PRINCE - PURPLE RAIN

P

PRINCE
PURPLE RAIN

Are you old, grey and longing for the return of an older, better time when your music collection was big, heavy and came in twelve inch slabs of black plastic? Are you virtually fed up with only virtually living? Are all your friends only virtual ones?

Don’t worry, You angel, You: you are most welcome here. You have accidentally stumbled upon Drunken Vinyls, a place where all your nostalgic dreams can come true. For here we have made it our mission to disregard all that is false and to never buy the fake and sell what’s real even though we may, indeed, be living in the Plastic Age.

It is our mission to catalogue and review every vinyl record ever made from A through to Z; that’s 26 discs, you know! An almost impossible task! But let nothing daunt us, together we’ll do it. And yes, we hate mobile phones, iPods, iPads, pAntyPads and any other Pads you can mention. We particularly revile Blackberries, Blueberries, and Jazzberries. And please; never, never, never mention jumped up Hip Hop artists of any kind – particularly if they come with a faux social conscience, limited intelligence, a fondness for their own voice and stupid names, such as, for example ‘Reveal’.

Tonight we have a fascinating recording artist at the peak of his powers. We refer to none other than His Royal Purpleness himself, Prince.

But first: A word from our Sponsors!!

Tonight’s Drunken Vinyls is sponsored by the beer of intellectuals:

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Gilbert O’Sullivan: An Apology

Good evening. We would like to apologise humbly and unreservedly to Gilbert O’Sullivan and his family for the piece entitled ‘Gilbert’s Tea Time Challenge’ in last month’s Drunken Vinyls. It was never our intention (in any way whatsoever) to cause distress to Gilbert’s inner circle of family and friends by publishing an erroneous and, quite frankly offensive, wordsearch. Unfortunately, due to no fault of ours, an unforeseen error occurred and it transpired that somebody at the printers substituted the words ‘Clair’, ‘Kettle’, ‘Rhymed’, ‘Twit’, ‘Permissive’, ‘Matrimony’ and ‘Wakka’ for ‘Homo’, ‘Pissflaps’, ‘Wanker’, ‘Bumboy’ and ‘Twat’. We would like to assure Mr O’Sullivan that this was in no way a deliberate act on our part, nor was it intended as a comment upon the artist’s considerable body of work, image or personality. We would like to get hold of this so called humorist and, if we could, tell him off very sternly indeed.

By way of making reparations we have offered to print Mr O’Sullivan’s exciting new wordsearch entitled ‘Gilbert’s Funtime Poser’ absolutely free of charge. We’re sure you’ll have as much fun as we did spotting the funster popstar’s greatest hits!

AND NOW

It’s TIME for our NEW REGULAR FEATURE!

DRUNKEN VINYLS PRESENTS:

NAMES OF FEAR!!

A cut out and keep monthly guide to names of death. Instantly spot toxic name combinations! Tear along the dotted line and it folds to a handy credit card size for your wallet. You need never get mugged again!

Every month, our number crunchers, trick cyclists and lexicographers or Lexipsychonumerists, as we like to (wittily) dub them, research tirelessly on your behalf by flicking through the pages of well thumbed magazines, dictionaries and baby books to spot where a name is likely to point to a person with a criminal upbringing and potential riot genes and list them for your delectation.

“I was so astonished and amazed by ‘Names of Fear’ that I immediately wrote a protest-rap and set up a Facebook tribute site to this vital new resource!” (The Hip Hop Artist formerly known as Reveal but who now refuses to ‘reveal’ his name for fear of implication and summary justice from a blood thirsty pack of middle class, aging politicos. Although you can buy an interview and dinner with him for the well tasty price of £49.99 so long as you bring your own mini corn on the cob sides)

Do you know somebody with a dodgy name? Do you live next to a person who likes to preserve his anonymity? Then you cannot afford to miss this new monthly feature! Ignore – but only if you’re stupid or called Brian!

THEY DO WANT YOUR NAME!

In the fadeout of their prophetic hit, ‘Living By Numbers’, top 80s group New Musik wrote: ‘They don’t want your name, They don’t want your name, They don’t want your name…’ to be chanted by a choir of several cockney voices with varying pitches and tones ad nauseum. It was an exciting finale to an exciting recording – but how wrong they were! It turns out that they do want your name after all! Later , NEW MUSIK went on to further predict a dystopian future by claiming we would all live in a ‘World of water where you swim to the other side…’ but, in all honesty, this was totally inaccurate. Nobody ever did that, it seems, except for diving prodigy Tom Daley.

Have you ever received an unsolicited telephone call from pretend Indian or Welsh sounding persons claiming to be from Indesit, Anglian Windows, Watchtower, Sky or Go Compare Insurance Services? Be aware. These calls are NEVER a random accident. Nine times out of ten,  the first thing you will say after crushing up your ear against the receiver to try and decipher the unpleasant high pitched female squawking from the other end of the world will be your name. Yes - YOUR NAME!! 

And names can spell death in this modern world of tradecraft and spyware. Particularly if you happen to be called Mr Death or even Mr McDe’ath if you are Scottish.

Our London correspondent and part time football manager of top flight team Newcastle United, Mr Alan Pardew, had this to say on the subject in a terribly fear stricken and shaky voice as befits the weed he is, allegedly: ‘It was bleeding awful. I answers the dog and bone. There’s this screechin’ voice on the over end. “What ees your name, pleeze? What ees your name?” “Pardew,” I answers. “Pardon?” “No Pardew.” “Pardon?” “No Pardew”, on and on it goes like a bleedin’ ghost. It was the most terrifying fing wot I had evah heard.’

Now our source at The Ministry of Names, located in Luton near London, reveals the terrifying details of the data collected by those evil brass hats and pen pushers who reside their like pigs wallowing in their own filth. 

The Ministry have compiled a list of the names most likely to be connected with any crime committed in Britain today – marked with a red cross for collection, imprisonment or death to prevent a future crime wave. Even more dreadfully, there exists a list of names covertly collected that indicate those persons who come from a gene pool liable to participate in riots should they kick off in inner city Britain. Although the official line is that last summer’s riots were caused by bad teachers, this is simply a smokescreen to cover up the hideous truth: the list entitled ‘NAMES OF DEATH’!

NOW DRUNKEN VINYLS CAN REVEAL SOME OF THE CONTENTS OF THIS MOST SECRET DIRECTORY!

NAMES OF DEATH

A Government Document

NAME	CRIMINAL PROBABILITY
Brian	Somebody with the name ‘Brian’ is likely to be extremely dull indeed and unworthy of our attention. Anagram: Brain, but don’t let that fool you.  Your Brian has a penchant for filthy anoraks and notebooks for taking down the numbers of trains. They like to lick pencil stubs. Progressively more boring if surname is ‘Bucket’ ‘TheSnail’ or ‘Cant’. Additional Data: Brian Cant was presenter of BBC kiddyfest ‘Play Away’ An extremely tame show by the racist and sexist standards of the seventies. Thankfully, no episodes are thought to exist in the archives.
Boris	The name Boris presents a conundrum to the criminologist. Our research reveals this individual is likely to be Russian, Mad or both. Your Russian Boris can be found wandering the streets and attempting to stab people with umbrellas He wears cunning disguises such as wigs and goatee beards. He often cuts two holes in a newspaper in order to appear to be reading the news but in actuality is indulging in covert surveillance.  A Boris with tendencies towards insanity is equally dangerous – the stupid fright wig is still evident but he will proclaim he is the mayor of big cities and ride bicycles, often without trouser clips, presenting a danger to the innocent bystander. Be vigilant. Especially where surname is Becker or TheSpider
Elton	Elton is a knotty one as the name can be interchangeable. If used as a forename it is indicative of a limp and supine character beloved of catchphrases like ‘OO, that’s a big one’, ‘Get you, dear!’ and ‘OO you are awful!’ Their attitude to crime is accompanied by a desire to continually worry about hair loss and they are fond of jumping up and down blowing whistles in the street during the summer months. As a surname, in all likelihood it will falsely indicate to the criminal that he is a master of writing comedy routines, novels and stage musicals – which all turn out to be criminally ghastly. Keep a close eye on these individuals – they are frequently found near a riot situation.
Mr Blobby	Keep a close eye on anybody with a name like this. Crimes include many criminal records, frightening innocent bystanders with ghastly cries of ‘Blobby Blobby!’ and wasting everybody’s time by making very poor television shows which purport to come from a fictional village called ‘Wanky Bottom’. Appalling. Arrest on sight and beat severely with iron truncheons whilst simultaneously detaining anybody in proximity grinning inanely, wearing a stupid disguise and holding a microphone
Demetri	Anyone called Demetri is liable to be a criminal, a vampire or a criminal vampire. These fellows are extremely well known to our name surveillance unit. Often found to be carrying bottles marked ‘poison’, guns disguised as pens and shoes with poison knives hidden in the heels they are likely to be accompanied by ‘Boris’ – see above – sporting an eye patch and come with heavy Eastern European accents. A false moustache is never far away from fellows like these. Extremely likely to smash up ‘Boots The Chemist’ and steal bottles of cough medicine whilst triumphantly screaming ‘Korvonia!’ loudly.
Noel	Most people called Noel have crap facial hair OR support Manchester City Football Club. The most dangerous of these Noels sport goatee beards and are surprisingly diminutive but have helicopter licenses in order to appear taller. Typical criminal activities include a desire to swap cheap plastic items with anybody foolish enough to stop and engage in dialogue. These fellows are partial to objects such as ‘Used-Etch-A-Sketch’, 'Spirograph with Two Missing Cogs’ and anything made by ‘Chad Valley’ which they horde and use for yet to be determined nefarious activities. If challenged they claim to come from a place called ‘Twatty Bottom’ and investigations have conclusively proved that this town is completely fictitious. If pushed into a corner they will threaten to ‘Call the Banker’ which is extremely rude cockney rhyming slang. Arrest on sight and beat with iron truncheons – these Noels are the next of kin to riots. Have no compunction about smashing to smithereens any telephones, cheap plastic toys, beards or large pink twats shouting ‘Blobby!’ either. Noels who like Manchester City Football Club, an inconsequential and dreary place, are of no interest to anybody whatsoever.

This random selection is simply a representation of the ‘Names of Death’ and all we could lay our hands on – for now. But never fear, we will continue to investigate tirelessly on your behalf. Our advice, as ever, is to be vigilante and, if you happen to be called by a name on this list – be warned – THEY are on to you. Actually, if you have a used Spirograph we wouldn’t mind it ourselves. Or an Etch A Sketch.

AND NOW,

DRUNKEN VINYLS PRESENTS:

SETTING UP TIME!

Now is your chance to set up your decks whilst we set up ours. Sounds vaguely rude, doesn’t it? But never fear, brave vinyleers – it’s time to synch up before kick off which will be soon now, very soon.

This Week: The Government tell us that they need to monitor our emails, phone calls and web activity for the good of the nation. They claim that this is not a move towards a surveillance state – Big Brother is not watching YOU, brave hearts, no GCHQ is. A spooky establishment in North Cornwall that looks like something out of television’s ‘TIMESLIP’ where they most probably breed clones, put people in Ice Boxes and watch as the Earth burns up.


We here at DeeVees welcome this forward thinking move and hope those giant parabolic dishes are trained as follows:

1.      ON THAT SCOUNDREL AND SABOTEUR that wanders around in flagrante placing pornographic pictures of naked, semi erect men on innocent priests’ memory sticks as they prepare to deliver sermons to congregations of women and children in Church Halls. This is appalling behaviour. Our sympathies are forwarded to the priests in question. Let he who is without sin cast the first stone. Who can honestly say they haven’t, at one time or another, been vaguely aroused by the side of fit young men sporting wood? We know we have.

2.      ON THOSE BLOODY FAKE SHIEKS. They’re at it more often than Mr Blobby at village fete, aren’t they? Always claiming that they are exposing scandal for the greater good. Well we, for two, are tired of poor Princess Fergie getting done up like a kipper for exposing her breasts and offering to sell Prince Andrew for £10,000 and a grope, we really are. Then there was the duck islands and helicopter pads claimed on ministerial expenses. Most recently they have discovered that some poor misquoted Minister called Cruddarse (at least we believe that is what he is called, we could be wrong) has boasted that he can procure dinner anybody with the Prime Minister and the Minister of your choice for the cost of a smallish contribution to the Party. Those willing to pay enough WILL have enough! Now, we are old fashioned here at DeeVees, and cannot see the harm in this at all . Therefore we wrote off immediately for the appropriate application forms and asked for an accompanying menu – extremely reasonable it was too: The Lamb Shanks served up with Jackie Smith, Minted Gravy on a bed of Creamy Mashed Potato for £250,000 plus VAT caught our eye, as did the Authentic Eton School Beef Olives with Tapioca and Jam with chance to boff Nick Clegg for £19,99. But what REALLY sealed the deal for us was the ‘Duck Island Pasty and Meat Pie Picnic Away Day’ with Eric Pickles. We didn’t hesitate.

3.      ON LIONEL BLEEDING MESSI. The greatest player in the world? Don’t make us laugh. We admit he scored a couple of hat tricks recently and his name lends itself to a couple of jokes like: ‘This room is a bit Messi’, ‘You’ve left the place in a bit of a Lionel, ain’t you?’ and ‘He’s NOT the Messi-ah, he’s a very naughty Messi’ but have we forgotten or forgiven the endlessly crap advertisements he has been in for Adidas shoes? Or that dreadful ‘spontaneous’ African football game with half of Chelsea where he pretends to be a Meerkat? Of course we haven’t. So move over Lionel and take stock - there are plenty more Lionels in the world you know:

WHO IS THE GREATEST LIONEL?

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PRINCE
PURPLE RAIN

WHAT’S THE STORY?

Before we spin tonight’s vinyl, it is often our custom to look up the Wikipedia entry on our artist of choice to give you a little background detail. And WHAT A STORY have we turned up tonight! Stand to attention, if you will, for his Royal Purpleness, the one and only Prince! We are not worthy, we are not worthy….

Prince was born some time ago now (we couldn’t be bothered to check the precise date) to his proud parents, the King and Queen – which is how he came by his name of Prince. If he had been a lady he most probably would have been called Princess. In the event giving him any name at all was something of a waste of time anyhow because he abandoned it anyway and replaced it with a squiggly sort of affair and became TAFKAP. This irritated him intensely because, as he himself angrily pointed out in an enraged tantrum on television’s ‘Lift Off With Ayshea!’, ‘I hadn’t wanted a FUCKING name which was why I denuded myself of the Prince I was born with, but THEY gave me a name to replace the name I had not wanted. The BASTARDS From NOW ON I will disguise myself as a beggar, a tramp or BOTH!’ Or something. It was difficult to be sure because he couldn't quite reach the microphone.

Prince, it is claimed, was notoriously shy and to overcome this drawback, shed himself of the trappings and finery of Royalty and went forth into the city disguised in inconspicuous purple rags as a beggar. Before long, to his intense exasperation, he was dubbed as ‘That Purple Beggar with the Crap Disguise’ and was followed everywhere by people shouting and pointing: ‘Purple Beggar, Purple Beggar, are you Prince in disguise?’ Prince was furious and expressed his anger with vehemence on television's ‘The Old Grey Whistle Test: ‘What’s the FUCKING point of paying good wonga for a disguise that everyone can see through?’ he possibly screamed, but it was hard to be certain because he had wrapped his face in a cheesecloth tea towel and put a dustbin over his head.

Prince persevered, however, determined to create for himself a new life away from the Palace as a musical artist of some distinction and soon found himself drawn like a moth to the candle towards the intensely interesting street cultures of the time. The burgeoning Hip Hop and Break-dance Street scene of America fascinated him and he started to absorb the new musical landscape. There would he see grinning youths whooping and hollering, dressed in jaunty peaked caps, wearing hub caps on chains nicked from motors, spinning endlessly in circles on their backs on bits of cardboard boxes to Gary Numan records. Prince observed, taking everything in, silently, quietly, thoughtfully. Further, his eye was taken by the sight of groups of young men often in threes, one toting a massive cassette deck thumping out Autobahn by Kraftwerk, the next with a megaphone screaming ‘Yo! Bitch! Yo! A-Huh-Huh, Yo! Don’t Stop! Yo! Hammer Time! Break it Down!’ and the third cupping his hands over his mouth and making loud rhythmic farting noises through them. After much consideration and deliberation, Prince packed his rags and raced over to television’s  ‘Cheggers Plays Pop’ to share his discovery.

‘It was FUCKING shit, Keith!’ he screamed, incensed. ‘Complete WANK! Devoid of anything resembling talent – any SHITTING mug could do it! Which is WHY I decided to make this REAL record! Ladies and gentlemen, we are gathered here tonight to get through this thing called LIFE!’

THE NOT QUITE TEN COMMANDMENTS OF DRUNKEN VINYLS

1. Thou shalt play both sides of the record in their entirety
2. Thou shalt drink one can of Fosters or its alcohol equivalent per song
3. Thou shalt record ramblings as they occur to thee for the duration of the running time
4. Thou shalt edit out the swearing the next day
5. Thou shalt not suffer a Blueberry user to live

P

PRINCE
PURPLE RAIN

Tonight’s Sponsors:

FINK BRAU!
GET IT NOW!
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(Fink Brau  allegedly contains some alcohol, please use responsibly)

Okay. Come in. Come in. Open a can. Put yer feet up. You are welcome here. Tonight we have a real classic. It’s time to get DRUNK to the one and only…TAFKAP…we mean PRINCE!

SIDE ONE

Let’s Go Crazy

As befits a classic LP we have an overture spoken by the Royal Purpleness himself. ‘Dearly Beloved – we are gathered here to get through this thing called Life – a mighty long time but I’m here to tell you, there’s something else, the afterworld…and at this point – it all kicks off, a sermon to great dance music. We think there was a film but we don’t care – let’s go crazy! A frenetic, pounding beat, double tracked on some sort if insane organ – lyrics delivered as staccato. We don’t think he ever bettered this track; a magical cornucopia of rock, an invitation to boogie – no need for distraction – let’s go!! The trouble is, we just got  to play this over and over and over…

Take Me With You

It’s a shame, we think, he followed this LP up with ‘Around the World in a Day’ he could have been a Rock God! This starts with an intriguingly brilliant introduction before solid four / four square beats and a driving pulsating rhythm on the bass. The vocal is tensely horizontal until the middle eight which releases the tension. It is, as Shakespeare would say, an alarum to love. Orgasmic. It has hit single written all over it.

The Beautiful Ones

This was a good choice, my friends, what a classic album have we here so near the cradle of our fairy queen? and the depth of sound on the vinyl is truly amazing. It’s Kraftwerk meets Japan for this - all drum beats and synthesisers, we recall that Suede used this title for a reasonable but inferior song. This is a paean to sex with the grinding bass suggestive of the act itself. Hubba Hubba! Double tracked on the vocals, Prince sounds ethereal  underscored by the pounding, driving rhythm. Rises to a crescendo of snarling, heavy, declarative emotion. Outstanding.

Computer Blue

It’s the 1980s and, well, computers were sexy then. They’re not now, are they? We’ve all got them. We don’t think we ever imagined we’d all have one sitting on our desks, back in those days, well we’d just come back from the Falklands war. Now, what's this? We have too sexy, automaton-like ladies moaning:


‘Wendy?’ ‘Yes, Lisa.’ ‘Is the water warm enough?’ ‘Yes Lisa’ ‘Shall we begin?’


The track itself is pounding drums and bass with a synth mixed fairly low down, a pounding cacophony reminiscent of being perched atop a cliff and ready to tombstone towards the warm water. The music evokes the subject; what do we call that? Style echoes form? We’ve noticed that each track is as good as the last – this is an LP you must own. But - and here's the rub - your CD copy or download won’t cut it – the depth is lost in translation…it’s got to be filthy filthy vinyl....

Darling Nikki

…bliss, a segue, the hallmark of a truly great LP, it indicates conceptual, a dirty word, but wait, we NOW know it is indicative of an artist with musical ideas and direction. Bring back the segue. What has happened to music? We demand to know! We don’t know what ‘started to grind’ means but we can guess – and ‘masturbation’ that’s a reasonably long word for a rock artist, isn’t it? Tremendous, we’re loving it. Thank you for a funky side one!

SIDE TWO

When Doves Cry

Now this song, as any fule no, thank you Molesworth, is dominated by drums – in fact much of it really is vocals and drums – this is another standard, the LP is dripping with them, like honey from your knife. It’s hard for us to believe that there are generations out there who will never hear the LP as it was meant to be heard, like this. Apart from the drum machine a keyboard plays a brief motif, a lietmotif for the doves of the title – the lyrics bespeak for us all, the distance between people. The production is pleasingly sparse with distance between all the instruments and the falsetto vocals. Fantastic, we may overuse this word tonight!

I Would Die 4 You

When we were young we would die for our loves, now we are old we give them money to keep them quiet. After the sparse ‘When Doves Cry’ this is pleasingly sequenced next, a throbbing driving track: the tempo goes up, the band plays tightly to the drums, the harmonies are close. Even the sting that introduces the track signals release. A horizontal vocal line but the double tracked harmonies make you grin all over again. A nice instrumental coda…

Baby I’m A Star

…which, as if he were on stage with the band, segues into this excellent pounding rock track – now this is good without being pretentious, unlike us, but be fair we’re drunk by now. Oh, yes, he’s a star – and you know what? You know what? This is going to simply bleed into Purple Rain - we may as well say it now, music should always be like this – keep your M C Hammershit, this is truly great. An artist at the absolute peak of confidence and power. And he knows it. He will never be this great again. Are you ready? ‘Around the World in a Day…’

Purple Rain

What chord is that? It could be Hendrix, double tracked and echoes, like some John Lennon – distanced from the listener and this time the instruments, the band, they are foregrounded with that Eleanor Rigby violin somewhere in the mix. We are surprised this isn’t a karaoke classic; certainly we could get away with singing it. As the rock progresses, the instruments become a crescendo and the vocal gets nearer. Until the anguished ‘Honey, I know, I know, times are CHANGING! We have to reach out for the new, which means you TOO.’ Well, we bought it and we was sold, sold down the river. His Purpleness knew too, he went back, back to what was real. The track dies away in true heavy rock style, the coda remains the same – BUT is it triumphant or elegiac?

Sorry for all the hyperbole tonight, this is a truly, truly great LP. We urge you to own it, go down the market and pick up an old and filthy vinyl that need buffing up; wear it with pride. Gawd bless, ya, Prince.

What Have We Learnt Tonight?

If you’ll be my bodyguard, we will be your long lost pals, dear hearts? Is there any point in getting annoyed, though, seriously? You know that you are watched over by GCHQ like some benevolent God and you can’t do anything; whilst all the while the watchers are indulging themselves by sunbathing themselves stupid on Duck Islands, calling a dear old Cornish Pasty ‘Beouf En Croute’ and looking at pictures of naked men with stiffies. It’s a strange world, ain’t it? You were encouraged to buy into this brave digital society and now they’re trying to sell you out. Hurray!