Bye Bye Purple Man...

Prince died the other day, at 57.

In cricketing terms: not a bad innings but everyone would have liked to see him bat on, at least until after the mid-afternoon sandwiches and pint sinking drinks. Ready for the evenings play.

In real terms: Sad news. A loss.

I'm quite gutted at the passing of Prince.

He was an amazing guitarist, singer, a brilliant songwriter and a very unique individual. 

And now he's gone from the world which is never a good thing. I like those kind of people in the world. I like them to stay. The more the merrier.

People like Prince can really put some colour and sparkle into life. 

People like Prince scream to world, it's fine to be yourself.

Even if yourself is a sex and purple obsessed loon genius.

('Rows 1 & 2... my room later... bring friends')

"Dearly beloved

We are gathered here today

To get through this thing called life

Electric word life, It means forever and that's a mighty long time

But I'm here to tell you, there's something else

The after world..."

If the funeral didn't start like that, I will be sodding sorely disappointed.

It was Purple Rain that I fell in love with.

The album obv. I'm old. I have vinyled.

There's nine tracks of magic on there. Which considering there are only nine tracks on the album, is pretty good going. Not a single dud. 

Compare that to a Bieber album...

<Plays opening bar of first track on Bieber album>

Dud <Skips on>

Dud <Skips on>

Dud <Skips> Dud <Skips> Dud <Skips> Dud <Skips> Dud <Skips>

Ooo... hang on... yeah... this isn't so ba <Beiber starts singing>

Dud <Skips to the end throws CD out of window>

<Hits flying rat seagull, is fine with that>

But Prince meant more to me than just his music (and his music meant a lot).

As a young man (me, not Prince). I wasn't very tall (I was short) and I wasn't very sexually switched on (all the high scores were mine <Does dramatic voice> Allllllllllll...).

I felt my height and appearance were not really going to cut it with the ladies (A.K.A. girls equally terrified of being 13-16 with similar worries and concerns). 

Prince however, pointed out that maybe my understanding of the world, and what is considered attractive. Was utter crap. 

Not in person obv. Through the tele.

To my young eyes he was pure sexual attraction. 

He oozed it. As though it was poured into him every night, and repainted on every morning.

I watched him on Top of the Pops dressed in his velvet suits, surrounded by the tall beautiful talented woman in his band. He stood there singing brilliantly, basically making love to his guitar on stage, singing in falsetto. And everyone loved him for it.

Especially the ladies.

And ladies were very much on my mind at that time.

(He did the Batman music.... OMFB!)

"Six o'clock already

I was just in the middle of a dream"

<Leaps out of bed>

Stop pulling on my eyelids and asking me if I wanna make a snowman!!!

<Miss5 looks guilty>

Of course I bloody do!

Miss5: 'Yay!'

But not at 6am <Gets back into bed>

<Gets eyelids pulled>

Now, looking back.

I wish I had thought more about the ladies in the band it. There was Prince proving to a young-me that it wasn't height and appearance that made the man. A key young-me worry. 

The lesson was there right in front of my eyes. Shame I ignored it.

It takes me ages to learn that lesson, and was largely done by Mrs. Amazing's reluctant acceptance and the need for someone that could wire the stereo love.

Yet there it was, right in front of me, very early on in my life, a brilliant lesson that would have saved me hours of pain and worry.

Why didn't I absorb it?

Because... No idea. Sorry.

I can only guess. It's probably because at that time in the universe, in my world. I was surrounded by uber MEN! BIG MEN! TALL MEN! STRONG MEN! You had to run fast, be fast, hit hard. GRRRRR.

Men that hated purple. Men that are manly men. It was everywhere on the tele, computer games, school, adults.

Everywhere the message was simple. Men are big and strong.

And big men get the girls.

Unless you are Prince (5'2" apparently).

I've read many times, from various sources (twice), that he didn't give a crap that his height was considered low by some. It wasn't a worry for him.

And why would it be? It's only a comparative measurement. Seems dumb when you put it that way.

Also his sense of style should have marked him out as loony to be avoided at all costs. But somehow he made it work.

I can't help but compare him to David Bowie. The decks were stacked greatly against them both and yet they managed to make it work for them, in similar, but wildly different ways. 

And both to an amazing level of achievement and recognition.

To me that is bacon impressive, hell, that's bacon pie impressive.

(‘What’s my name?’

‘ALL: We don’t know, it is impossible to pronounce’

‘Ah yeah’ <Grinds>)

I hope my children have people like that in their lives as they grow up.

Not Bieber. I suppose... that person could be me.

I've left it a little late for the music career thing, and the god-like guitar skills.

But you know, I like a challenge.

The unique dress sense may be a bit trickier. As at present I seem to be sporting clothes from ten years ago - The Essential Dad Range 2016 or 2006 or  1996.

And Mrs. Amazing may be pretty pissed when she meets my band...

This is Jenny, Tracey, Britney and Jane. But everyone simply calls her 'Shagger'... she plays bass

Mrs. Amazing: <Looks about> I hate you all Nice to meet you all...

Mrs. Amazing: 'They need to leave now, of course'

But they're my band!

<Gets a look>

Yeah... OK... I know... Come on girls, dream's over.

Back to welding and dancing in barns for the lot of you

My children are likely to look similar to me.

That's just the way genetics works, I can't be blamed for it.

Sure they might be big and strong and play for the England Woman's rugby team (Miss5 that is). But the odds are against it.

The odds are they will go through the same worries and fears I did. But in there own way. Obv.

So I hope there is someone like Prince out there for them all and they learn the lessons I didn't.

I hope somewhere in the nasty world of mass media they can see, loudly and brightly, someone not physical huge, not the standard model, not looking like everyone else, just doing it their own way.

Basically like Frank, but in purple.

"You don't have to be rich, to be my girl"

How much you got in your purse?

Mrs. Amazing: 'A few quid...'

Oh... That's what I've got...

Mrs. Amazing: 'How about the kids share some chips, a hot chocolate, and...  and... we can share a cuppa'

Good plan <Gives a kiss>

<Steals a lot of chips>

As for Prince.

I know some of his music will be remembered for a long time. Because its awesome. 

And probably his style and personality too. That's what happens when you're that special and talented.

Everyone remembers what you did.

For me Prince's greatest song will always be 'When Doves Cry' (with Purple Rain a close second).

Lyrically, poetically, and awesome-grinding-sextastic-guitar-lead rockingly, I consider that song to be one of the greatest of all time. Really.

The words speak directly in my mind and heart and say it's OK, we've all been there.

Also there's no bass line. Really no, bass line. Next time you're boogieing-on-down to it, have a listen. No bass line there. He did that on purpose (apparently). How the smeg do you make a song that funky and cool, but have no bass line?

Beyond genius.

"Why do we scream at each other"

Because you're annoying we're family
"This is what it sounds like when doves cry"
Damn right it does, and that's neither good nor bad. It's just the way it is

<Does dove shadow puppets attacking each other>

<Then doves get it on and feathers start flying>

<In tribute to Prince obv.> 

I'm gonna leave you with, not what I thought I was going to leave you with.

Which was going to be fifteen minutes of Purple Rain (here) awesomeness and lead guitar perfection.

No. On the day of Prince's death my little brother sent me this saying it was utterly brilliant and amazing. He was dead right ruining a lifetimes run.

Just watch how Prince owns the stage, the crowd, the guitar, the suit, those collars, himself... amazing.

Bye bye purple man and thank you for everything.

X (with tongues)

(If the stupid embedded video isn't working, click here)

Bye to Bowie...

David Bowie died the other day.

I had never met the man legend. Nor, really, saw him in the flesh.

Unless you count being in a crowd, in a field, at the 2000 Glastonbury pyramid stage, singing at the top of my lungs, every damn word as though it was only me and David Bowie face to face, as 'seeing' him.

I totally do.

(Just brilliant and I shall always name this knife thusly)

David Bowie dying isn't going to change my life dramatically.

It will still plod on, like normal. Work will happen, school will happen, everything will just continue as before really.

Just his music will be on the radio a lot more, for a while, and everyone will talk about him a lot for a while. Quite right too. He was a legend.

Still a world without David Bowie feels less awesome.

“... Planet earth is blue and there's nothing I can do …”

'Why's it blue'

Er…
<Checks Google for answer, WiFi is down>
Er...

Because it would be rather silly if it was bright red with yell...

<Just runs>

I believe that no one is really gone, if they are remembered.

Which is true, from some points of view. If someone is still spoken about, then they are still here really. It's when you can't remember them they've gone. But of course how would you know…

I still tell the kids about my Grandma, so she hasn't really gone. She exists for them, even if it is just as a memory.

She was less famous though.

Less Glam Rock too.

(Everyone loves a pirate...)

To me music is incredibly important.

I feel that music is an important part of our culture and history. It can sum up thoughts and feelings of the world at one moment in time, it can also speak to everyone, right into their hearts in a very personal way. It crosses all boundaries, no matter age, colour, or Apollo creed. It's pretty cool like that.

Just how important that music is, I feel, is best judged by how well it is remembered. If something's stays in our hearts and minds, it has for a reason.

David Bowie and his music will be remembered long, long, after I fall into that chocolate vat and drown succumb to the reaper myself. He's a legde’ for a reason.

It only takes a few minutes on Wiki to realise just how unique and special David Bowie was.

“... turn and face the strange…”

<Boy8 runs past armed to teeth with Nerf guns>

<And not one, but two pairs of pants on his head>

<Carries on as though nothing has happened>

I try to pass onto my kids the music knowledge I have.

I think it's very important. My father passed down to me all the music he loved and got excited about. By playing it. My brothers too.

And I thank them all for that. Some was rubbish though, utter, utter rubbish. 'Hundred Reasons' what were you thinking? LAME! But many things are brilliant.

Over the last eight years I have been busy filling Boy8's head with music from the past, the legends, what it meant at the time, what it changed, and all the cool stuff right now. (And yes there's loads of cool stuff now, you're not looking hard enough).

The same goes for Miss4, but we've had less time rocking out in the car together. And BabyBoy1 well, he's not quite ready for lyrics and guitar riffs, but he loves a good beat.

He already boogies with his heart and soul like his Dad.

The kids journey through music has been insanely ecliptic and pretty damn random to be honest.

I've covered many, many artists and bands and I am happy with what I have managed to show them. I tried not to bore them too much and just let them choose for themselves whilst holding a hammer and their Lego masterpieces.

I think I've done well, and done lots of music legends of the past, proud.

Except...

I think... and now worry about. I think I may not have highlighted David Bowie quite enough.

Which is why my fatherly chat with Boy8 about the death of someone very important in musical history, and to me, didn't go so great...

Dude! David Bowie has died!

'Uh huh' <Nods and continues watching Turtles>

(Note to self, turn off Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles when trying to talk to Boy8. Just always.

(Unless we are talking about Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, then keep it brief))

David Bowie? <Looks deep into Boy8's eyes hoping, praying for a spark recognition>

'Oh'

<Boy8 glances back to the TV>

'That's sad'

<Knows he doesn't mean it>

Full credit to Boy8.

He knows that I am trying to tell him something interesting and important. And he knows kind of what response he needs to give, so he does. Just he's no idea what I am trying to say.

And that's the problem. I've no idea of what I am trying to say.

I want to tell him how David Bowie gave hope to millions of people that were different and outsiders in their own lives. I want to tell him how no one else writes songs like he did. How much he rocked. I have a million things I want to say but it is so raw and emotional and tied to memories I can't quite get to. Words utterly fail me.

Instead I miss-quote...

They say... That he sang all the right notes, but in the wrong order

I'm pretty sure that's a Morecambe and Wise joke. But it gets his attention.

He glances away from Donnie (Orange Turtle) throwing a baseball at someone's head. (I watch it).

'Really?'

And...

I rattle out my spell on how unique and different he was and how he gave hope to millions, by just being himself. It's not great, because there's lot about David Bowie and his lifestyle I don't actually want to discuss with an eight year old. Not yet anyway.

I lose him and he's back watching Splinter (the big talking Rat) muller ten foot soldiers at once. It is hella cool.

But damn it. My moment has gone.

I should do better prep.

“... Are immune to your consultations. They're quite aware of what they're going through…”

<Glances at Boy8 and Miss4 and worries about the teenage years>

<REALLY worries>

(Fine! Dress how you want, but no smoking and definitely no Bieber…)

I know what the problem is.

I cannot name Bowie songs for him that he knows and has fallen in love with. He's heard them, but not enough. Whereas when Michael Jackson died Boy8 knew his music better and we could chat about it. I could share my loss with him and talk about a living legend that had passed. Have a fatherly bonding moment and show him what one person can achieve, affect and change. You know, the cool, tingly chats.

I couldn't do that with David Bowie, which I shall always regret.

But I know how to make this right. 

The best way to put David Bowie and his music in Boy8's, Miss4's and that dancing loon BabyBoy1's head, is just to play Bowie’s music for them.

Over and over (with reasonable breaks and other stuff in-between, not shove it down their throats) so they can choose to love it when they are ready.

Nothing beats singing and dancing around the kitchen to a song we all love.

“Ziggy Stardust” has to be a winner for a eight year old! Spiders! FROM MARS! There’s a cartoon right there. #Winner 

“Diamond Dogs” for Miss4. BLING!

and “Golden Years” for BabyBoy1, he’s got soul that boy, already.

Easy!

The kitchen playlist has already been littered with Bowie tracks that I hope they are going to love. Maybe they will, maybe they won't.

Lyrically it could be too challenging for them. The melodies may be too complex for their young ears. Not all of it makes that much sense, still, to me.

But come on... It's Bowie!

Of course they're gonna love it.

Eventually.

I’ll leave you with David Bowie performing “Heroes” at Glastonbury in 2000.

I’m somewhere near the sound desk singing my little heart out, linked arms with friends and family, utterly loving it. What a brilliant song.

Bye bye Starman and thank you for everything, especially Labyrinth.

Have a good trip home.

X <Hug>