Okay, let's unpack this. Welcome back to The
Deep Dive. Today we are immersing ourselves in
the life, the art, and the absolutely furious
independence of one of modern music's most electrifying
figures. And confounding figures, really. Absolutely.
We're talking about Prince Rogers Nelson. It's
a huge, multifaceted life to cover. Born in 1958,
he was truly the definition of a multi -hyphenate
artist. I mean, the sources just list it all
out, don't they? They do. Singer, songwriter,
musician, dancer, actor. He wasn't just part
of a scene, you know. He essentially engineered
the signature sound of an entire city. The Minneapolis
sound. The Minneapolis sound, exactly. And his
influence, it still radiates across R &B, funk,
rock, pop, soul, and even neo -psychedelia. It's
just everywhere. Before we go any further, for
anyone listening who might know the result but
not the ingredients of that sound, what exactly
is the Minneapolis sound that he pioneered? That's
a crucial question. The Minneapolis sound is,
it's essentially a perfect synthesis. A fusion.
A fusion, yeah. It takes the syncopated driving
rhythms of funk and soul, you know, think James
Brown or Sly Stone, but it strips away the traditional
horns. Okay. And it replaces them with the cold
atmospheric textures of new wave synthesizers
and drum machines. So very 80s in a way. Very,
but then he layered on this aggressive shredding
rock guitar. So what you get is this tight, synthesized,
danceable funk rock all done under one brilliant
roof. That range alone is just breathtaking.
But what makes this particular deep dive so poignant
is the suddenness and the tragic details of the
ending. Right. You have this towering figure
who seemed almost invincible, yet at just 57
years old in April 2016, Prince died at his home
and studio, Paisley Park. And the sources detail
the specifics with heartbreaking clarity. His
death was ruled an accidental overdose of fentanyl.
Which is just terrifyingly potent. Incredibly.
And tragically, this synthetic opioid was laced
into counterfeit hydrocodone paracetamol pills.
So he didn't even know what he was taking. It
seems not. It's a scenario we've seen tragically
repeated, where illicit drugs are contaminated
with dangerous substances the user just doesn't
expect. With the subsequent investigation revealed.
is the difficult reality that he was at the time
of his death struggling he was struggling with
an addiction to opioids. Reportedly driven by
chronic pain from years of intensely physical
stage performances, right? Exactly. I mean, all
those years of jumping off pianos and heels,
it takes a toll. And that true, that a figure
so seemingly controlled, so superhuman. So in
command of every single detail. Exactly. That
he was battling this very human, hidden vulnerability.
That's the core paradox we have to explore today.
It absolutely is. And that vulnerability is set
against a career defined by Well, almost unbelievable
triumph. If we look for the defining achievement,
we have to go back to 1984. That year, Prince
became the first singer in U .S. history to simultaneously
hold the number one spot for a film, an album,
and a single. At the same time, it's just staggering
to think about. That is an analog era power move
that today's biggest stars would struggle to
replicate. We are talking about the film Purple
Rain. Of course. The iconic soundtrack album
of the same name and the single When Doves Cry.
And that album didn't just top the charts. It
spent six consecutive months atop the Billboard
200 chart. It wasn't just a cultural moment.
It was a total commercial and critical takeover.
He defined the look, the sound and the narrative
of the mid 80s. So our mission today is to explore
this entire trajectory. We're looking at the
paradoxes of control, the visionary artists who
defied genre, the business rebel who waged war
against the music machine, and the fiercely private
individual whose work ethic yielded a legendary
vault of music that continues to shape culture
today. His global record sales stand at over
100 million. He's an enduring icon. Let's get
into the very origins of that unstoppable creative
force. We begin, as always, at the beginning.
Minneapolis, Minnesota. He was born on June 7,
1958. And we know from the source material that
music was literally in his DNA. It really was.
His parents were both musicians. His mother,
Maddie Della, was a jazz singer. And his father,
John Lewis Nelson, was a pianist and songwriter.
And his name, Prince Rogers Nelson, was an homage,
wasn't it? A direct inheritance of his father's
professional identity. That's right. John Lewis
Nelson used Prince Rogers as his stage name when
performing with Maddie in their dad group, the
Prince Rogers Trio. It's fascinating that while
he carried that weighty, almost monarchical name
as a child, the sources say he preferred a much
simpler moniker. Skipper. Skipper. I love that.
His father was incredibly ambitious for him.
He explicitly told A Current Affair in 1991 that
he named his son Prince because he wanted him
to do everything I wanted to do. Wow. Imagine
being born with that kind of professional expectation
built right into your identity. It's a lot of
pressure. Yet, the childhood wasn't always a
smooth path towards superstardom. The sources
contain a fascinating detail about his early
health. Prince famously stated later in life
that he was born epileptic and suffered seizures
when he was young. He described a childhood affliction
that caused significant distress. But what's
fascinating is how he related the recovery. He
had a spiritual explanation for it. He did. He
believed he overcame this through a spiritual
realization, recounting a story where an angel
told his mother he wouldn't be sick anymore.
And this early belief in a spiritual intervention,
it really foreshadows his later very public.
journey into faith, doesn't it? It absolutely
does. And how he integrated the sacred into his
life and his art. He and his younger sister,
Taika Nelson, born in 1960, both had their musical
interests actively encouraged by their father.
But the home life was volatile. Very. His parents
divorced when he was 10. And after moving back
and forth between them, the sources indicate
a moment of profound personal crisis. His father
threw him out of the house. He did. And that
kind of trauma could derail a young person entirely,
but for Prince, it propelled him. How so? This
chaotic period led him to find refuge in the
home of the Anderson family, neighbors who took
him in. And this move proved absolutely pivotal.
Because that's where he met Andre Simon. Exactly.
It cemented his friendship with their son, Andre
Simon. who became his earliest significant collaborator.
It really highlights how these foundational difficult
moments fueled his career. He found stability
and, critically, a musical partner when he needed
them most. Precisely. What I find truly incredible
about his early life is the sheer breadth of
his physical and artistic training. Before he
was the icon, he was a polymath in training.
He was managing these dual lives that sound contradictory
on paper. You know, he played football, basketball
and baseball at Central High School. He was an
athlete. Pretty good one, too. But juxtaposed
against that high -impact team sports environment,
he was simultaneously receiving classical ballet
training. Right, at the Minnesota Dance Gator.
Through the Urban Arts Program. Yeah. And that
physical duality, it perfectly explains his revolutionary
stage presence. It does. The athletic rigor gave
him stamina, and the classical ballet discipline
gave him precision, fluidity, and that incredible,
almost genderless grace. He was a rock star,
a funk master and a professional dancer all at
once. And that dedication to dance wasn't just
for his own performance, was it? The sources
note he later used his immense personal wealth
to save the struggling Joffrey Ballet in Chicago.
He did in the 1990s. He became a quiet, powerful
advocate for the art form that had shaped him.
This wasn't just a phase. It was a lifelong commitment
to the arts. Speaking of his childhood, one of
the most remarkable discoveries of recent years
was made completely by accident in Come 22. I
love this story. A news station, WCCO -TV, was
researching an old Minneapolis teacher strike
from April 1970, and they accidentally uncovered
this footage. Of an interview they had conducted
with an 11 -year -old local boy. And it was Prince.
It was him. He's standing there, so articulate
and clearly confident, talking about the strike.
What did he say? He said he thought the teacher
should get a better education and more money
because, and this is a direct quote, they'd be
working extra hours for us. Amazing. And he didn't
identify himself, but it was confirmed later
by a historian and a former classmate. It's an
absolute rarity, one of the very few known video
clips of him from his youth, capturing that nascent
confidence long before he was famous. All that
raw talent and work ethic finally culminated
in the industry noticing. The accounts detail
his earliest recording efforts, first with a
producer named Chris Moon. Right, creating a
demo tape. But when that failed to land a contract,
Moon brought the tape to a Minneapolis businessman,
Owen Husney. And Husney immediately saw the star
potential. He signed the 19 -year -old to a management
contract and created a professional demo that
got interest from major labels. A &M, Columbia,
and most importantly, Warner Bros. Records. And
the resulting 1977 deal with Warner Bros. was,
for a newcomer, Groundbreaking. This is where
the seeds of his later contractual warfare were
planted, but in a very positive way initially.
How so? The deal explicitly granted Prince creative
control for his first three albums, and crucially,
he retained his publishing rights. For an 18
-year -old with zero track record, that's unheard
of. It's practically unheard of in the 1970s
record industry. It speaks volumes about his
profound self -belief and his non -negotiable
insistence on controlling his entire creative
universe. And that was evident from day one.
When his debut album, For You, arrived in 1978,
the album notes were just a statement of intent.
They listed him as writing, producing, arranging,
composing, and playing all 27 instruments on
the recording. All of them, with the sole exception
of lyrics co -written on one track. And if you
listen to For You, it sounds expansive and technically
flawless. It established him immediately as a
self -contained, total creative unit. The only
financial drawback, the sources report, was that
the cost of recording this multi -instrumental
masterpiece was twice his initial advance. But
he proved he was worth every penny. So by 1980,
with his third album, Dirty Mind, Prince had
officially stepped out of the shadows and straight
into cultural confrontation. Oh, this was a radical
departure from the smooth R &B of his first two
records. The critical reception for Dirty Mind
was ecstatic, wasn't it? It was. They called
it a stunning, audacious amalgam of funk, new
wave, R &B, and pop. But the audacious part really
came from the lyrical content. The shock sound.
The shock value. Critics noted this album was
fueled by grinningly salacious sex and the desire
to shock. Tracks like Sister, an explicit exploration
of incest and head about oral sex, they introduced
his provocative side. It was sexually franked
and musically lean, often using simple drum machine
beats and raw guitar. And this provocation wasn't
limited to the studio recordings. He was actively
courting controversy, sometimes in very harsh
public settings. Right. The most famous early
conflict involved him opening for the Rolling
Stones in October 1981. At the Los Angeles Memorial
Coliseum. So let's zoom in on that moment. The
audience is there for the Stones, the ultimate
rock behemoths. What did Prince look like? He
took the stage, this ultimate new wave funk alien
wearing old... a trench coat and black bikini
briefs underneath sometimes described as speedos
that's a bold choice for a stones crowd it was
a massive cultural clash the rock crowd expecting
a traditional opening act did not appreciate
the look or the sound and the reaction was not
good not good at all accounts say they literally
forced him off the stage after just three songs
by throwing trash bottles and even a dead chicken
at him a dead chicken That moment is legendary
because it so perfectly captured his us -against
-the -world mentality. He wasn't afraid to defy
every expectation. He even started defying linguistic
conventions around this time. Right. Starting
with the 1981 album Controversy, we saw the introduction
of his distinctive abbreviated spelling. Writing
U as U2 as 2 and 4 as 4, it would become a signature
element of his identity. part artistic flair,
part control, part marketing. And the Controversy
album established another Prince practice, publishing
his songs under his own company, Controversy
Music. An early move toward building the business
control he always sought. Meanwhile, he was secretly
masterminding other projects, operating as a
Svengali behind the scenes. Right. The sources
remind us of his side project band, The Time,
which he formed in 1981 as a mirror to his own
sound. Designed to showcase his protégés. He
was a ghost writer and ghost performer for them,
wasn't he? Absolutely. The Time released four
albums between 81 and 1990, but Prince wrote
and performed most of the instrumentation and
backing vocals himself. Under pseudonyms. Often
masking his involvement under names like Jamie
Star or The Star Company, leaving lead vocals
to Morris Day. It speaks to his boundless prolific
energy, but also his desire to shape the entire
burgeoning Minneapolis scene. creating an empire
under different names. Then came the seismic
shift of 1982 with the double album 1999. This
wasn't just a hit, it was a phenomenon. It was.
It sold over 4 million copies at the time. The
title track was a commentary on nuclear proliferation,
but the album's real cultural shockwave came
from a single. Little Red Corvette. And this
is a monumental moment in music television history.
The sources stress its importance in breaking
racial barriers. Because Little Red Corvette
along with Michael Jackson's Billie Jean, were
the first two videos by Black artists to be played
in heavy rotation on MTV. We have to remember
the context here. Before this point, MTV was
widely perceived as resisting Black music. So
what finally forced the change? Pressure. Pure
pressure. The change only came after CBS Records
President Walter Yetnikoff reportedly threatened
to pull all CBS videos from the network. Unless
they played Jackson's and Prince's work heavily.
Exactly. The success of 1999 was so undeniable
and the pressure from the label was so intense
that MTV's hands were forced. It broke a major
color barrier in visual media. Paved the way
for every non -white artist who followed on the
channel. Following the 1999 tour, the configuration
of his backing band formalized, becoming known
as The Revolution. And the name was a little
Easter egg on the album cover itself, wasn't
it? It was. The word Revolution was printed in
reverse on the cover, inside the letter I of
the word Prince. And the lineup had a critical
shift that was vital to their defining sound.
Guitarist Des Dickerson left. Right. Reportedly
due to reluctance to sign a long contract and
notably for religious reasons. And that opened
the door for Wendy Melvoin. A friend of keyboardist
Lisa Coleman. Exactly. So she came in and the
lineup solidified. Lisa Holman and Dr. Fink on
keyboards, Bobby Z on drums and Brown Mark on
bass. This lineup, known for its multiracial
and multigender composition, became the tight
unit that would define the sound of his imperial
phase. Giving his music an extra layer of texture,
nuance, and vocal harmonies. And that phase,
of course, culminated in 1984 with the film and
album Purple Rain. This wasn't just success.
This was total multimedia cultural saturation.
According to his former manager, Bob Cavallo,
securing a deal for Prince to star in a major
motion picture was a non -negotiable requirement.
Even when his fame was relatively limited. Right.
Purple Rain, which was loosely autobiographical,
gave him that vehicle. The album was one of the
decade's biggest sellers, moving over 13 million
copies in the U .S. And spending 24 consecutive
weeks at number one. And the film was huge, grossing
more than $68 million in the U .S., which translates
to over $206 million in today's money. Plus he
won the Academy Award for Best Original Song
Score. To underscore the cultural clout, The
album itself is ranked eighth on Rolling Stone's
500 Greatest Albums of All Time. It was a cultural
monolith. It truly was. And 1984 was also the
year Andy Warhol created his famous 12 unique
silkscreen paintings of Prince. Capturing him,
as Vanity Fair put it, at the height of his powers.
He had completely cemented his image as an artistic
and visual icon who transcended music alone.
But the enormous success of Purple Rain gave
Prince incredible cultural currency, and it simultaneously
propelled him into direct confrontation. Not
just with rock crowds, but with the moral establishment
of the United States. That confrontation can
be traced back to one specific track on the Purple
Rain album, Darling Nikki. With its notorious
sexual lyrics in reference to masturbation, the
sources detail how this song directly led to
the formation of one of the most powerful censorship
groups in music history. Here's where it gets
really interesting. Tipper Gore, the wife of
then -Senator Al Gore, was listening to the album
with her 11 -year -old daughter. And when she
heard the explicit lyrics of Darling Nikki, she
was so alarmed that she co -founded the Parents
Music Resource Center, or the PMRC, in 1985.
The PMRC's advocacy led directly to the famous
Senate hearings and the voluntary adoption of
the parental advisory warning label by the recording
industry. It is extraordinary to think that one
song created by an artist obsessed with control,
actually resulted in a massive, lasting change
to global music packaging standards. A label
that Prince himself would spend years having
affixed to his own work. Despite the controversy,
the output didn't slow down, but we start seeing
a pattern of artistic experimentation contrasting
sharply with commercial results. Right. In 1986,
the album Parade was a platinum success, featuring
the number one single, Kiss. But its accompanying
film, Under the Cherry Moon, which Prince directed
and starred in, was a spectacular critical disaster.
The sources confirm the film received a Golden
Raspberry Award for worst picture, tying with
Howard the Duck. And Prince himself earned Razzies
for worst director and worst actor. He was the
most brilliant musician in the world, but not
always the best filmmaker. No. I wonder if that
stumble, both creatively and publicly, led to
the next major decisive move. The dissolution
of the revolution. Following the 1986 parade
tour, he fired Wendy Melvoin and Lisa Coleman,
the core musical partners of his biggest era.
The sources confirm that only keyboardist Dr.
Fink remained. It was a radical clean slate.
Suggesting he felt creatively constrained by
the band's configuration or history. And this
internal change directly preceded one of his
greatest artistic struggles. The triple album
fight over what would become Sign of the Times.
Right. Before the revolution split, he was working
on two distinct projects, a band album called
Dream Factory and a solo album named Camille.
He consolidated that mountain of material, intending
to release a massive three LP set titled Crystal
Ball. But here's where the record company started
to push back aggressively. Warner Bros. deemed
the triple album too commercially risky. And
they forced him to trim it down to the double
album Sign of the Times, which was released in
1987. Critics universally lauded Sign of the
Times as potentially the greatest work of his
career, a sprawling masterpiece. But despite
that critical success, it highlights the constant
tension between his prolific creative vision
and the commercial constraints of his label.
We should also recall the specifics of the shelved
Camille project. That work introduced a new androgynous
persona. One who sang primarily in a sped up
androgynous female sounding voice. Achieved by
pitching up his already high natural vocal range.
It was another sonic boundary shattered, even
if the label refused to release the full vision.
Then came the truly bizarre case of the Black
Album. After wrapping up Sign of the Times, Prince
recorded this instrumental raw funk and R &B
themed album. Half a million copies were pressed
in 1987. But the sources confirmed that Prince
experienced a sudden dramatic spiritual epiphany
and decided the album was evil. He famously had
the entire pressing recalled and destroyed. Costing
the label millions. That is an extraordinary,
unprecedented act of self -censorship rooted
in a sudden shift in spiritual conviction. To
have 500 ,000 copies destroyed, that action immediately
elevated the few surviving vinyl copies into
legendary, highly valuable collector items. The
album was eventually given a limited official
release seven years later in 1994. But the 1987
recall remains a key anecdote about his internal
struggles. And this era is entirely defined by
his escalating conflict with Warner Bros. The
underlying issue, as the sources clearly state,
was Prince's intense frustration over the label
refusing to release his enormous backlog of music.
They weren't releasing it at the pace he desired,
hindering both his artistic flow and his ability
to control his financial destiny. The problem
was one of supply and demand. He was supplying
material so fast the label couldn't. or wouldn't,
process it quickly enough for the market. This
contractual warfare culminated in 1993 with one
of the most famous acts of artistic protest in
music history. He changed his stage name. To
the unpronounceable symbol known to fans as the
love symbol, hashtag two. His reasoning was clear.
He felt his own name, Prince, belonged to the
company due to the contract. This drastic act
was his way of emancipating himself. Making his
identity unmarketable by his corporate masters.
The logistics of this were a nightmare, weren't
they? A total nightmare. Think about it. To use
the symbol in print media magazines, album covers
Warner Bros. was forced to organize a mass mailing
of floppy disks containing a custom font. A floppy
disk. That story truly captures the absurdity.
But functionally... Wasn't this protest an absolute
commercial disaster for him in the short term?
It was, but he justified it because the principle
was paramount. He was willing to sacrifice immediate
commercial viability to reclaim his identity.
And he coupled this identity shift with a profound
public display of grievance. Appearing with the
word slave written starkly on his face during
public appearances, calling his situation a form
of slavery because they owned his master recordings.
This was a direct... visual and highly provocative
challenge to the entire recording industry model.
And his strategy to finally escape the contract
was simply brute force prolificacy. He realized
the deal required a certain number of albums,
so he just cranked them out. As fast as possible.
This led to rapid -fire releases, including Come,
the official release of the Black Album in 1994,
The Gold Experience, and Chaos and Disorder.
By delivering the required number of albums quickly,
regardless of the label's marketing cycle, he
ultimately forced his freedom. And he finally
severed ties with Warner Bros. in 1996, completing
his contract and closing one of the most tumultuous
periods of his career. He was finally free. And
1996 was the year of his emancipation, so he
titled his first major post -Warner Bros. release
exactly that, Emancipation. It was monumental.
A 36 -song, three -CD set with each disc running
exactly 60 minutes. A massive statement of artistic
pent -up demand. Released on his own MPG Records
label, it was a declaration of freedom. Crucially,
this was the first Prince album to feature covers
of other artists' songs. Exactly. The source's
detail, he tackled Joan Osbourne's massive hit,
One of Us, the stylistic's Betcha by Golly Wow,
and Bonnie Raitt's I Can't Make You Love Me.
After years of demanding that his music be released,
he was now exercising his new freedom to interpret
the work of others. It was certified platinum
and established his independent model. But the
journey of independence led him to a place that
created another significant paradox, the digital
world. Prince was in many ways an absolute digital
pioneer. Yet he later became one of the Internet's
most aggressive opponents. A total contradiction.
It is. He embraced the Internet early for direct
fan connection and distribution. He released
the collection Crystal Ball exclusively online
in 1998, pioneering the direct -to -consumer
model. And he later founded NPGMusicClub .com,
maintaining a direct line with his most dedicated
followers. This early digital savvy earned him
the prestigious 2006 Webby Lifetime Achievement
Award. He understood the power of cutting out
the middleman before almost anyone else. So why
the dramatic 180 -degree turn? By 2010, he declared,
the Internet is completely over. He clarified
that stance, saying the Internet was over for
anyone who wants to get paid, questioning which
musician had gotten rich off digital sales. So
it wasn't the technology, it was the business
model. Precisely. It was the idea that content
should be free or near free. This aggressive
stance against perceived theft defined his later
career, leading to numerous copyright battles.
But before those legal battles intensified, the
early 2000s saw a massive public resurgence,
proving that his artistic force was undiminished.
This resurgence began in earnest around 2004.
He delivered several unforgettable career highlights
that year. Leading with the 46th annual Grammy
Awards. He opened the show with Beyonce. Performing
a medley that merged Purple Rain, Let's Go Crazy,
and Beyonce's Crazy in Love, that performance
was a definitive moment. Pairing the old master
with the new queen of pop. And that same month,
he was inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of
Fame. But the acceptance wasn't the biggest highlight.
It was his performance later that night that
lives in internet infamy. This is where we get
one of his most iconic recent images. He joined
in the tribute to fellow inductee George Harrison.
Performing Harrison's While My Guitar Gently
Weeps, Prince launched into a blistering, unforgettable
two -minute guitar solo that just stole the show.
I remember that solo. It was ferocious, technically
perfect, and yet... deeply emotional. He walks
out, takes the spotlight, unleashes this torrent
of virtuosic playing. And then he just throws
his guitar high into the air. And walks off stage,
never looking back to see it land. That move,
that sheer confidence solidified his genius for
a new generation. And this return to prominence
was coupled with revolutionary marketing strategies.
His 2004 album, Musicology, had chart success
that was significantly boosted by what we now
call Okay, let's analyze this strategy. The CDs
were included as part of the concert ticket purchase.
Why was this so revolutionary? It was revolutionary
because it exploited a loophole in chart rules.
Under the Billboard 200 rules at the time, this
qualified each bundled CD sale to count toward
his U .S. chart placement. So since the Musicology
tour was massive, selling millions of tickets,
this strategy immediately inflated his album
sale numbers. And... propelled him back up the
charts. It shows that even after fighting the
machine, he was still keenly interested in understanding
and manipulating the commercial systems. Absolutely.
The strategy was so effective that Rolling Stone
named Prince the highest -earning musician in
the world in 2004. With an estimated annual income
of $56 .5 million, primarily due to the massive
tour receipts combined with those chart -boosting
sales. This focus on direct revenue and fan connection
continued into his massive global residencies.
In 2007, he embarked on the Earth Tour in London.
21 shows at the O2 Arena. This was another major
economic experiment. Despite the massive demand,
tickets were capped by Prince at a remarkably
specific price. 31 pounds, 21. Very fan -friendly.
It was. But the generosity came with controversy.
To promote his new album, Planet Earth, he made
a deal with the Mail on Sunday newspaper to give
the album away for free. And that sparked immediate
outrage among music distributors and retailers.
It did. Sony BMG, his UK distributor, actually
pulled out of distributing the album in UK stores
entirely. He was willing to completely disrupt
traditional sales channels. This same impulse
for control led to his famously aggressive stance
on digital copyright and fan content. He aggressively
pursued lawsuits against platforms like YouTube
and eBay in 2007, employing the company web sheriff
to police the Internet relentlessly. And this
level of control extended to every image and
piece of fan. It even led to the formation of
Prince Fans United, a movement created to fight
what they saw as legal actions, attempting to
stifle all critical commentary, photos and use
of his likeness. The sources detail a legal fight
over a home video featuring Let's Go Crazy faintly
playing in the background. It was a zero -tolerance
approach. And perhaps the most famous and most
ironic example was his 2008 Coachella performance,
where he covered Radiohead's song Creep. He immediately
forced YouTube to remove the fan footage. And
the irony is rich, because Radiohead, the original
copyright holders, publicly requested that Prince
allow the video to stay up. They said, it's our
song, let people hear it. But Prince initially
refused, only posting the footage to his own
official website later. He was willing to challenge
even the original copyright holders in a desperate
attempt to maintain his personal image and performance
control. Stepping back from the music and business,
we have to look at the man himself. Prince was
incredibly complicated. Often integrating his
evolving spiritual journey and personal philosophy
directly into his art, sometimes in ways that
seemed contradictory. His spiritual life was
deeply rooted from childhood. He was raised in
the Seventh -day Adventist church, and themes
of God and Jesus were present even in his early,
most explicit work. Right, tracks like I Would
Die For You, where sexuality and spirituality
are profoundly intertwined. There's even a complete
recitation of the Lord's Prayer hidden in the
full -length version of Controversy. And a backward
message about the Lord coming soon in Darling
Nikki. That tension, the sacred and the profane
battling it out, defined his early work. But
the major public shift came in 2001. When he
converted to become a Jehovah's Witness, heavily
influenced by his friend and bass player Larry
Graham. He described it not as a conversion,
but a realization, didn't he? He did. He compared
it to the relationship between Morpheus and Neo
in The Matrix. And he took that faith seriously.
He attended meetings and famously occasionally
knocked on people's doors to discuss his faith.
I can't imagine opening my door and finding prints
on my doorstep. It must have been shocking. Did
this intense new spiritual focus affect his professional
relationships? It did. The sources indicate it
caused friction with former collaborators. There
are reports he declined an initial full reunion
with Wendy Melvoin, in part due to her lesbian
and Jewish identities. Aligning with certain
tenets of his faith at the time. Right. However,
we should note that he later reconciled and reunited
with both Melvoin and Lisa Coleman for performances,
suggesting his personal views continue to evolve
over time. In terms of his private life. he was
married twice. First, to dancer Mayday Garcia
from 1996 to 2000. And then to Manuela Testellini,
a Canadian businesswoman from 2001 to 2007. The
sources focus particularly on the deep, private
grief associated with his first marriage to mate.
They had a son, Amir, in October 1996, who sadly
died just a week after birth due to Pfeiffer
syndrome, a rare genetic disorder. And this tragedy...
compounded by a subsequent miscarriage contributed
significantly to the strain that eventually led
to their divorce it's a reminder of the profound
private pain hidden behind the flamboyant public
superstar moving to his image prince was arguably
defined by his androgynous style it was a conscious
artistic choice that was incredibly radical for
the time He completely defied conventional racial
and gender stereotypes. His androgynous look
earned him comparisons to pioneers like Little
Richard and David Bowie. But Prince took it further.
He made it his permanent identity. Commentators
noted in 2016 how his evasion of conventional
gender definitions speaks to us now in this trans
aware moment. His image was ahead of its time.
And crucially, the sources emphasize his consistent
support and mentorship of women in music. maintaining
a strong female presence in his bagging bands
throughout his career, often elevating them to
key roles. Slate noted he promised a world where
men and women looked and acted like each other,
using fashion and presentation to break down
boundaries. Now let's talk about his staggering
musicianship. We already covered the 27 instruments
on his debut album. He was a true virtuoso. On
guitar, drums, bass, and piano, his proficiency
wasn't just breath, it was... His guitar skills
are legendary. He was ranked the 14th greatest
guitarist of all time by Rolling Stone in 2023,
and his equipment reflected his flair. He amassed
a collection of 121 guitars. We have to discuss
the iconic white cloud guitars, the custom instruments
famously seen in Purple Rain. With that distinct
elongated scroll -style horn. The cloud guitar,
designed by Dave Roussan, was not easy to play.
The structural challenges of that elaborate shape
meant they weren't always ergonomically perfect.
But they were the perfect visual manifestation
of his artistic vision. But early on, he was
defined by a more modest instrument. The Hauner
Mad Cat Telecaster copy. The Mad Cat, that distinctive
yellow and black striped Telecaster. Why was
that particular guitar so important to his early
sound? Because it was the guitar he used extensively
throughout the Dirty Mind and Controversy eras.
It has a distinctive bright yet raw tone that
perfectly suited the sparse new wave funk sound.
A relatively cheap copy of a Fender Telecaster,
but in his hands it became instantly recognizable.
Speaking of his output, it's easy to forget how
many classic hits he wrote for other artists.
Sometimes using pseudonyms like Christopher or
Jamie Starr to maintain separation. The list
is extraordinary. He penned Manic Monday for
the Bangles, a song he originally intended for
himself. He wrote I Feel For You, which became
a massive hit for Taka Khan. And of course, Nothing
Compares To You, originally written for his side
project, The Family, but famously covered by
Sinead O 'Connor, turning it into a global standard.
Outside of music, he was engaged, though often
privately, in political and social activism.
He included pointed political commentary in earlier
songs like Ronnie Talk to Russia and Sino the
Times. And toward the end of his life, his support
for Black Lives Matter became much more public
and visible. He reportedly donated to the family
of Trayvon Martin in 2012 and arranged for Eric
Garner's family to attend one of his concerts.
His most visible action came in 2015, following
the killing of Freddie Gray, where he organized
the rally. Peace Concert in Baltimore. And he
released the song Baltimore, which included specific,
timely lyrics commenting on the riots and the
need for justice. What's perhaps most striking
about his philanthropy is how much of it was
completely private. Absolutely. The sources reveal
that his charitable endeavors were largely undisclosed
during his lifetime, only coming to light posthumously.
So he was actively funding organizations that
nobody knew about. Precisely. He anonymously
funded projects like Yes We Code, which aimed
to teach disadvantaged youth coding skills, and
Green for All, focused on climate justice. There's
a particularly telling anecdote about him anonymously
paying off the medical bills of legendary drummer
Clyde Stubblefield. The rhythmic engine of James
Brown. When Stubblefield was undergoing cancer
treatment, it shows a deep -seated commitment
to helping others quietly. Finally, his commitment
extended to animal rights and his dietary ethos.
He was known for adhering to a vegan or vegetarian
diet. And the sources confirm he enforced a strict
dietary ethos at Paisley Park. Guests and staff
were required to maintain a vegetarian or pesitarian
diet while on the premises. A rule which continues
to be enforced by the estate to honor his personal
ethos. Given his lifelong battle for creative
and financial control, changing his name, fighting
the biggest label in the world, the immediate
aftermath of his death became its own saga. A
saga defined by chaos and contradiction. The
sources detail an immediate estate crisis. The
largest issue is the simple, staggering fact
that he died without a will. Which is just, knowing
him and his focus on control, the ultimate irony.
It is. Under Minnesota law, this meant his six
siblings, his full sister Tyka Nelson and five
half -siblings, became his legal heirs. And the
sources reveal that almost immediately the process
was fraught. Within three weeks of his death,
over 700 people claimed kinship. forcing the
courts to wade through a mountain of spurious
claims. The estate was only finally settled in
2022, a six -year legal ordeal. A unique piece
of his physical legacy, now on permanent display
at Paisley Park, is his urn. His ashes were placed
into a custom 3D -printed urn that is shaped
exactly like the Paisley Park estate itself.
Co -designed by his sister, Taika, and her son,
a stunning, highly personal architectural memorial
to his home and studio. But the real engine of
the posthumous world is The Vault. Given his
prolific nature, the sources suggest he had a
vast array of unreleased material. Potentially
enough for decades of future releases. The Vault
has fueled a constant methodical stream of posthumous
projects, starting with the hits compilation
Forever. We've seen demo albums like Piano and
a Microphone in 1983, and completely shelved
works like the album Welcome to America. And
the estate is meticulously managing these reissues,
issuing massive super deluxe versions of his
classic albums like sign of the pines and diamonds
and pearls. This is legacy preservation at a
colossal, almost overwhelming scale. This careful
curation by the estate, however, brings us directly
back to the central paradox of his life, control.
The sources describe a fascinating conflict over
narrative control. Involving a planned Netflix
documentary produced by Ezra Edelman, who won
an Oscar for O .J. Made in America. This is a
textbook example of legacy preservation colliding
with unfiltered biography. The documentary reportedly
included controversial elements, specifically
accusations of abuse from a former girlfriend
and the estate, unhappy with what they reportedly
considered a sensationalized and unflattering
depiction of his life, stepped in and their power
was definitive. The sources confirmed that in
February 2025, the controversial Netflix project
was officially canceled. And simultaneously,
the estate announced they would be producing
a new documentary featuring exclusive content
from Prince's archive. So if the estate is prioritizing
the superhuman narrative, the icon who fought
the system, what elements of his vulnerability,
his complexity and the darker periods of his
life are we now permanently locked out from seeing?
That's the real question. The estate's official
social media posted a video of a vault door being
opened, captioning it, the vault is free. Which
in this context feels heavily loaded, doesn't
it? The content might be free from the artist's
control, but the narrative is very much controlled
by his handlers. Indeed. It forces a critical
lens onto the entire concept of posthumous legacy.
To wrap up this deep dive, let's summarize his
iconic status. He was a monumental figure, seven
Grammy Awards, six American Music Awards, and
uniquely an Academy Award for Purple Rain. He
was inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame
in 2004, and his presence is still physically
felt in Minneapolis. In Minneapolis, he has a
star on the outside mural of the legendary First
Avenue nightclub. Shortly after his death, this
star, originally painted silver like all the
others, was repainted in gold. An enduring tribute
to the artist who transcended the rest. He was
a true self -made deity forged in the Minneapolis
sound who relentlessly blurred lines of genre,
gender, and commercial expectation only to be
brought down by a vulnerability he fought so
hard to conceal. So we leave you with this thought,
an observation that connects his entire life
story. Prince spent decades in a furious, legally
aggressive battle, even changing his name and
wearing the word slave on his cheek, to gain
ownership of his masters and control his own
creative narrative. He ultimately achieved that
emancipation. He did. But now, in his absence,
the institution of the estate must determine
what parts of his history are safe to share,
managing and potentially sanitizing the very
legacy he fought so hard to free. What does creative
freedom truly mean if the final definitive narrative
can still be rigidly controlled by the powers
that be even after the artist is gone? Think
about that tension between the man who demanded
total artistic control and the legacy that must
now be managed by committee.