This Is What It Sounds Like When Doves Cry

I have loved music since birth. The emotions a lyric or snippet of music can evoke, the power to transport you directly to a moment in time, the bond between friends, and the sheer unbridled joy are just some of the benefits of music. Growing up, for better or worse - depending on their tastes, your first exposure to music comes from your parents and family. My father had my childhood steeped in the country roots of artists like Johnny Cash, Buck Owens, Waylon Jennings, Willie Nelson, Merle Haggard, George Jones, Lynn Anderson, Dolly Parton, and Barbara Mandrell. My mother had the market cornered on girl groups and 70s soft rock in the form of The Lettermen, The Supremes, Captain and Tennille, the Carpenters, Donny and Marie, John Denver, and Barry Manilow. At the end of the 70s and the beginning of the 80s, I was discovering that music existed outside of what my parents listened to regularly. Seeing artists like Elton John on the Muppet Show and having my uncle introduce me to bands like Tears for Fears and the Police set me on my own musical discovery path. But it wasn't until the summer of 1984 when my older next door neighbor got a cassette of Purple Rain that something clicked. The blend of Rock, Pop, R&B, Funk, and Soul put together in ways I had never heard before instantly made me a fan and then some. So many of Prince's songs form a backbone of my existence and memories that if I was trying to put together a soundtrack, I would find it a near impossible task to determine which songs made the final cut. There were a group of friends throughout high school who were just as enthralled with Prince's music. And though we've drifted in and out of each other's lives over the years, each and every one of them felt that same pain today. My facebook feed might as well have been covered in purple. I could easily spend hours discussing his music, his influence, his eccentricities, and the ripple effect he's had on music in general. But when I try to articulate or even pinpoint what that's meant to me and my life, it's almost like trying to pick apart a piece of my own DNA. His music is so ingrained as a part of me and the gaping hole that's left has me stumbling in a haze since the news broke. One of my colleagues is also a huge Prince fan and his approach was to flat out reject reality until he was ready to deal with it. We spent about twenty minutes comparing concert experiences, discussing the possibilities of what, if anything, could be in the vault and would it ever see the light of day, but no actual comprehension or acceptance. My cousin Mary posted a poignant description of why artists and musicians passing away have an impact for those that have never met them. It ends with, "Artists have inspired us in endless ways and have been with us through stages in our lives. We've made memories with them. So when they die, a part of us dies." This absolutely resonated with me today throughout the twitter reactions, the facebook surfing, the google news alerts and various discussions with friends both near and far. There is a small part of me that will never hear his music the same way. The new melancholy attributed to lyrics that I've heard and sung along with so many times is very raw and sadly that too will change with time. I know now what April snow and springtime will remind me of for many many years in the future. "God only knows where U are 2 night. Maybe time will tell me. Till then I'll close my eyes and say a prayer 4 U." Rest easy O Purple One. I wish U love. I wish U heaven. Prince Rogers Nelson 1958-2016 "And all good things, they say, never last."