The America I want to live in

Never Done: Saw Prince with someone who had never seen Prince before
Never Done: Met Karen
Tshuve: Saw Prince

Once you set out to do one thing every day you've never done before, you either have to stop planning activities you have done before, or find ways to justify saying you've never done them before. OK, not really true. There are other options. You can pack more into your already full life. You can choose to write about small moments that are, actually, things you have never done before, but nothing you'd normally write home about. Or, you can find ways to justify saying you've never done them before.

I have seen Prince before. More than once. More than twice. More than three times. The best time was in Portland, OR when I was still a member of one of his fan clubs, and so I got to see his sound check, and his show, and then go to a small after show at a small club, deep into the night. That was his One Night Alone tour, which was solo piano and voice. The show itself, on April 29, 2002 at the Schnitz (Arlene Schnitzer Concert Hall) was stunning. Solo piano and voice. If my iPod had grooves, I would have worn the tracks of that recording out by now, listening to Prince croon Here on Earth and A Case of U. I had never heard him play piano, unvarnished, before, and hearing him then brought me over to some other side I didn't even know I wasn't yet on -- the side of Prince playing the piano. The side of, "Oh, he is an astonishingly talented musician, not just a great guitarist, songwriter, and performer." Later that night, at the small after show, I was standing literally at the stage, looking up at Prince, who was standing above me, wail on his guitar and play all his old favorites, when I got an urge to reach out and Touch. His. Shoe. It was a shiny silver platform boot. It was inches away from me. It was by all rights off limits to me. And it was irresistible. I touched it. And as soon as I did, one of his bodyguards hit my arm away. Hard. Prince didn't even notice. Just kept playing.

But that was years ago, and this is now, and by the time I tried to buy tickets to see him at Madison Square Garden, they were sold out, so I bought tickets in Jersey, at the Izod Center, formerly the Meadowlands. I have been to the Meadowlands once before. In fact, I went to the Meadowlands for its very first (and second, and if I remember correctly, third) shows -- Bruce Springsteen, in July 1981, a month after I graduated from high school. I drove down from Massachusetts with my cousin Kenny, and we spent a few days with his college roommate. I think we had bought tickets to the first show in advance, and then stayed and bought scalped tickets the next two nights. I remember tailgating in the hot summer parking lot, and I remember being inside the stadium for the shows, but truthfully, I can't differentiate between those Boss shows and the dozen others I probably saw during that decade. Mostly what lasted was the bonding between me and my closest in age cousin -- a bonding that turned out to be made from some pretty strong adhesive.

But again, this is about Prince, right?

The last time I saw Prince, I saw him in Madison Square Garden with Tracey. When I saw the tickets were going on sale this time, I texted Tracey and found out that she had tickets to Jersey, so I bought mine for the same night. I bought two, on faith that someone would want to come with me. I was very happy when Nikki said she wanted to come, because she is an incredibly enthusiastic, fun, and insightful person to spend time with. Plus, Nikki had never seen Prince. Our day got more twisted around than either of us could have imagined. After careful planning that took into consideration our work schedules, coop shifts, Friday night bridge and tunnel traffic, public transportation vs the car, and Nikki's amazing purple duct tape dress she made for her birthday weekend, we settled on a plan to leave in the mid-afternoon, in the car, to avoid traffic, and get time together, and dinner, before the show. And then her close friend's mom died, and Nikki had to juggle life with death, and come up with a new plan. I won't go into those details, but I do want to write about one particular touching moment this change provided, between me and a man I don't know. I ended up driving, and Nikki ended up taking the bus from Port Authority. When I arrived at the Izod Center, alone in the car, the man who pointed me to the right parking area said to me, "You're alone for the show?" I said I was meeting a friend, and he followed up, "I just want you to have a good time." I thanked him, and told him that I was definitely going to have a good time. And started singing the 1986 song Kiss to myself, as I drove into the parking structure.

When I parked, Tracey texted me that she and Karen were already there. We found each other pretty easily, and hung out for about an hour, until people started to want the seats I was perching in near them. Even though we don't see each other often enough, Tracey is one of my deepest NYC friends. We met at a playwriting retreat in 2003, and have been close ever since. Somehow though, it took several years for me to meet her (wonderful) partner Karen. And then Prince brought us together!!

Does it seem like I've been writing for a long time and not even writing about Prince? It feels that way to me. And I don't even have that much time left today to write. (That was a warning that this might peter out unsatisfactorily at some point.) The thing I love most of all about being at a Prince show is that it feels like I am in the America I want to live in. Prince brings together the most diverse crowd I know -- no matter what our race, age, sexual orientation, gender. He is so packed with charisma, musical talent, and sex appeal that he gets us all. Nikki told me that she knew a handful of straight men who seriously questioned their sexual identities because of feelings they had towards Prince.

Yes, Nikki showed up! After Cassandra Wilson's opening set, and in the middle of Maceo Parker's, Nikki finally arrived on the bus from Port Authority, somehow magically at the gate closest to our seats. She had had time to go home and change, and was resplendently decked out in her hand-made lace-up-the-back purple duct tape dress. (I will post a photo of this tomorrow, after it debuts at her birthday party tonight.) Now, when Nikki said she was going to make a purple duct tape dress, I got very excited about making a purple duct tape suit. Making something wearable out of duct tape is on my Never Done list, but it's always felt quite daunting. So truth be told, I made not one, but two duct tape outfits this week, but neither of them really came out well. I made a long sleeveless lapelled vest, but it came out very boxy, and I need to cut it and re-structure it to fit me better. And I made a dress, but it came out way too tight, and I need to cut it and re-structure it to fit me better. In the end, I wore corduroys and and a sweater to the show.

Speaking of outfits, finally Prince came out. His first outfit was a black suit with gold lapels and gold stripes down the sides of his legs. His second was a gold ruffled button-up shirt, and gold pants, with high-heeled gold shoes. He stayed in gold the rest of the night, changing to a gold-sequined turtle neck. The rest of his band was dressed in black and silver. Each of them would have turned heads if they had been alone on the street, but in the presence of Prince, they somehow faded to the background, even when they were center stage.

The sound sucked. It was by far the worst sound I've ever heard for a Prince show. I couldn't make out the words -- even to the songs I knew, and the instruments were indecipherable and often distorted -- not on purpose. I guess I can put this on my list of things I've never done: gone to a Prince show where the sound sucked. And since the point of a Prince show is to hear his music, and since I have heard him play exquisitely in small venues, and also exquisitely in huge venues, this was a real drag. OK, that's not the only point of a Prince show. The other point is to be together with all these people who love him, and to be in the presence of such a precise, disciplined, and communicative performer. The man was playing, with sucky sound, to a stadium full of people he doesn't know, and still he communicated quite personally to each of us.

I should say, it didn't all suck. I loved his ballad rendition of Little Red Corvette, and I was as delighted as everyone else when he dropped purple confetti down on all of us while singing Take Me With You. At one point during the show, I turned to Nikki and asked her why men don't identify as femme. Because Prince is such a femme! She told me that she has asked some guys about this, and they feel like it's a gendered distinction -- that men can be queens, but not femmes. Just then, the Jumbotron showed a close-up of Prince's hand, elegantly poised with a giant bird-shaped diamond ring on his pinky. He is such a femme. I've always taken him to be quite straight, and when for fun, I just googled "Is Prince gay?" to see what I would come up with, I immediately got a wonderful hit on a chat site: "Prince is not gay. He just has a small woman living inside him." My point exactly!

I could go on forever, and I need to wrap this up. Since I always try to bring this back to something having to do with my Mussar year, and since the entire point of my Mussar year is that I am middle aged, and I want my life to feel expansive, and not shrinking, I would like to point out that Prince is 52 years old, and the musicians on his stage all appear to be between 45 and 65. It was without argument, a middle aged show. And let me be clear about something. These people are hot. And talented. And hot.

We should all be so hot and talented and successful at 52. And hot.