I slipped into a purple hole after Prince’s death. I have played his albums Purple Rain, Parade and Controversy on a loop for more than a year.
My family became so sick of the perma-Prince soundtrack that I took to volunteering to go on random car trips so that I could play “Pop Life” at full volume. The car became a mobile karaoke unit since there are few places where I can listen to loud music over speakers rather than headphones.
My nostalgic journey included a trip to see the film Purple Rain, a showcase for the Minneapolis performer and his band The Revolution. It was joyous yet poignant to be in a cinema full of whooping sobbing fans, together with my friend, who had introduced me to the musician almost three decades ago. Prince had given us a sex education before the topic came up in the classroom.