It’s selfish. I don’t want Prince to be gone because he was a connection that I had with an old friend who passed away years ago, Curt.
Curt was f*ing wild. Stupid wild. Dangerous wild. And I loved him. He introduced me to Prince in 1979 or 1980, I don’t know which. It might have even been 1981. Curt had a huge crush on Prince. I didn’t think that much about it, because Curt idolized so many musicians. Music- was another thing that linked Curt and I. He had a plethura of stringed instruments that we played. We sounded really good together.
But I’ll never forget the poster in Curt’s bedroom. It was Prince, holding a white electric guitar, wearing a blousy shirt open all the way to his navel. He was beautiful.
I fell for him watching Purple Rain. Purple Rain was hard and warm and lovely and poignant, and unlike anything anyone had ever made into a movie at that time. It was the first time I ever saw a guy say it’s not alright to beat a woman. It was a totally new concept. The skinny little dude standing up and saying, “No!”
Curt said no a lot, too. Unfortunately, he said yes to all the wrong things. He was found at the bottom of a basement stairway with a broken neck. His neck was as thick as a tree. I can’t believe it was an accident, but I’m no coroner. Right?
Be careless, Curt. Be careless, Prince. Tune up those strings.