UPDATE: The Purple Cops at YouTube have taken down the video that I initially had up of Prince’s performance of Radiohead’s “Creep” from Coachella. Fortunately I downloaded a copy for personal use. Until then, please settle for this review of the show by the Associated Press that made me wish I was still in California blowing insane amounts of money for a chance a Prince-phoria. (It’s all high. No come down.) I hope the Purple Cops showed up because they want to sell a DVD of this performance that I am so FREAKIN’ SAD about missing.
Prince, if you really love me. You’ll put your performance of Radiohead’s “Creep” at Coachella April 27th onto a CD/DVD/Dear God, ANYTHING so I can plunk down whatever you see fit to charge so I can own it.
I don’t know how you fellow Snobs feel about Prince, but I, quite famously, went to every performance he gave in California four years ago during his Musicology Tour.
Mind you. I went into debt because I always bought two tickets as I was obsessed with turning people on to Prince. But I can’t help it. I’m a Prince fan. It’s both a blessing and a curse.
I usual don’t demonstrate my insane degree of Prince-phillia as unlike my TJ fetish it DOES border on creepy, but it’s a happy, Black Snob brand of creepy! Not put your pet rabbit in a microwave creepy.
Hence why I need this Radiohead cover in my life. To paraphrase the 90s grunge-era lyrics of the British band, I am a creep (for Prince.) I am a weirdo (for Prince.) I wish I was special (like Prince.) He’s so fucking special.
I just don’t care if anyone thinks he’s weird. Your loss, man! More Prince for me!
Prince is my drug of choice (next to Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups, B-boys and Grey’s Anatomy) and for a brief experience while watching and listening to this grainy Coachella video I caught a contact high that turned to a brief dash of euphoria, the same kind I had at all of those concerts.
If I could grind Prince up I would have snorted him away years ago and I’d be in Prince-rehab Prince-jonesing for some Prince-brand methadone.
What would Prince Methadone be? Lenny Kravitz (who I also like), Terence Trent D’Arby (Who I like more than Kravitz but not as much as Prince) or Michael Jackson?
And would that be 80s Michael Jackson methadone? Because I don’t want anything post the Dangerous Album.
I’m going to keep it real here–I would stalk Prince in real life if hundreds of other Purple fanatics hadn’t beat me to the punch. And I feel so ripped off being born in ’77 instead of ’64 because then I would have been old enough to stalk a much more accessible Prince during the bulk of his late 70s-80s hey day. Sharing eyeliner and wearing matching outfits. I would have been that girl in lace, fingers-out gloves and fishnets as Vanity never would have had the privilege of being fucked up by His Royal Badness because I would have been, “No, bitch. ME FIRST.”
And I can actually fucking sing. Unlike Vanity. Appolonia. Martika. Carmen Elecrtra. Countless other bitches who Prince was screwing who couldn’t sing.
Sigh. We’ll always have Fresno, Mr. Nelson.