archives are packed full of unreleased stuff and will make it out for all to hear some day.
The NFL is trying to keep the halftime show relevant not the same old show over and over.
If GNR can keep their crap together, I'm willing to bet you'll see them perform at at the next Super Bowl.
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Last edited by fordman; 04-23-2016 at 08:24 AM.
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I saw him about 10 years ago, he was amazing live.
I just heard today about Prince writing a memoir. I wonder if he got started and if so, will it come out as written or if someone will have to clean it up and add a brief ending since I'm sure noone wants to read about the rest of prince's life after the incomplete memoir ends.
40th Anniversary SNL after party where Jimmy Fallon convinced Prince to come up and play.
Wy wife was a fan of his much more than I (she grew up in MN), but still respect his craft and influence. The Chapelle show had a funny skit where they were playing basketball and Prince kicked everyone's ass. A few others that were great too. Anyway, always sucks when someone is lost, and he def seems to have a nice following.
ALWAYS LOOKING FOR ODDBALL, REGIONAL, TEAM ISSUED, VARIATIONS, AND TOUGH CARDS OF WILL CLARK AND MIKE BROWN
I have to admit, I am a little obsessed with Prince. Growing up in Minnesota, it was almost unavoidable. Minnesotans love their own and he remained a true Minnesotan to the end. Hell, he even wrote a song for the Vikings. (It is pretty cheesy.)
I went to my first stadium concert with my first girlfriend when I was in middle school to see Prince on his Purple Rain tour. Still remember the beginning of the show clear as day.
In complete blackness, you heard Prince starting his mini sermon, "Dearly beloved, we gather hear today to get through this thing called life..." And then the blasted opening guitar riff kicking off "Let's Go Crazy"... absolutely electric. If there is a better opening for a show, I haven't heard it.
The only good thing about Prince's death is that his stuff is coming back onto youtube. If you haven't seen it watch this performance from the Rock & Roll HOF in 2004 and be blown away:
These are all great performances. There are others, too. But the single greatest moment in Hall of Fame history happened in 2004, when the remnants of the Traveling Wilburys gathered to celebrate their former bandmate, the late George Harrison. That night, Tom Petty and Jeff Lynne joined Steve Winwood, Dhani Harrison, and Prince for an epic version of “While My Guitar Gently Weeps.” Released in 1968, on the Beatles’ eponymous double LP (The White Album), “While My Guitar Gently Weeps” features lyrics that, according to Harrison, were inspired by the eastern concept of relativity, as well as a blistering guitar solo performed by Eric Clapton. It is not the best Beatles song — but “While My Guitar Gently Weeps” was the perfect way to sum up the late, great guitarist’s career.
Arguing about guitar solos is like arguing about any other kind of art: highly entertaining and ultimately futile. The history of rock and roll is filled with memorable solos, and choosing one that stands above the rest is a Herculean task. Jimmy Page’s solo on “Stairway To Heaven” is brilliant, as is Jimi Hendrix’s descent into madness on his cover of “All Along the Watchtower.” There is a strong case to be made for Chuck Berry’s concise breakdown on “Johnny B. Goode.” It’s the same story with Duane Allman’s blazing lead on “Why Does Love Got To Be So Sad” and Neil Young’s iconic one-note solo on “Cinnamon Girl.” These are all great guitar solos. But they pale in comparison to what came out of the Purple One’s amplifier that night in 2004.
As the video above shows, when the band, cobbled together for the night’s festivities, launches into the song, there is nothing to suggest that the performance will be extraordinary. Petty and Lynne trade the lead, Marc Maron plays a sizzling solo, and Dhani Harrison bangs away on his acoustic guitar, a grin splitting his narrow face. Then, during the coda, Prince emerges from the shadows at the side of the stage. Clad in a dark suit, a crimson shirt, and a preposterous red hat, and armed with a butterscotch Telecaster clone, he cuts a striking figure. Then he starts to play.
The second-most-famous artist to come out of Minnesota is a first-rate guitar player. Prince is comfortable playing everything from funk and soul to pop and savage rock and roll. His guitar work is instantly recognizable, powerful, and laced with emotion. At the same time, his fretboard histrionics are often overshadowed by his persona (though not by his 5’1” frame). Prince may be a talented musician and songwriter, but he is best known for being extremely reclusive and not doing things; his ability to transform an ordinary guitar into an instrument of rock and roll magic is frequently overlooked. Which is part of the reason why his performance at the Hall of Fame was so extraordinary. Everyone expects Prince to be good. Great, even. But few assume he will be transcendental.
From a technical perspective, Prince’s three-minute solo is not particularly impressive. He starts with a few monster bends before settling into a series of straightforward blues licks. It’s not fancy; it doesn’t have to be. What makes Prince such a good player is his ability to inject every note with feeling. This is easier to hear than to describe, but it’s worth noting that it involves something more than playing a bunch of notes. And just when it seems like he’s run the tank dry, the diminutive guitarist ratchets up the intensity, drawing on an apparently limitless reserve of energy. Every note that comes out of his amplifier is saturated with emotion, carried aloft by the sheer joy of uninhibited rock and roll.
It is not enough to simply play a great guitar solo. Convention demands posturing, and Prince delivers a masterclass in making playing guitar look cool. His movements are tight and focused, almost economical. His arm is a piston, making the sort of precise pumping motion you’d expect to see in a manufacturing plant. His whole body is tightly-coiled, like a spring straining against itself, ready to burst in a torrent of chaotic noise. A minute or so into the solo, he turns to face Dhani Harrison — and allows himself to crumple off the front of the stage and into the arms of a burly man whose job description clearly includes a line about “supporting Prince when he wants to feign exhaustion.” After being pushed back to his feet, he cranks up the intensity once again.
The final flourish comes at the end of the song, as the chorus fades into silence. That’s when Prince, judging the moment perfectly, shrugs off his guitar and launches it into the air. As the instrument soars across the stage, he turns and saunters into the wings, a sly grin spreading across his face. It’s an extraordinary gesture, a moment shared by artist and audience that could only come at the end of a truly remarkable performance. It’s better than any rapturous applause or standing ovation; it’s a moment of musical perfection that, because the cameras miss the plummeting guitar, never has to end. Prince may be an inscrutable and deeply perplexing artist, but he is also one of the finest guitar players ever to walk the earth. And, in three minutes in 2004, he showed everyone what, exactly, that means
So he might have had pain killers without a prescription, sounded like something us regular folks would end up locked up for
Please note: Card collecting is my hobby, not my life. I don't take it that serious and like to keep it fun.