As a sonic lighting storm set upon us, anonymous silhouettes appeared from beneath the floorboards and into the centerfold of Prince's infamous Love Symbol, a stage fully-equipped with four catwalks to spread the love in all directions throughout the night to come. Dressed in a silver-and-gold-sequined tux with tails and a much-anticipated silky purple blouse, Prince screamed, "Vancouver, is everybody here? Is everybody present? My name is Prince. Tell me that you are ready for me! Let's go!"
With his arms stretched apart, standing like the cross itself, Prince busted into "Gold," sending the crowd into an unimaginable frenzy. I don't think any of us knew what the night had in store for us, or what I would come to gain from the entire experience itself: a quintessential belief that Prince is sex.
Purple lights dimmed the stadium and Prince took no time to deliver what everyone had asked for, "Purple Rain." Sporting his Fender Telecaster with matching leopard print pick guard and guitar strap, I was reminded once again that aside from his sensuous infamy and party-favourite hits, Prince is above all a phenomenal guitarist; like Eric Clapton without the middle-aged connotations. Prince soloed into sweet perfection as I thought to myself, "This song feels like the end of the night." It wasn't.
One hit after another, and on to "1999," the set was smooth like butter. During "Shhh," the sexual tension between Prince and the crowd was hard to take -- especially since the artist I have come to appreciate as the epitome of sex and sensuality is now a Jehovah's Witness, and has traded in sex, drugs, and rock 'n roll for the Man upstairs. Still, the slow jam had lovers in the crowd embracing and those flying solo wishing, as per Prince's lyrics, to "Do it in the kitchen on the table tops, Or something like that . . .
The highlight of the night was the night in its entirety, as each part of the set seemed to transition so smoothly that every moment became inseparable from the next. Prince and his band shifted between his catalogue and funky classics like Sly and the Family Stones Everyday People and a piano-heavy rendition of The Beatles Come Together. His band played a large part in bringing the show together from insane solos to dance party improvisations, they helped keep the night alive for two and a half hours.
Theres some ambiguity as to how many encores were played. Some counted four, I counted two, but it doesnt really matter what constitutes an encore in this instance. Prince just kept playing until they turned the stadium lights on, and then? He played some more, delivering both Raspberry Beret and Kiss. The latter had Prince singing in a falsetto so high it reached the nosebleeds and channeling dance moves a la Michael Jackson. It felt like Id somehow been transported to the concert scene from an 80s high school flick.
Once it all ended, I danced down the street smiling and grooving to the funky bass spinning through my head. And Prince? Well, he just kept playing. At Bar None, a friend saw Prince standing with his back facing the audience, jamming on a bass guitar until 4:30 in the morning, with a single turnaround stare at the crowd to reinstate that he was, in fact, Prince.
