THE ENDURING SPIRITUAL RESONANCE OF “PURPLE RAIN”

Profonde Musique

January 20

The week I am writing this, “Purple Rain,” a song composed by the late Prince Rogers Nelson, who died in 2016 at age 57, recorded by his band, the Revolution in August of 1983, and released in June of 1984, eventually topping out at #2 on the Billboard Hot 100 in November of that year, has hit #12 on the pop charts. Its sudden reemergence is primarily due to soundtracking the epic penultimate scene of the popular Netflix series, Stranger Things finale. There is understandable chatter on how this worldwide phenomenon produced by Netflix – recently in a contentious battle over a controversial Prince documentary the network pulled under legal threat from the estate – managed to secure that song and “When Doves Cry,” which appears earlier in the finale, from said estate. But what I wish to discuss is the power and promise of the song itself and how its immense popularity has continued to resonate for the 42 years since its release, as the title track of a soundtrack that has sold over 25-million copies for a film that dominated the summer of 1984.

“Purple Rain” has become an American standard. It has overshadowed Prince’s wildly prolific nearly 40-year career, something he seemed to intuit, as many of his earlier masterful works faded into the background, while “Purple Rain” remained a constant in his performances up until his last shows. It is, as it was in 1984, a stirring piece of dramatic balladry, possessing the ingredients to any lasting piece of art: it moves people on both a personal and cultural level, as it reflects themes of redemption, forgiveness, vulnerability and conciliation. Musically, it’s a sneaky anthem, slowly building to euphoric levels, beginning as a forlorn self-examination of its narrator to slowly soar into an orgiastic celebration of spiritual enlightenment.

When Prince unfurled “Purple Rain” live for the first time – the actual version you hear today – at the legendary First Avenue club in Minneapolis, he stunned the Warner Bros. executives in attendance that night, many of whom had come to see what kind of film and album they were investing in. He also felled the film’s director, Albert Magnoli, by the nearly 14-minute performance of the song, so much so that he would take it as the movie’s title and demand the moment be recreated at its denouement.

There is no denying “Purple Rain” is a monumental pop music achievement, morphing rock with soul music, and even a tinge of gospel, a crossing of genres Prince did better than almost any artist before or after him. Its seemingly infinite hold on us is interesting on two fronts, which I cover in great detail in my latest book, Revolution, Prince the Band, the Era: “Purple Rain” is of its time and transcends it. We think back to the first time we hear it, and if we were young (I was 21 in the summer of 1984), then it takes us there with all the revisionist memories we attach to music, yet it still maintains its aural and lyrical powers as we age. The song, like all great art, evolves with us.

This is what the Duffer Brothers, the creators of Stranger Things, understood. The events of the series take place in the 80s, and from the very first episode, it celebrates the decade’s pop cultural touchstones, most notably Steven Spielberg films, which also have a similar effect on us. With each passing year, when we revisit Spielberg’s most beloved movies, (Jaws, Close Encounters of the Third Kind, E.T., Raiders of the Lost Ark, Jurassic Park) we are transported back to the first time these movies moved us while discovering new elements of their charm. Even though the ultra-dramatic scene in which the Duffers use “Purple Rain” takes place in 1987, the kids in the show hold the album in nostalgic reverence, specifically the young woman, Robin Buckley, played by Maya Hawke, who is one of two gay characters that come out in the series. Buckley, aka Rockin’ Robin, as she is a budding radio DJ, argues the group needs a monumental expression as part of an intricate plot to destroy the series’ main villain, because the cause and the moment demands music that reflect their heroic deeds.

The everlasting charm, if you will, of Stranger Things is the foundation of what makes “Purple Rain” a timeless classic. And so, we have in “Purple Rain” a narrator whose intentions are misunderstood – “I never meant to cause you any sorrow…” – that seeks to be understood – “I only wanted to be some kind of friend.” And that is what the Duffers present in nearly every main character in the series – misjudged outsiders, nerds, freaks, unable to blend into the real world and pulled into another one, The Upside Down. No spoilers here, you’ll have to dive in yourself (pun intended), if you’re one of the few who haven’t already, but suffice to say Stranger Things is about these lovable misanthropes finding their tribe to “save the world” in an alternate universe.

Prince, an insightful and world-building lyricist, used his songs to confront the upside-down bigotry, sexual repression, and spiritual upheaval in this universe, as well as any artist of his day. He pained over the lyrics for “Purple Rain,” adding and pulling verses from it, trying to best serve the song’s powerful refrain. Wendy Melvoin, guitarist for the Revolution, mused in my book that “Purple Rain” is ultimately a baptism, a cleansing, a view of the dawn as hope. The song’s drummer, Bobby Z, who’s steadily impassioned backbeat maintained the intensity of the bare arrangement, keeping it from sinking into mere melodrama, says at its core “Purple Rain” is “spiritual and inspirational that captures so much emotion.”

During the song’s miraculous third or fourth hook, the ooohh-ooohh-ooooh-ooooh part no one can resist singing, Prince implores the audience to express their understanding about a song that pleads for connection, “If you know what I’m talking about up here… come on raise your hands!” This thread from confusion to revelation in the communal expression of live music that fuses audience with song is the subliminal message the Duffers bring to the Stanger Things universe, a show ostensibly about otherworldly creatures and science run amok but is really about hearty souls on the fringes – divorced, abandoned, paranoid, aggrieved, picked-on, ostracized, introverted, queer, minorities who have been abused – forced to band together from bizarrely ominous circumstances to eventually find personal and cultural salvation.

And whether during dark times like today, the 1980s, or in the uncertain future of a world in which those on the fringes are perpetually threatened for their individuality, “Purple Rain” resonates. If anything, its message of forgiveness and conciliation is a reminder that the all-too human experience is stranger than any other thing.