My dad rang when I was in the library earlier, and I texted to say I'd call back. He texted me to tell me that Prince had died.
Back when I wrote about Bowie
, I wrote about the feeling of admiring someone but not being a fan, the sadness that comes from that cultural loss but not wanting to intrude.
My dad is a massive Prince fan. I am a Prince fan. I've been one since I was a kid. I got my dad and I tickets for the residency at the O2 when I was 18, as a birthday present for Dad, and it was the first grown up/expensive gift I gave. I stayed up late in my early teens to watch Purple Rain on telly, and i fell asleep so many times listening to that and Sign of the Times on tape.
I want to say how and why he mattered, but also can't. It mattered that he was short, and effeminate, and sang about sex but also God. It mattered that a few years ago my sister (who had epilepsy) and I (who have chronic pain) discovered that he had both those conditions and that was reason he had such a flamboyant and constructed stage persona. It mattered that he did weird, sometimes unwise but thoughtful things about his relationship with record labels.
Bye Purple One. We'll miss you.