Prince was one of the reasons I wanted to play music at an early age. Later in life, the pianist Bill Evans was the one that made me choose jazz piano as my major at the conservatory. But in a way, I owe Prince a lot, and I have been a fan all those years, ever since my first concert in 1987. I missed the great concerts of 1986, the Parade tour, but since that time I have seen many shows, and the show at North Sea Jazz was number 21, if I count correctly. It is with pain in my heart that I must conclude that I didn’t like the show Prince played on July 10.

See me, Hear me

We forsook our seats, a bit giddy like we used to be, finding a place we could dance should the need arise. Lights out: let’s get started! … Lights on? – They did that about eight times. Come on, already!

When it started it was clear that they’d be working on our senses. Very bright flood lights aimed at the audience, making it difficult to see anything, and – it has to be said – awful sound. The main problem was the volume. I wouldn’t be surprised if sound levels were outside of legal boundaries. Especially during solos of Maceo Parker I had to protect my hearing. I wouldn’t be surprised if sound on stage wasn’t that great either; half way through the show Prince even started testing the mike so technicians could eliminate the feedback on-stage.

Jazz

But we were ready to go, and “The One,” with the lead-line of “The Question of U” brought back fond memories of concerts in London, when he played that song for the first time and we’d had a great time. Then things started to get a bit less fun.

“The One” is basically a song in 6/8, consisting of I-V in minor, and 10 minutes of that progression is a bit much, to say the least. And then came the sentence “John, swing it for me.”

What followed was something that should pass as a jazz beat, with several minutes of something that should pass as a jazz solo. I don’t think it is really smart to come to a jazz festival and do that, and frankly, it was tripe. When people in the audience start to think they can do better than what is performed on stage, something is wrong, especially when you have just seen Joey Calderazzo playing the piano in Branford Marsalis’ band.

Yes! No… Yes!

What followed was an hour of mixed feelings. Great to hear rare performances of B-sides to singles from the eighties like “She’s Always in my Hair” or “Girl,” but then again, “Girl” was given an awful treatment. To my mind, the intriguing thing about that song is its almost mesmerizing beat. The harmonies are not that interesting, two chords, although the +11 has a prominent place in the second one, but when you change the beat to “Jazz,” you’d better do something interesting with it. For example, you could choose a modal approach to improvising, but therein also lies the risk. It is not hard to understand what you can play on that progression, the hard part is to make it tell something, to say something profound. Again, you are on a jazz festival. Most people in the audience have an above average appreciation for jazz and are experienced in listening to it – jazz is not a gimmick.

Who’s That Girl?

Then there were two backing vocalists, who were put in the spotlights to do their thing. When you do that, they’d better be called Mavis Staples, but they weren’t. Really not that interesting, and one of them was singing off-key so badly it made me cringe. Also, at one time she sang a major third on a minor chord. When Branford Marsalis plays such a note, he means it, and I believe him. Now I didn’t.

The Grand Finale

And so, time passed without getting me to be absorbed in the show. “Controversy”? Great! “Let’s Go Crazy”? That would be great, if it weren’t for the fact that it was a ridiculous tempo, unsuitable for dancing. And suddenly there was “1999,” at a point in the show when I was still hoping it would get interesting. “1999″ is a party song for which I need to be in the mood. I have heard it too often, and I have played the song in a band more than a hundred times. Sure, he does it better than we did, but there was no build-up to that finale, so I wasn’t ready. After “Nothing Compares 2 U” we left, missing, as I was told later, a very groovy Michael Jackson song, whatever it was. It was too late for us.