They Call Him Prince
Prince has been a timeless artist for over 30+ years and he covers Billboard Magazine looking youthful and chic.
The 54-year-old dons his new signature mini-afro, some futuristic glasses and a black and blue trimmed suit-coat giving a rare interview. Prince is very adamant about not giving many interviews and not allowing records of interviews, as he says a reporter in the past recorded his voice and sold it.
Excerpts from the Interview:
One thing you learn quickly about Prince: He doesn't suffer fools or folks who don't know what they're talking about. For the next three hours, we ricochet back and forth on a variety of topics. Later, back at my hotel, I'll be re-creating our conversation from memory. This is how Prince interviews have unfolded for many years. He remains adamant about not allowing reporters to record their conversations with him. ("Some in the past have taken my voice and sold it," he says. "I can't remember the incident that triggered it and it's probably best that I don't.") And he still frowns at the idea of a reporter taking notes. ("That would be just like texting.")
Later on, I will watch Prince audition a drummer. Right now, I'm involved in an audition of my own. "Let's talk a little," Prince says as I follow him into a second-floor conference room, "and see if we vibe first." Without missing a beat and keeping steady eye contact, he makes a few comments about media ownership and control, then shoots out a question. How would I get the word out about, and then monetize a lyric video for, one of his new songs, "Screw Driver," that I'd been shown a few minutes earlier? I tell him an online post will generate enough interest to get us to monetization-given the fan clamor for new Prince music, there's a community ready to pay a nominal price to get their hands on said track. Nothing revolutionary, but Prince pauses and thinks it over. I think I may have passed the audition.
It's a 40-minute drive from the airport to the Minneapolis suburb of Chanhassen, Minn. As the driver makes a left turn, two stark white buildings materialize seemingly out of nowhere. Other than a small gray sign at the foot of the driveway noting the address and where trucks should make deliveries, there is no signage or any other vehicles, let alone human activity. The cabbie, hesitant as to whether we've found the right place, keeps the meter running for the three minutes it takes for someone to come outside and let me in. But there's no denying the aura: This is Paisley Park.
Get the full interview at Billboard.com
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