1992. The year the Premier League launched and Fergie had her toes sucked. Charles and Di split and the charts were equally as depressing. Erasure covering Abba. Simply Red simply inescapable. Ebeneezer Goode. And I………………… will always love you.
I was 12. I’d heard Gett Off, Cream and Money Don’t Matter 2 Night on the radio. Then I heard Thunder. Not his greatest track by a long shot, but something clicked. These four songs were not only all done by the same artist — they were on the same album? Whoa.
Diamonds and Pearls. Released the previous October. Prince’s 13th studio album, my first.
Enter stage left: The Britannia Music Club. Every time one of their catalogue leaflets tumble out of a magazine I’d circle the four free albums I’d choose. After months (maybe years) of begging my Dad to join, he eventually relented. The deal? I’d get one free album if I agreed to buy one a year with my own money. And the album I chose without hesitation was Diamonds and Pearls.
Most hardcore Prince fams like myself (yes, ‘fams’ not ‘fans’) will tell you this was the album where he started falling off. When he stopped leading trends and started following them. When the lure of rap was too strong and led him into a lane he was never truly comfortable in. Much like MJ did with Dangerous, the rise of hiphop and new jack swing had shifted the pop music goalposts. I had no idea at the time and couldn’t care one jot. Literally counting the days until the CD landed on my doormat.
Then suddenly it was here. Many of Prince’s albums have some pretty shitty covers (I’m looking at you, Musicology, LotusFlower, Chaos & Disorder and n.e.w.s.), but that hologram on the front of D&P still looks fresh as hell today. It lures you in.
I hoovered up every detail in the inlay card and one thing stuck out above all — Thunder was a one-man show? All instruments. All voices. All production. I didn’t understand the production side, but the idea that one guy could somehow be a band and a choir on his own blew my mind. Just one guy.
Overall, it’s an uneven album. Gett Off is as good as anything he’s ever recorded. Jughead as bad. On record, Cream is a delicious slice of Bolan-esque pop. Live, it’s faster and altogether funkier. Willing and Able somehow manages to feature a Tony M rap and not be godawful. Whereas Push is just, well, a bit embarrassing. And the less said about those assless chaps at the VMAs, the better.
Despite that, the 12 year-old me lapped it all up. A few years later I even bought the sheet music for The Hits 1&2, and asked my somewhat confused sexagenarian piano teacher to teach me how to play Diamonds & Pearls (with predictably mixed results).
It’s not my favourite Prince album. It’s probably not even in my top 10. But it was my first, and therefore holds a special place in my heart.
It started a musical obsession which continues to this day, some 29 years later. And if the rumours are true and there’s a special edition on the way later this year, sign me up.
