendition of the song “Sometimes It Snows In April.” I’ve been to hundreds of shows in my life, but I’ve never heard a room go as quiet as it did the instant they plucked out the first, graceful notes of that song. The only sound in the room besides the melancholy music weeping out of the speakers was the creaking of the floorboard as people shifted their weight from foot to foot. “Sing these songs,” Melvoin pleaded near the end. “No one will ever be him on this stage. You guys will be him.”

The somber moment was replaced by a message of hope as soon as that number ended and the rest of the Revolution reappeared. “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to get through this thing called life,” Melvoin stated. The crowd went nuts at the recognition of the opening of “Let’s Go Crazy.” She continued, using Prince’s own words to reassure us all from beyond. “Electric word, life / It means forever and that’s a mighty long time / But I’m here to tell you / There’s something else / The afterworld.” Then finally, a last bit of advice: “If de-elevator tries to bring you down / Go crazy.”

Setlist
“Computer Blue”
“America”
“Mountains”
“Automatic”
“Take Me With U”
“Uptown”
“D.M.S.R.”
“Our Destination/Roadhouse Garden”
“Raspberry Beret”
“Erotic City”
“Let’s Work”
“1999”
“Paisley Park”
“Controversy”
“Sometimes It Snows In April”
“Let’s Go Crazy”
“Delirious”
“Kiss”
“When Doves Cry”
“Purple Rain”
“I Would Die 4 U”
“Baby I’m A Star”