Prince may have died 10 years ago, but my love affair with his music lives on

Yesterday I put on my vintage Purple Rain t-shirt to wear to the office and wondered if anyone would realise the significance of the day.

As a Gen-Xer working in a sea of Millenials and Gen Zs, I’m well aware that the pop icons I adore aren’t as readily appreciated as I’d expect (see Madonna ’s surprise appearance at Sabrina Carpenter’s Coachella set ).

However, as I listened to Prince Forever on Radio 6 – a day of music dedicated to his music and career from his own epic catalogue to collaborations and to artists he’d inspired – it hit me just how much his music still lands 10 years after he tragically passed away .

How many other artists’ music could fill a whole day (and I mean a whole day) of radio like that?

I can remember the day Prince died, as clearly as if it were yesterday.

‘Are you sitting down?’ the text message from a colleague on April 21 2016, asked.

‘I think Prince has died ,’ came the next line.

It might sound like an overly dramatic way to tell someone a pop star had passed away, but my work pal knew just how devastated I would be.

I was overwhelmed with so much sadness.

Such a huge talent gone in an instant, so suddenly at the age of 57 .

It felt like a huge loss not just to those who truly knew and loved him, but to me and anyone who had been moved and inspired by his music.

I was 11 when I was first introduced to Prince (not literally, sadly).

On a family holiday near Eastbourne, my older brother, Calum, was browsing through some vinyl in a record shop, back in the days when vinyl or cassette tapes were the only option available.

The heavy drum beat, the magnetic electric guitar, the pure funk, and pitch-perfect voice… As we listened to I Would Die 4 U and the very child-unfriendly Darling Nikki on repeat, my love affair with Prince and his music was sparked for the next 30-plus years.

With each album, old and new, came some sort of reinvention that never left fans behind.

Despite his plethora of new sounds and looks as he experimented with his music, it was still distinctly ‘Prince’.

From the breathless screams of When Doves Cry and the faultless falsetto of Kiss, to the light jazzy vibe of  Strollin’ or the dreamy, gentle lyrics of The Most Beautiful Girl In The World, the man was a musical chameleon and became the soundtrack to my life.

From heartbreak to joy, he always had a place – and was even hastily put on in the background when I gave birth to my second son by emergency c-section.

My still-best friend Luan and I bonded over his Parade album (on cassette this time) when we were 15, and she soon adored him as much as I did.

Many other friends over the years, most perplexed by this tiny man in purple who oozed sexual confidence from every pore, asked what I saw in him.

Then I’d play them a record, or make them watch his movies Under The Cherry Moon and Purple Rain (not so much Graffiti Bridge), and they’d get it.

When he randomly opened a store in Camden’s Chalk Farm Road in 1994, I was at journalism college and persuaded some friends to come down with me.

As the street outside the store filled with fans and stopped traffic, no one expected Prince to turn up.

Prince died on April 21, 2016 at the age of 57 at his Paisley Park estate in Minnesota.

An investigation later confirmed he died from an accidental overdose of fentanyl, a powerful opioid painkiller.

In the weeks leading up to his death, he had reportedly been dealing with pain and had taken medication that was later found to be counterfeit and laced with fentanyl.

The news sent shockwaves around the world.

Fans gathered outside Paisley Park and in cities across the globe, holding vigils and playing his music.

Landmarks including the Eiffel Tower and Niagara Falls were lit in purple in tribute, while fellow artists from Madonna to Bruce Springsteen honoured him as one of the most influential musicians of all time.

But then, suddenly, there was a split second of silence as he came out on the balcony above with his then-girlfriend, Mayte Garcia, followed by a huge roar.

He was only there for a couple of minutes, but it was a true ‘I was there!’ moment.

Even more so, given that any sign of the shop had disappeared within a couple of years – turns out there wasn’t much call for megabucks symbol shaped chaise lounges or purple trench coats in Camden back then.

As my best friend and fellow Prince stan, Luan was also my gig buddy and we were lucky enough to say we saw him live more than handful of times – Brixton Academy, twice on his 21 Nights tour, at the Kent Hop Farm festival and even his last UK round of gigs at Camden’s Roundhouse, just two years before his death.

Each show was packed out yet always felt strangely intimate as the superstar flirted and chatted with an audience who were left breathless and giddy by his genius.

I remember taking my husband, James, to one concert in 2007 and as I saw him become entranced as Prince effortlessly played his guitar, I knew he was sold too.

So, when I heard the news that Prince had died it really did knock me for six.

I felt bereft that there would be no more concerts, no more new music, no more amazing collaborations.

I just couldn’t believe that such a creative powerhouse had suddenly stopped.

In the weeks following his death, stories of Prince’s behind the scenes philanthropy started to eek out.

Musical instruments bought for local schools in Minneapolis , huge secret donations to charitable causes.

The UK charity Autism Rocks even put on a concert in his honour – with acts like Mark Ronson and CeeLo Green performing – as he’d done so much unspoken work with them over the years.

It was an amazing gig and as we watched Prince’s old music buddies (and fellow music legends) Larry Graham and Morris Day do their thing, it was almost like he was still with us.

Almost.

Not long after Prince died I wanted to get my own tribute to the great man, so I got a tattoo of his infamous symbol on my left side.

It might seem a bit daft for a 40-something mum of two, but it was my way of honouring the impact he’d had on my life.

Now, on April 21, Luan and I like to wear something that gives a little nod to the day our hero died.

It might be a pair of symbol earrings, a purple blazer or Prince t-shirt, as I did yesterday.

It’s hard to believe it’s been 10 years now since the world lost a true musical genius, something that’s hugely rare, but his music certainly hasn’t been forgotten.

Not only is it played in my house a lot (my kids can still spot a Prince number within a few notes), you can hear his inspiration everywhere.

Beyonce , Justin Timberlake , Sinead O’Connor, Lianne La Havas… You’d be amazed at just how many songs you love were actually written by him or include samples of his work.

I’m A Celebrity's Beverley Callard in tears exiting ITV series on medical grounds
And, of course, the final series of Stranger Things brought a whole new audience to his music after the Duffer Brothers used Purple Rain as part of the dramatic soundtrack.

I might not be the coolest Prince fan – or even cool at all (my children still laugh at the fact that I couldn’t get out of the car to drop them off at cubs because I was so upset about his death that day), but that doesn’t matter to me.

I loved his music and I know he would have been cool with that.

This article was first published on 21 April 2021.

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