20-03-2012, 12:10
always thought these two artists were extremely similar
obviously Prince made more of a mark
but James was very talented as well
nice article
from popmatters
![[Image: prince_2.jpg]](http://images.popmatters.com/news_art/p/prince_2.jpg)
![[Image: rickjames.jpg]](http://images.popmatters.com/news_art/r/rickjames.jpg)
Purple Hippies and Michael Maniacs are still in a dance floor dispute. They battle at âMichael vs. Princeâ parties, trying to settle a score in an argument that endured since the mid â80s. In fact, Michal Jackson and Prince themselves came close to an actual face off in 1987. The taunting title track of Bad, Jacksonâs anticipated follow-up to Thriller, was designed by visionary producer Quincy Jones as a duet for Jackson and Prince. He arranged for the two to meet but it didnât amount to anything past expressing mutual respect. And so fans were forever left to provide their own take on âWhoâs Bad?â The feud remained vivid even in the mindset of mass audiences as comedian Chris Rock addressed it in his 2004 Never Scared show. He proclaimed Prince won over Jacksonâat least, in terms of oneâs sanity. Perhaps so, but this ongoing debate overshadows Princeâs initial effort to overcome a different musical foe: Rick James.
Like Prince, James issued his debut album in April of 1978. But he was the first to enjoy chart success and position himself as the next prominent figure in funk. James wrote, arranged and produced Come Get It! as a satisfying blend of hedonism and romance. It included thrusting grooves such as âYou and Iâ, soul searching ballads like âHollywoodâ and reeked of sex and drugs with âSexy Ladyâ and âMary Janeâ. James dominated on bass while sporting a healthy horn section and relied on bright female backup vocals. His own singing was teasing and raw, but never too emotional to completely tarnish the party vibes.
Jamesâ presented his cheeky style as âPunk Funkâ, a clever marketing tool made to distance his blasting tunes from disco. That reputation further emphasized his fresh and unapologetic approach, shielding him from any risk of looking outdated. That was a key sentiment sought by Jamesâ label, Motown. The prestigious label was an empire in decline during the late â70s. Its recent film endeavors flopped and many of Motownâs classic acts were gone, and resident genius Stevie Wonder was losing his edge with a concept album exploring the life of plants. So Rick Jamesâ street smarts and appeal were in desperate need, bursting through with perfect timing.
Jamesâ punk attitude and labeling also hinted a sacred bond with the disenfranchised, intriguing fans overseas. In a 1979 Blues and Soul interview, he pointed out the similarities shared by UK punks and his own rough experiences: âTo me, a punk is someone who says whatâs on his mind and doesnât take no shit. Punk⦠is relatable [to funk] because punk rock was poor, white British kids whose only vehicle to get away from their suppression and economic stress was through their music⦠Now, I was born in the ghetto and everyone in my band has starved and weâve all been through the rats and roaches syndrome. Weâre from the streets and weâve been through the gang trip, too.â Rick James was 30 years old then, enjoying his big break after roaming around since the late â60s. Previously, he served some jail time for minor felonies, played with numerous bands and tried his luck in Toronto, Los Angeles, and London.
Meanwhile, Prince was barely 20 years old. He still boasted his high school afro and lived in his somewhat remote hometown of Minneapolis. Despite those odd circumstances, the young Prince secured a three-album record deal with Warner Brothers. His 1978 debut, For You, consisted mostly of bashful love songs that didnât quite excite as much as Jamesâ entry onto the scene. It was a rather moody albumâeven its lead single, âSoft and Wetâ, wasnât so daring. Despite acting as a one man R&B bandâwriting, arranging, producing and performingâPrince was still far from being in full swing. His wider musical spectrum rarely shined, only glimpsed through rocking tunes like âIâm Yoursâ. Vocally, he maintained a high pitch, which proved a bit tiring due to excessive overdubbing. The uneven effort and modest sales further increased Princeâs fears that he might be mismanaged by Warnerâs industry-standard âBlack Music Departmentâ. He would soon pen more risqué tunes than before and establish a distinct image to avoid any kind of labeling.
Almost effortlessly, Rick James was on a roll with his subsequent releases. Bustinâ Out of L Seven (1978) and Fire It Up (1979) quickly went gold, keeping intact Jamesâ devious tradition of featuring himself with at least one girl on the cover. He also continued to avoid the strong social commentary funk was known for earlier in the decade, and showed no interest in creating a sci-fi alter-ego like George Clinton and his adventurous space cadets band, Parliament. Instead, he composed his funk tunes as a marching band for freaksâone of his most commonly used adjectives. In many of his songs, James presented himself as the natural go-to-guy for any kind of action. Resting his case in âCome into My Lifeâ, he sweetens the deal by promising to âbring my private stash if you comeâ. James had a knack for pounding beats and didnât permit long improvised solos. Still, he enjoyed shout outs, like âHorns Blow!â, cueing his group to step up. At times, James appeared as strict as James Brown was when he bossed around the J.Bâs. But often enough, James led his parade at ease, demanding satisfaction and promising liberation for all the dancers, hustlers, and druggies to come his way.
Prince went on to record his self-titled second album in 1979, carrying a more reserved, mystical persona. He gave rare and awkwardly brief interviews which didnât quite complement his newfound musical aggressiveness. âWhy You Wanna Treat Me So Badâ and âBambiâ soared with crushing sexual frustration; ballads such as âItâs Gonna Be Lonelyâ and âWhen Weâre Dancing Close and Slowâ, were now eerily erotic instead of hopelessly romantic. He generated profound intimacy by sparse instrumentation, soft voice and confessional lyrics, such as âsex related fantasies is all that my mind can see/ baby, thatâs honestly the way I feelâ. The looming theme of obsession was mostly sugar coated, for the time being, in the up tempos of âI Wanna Be Your Loverâ and âI Feel for Youâ. Thus, Princeâs sophomore release was catchy enough to earn him his first immediate commercial success, including a national TV performance on American Bandstand.
Prince and Rick James were turning heads as the new men of funk. Each was a bluntly sexually driven figure who was exciting to follow as he groomed a musical talent about to manifest in its entirety. Yet to fully crossover, both continued to depend upon the same fan base of young black Americans. In 1979, James had begun hearing about Prince without giving him a second thought. However, concert promoters regarded them as two of a kind and a guaranteed attraction if billed together. Soon, Prince was slated as Jamesâ opening act for the Fire It Up tour. An inevitable clash was on its way.
Jamesâ baffling first impression is duly noted in his autobiography The Confessions of Rick James: Memoirs of a Super Freak (2007): âThe first time I saw Prince and his band I felt sorry for him. Hereâs this little dude wearing hi-heels, playing this New Wave Rock & Roll, not moving or anything on stage, just standing there wearing this trench coat. Then at the end of his set heâd take off his trench coat and heâd be wearing little girlâs bloomers. I just died. The guys in the audience just booed the poor thing to death.â
Other accounts suggest Prince made a point in upstaging James. Either way, tensions were running high throughout the tour. Backstage shenanigans of stealing instruments, physical confrontation and general intolerance were served cold by each artist. Long after parting ways, Prince and James never resolved their resentment and remained touchy when comparisons were drawn between them.
For both, the â80s marked the beginning of trying times and notable turning points. Prince released Dirty Mind in 1980, which gained him the most notorious reputation he could have ever hoped for. His sexual frustration was slowly graduating into sheer confidence. Princeâs sensitivity in âWhen You Were Mineâ and âSisterâ had led to a challenging moral and sexual ambiguity. His desire was no longer confined to a traditional adult relationship. He also started to represent a collective thought, similar to Rick James upon backing those in need of âBustinâ Outâ. Princeâs âUptownâ and âParty Upâ were also songs that projected the dance floor as the vital sphere in which a new breed will arise, free of any hang ups. He further crystallized this progressive idea with his own multi-racial and gender-bender backing group, soon to be dubbed The Revolution.
Prince adapted wholeheartedly the New Wave sound on Dirty Mind, and his subsequent albums also included plenty of synthesizer-based tunes, ditching the traditional funk gear and sound. He eschewed a âPunk Funkâ tag to his current musical direction, but he did dress the part. He performed nearly in the nude with a new borderline spiky haircut, while attaching a âRude Boyâ pin to his coat, embracing the calling card of Ska-heads. He was also pleased to preach to NME straight out of the punk manifesto in 1981:âAll the groups in America seem to do just exactly the same as each otherâwhich is to get on the radio⦠Obviously, the new wave thing has brought back a lot of that greaser reality. There are so many of those groups that there is just no way many of them can make it in those vast commercial terms. So they have no choice but to write whatâs inside of them. I think itâs all getting better, actually.â
Princeâs days as a warm up act were about to end permanently as he briefly opened for the Rolling Stones in 1981. Their fans were shocked by his persona, ushering him off the stage moments after hearing the electro-rockabilly âJerk U Offâ. Princeâs sexual tones became too intense even for his own band mates. Guitarist Dez Dickerson lobbied for âHeadâ to be removed from Princeâs live set since this rowdy tale of oral bliss embarrassed and offended him. Having failed to change Princeâs mind, Dickerson eventually quit.
At that time, Rick James suddenly went tropical. His vacation in the Caribbean Islands stirred him away from his usual antics. Garden of Love, released in 1980, was a short and laid back suite he recorded while still under the influence of basking in the sun. Songs like âIsland Ladyâ were drowned in the sounds of nature. Only its opening track, âBig Timeâ, was a typical self-celebratory party anthem. This change of pace wasnât greeted with a warm welcome by the listening public. Humbled by its commercial failure, James went for broke, following it an offering in the complete opposite direction.
Street Songs, out in 1981, was Jamesâ most powerful record, founded on his renowned merits: glorifying harsh realities, rejoicing in sleaze and playing a mean bass. âGive It to Me Babyâ and âGhetto Lifeâ were thrilling bumpers and the unexpected smash âSuper Freakâ solidified the albumâs success. James was good as ever at exploring urban vitality, catching up on Princeâs foray.
Prince and Jamesâs kinship was most apparent in their various side projects. Feeling in top form, James decided to produce albums for his accompanying Stone City Band. Writing and playing with them enabled him to embark on other musical genres, such as reggae, and spread more strutting freaks and drug songs. Prince set up The Time out of a group of musicians from the Minneapolis scene. In principal, the band was molded in Princeâs lighter and more humorous side. It mainly mixed funk and comedy while turning into a playful nemesis of Prince and the Revolution.
The vast majority of Prince and Jamesâ side-projects involved female artists. It was no coincidence as the ladies were tailored to enhance their own charged sexuality. Composing, playing, producing and sometimes adding vocals to their female protégésâ repertoire shaped Prince and James as men who could articulate womenâs most intimate desires. It was also a way to channel more male fantasies than possible on their own albums. Within a few years time, Prince formed Vanity 6 and Apollonia 6, while later establishing the careers of Sheena Easton, Sheila E. and Jill Jones. Meanwhile, James put together The Mary Jane Girls and launched Teena Marie and Val Young.
Prince and James each acted as a kind of musical pimp: flooding the market with their own signature sounds, dressing the girls provocatively in lingerie and other revealing outfits to match the luscious lyrics. The pimping analogy was never lost on either of them. Vanity 6 was originally called the Hookers and Prince argued that lead singer Denise Matthews should adapt the stage name, Vagina. James on his part wanted to have The Mary Jane Girls as The Colored Girls, insisting on a racially diverse ensemble of his own.
Prince and James granted their female clones with the most explicit lyrics they wrote at the time. Evidently, the Parents Music Resource Center picked up on it in 1985, while campaigning for attaching Parental Advisory stickers on âobjectionableâ music albums. Impressively, Prince and Jamesâ songs and related artists were accounted for nearly a third of the organizationâs âFilthy Fifteenâ list, which was the core of its claim to action.
Princeâs protégés were also supplemented his own dominant themes, such as car fixation. As Prince was singing about riding with a âLady Cab Driverâ and the implications of a âLittle Red Corvetteâ, Vanity 6 had a motor wordplay in âDrive Me Wildâ, and Apollonia 6 were expecting their lover in a âBlue Limousineâ. Jamesâ most successful outlet was the Mary Jane Girls, scoring club classics such as âAll Night Longâ and âCandy Manâ and pop hits like âIn My Houseâ. The Mary Jane Girls outlived Princeâs girl groups, recording two albums, and in some ways eclipsed their creatorâs success, since James was continually struggling to have another hit on his own, past Street Songs.
For better or worse, Rick James was tied to the old fashioned Motown legacy. He composed and produced the Temptationsâ 1982 original line-up reunion single, Standing on the Top. It bore his instantly recognizable sound of bass and synth slaps, while James vocally backed the hoarse Temptations. A year later, James charted again on the strength of his mushy duet with Smokey Robinson, âEbony Eyesâ. The slow jam had the two out-singing one another in a friendly manner and they also shot an elaborate video together. Like others James made, he thought MTV was downplaying it in favor of Michael Jackson and Princeâs videos.
Just a few months prior to the blockbuster success of Purple Rain, James was already utterly fed up with Prince. Talking then to NME, James couldnât stand another comparison being pointed out and ranted: ââ¦Prince deals with sex and sex only. Youâve got love with me, hope, the future. I write about shit the way it is.â Astonishingly quick, Prince proved him and other conservative critics wrong. He started to sing about God and the heavens frequently, while regulating his dwindling explicit songs to a B-side status. Princeâs spiritual journey soon resulted in 1988âs Lovesexy, a concept album of seeking divine guidance and positivity. By the time Quincy Jones invited him to record Jacksonâs Bad, Prince was too old for name-calling.
James later admitted to losing his own fight with Prince: âI always felt our competition was healthy, although I was jealous when he started getting bigâmore than jealousâI was pissed⦠because I felt his songs⦠and a lot of his stuff wasnât real.â Jealousy still prevailed when James left Motown in the late â80s. He hesitated in signing to Warner Brothers since Prince was one of their biggest stars. Eventually, James joined in but released just one album under the label. The drug addiction and further jail time derailed The King of Punk-Funkâs career for good. Clearly, contractual-wise, a duet between Prince and James was more feasible than one with Jackson. It may have also been a worthier match. Label them as you wish, Prince and James always knew thereâs usually only one spot in the music business for a true super-freak and both aimed to rule it.
obviously Prince made more of a mark
but James was very talented as well
nice article
from popmatters
Purple Hippies and Michael Maniacs are still in a dance floor dispute. They battle at âMichael vs. Princeâ parties, trying to settle a score in an argument that endured since the mid â80s. In fact, Michal Jackson and Prince themselves came close to an actual face off in 1987. The taunting title track of Bad, Jacksonâs anticipated follow-up to Thriller, was designed by visionary producer Quincy Jones as a duet for Jackson and Prince. He arranged for the two to meet but it didnât amount to anything past expressing mutual respect. And so fans were forever left to provide their own take on âWhoâs Bad?â The feud remained vivid even in the mindset of mass audiences as comedian Chris Rock addressed it in his 2004 Never Scared show. He proclaimed Prince won over Jacksonâat least, in terms of oneâs sanity. Perhaps so, but this ongoing debate overshadows Princeâs initial effort to overcome a different musical foe: Rick James.
Like Prince, James issued his debut album in April of 1978. But he was the first to enjoy chart success and position himself as the next prominent figure in funk. James wrote, arranged and produced Come Get It! as a satisfying blend of hedonism and romance. It included thrusting grooves such as âYou and Iâ, soul searching ballads like âHollywoodâ and reeked of sex and drugs with âSexy Ladyâ and âMary Janeâ. James dominated on bass while sporting a healthy horn section and relied on bright female backup vocals. His own singing was teasing and raw, but never too emotional to completely tarnish the party vibes.
Jamesâ presented his cheeky style as âPunk Funkâ, a clever marketing tool made to distance his blasting tunes from disco. That reputation further emphasized his fresh and unapologetic approach, shielding him from any risk of looking outdated. That was a key sentiment sought by Jamesâ label, Motown. The prestigious label was an empire in decline during the late â70s. Its recent film endeavors flopped and many of Motownâs classic acts were gone, and resident genius Stevie Wonder was losing his edge with a concept album exploring the life of plants. So Rick Jamesâ street smarts and appeal were in desperate need, bursting through with perfect timing.
Jamesâ punk attitude and labeling also hinted a sacred bond with the disenfranchised, intriguing fans overseas. In a 1979 Blues and Soul interview, he pointed out the similarities shared by UK punks and his own rough experiences: âTo me, a punk is someone who says whatâs on his mind and doesnât take no shit. Punk⦠is relatable [to funk] because punk rock was poor, white British kids whose only vehicle to get away from their suppression and economic stress was through their music⦠Now, I was born in the ghetto and everyone in my band has starved and weâve all been through the rats and roaches syndrome. Weâre from the streets and weâve been through the gang trip, too.â Rick James was 30 years old then, enjoying his big break after roaming around since the late â60s. Previously, he served some jail time for minor felonies, played with numerous bands and tried his luck in Toronto, Los Angeles, and London.
Meanwhile, Prince was barely 20 years old. He still boasted his high school afro and lived in his somewhat remote hometown of Minneapolis. Despite those odd circumstances, the young Prince secured a three-album record deal with Warner Brothers. His 1978 debut, For You, consisted mostly of bashful love songs that didnât quite excite as much as Jamesâ entry onto the scene. It was a rather moody albumâeven its lead single, âSoft and Wetâ, wasnât so daring. Despite acting as a one man R&B bandâwriting, arranging, producing and performingâPrince was still far from being in full swing. His wider musical spectrum rarely shined, only glimpsed through rocking tunes like âIâm Yoursâ. Vocally, he maintained a high pitch, which proved a bit tiring due to excessive overdubbing. The uneven effort and modest sales further increased Princeâs fears that he might be mismanaged by Warnerâs industry-standard âBlack Music Departmentâ. He would soon pen more risqué tunes than before and establish a distinct image to avoid any kind of labeling.
Almost effortlessly, Rick James was on a roll with his subsequent releases. Bustinâ Out of L Seven (1978) and Fire It Up (1979) quickly went gold, keeping intact Jamesâ devious tradition of featuring himself with at least one girl on the cover. He also continued to avoid the strong social commentary funk was known for earlier in the decade, and showed no interest in creating a sci-fi alter-ego like George Clinton and his adventurous space cadets band, Parliament. Instead, he composed his funk tunes as a marching band for freaksâone of his most commonly used adjectives. In many of his songs, James presented himself as the natural go-to-guy for any kind of action. Resting his case in âCome into My Lifeâ, he sweetens the deal by promising to âbring my private stash if you comeâ. James had a knack for pounding beats and didnât permit long improvised solos. Still, he enjoyed shout outs, like âHorns Blow!â, cueing his group to step up. At times, James appeared as strict as James Brown was when he bossed around the J.Bâs. But often enough, James led his parade at ease, demanding satisfaction and promising liberation for all the dancers, hustlers, and druggies to come his way.
Prince went on to record his self-titled second album in 1979, carrying a more reserved, mystical persona. He gave rare and awkwardly brief interviews which didnât quite complement his newfound musical aggressiveness. âWhy You Wanna Treat Me So Badâ and âBambiâ soared with crushing sexual frustration; ballads such as âItâs Gonna Be Lonelyâ and âWhen Weâre Dancing Close and Slowâ, were now eerily erotic instead of hopelessly romantic. He generated profound intimacy by sparse instrumentation, soft voice and confessional lyrics, such as âsex related fantasies is all that my mind can see/ baby, thatâs honestly the way I feelâ. The looming theme of obsession was mostly sugar coated, for the time being, in the up tempos of âI Wanna Be Your Loverâ and âI Feel for Youâ. Thus, Princeâs sophomore release was catchy enough to earn him his first immediate commercial success, including a national TV performance on American Bandstand.
Prince and Rick James were turning heads as the new men of funk. Each was a bluntly sexually driven figure who was exciting to follow as he groomed a musical talent about to manifest in its entirety. Yet to fully crossover, both continued to depend upon the same fan base of young black Americans. In 1979, James had begun hearing about Prince without giving him a second thought. However, concert promoters regarded them as two of a kind and a guaranteed attraction if billed together. Soon, Prince was slated as Jamesâ opening act for the Fire It Up tour. An inevitable clash was on its way.
Jamesâ baffling first impression is duly noted in his autobiography The Confessions of Rick James: Memoirs of a Super Freak (2007): âThe first time I saw Prince and his band I felt sorry for him. Hereâs this little dude wearing hi-heels, playing this New Wave Rock & Roll, not moving or anything on stage, just standing there wearing this trench coat. Then at the end of his set heâd take off his trench coat and heâd be wearing little girlâs bloomers. I just died. The guys in the audience just booed the poor thing to death.â
Other accounts suggest Prince made a point in upstaging James. Either way, tensions were running high throughout the tour. Backstage shenanigans of stealing instruments, physical confrontation and general intolerance were served cold by each artist. Long after parting ways, Prince and James never resolved their resentment and remained touchy when comparisons were drawn between them.
For both, the â80s marked the beginning of trying times and notable turning points. Prince released Dirty Mind in 1980, which gained him the most notorious reputation he could have ever hoped for. His sexual frustration was slowly graduating into sheer confidence. Princeâs sensitivity in âWhen You Were Mineâ and âSisterâ had led to a challenging moral and sexual ambiguity. His desire was no longer confined to a traditional adult relationship. He also started to represent a collective thought, similar to Rick James upon backing those in need of âBustinâ Outâ. Princeâs âUptownâ and âParty Upâ were also songs that projected the dance floor as the vital sphere in which a new breed will arise, free of any hang ups. He further crystallized this progressive idea with his own multi-racial and gender-bender backing group, soon to be dubbed The Revolution.
Prince adapted wholeheartedly the New Wave sound on Dirty Mind, and his subsequent albums also included plenty of synthesizer-based tunes, ditching the traditional funk gear and sound. He eschewed a âPunk Funkâ tag to his current musical direction, but he did dress the part. He performed nearly in the nude with a new borderline spiky haircut, while attaching a âRude Boyâ pin to his coat, embracing the calling card of Ska-heads. He was also pleased to preach to NME straight out of the punk manifesto in 1981:âAll the groups in America seem to do just exactly the same as each otherâwhich is to get on the radio⦠Obviously, the new wave thing has brought back a lot of that greaser reality. There are so many of those groups that there is just no way many of them can make it in those vast commercial terms. So they have no choice but to write whatâs inside of them. I think itâs all getting better, actually.â
Princeâs days as a warm up act were about to end permanently as he briefly opened for the Rolling Stones in 1981. Their fans were shocked by his persona, ushering him off the stage moments after hearing the electro-rockabilly âJerk U Offâ. Princeâs sexual tones became too intense even for his own band mates. Guitarist Dez Dickerson lobbied for âHeadâ to be removed from Princeâs live set since this rowdy tale of oral bliss embarrassed and offended him. Having failed to change Princeâs mind, Dickerson eventually quit.
At that time, Rick James suddenly went tropical. His vacation in the Caribbean Islands stirred him away from his usual antics. Garden of Love, released in 1980, was a short and laid back suite he recorded while still under the influence of basking in the sun. Songs like âIsland Ladyâ were drowned in the sounds of nature. Only its opening track, âBig Timeâ, was a typical self-celebratory party anthem. This change of pace wasnât greeted with a warm welcome by the listening public. Humbled by its commercial failure, James went for broke, following it an offering in the complete opposite direction.
Street Songs, out in 1981, was Jamesâ most powerful record, founded on his renowned merits: glorifying harsh realities, rejoicing in sleaze and playing a mean bass. âGive It to Me Babyâ and âGhetto Lifeâ were thrilling bumpers and the unexpected smash âSuper Freakâ solidified the albumâs success. James was good as ever at exploring urban vitality, catching up on Princeâs foray.
Prince and Jamesâs kinship was most apparent in their various side projects. Feeling in top form, James decided to produce albums for his accompanying Stone City Band. Writing and playing with them enabled him to embark on other musical genres, such as reggae, and spread more strutting freaks and drug songs. Prince set up The Time out of a group of musicians from the Minneapolis scene. In principal, the band was molded in Princeâs lighter and more humorous side. It mainly mixed funk and comedy while turning into a playful nemesis of Prince and the Revolution.
The vast majority of Prince and Jamesâ side-projects involved female artists. It was no coincidence as the ladies were tailored to enhance their own charged sexuality. Composing, playing, producing and sometimes adding vocals to their female protégésâ repertoire shaped Prince and James as men who could articulate womenâs most intimate desires. It was also a way to channel more male fantasies than possible on their own albums. Within a few years time, Prince formed Vanity 6 and Apollonia 6, while later establishing the careers of Sheena Easton, Sheila E. and Jill Jones. Meanwhile, James put together The Mary Jane Girls and launched Teena Marie and Val Young.
Prince and James each acted as a kind of musical pimp: flooding the market with their own signature sounds, dressing the girls provocatively in lingerie and other revealing outfits to match the luscious lyrics. The pimping analogy was never lost on either of them. Vanity 6 was originally called the Hookers and Prince argued that lead singer Denise Matthews should adapt the stage name, Vagina. James on his part wanted to have The Mary Jane Girls as The Colored Girls, insisting on a racially diverse ensemble of his own.
Prince and James granted their female clones with the most explicit lyrics they wrote at the time. Evidently, the Parents Music Resource Center picked up on it in 1985, while campaigning for attaching Parental Advisory stickers on âobjectionableâ music albums. Impressively, Prince and Jamesâ songs and related artists were accounted for nearly a third of the organizationâs âFilthy Fifteenâ list, which was the core of its claim to action.
Princeâs protégés were also supplemented his own dominant themes, such as car fixation. As Prince was singing about riding with a âLady Cab Driverâ and the implications of a âLittle Red Corvetteâ, Vanity 6 had a motor wordplay in âDrive Me Wildâ, and Apollonia 6 were expecting their lover in a âBlue Limousineâ. Jamesâ most successful outlet was the Mary Jane Girls, scoring club classics such as âAll Night Longâ and âCandy Manâ and pop hits like âIn My Houseâ. The Mary Jane Girls outlived Princeâs girl groups, recording two albums, and in some ways eclipsed their creatorâs success, since James was continually struggling to have another hit on his own, past Street Songs.
For better or worse, Rick James was tied to the old fashioned Motown legacy. He composed and produced the Temptationsâ 1982 original line-up reunion single, Standing on the Top. It bore his instantly recognizable sound of bass and synth slaps, while James vocally backed the hoarse Temptations. A year later, James charted again on the strength of his mushy duet with Smokey Robinson, âEbony Eyesâ. The slow jam had the two out-singing one another in a friendly manner and they also shot an elaborate video together. Like others James made, he thought MTV was downplaying it in favor of Michael Jackson and Princeâs videos.
Just a few months prior to the blockbuster success of Purple Rain, James was already utterly fed up with Prince. Talking then to NME, James couldnât stand another comparison being pointed out and ranted: ââ¦Prince deals with sex and sex only. Youâve got love with me, hope, the future. I write about shit the way it is.â Astonishingly quick, Prince proved him and other conservative critics wrong. He started to sing about God and the heavens frequently, while regulating his dwindling explicit songs to a B-side status. Princeâs spiritual journey soon resulted in 1988âs Lovesexy, a concept album of seeking divine guidance and positivity. By the time Quincy Jones invited him to record Jacksonâs Bad, Prince was too old for name-calling.
James later admitted to losing his own fight with Prince: âI always felt our competition was healthy, although I was jealous when he started getting bigâmore than jealousâI was pissed⦠because I felt his songs⦠and a lot of his stuff wasnât real.â Jealousy still prevailed when James left Motown in the late â80s. He hesitated in signing to Warner Brothers since Prince was one of their biggest stars. Eventually, James joined in but released just one album under the label. The drug addiction and further jail time derailed The King of Punk-Funkâs career for good. Clearly, contractual-wise, a duet between Prince and James was more feasible than one with Jackson. It may have also been a worthier match. Label them as you wish, Prince and James always knew thereâs usually only one spot in the music business for a true super-freak and both aimed to rule it.
