Minneapolis loses its longtime hero in Prince

If it had to happen, I suppose it's fitting a non-conformist alien musical genius would leave this planet on the cusp of Earth Day. Prince passed away yesterday on April 21, 2016, and it’s a memory unwittingly frozen in our minds to draw upon another day when conversations about him inevitably arise: Where were you when you heard? What did you do? Prince was always the topic of conversation in his hometown of Minneapolis (especially obvious for me as a young music journalist growing up here).Just four years ago, I celebrated Prince’s 53rd birthday with an article about facts you might not know about him, because it always seemed there were very few those and a whole lot of stories. One hard fact: Despite any mysticism around his strange habits, faith as a Jehovah’s Witness, penchant for pancakes and stance against digital piracy, fans love this man for what he created. The “Yeah but Prince is an asshole” conversation is now officially retired, and what remains is a blinding gem of a music catalogue and all the memories that millions of people – Minnesotan or not – have with it.He was our local legend. He actually lived here. Unlike Bob Dylan who just passed through our history like a rolling stone, Prince called this bi-polar frozen tundra his home. He inarguably put us on the map for music (The Minneapolis sound) and otherwise. “Oh you live in Minneapolis? That place kinda near Chicago where Prince lives?” Begrudgingly but always kind of proudly, YES.I only met Prince briefly in 2009 upon his return to the city from LA or Canada or wherever he was living for a time after his divorce. It was at a local club that is now defunct (as all local clubs eventually come to be if they are not First Avenue), and he shook my hand and/or nodded at me as we stood behind the DJ booth. I can’t remember. All I know is that the DJ who invited him, in the best directive ever, asked me to "watch out for him" while he played to make sure he had whatever he needed (not that I had anything at all to give, but I guess that's beside the point now). His visit only lasted 10 minutes because the dawn of the smartphone meant the man could have no peace. Too many pictures, too much brouhaha, out he went. Upon his quick departure with a swarm of bodyguards, a mutual friend consoled me, “He knows who you are, and he knows what everyone writes about him,” which was the freakiest thing I could hear at the time because I’d just started a Prince column for City Pages. It ended shortly thereafter; I couldn’t continue after seeing how hard it was for him to enjoy himself in public.That was the most up close and personal I ever got with Prince the man, though with the musician I had an even rarer experience. I saw him when I was 21 at Paisley Park in 2000 or so – somebody knew the DJ (typical). About 20 of us got a private concert from 3 a.m. until 9 in the morning, because that was how he rolled. He loved late-late jam sessions when he was feeling it. I remember most of the show as riffing and not any of his best-loved material, but I do think he played a few licks of Raspberry Beret at the end. I was too young to appreciate it fully but knew it was very special.And in his death, so was last night. The streets of Minneapolis filled with thousands of people, businesses downtown showing their support with signs and purple lighting. The IDS lit purple, the top of the Target building blazed the same electric hue. Driving to get as close as we could to First Avenue, ground zero for all the memorializing, the radio stations all played Prince songs. One even had a flashy, over-produced cut-in that they ran at the front of every commercial break: “Dearly beloved, a local legend has died – [cue radio medley] …” and I had to clench my fists not to turn the station. It was too real.There’s been some speculation of how Prince Rogers Nelson exited this earth, but I don’t think most of his fans care about the details. He was ours and now he’s gone, and we’re going to keep his spirit alive in the best ways we know how. I don’t know whether Prince was a "beautiful soul," as many mourners have told the press in the wake of his untimely passing. It seems unlikely that someone who made gorgeous works would not be so himself, but it all pales against his stunning achievements.I personally won’t feel complete until there’s a massive mural downtown in his memory, and it must be tear-jerkingly amazing. Jerkingly is not a word, but The Kid was all about breaking rules and aside from his catalogue, I will remember him for that the most. The only comfort comes in the form of his own lyrics: Life is just a party and parties weren't meant to last.Rest in purple.