From Us 2 Him: Boston musicians come together to celebrate the music of Prince

Glenn di Benedetto

The steely Pioneer stereo system in my parents’ dining room with that gold rack of cassettes above it introduced me this strange and compelling theater of personas who were gender fluid, exploding with color, and more like superheroes to me than anything in comic books. Boy George, Cyndi Lauper, and most persuasively Prince. Perhaps because he was introduced to me as someone who was already a legend. And what I now recognize with my mature man-senses as overt sexuality, I interpreted then as something insanely playful. The 1999 album reflects all of that silly fun. The artwork, the goofy modulated voices, the futurism (after all this was still 1982!) It’s what made me ask my parents for Casio keyboards and voice samplers. It informed my own creative affection for minimalism, experimentation, and eventually lyrically transgressive provocations. So when Apollonia Kotero helped awaken the horny little bastard you know and love today (forever altering my understanding of Little Red Corvette) I also discovered the thrill and total comfort of talking about the crazy things happening in my pants. I too wanted to be like this person for whom discretion and shame just did not apply. That superhero on the motorcycle riding off, white scarf trailing into the sunset.