"Hey Pepé!":The Two Words That Changed My Life Tony Kiene (bio) In the summer of 1978 I had only one record to my name; a 45 of the Jackson 5's "Dancing Machine." As my parents had recently purchased our first stereo system, a turntable with an 8-track tape deck, I made good use of the needle and played that 7-inch single constantly. Sometime later that summer, just a few months shy of my eighth birthday, I was visiting a friend's house where I noticed an 8-track tape on his shelf. The translucent image on the tape was of a man with a giant, perfectly shaped afro who seemingly channeled the backdrop of bright sunlight through his doe eyes and into my soul. I can't explain why, but it was one of the coolest things I'd ever seen and to this day it remains my favorite album cover of all time. On a gut feeling, I traded my Jackson 5 single straight up for this 8-track of Prince's debut album, For You, unaware of the enduring impact it would have on the rest of my life. I took the tape home, popped it in the stereo, and in those next 33 minutes and 11 seconds I became a lifer. From the harmonic genius of its a cappella title track to the prodigious drums and torrential guitar of its finale, For You left me mesmerized. It would be more than a year before Prince released his eponymous second album and nearly another year after that until Dirty Mind. By then I was earning a little bit of an allowance and had developed a distinct preference for the sound of vinyl, so, I began to steadily build a record collection. For whatever reason I never worried much about my parent's curiosity as to what I was listening to, but I wasn't confident that I could successfully hide the back of an album cover featuring nude Prince on a white, winged horse, much less the libidinous imagery of the Dirty Mind artwork or the famous shower poster that accompanied Prince's fourth LP, Controversy. Therefore, I would borrow those records from friends minus the packaging and hide them in the album sleeves of other titles I had purchased, such as Michael Jackson's Off the Wall, Kool and the [End Page 153] Gang's Something Special, the Commodore's In the Pocket, Earth Wind and Fire's Raise, and even The Time's first album. In 1981, I did not know that Jamie Starr was a Prince pseudonym and thus was initially unaware of the connection between him and The Time. However, by the summer of 1982 I knew a lot more about what was going on 500 miles or so northwest of my hometown of South Bend, Indiana, when Vanity 6 debuted their own self-titled album, immediately shadowed by the release of What Time Is It?, and soon after by Prince's masterstroke 1999. Since I was only around 12 at the time, my parents would never consider allowing to me witness the 1999 Tour (aka the Triple Threat Tour) when it arrived in nearby cities like Gary, Kalamazoo, and Chicago, let alone those locations a little further away such as Indianapolis, Detroit, or Cleveland. Notwithstanding my disappointment, I remained obsessed with the Minneapolis sound and I didn't believe anything could transcend the brilliance of 1999. Not to mention, now that André Cymone had embarked on a solo career, I couldn't think of a cooler sideman than Dez Dickerson. There was just something about his trademark Kamikaze headband and his black and white Gibson Explorer. And, of course, there was no way to convince me that there were three more beautiful women in the world than Vanity, Jill Jones, and Lisa Coleman. But then came Purple Rain. And with the mania that accompanied the soundtrack and the film arose the first wave of books about Prince's journey from North Minneapolis to international superstar, including unauthorized biographies by Jon Bream and Steven Ivory. It was in Bream's Prince: Inside the Purple Reign that I first learned of...
Read full abstract