One of the first things a rock critic learns is not to emphasize the character on the other end of the speakers when reviewing records. This person, who is playing the tunes and singing the songs, isn't to be treated as a performer so much as the instigator of all the terrible/wonderful noise infesting the writer's world, and should be judged accordingly. That is, by the social rules of rock criticism, one shouldn't judge the musicians at all, merely their music-- and even then, only in terms of how it affects the writer, and in turn, how it might do the same for other listeners. The "argument" comes during the moments when you either agree or disagree with the writer's experience.
The next thing writers learn is that just thinking of one's own experience isn't enough, because there's a whole world out there giving clues to the real value of the music. If music "matters," it follows that its impact should be obvious outside the window; "relevance" is paramount at this stage of criticism, though since bitter humility is a daily part of any rock writer's life, it pays to phrase arguments stressing relevance in ways that don't obviously indicate its bias. This kind of criticism may seem harsh (and pretty unrelated to the actual musical experience), but it also shares much with traditional journalistic aims of reporting and immediate interpretation, and as such, is a method emphasized at most mainstream music pubs.
All of this brings me to Prince and his latest album, Musicology. What happens when, by the two most common forms of writing about music, a legend comes out looking like a drastic underachiever? Do I dare call him out on this, especially after seeing many educated people pledge their written testimonies to this stuff? I've lived with this record for a few weeks now, and by any normal measure, I fail to see how anyone could seriously call it a comeback, or a return to his intimidating good form. But that's presumptuous: Despite the tried-and-true edicts of rock crit, there really is no accounting for taste, nor is Prince's extended absence from the top of the pops a concrete sign that he no longer matters.
Yet, I know what I hear: an artist who is beyond condescending his interests to generate relevance. I hear someone who's honestly more concerned with the pristine state of his record collection than he is in buying all the latest hits. I hear someone who's probably worked out most of the bigger issues in life, and is satisfied to stay with a groove for its own sake, offering his take on things rather than arresting you with it. Prince has never been embarrassed of himself on record, but on Musicology, his direction only makes sense to me in the broadest sense of appreciating life and love. The revolution is over in this corner, and I'd bet it all he could care less what anyone thinks about it. Unfortunately, in this case, it translates to music that, while often pleasant, lacks the power of not only his best work, but also most of his successors' stuff. And since Prince's "successors" could be considered half of everything on the radio, it's tough for me to give him the benefit of the doubt.
The most interesting moments on Musicology come when Prince either hits on a good concept (like the rich white girl who can't dance paying out for the "funk" in "Illusion, Coma, Pimp and Circumstance") or drops the pretense of keeping the party going altogether. Today, slow jams are his forte: the infidelity warning "What Do U Want Me 2 Do?" beats Phoenix at their own game with smoother-than-smooth vocals and a breezy chorus that would seem to close the book on anyone else attempting lite-jazz pop in the future. "Call My Name" is hardly as distinct, but is a perfectly functional slab of loverman soul along the lines of Marvin Gaye. Typically, Prince saves his best moves for the chorus (he's still pop, through and through), as his layered harmonies impart the rather straightforward admission, "I know it's only been three hours, but I love it when you call my name."
Those songs seem a tier above others on Musicology partially because Prince isn't doing his one-man band thing. Despite that I've always thought it was cool to hear him make records mostly by himself, some of the songs here betray either a disinterest in fleshing out arrangements or an inability to pull them off. "A Million Days" has the structure of good Prince rock ballad, but the sound of half-finished demo. The synth that powers the opening sounds piped in from a home studio built about 20 years ago, and even then it's not loud enough. His guitar and vocals are lavishly spread all over the mix, but the drums are too soft and muddy, so ultimately his track comes out like a bad Lenny Kravitz throwaway. Elsewhere, "Life O' the Party" and the title track suggest nothing in Prince's life these days was born this century. Not only does he waste valuable time on the former making fun of Michael Jackson, but the track is mired in stale funk a notch below the Martin theme.
"Cinnamon Girl" is the best straight rock track on Musicology, not only because its production is on par with Prince's typically well-crafted hooks, but also because it manages to keep all the details in check via relatively simple performance. Prince's grasp is hardly lacking throughout, but for various reasons, his reach comes up short many times. "If Eye Was the Man in Ur Life" starts out as an incredible jam with metal guitar, a tight, slow beat (not played by Prince) and a glorious harmonized verse melody, before bogging down at the end with some kind of be-bop thing right out of a Blood, Sweat & Tears song. I'm all for experimentation, but this seems more like a bad case of mid-song boredom and a lack of anything better to do.
The worst part is that Musicology is probably the best Prince album since at least the "symbol" album from 1992, and possibly since Sign O' the Times. But that's misleading, since this album isn't close to Sign's league-- it's also depressing to think he hasn't made a great record in over 15 years. But don't take my word for it; look out the window, see if any of your friends are jamming to this. Failing that, chart your own experience in your own headphones. By either measure, despite a few good moments, I'm missing Prince now more than ever.
