The dichotomy of Prince’s sensual, yet electronically futuristic solo album Art Official Age reflects the artist’s inner search for happiness as he tries to adapt to a changing world.
The opener, “Art Official Cage,” is a stunning pop composition, with its abstract mix of Indian influences, rock, space-rock, and dance beats as Prince re-introduces himself. Continuing into the simple, seductive “Clouds,” he directly calls out social media, cloud computing, and the fast-paced “artificial” world humans have constructed.
AOA is marked by three “affirmations,” messages to provide a sort of spa for the frazzled 21st-century brain — a way for the world to reprogram and stay grounded in a digital age. Prince’s advice: stop, revisit the power of love and soul music.
Prince has always enjoyed a solid cred for putting women first — each a queen on golden throne. But when Prince talks sex, he gets to work.
The easy roll of Prince’s rapping on the raunchy “U Know,” and its segue into the even hotter sizzle of “Breakfast Can Wait,” is a tall, smooth drink —until he cracks his exterior and sings like he's inhaled a tank full of helium.
AOA also comes with some serious guitar funk. His public-service message in “FunkNRoll,” that everyone put their smartphones down and dance, reflects the current, precarious atmosphere of the music industry. Screaming, "I don’t really care what y’all been doin’," Prince has the proper attitude for a man who’s still on top and has the sound to back it up.
On deep cut “Way Back Home,” Prince follows his own advice to slow the roll. Set to a haunting piano melody and a thrumming beat, he shares his vulnerabilities and sensitivities, and his hope as an artist searching for peace and the perfect riff.
Read Emily Reily's review of companion disc Plectrumelectrum.
The dichotomy of Prince’s sensual, yet electronically futuristic solo album Art Official Age reflects the artist’s inner search for happiness as he tries to adapt to a changing world.
The opener, “Art Official Cage,” is a stunning pop composition, with its abstract mix of Indian influences, rock, space-rock, and dance beats as Prince re-introduces himself. Continuing into the simple, seductive “Clouds,” he directly calls out social media, cloud computing, and the fast-paced “artificial” world humans have constructed.
AOA is marked by three “affirmations,” messages to provide a sort of spa for the frazzled 21st-century brain — a way for the world to reprogram and stay grounded in a digital age. Prince’s advice: stop, revisit the power of love and soul music.
Prince has always enjoyed a solid cred for putting women first — each a queen on golden throne. But when Prince talks sex, he gets to work.
The easy roll of Prince’s rapping on the raunchy “U Know,” and its segue into the even hotter sizzle of “Breakfast Can Wait,” is a tall, smooth drink —until he cracks his exterior and sings like he's inhaled a tank full of helium.
AOA also comes with some serious guitar funk. His public-service message in “FunkNRoll,” that everyone put their smartphones down and dance, reflects the current, precarious atmosphere of the music industry. Screaming, "I don’t really care what y’all been doin’," Prince has the proper attitude for a man who’s still on top and has the sound to back it up.
On deep cut “Way Back Home,” Prince follows his own advice to slow the roll. Set to a haunting piano melody and a thrumming beat, he shares his vulnerabilities and sensitivities, and his hope as an artist searching for peace and the perfect riff.
Read Emily Reily's review of companion disc Plectrumelectrum.