Remembering Prince: His music, our moments

The outpouring of love and devotion to the late Prince Rogers Nelson has been inspiring and awesome. Everyone has their own Prince story, either as a fan or as a musician who admired him as a musician or who was fortunate enough to have played with him. A huge calling card for any musician is to say that he or she "played with Prince" at one time or another — or as recently as a few days ago actually was playing with Prince.

My message in this article is to tell you this:

We all played with Prince, and he let us play with him.

It was a wondrous thing for all involved, and we are all very fortunate that it happened in our lifetime.

Recently, I had the good fortune to — as they say in show business — "share the stage" with Prince. This phrase is a very loose term for bands and artists like me who have lived their life in clubland and local festivals. To say you "shared the stage" with a national artist could be ethically and logistically defined as having played, as the opening act of a 13-hour music festival, on the same stage where the headline act later would perform. Believe me, this has been used as a selling tool for local artists for decades and will continue to be used, despite not being exactly accurate.

On this particular evening a few weeks ago at the Chanhassen Dinner Theatres, it really came true for the incredible band I led doing a Ray Charles tribute show and for the remarkably lucky 240 in the room who witnessed it. The news of Prince's death last week just amplifies the uniqueness of that moment — for what happened in that room that night was, to me, quintessentially Minneapolis.

Prince knew some people in that band. Perhaps that's why he felt comfortable in coming to this particular show. I hadn't met him previously, and I didn't speak with him that night, either. Our eyes met on stage when he decided to join us for the one minute he performed. My job as the leader of the band was to let it happen and to watch his eyes — because the moment I saw him look either at me or at Bobby Vandell on the drums during his solo, that was my cue to start singing again. To the stunned amazement and joy of the audience and band, Prince left the stage as quickly and freely as he had arrived.

The international fame of Prince is the direct opposite of the intimate relationship that Prince — or, for that matter, any artist who moves you — has with you. While the entire world that has had access to the Internet and the technology to play CDs, tapes and albums can mourn for him, as was so beautifully displayed these past few days, all of us have that special moment with him that is uniquely ours.

You sang in your car to Prince. You danced in your room alone in your underwear, playing air guitar along with his amazing solos, and you lip-synced "Darling Nikki" to your mirror. You lay on your bed and listened to "1999" and "Lovesexy" and "Purple Rain" and "Sign o' the Times" and "Controversy" and any of the albums that moved you at that age, and you let it soak in. Those were your times. Time alone with Prince that no one can take from you. No one else experienced it. That is alone time with a genius that is uniquely yours. This is one of the many reasons his passing cuts so deeply to our cores.

I have been blessed to have performed with many people who played with Prince in Minneapolis. They are better people and musicians for it. What a remarkable connection to have. Whether they knew Prince when he lived in north Minneapolis and played at the Capri Theater on W. Broadway or a few years later when he was just taking off, we can only imagine what it must have felt like to be around someone of that stature and creativity.

And while stories abound of the difficulty of working with Prince at times, I categorize that as the "omelet/broken eggs" syndrome. When you work with someone that brilliant who knows what he wants and has the ability to realize it, at times it's going to be unpleasant, because you can't match the intensity. Musicians who played with him most likely saw that side of him at times. But I also have heard that the overwhelming majority of the time, it was a surreal and intense and beautiful thing that they were blessed to be a part of.

What we are finding out about this talented man since his passing is the unheralded and unadvertised philanthropy that he provided for people countless times. His outreach to those in need that nobody but those in his inner circle knew about. His innate need to do that for others because of the blessings he possessed and worked his whole life to achieve. That is something to be admired.

We are also hearing all kinds of things about how he passed. Some rather ugly rumors. I am choosing to ignore these. I know how he lived, and it was stunning. How he passed is private and, quite frankly, none of our business. I don't want to know that about Prince — or anybody famous. Unless I'm related to that person, why do I really need to know?

Here's what I know. The "Lovesexy" show at Met Center made me want to stop playing. It was the greatest concert and spectacle I have ever seen, and I knew that night that it just couldn't get better. For any mere mortal, it couldn't. But for Prince, it most assuredly did, thousands of times. And I, for one minute, would one day be lucky enough to be close to him on a stage. It's pretty cool.

Thank you, Prince. Thanks for giving us what you did in the time provided to you to do it. Someone like you will not happen to us again. The music world is not like it was when you arrived on the scene, and it never will be again.

All we can do now is listen and remember and recollect the beauty, and wonder what was within you that you gave to all of us.