Prince in Portland, Prince Forever

Laying along East Burnside, Prince looked comfortable.

We were going to a show at the Doug Fir Lounge and there he was.

It took me back to the Tacoma Dome after seeing Purple Rain when it first came out.

Who was Prince? Only the anti-Michael Jackson, and back then it seemed a good idea to jump on one bandwagon or the other.

I chose Prince with no regrets.

A guy at work had tickets to the Tacoma show. He also had a load of turf he needed help laying out on his yard.

We struck a deal: Grass for Prince.

Such a great deal.

My date and I, who became my wife even with her Prince crush, sat on the opposite end of the stadium while Prince rode a hydraulic shower up and down on stage taking a neon shower.

Lots of showers going on up there, and songs from Purple Rain. It was a rock and roll moment that could have been cheesy, but Prince killed it. Why?

That guitar.

I had a used Jimi Hendrix Experience album in ninth grade. Meh. I learned to like him later. I liked him enough to feel like a dipstick for not liking him earlier.

Prince was an instant like.

To drill it in even deeper, he did the Super Bowl Halftime. In the rain. He could have stopped. Could have been electrocuted but he played on.

As a media figure Prince blazed across the screens, out of speakers, and made believers. Not James Brown, but better, he brought Foo Fighter music to his mix. He even played the Gorge.

The show went on with Prince in the rain, with memories of the man making it new every time I hear his songs.

If you’re looking for the standard, the high bar of performance, this is it.

If you’re longing for amazement, Prince is the one.