A while ago we asked the question, What would you like to see on our website?
The universal answer was (of course,) more stories about the ‘good old days.’ Some stories we’ve told over and over, like writing ‘Should I Say Yes’ in a full-blown [pun intended] tornado.
Is there anything left to say?
Valerie and I sat down and brainstormed, and came up with a pretty good list. We’ll take them in the order that they occurred to us. Here’s story #3.
Paisley Park, MN
The most futuristic building in Eden Prairie, Minnesota is Paisley Park, the home studio of Prince Rogers Nelson. Home studio is a little misleading. It’s a sprawling complex with three world-class recording rooms, a kitchen, and a full wardrobe department where they ‘built’ all his wild clothes.
We were there working on our second Atlantic record, Told U So. The producer was David ‘Z’ Rivkin.
We had the whole place to ourself for two weeks.
Our manager, Rick, asked me, “If you could have any guest stars on the record, who would it be?”
“Maceo Parker.”
Maceo was the alto saxophone player on all those late-60s James Brown records. He was one of my Soul Music heroes since I was eleven!
Rick found him somehow, and we flew him up to Minnesota. He played on our record for five hundred bucks. Said he could use the money ‘cause he had a half-dozen kids and lots of alimony payments.
James Brown used to name-check the kid
on his records.
That name-check made him famous.
David Z.
Maceo!
Blow your horn
Don’t want no trash
Play me some POPCORN
Maceo, C’MON!
When J.B. and the band got to Africa, the locals thought Maceo! was just a cool American thing to say, like hang ten or cowabunga!
So, I’m sitting behind the mixing board. Maceo starts playing on the title cut, and it sounds too…happy.
I look over at Rick. “This is Maceo Parker! How can I tell him what to play?”
“Go on,” Rick says. “You gotta do it.”
OK, so…
“Maceo…um…that’s a little too sweet. We’re looking for something a little more like…” I sing him his solo from Ain’t It Funky Now. [1969]
Bedop bedop vol-u-vop!
“Oh, ha HA!” He says. “You want that jagged stuff.”
Prince’s saxophone guy, Eric Leeds, shows up. He’s a great modern funky bebop player; perfect for Prince’s band. Plays mostly Bari. I tell him he’s one of my favorite horn players. He looks at me like dirt under his fingernails and says nothing.
Parker and Leeds are sitting in the corner. Maceo’s taking swigs off a bottle of blue mouthwash he carries around with him. He doesn’t drink, and he declines our invitation to dinner.
During the mixing, which was Rick’s job and bored me to death, I got to roam the studio. One room was full of every keyboard in the world. Another room was packed floor-to-ceiling with tapes. There was a guitar case in the hallway with a label that said, #3 PEACH.
I sat on the floor and took it out of the case. It was one of those wild Prince guitars, with the long protruding slightly suggestive upper horn.
The neck was skinny.
The action was tight.
John L. Nelson
Around this time, Prince’s father strolls in.
He’s a little old bald man in a purple suit, about the same height as ‘The Artist’ himself. He asks the receptionist for a few posters, “for his girlfriends.”
Prince was having a little pop-up concert at a club near the studio. David Z got us in. We got right up front. The band didn’t go on till two or three. Sheila Escovedo, (Sheila E) was the drummer. Damn, she was good! In musician speak, they dug a deep trench! We stood five feet from the man himself. They played non-stop for two and a half hours!
Sheila E.
Back at the studio the next day, I had more time to explore. Made my way up to the second floor, where the wardrobe department was. There were a dozen sewing machines at individual stations, like a factory.
In the corner, there were all these clothes. Famous clothes! There was the fur coat and wide-brimmed hat from the MTV Video for I-forget-what-song.
So, I’m there in the wardrobe room at Paisley Park.
Trying on Prince’s clothes.
They were so tiny.
Like clothes tailored for Tinkerbell,
Or Peter Pan.
Prince in the coat.