Tag: Unreleased

Unreleased (1988)
The philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche may have given us the phrase ‘God is dead’, coined in a parable about the drying up of spiritual meaning and designed to cause shockwaves to ripple through a sleeping populace bereft of guidance. But a century later Prince returns serve with a powerful volley of sample-heavy gospel pop, with a guitar line that rends the air like a peal from a bell tower, or a muezzin from a minaret, waking the town and telling us very much that God is Alive. Your move Freddy! And if you don’t believe an 80’s song can be as shocking as the suggestion of deicide in the 19th century, then watch Mavis Staples’ face on the BBC Omnibus documentary Prince of Paisley Park, when she relives the moment she heard the opening lyric was “God is coming like a dog in heat” (later changed to the infinitely less provocative “news is coming…”)

Unreleased (1985)
Inspired by Prince’s tempestuous relationship with girlfriend Susannah Melvoin, Go is a pain-filled heartbreaker that mechanically ratchets along destiny’s click track. The sound of a departure neither person wants but both are powerless to stop. Go desperately wants to break out into vistas of swooping strings amid declarations of love, to grab onto Fortune’s celestial rudder and steer the moment towards reconciliation, but onwards it plods towards the silence that follows the closing seconds. The closing door. The closing chapter. Shall we try to imagine what silence looks like? Can it be the back of a slammed door seen through tear-blurred eyes?

Unreleased (1985) / Internet download (2001)
Prince has experimented in reggae on several occasions, ranging from the blatant (Blue Light, Ripopgodazippa) to the subtle (Telepathy, Goldnigga). Splash falls somewhere in between. It has a textbook reggae beat with bass that’s broader than Broadway, but the song’s also drenched with aquatic sound-effects and a melody that’s pure musical theatre. Strange bedfellows that bunk up surprisingly well. Splash sounds like The Revolution having the time of their lives and is more summery than a slip’n’slide through Pimms, although the instrumental last minute could quite easily be the DVD menu-screen music for an animated movie about a mermaid. Here’s hoping future excavations into the vault yield lost classics on a par with this.

Unreleased (1980)
She would later play down the association but this unreleased song was written about Revolution member and friend Lisa Coleman: a classically trained pianist who could be considered the fountainhead of Prince’s compositional complexity having switched him on to composers such as Cage, Debussy and Stravinsky. There’s no avant-garde boundary pushing on Lisa but what there is is a simple, sleek and hypnotic groove. Prince showing off his keyboard dexterity to his new bandmate by piling seductive synth-lines up like serpents’ coils. I originally was going to feature the NPG song Peace from The Slaughterhouse in this slot but I listened to it repeatedly in readiness and my enthusiasm evaporated away. The beat, so solidly funky at first, seemed to show signs of rigor mortis with every replay. In contrast, I could listen to this lithe track until the sun blinks out in the sky and I would still spend my last moments on this untethered Earth groping for the replay button in the cold, eternal night.

Unreleased (1984) / Purple Rain Deluxe (2017)
Recorded in 1984, Roadhouse Garden attended an Around the World in a Day finishing school and graduated in finger cymbals and childlike wonder. In the lyrics Prince gives us a tour of his memory palace on a Toyland train, crashing through a model village and ad-libbing new verses of Here’s the Church (the nursery rhyme later sung on Count the Days). Until 2016 the only circulating version was its sole live performance, recorded on Prince’s birthday that year, and was conjoined with Our Destiny – a half-formed thing thankful for an ending. But Roadhouse Garden had higher aspirations than this soundboard coupling and at one point in the late nineties the song was set to be the title track of a compilation of unreleased Revolution songs. The project was sadly shelved due to a disagreement between Prince and Wendy and Lisa, so we had to wait until a few months after his death before a newly-single and studio-recorded Roadhouse Garden was seen out and about. The separation from Our Destiny didn’t last long though: in 2017 the Purple Rain Deluxe remaster reunited the two divorcees – grafting them into one track again. Two childhood lovers now forever entwined, in mass consumption as they were in bootleg obscurity.

Unreleased (1991) / Allegiance (1992)
Firstly, let’s ignore Howard Hewett’s version. In the annals of pop history Allegiance will be remembered as a bland soul track by the former Shalamar singer; an album title-track that wasn’t good enough to become a single. But as ever with these purple-penned gifts, it’s all about the original hiding in the Paisley Park vault – a demo that even with poor fidelity is leagues ahead of the recipient’s re-recording. Prince’s vocals on this unreleased gem start mid-wail like we’re jumping on a train that’s already left the station. After our hasty boarding we take a tour through the sacred realm of Sex and Salvation, and witness Prince pledge allegiance to his lover’s body which moves him in mysterious ways. It’s a popular route but the air is fresh, and Prince even fits in some on-brand gender-blurring (unless you accept the “junk” reference as solely a drug metaphor). Allegiance, as the lyrics say, is a deep blue funk but I like it. The final 30 seconds alone is anthemic enough to rally hearts and nations behind. May Howard’s version be stricken from the records and let us never speak of it again.

Telepathy (1987)
Written for Nashville singer Deborah Allen after she wrote to Prince requesting a song for her upcoming album. They had briefly previously met in the courtyard of a studio-complex they were both recording in and Prince’s sole contribution to the conversation was to answer “likewise” when Ms Allen complimented him on his outfit. But apparently that was enough for him to agree and to pop in the post this synth-skanker, sprinkled with peak-power fairydust. It deserves better treatment than a country starlet swimming in unfamiliar waters (and at one point was going to be resurrected for Mayte’s album) but luckily three minutes of the raw Prince-sung demo exists, so if you know where to look you can receive your purple fix uncut.

Unreleased (1994) / Internet download (2001)
Surfing in on a loop of Headshock’s Bebop Ta Hip Hop, this Exodus shortlister lays down everything you’d expect from a Prince production in 1994. The bridge and chorus are catchier than a yawn but all the boxes are ticked so methodically there doesn’t seem any room to imprint its own character. For a track named Mad, it’s sadly lacking in unpredictability. And that’s when Prince flips the “dirty switch”. Yes! A burst of guitar gushes forth that sounds like all hell’s wasps. There’s witchcraft afoot and for a brief moment the track suddenly turns from mad kooky to mad certifiable, like a realisation the hearts that somebody dotted their ‘i’s with were written in blood. I have a list as long as your arm of other tracks where I wish that guitar switch had been found.

Unreleased (1984)
A radiant ball of sunny pop that proved too chirpy for The Family, and for lead vocalist Susannah who successfully fought Prince to keep it off their album. You can see why she wasn’t enamoured by the trite Disney lyrics but for catchiness alone, it breathes pure bubblegum fire. As a kid I once put a whole pack of skittles in my mouth, naively thinking I’d get an intense flavour overload – the mother of all sugar hits. If I’d only known I could have listened to Miss Understood instead of experiencing the disappointing and disgusting reality. The feeling of having to swallow a mouthful of neat cordial before chewing a huge grey wad of flavourless mulch the size of a golf ball may be closer to Susannah’s experience of this song but for me Miss Understood is the hyper-rainbow cocktail that never was.

Unreleased (1982)
While you sweat over your masterpiece that will secure fame, recognition and respect; your magnum opus funnelling everything you feel about today’s societal decay into a five-part space rock opera to illuminate minds and contribute to the fall of the venal power structures stripping the world for parts; while you pour your heart and soul into this cataclysmic talisman of righteous enlightenment, a previously unheard funk-riff that Prince belched out in his sleep three decades ago will resurface and cause more world joy than any of your high-minded intentions. Don’t Let Him Fool Ya is barely even a song, more a tantric joy in bass-led repetition. Don’t feel bad, the dude’s inhuman.

Unreleased (1981)
An electric piano love letter to Lisa Coleman, acting as an apology for kicking her out of the house during a falling out. Strange Way (aka Strange Way of Saying I Love U) is one of the more melodic ditties to be found within the cracks of Prince’s discography and even though its roots aren’t strong enough to overturn the major flagstones, surely there’s nobody immune to its choppy, McCartney-esque charm. I have a feeling that Lisa would have forgiven murder if this was the mea culpa. To paraphrase his later Stylistics cover: doo-we-ooo-we-ooo-wee-oo means I love you.