52 Weeks Of Prince: Week 04

1981-1982 Part 1: A Tale Of Two Times

A Word On My Efforts To Keep Up With Mr. Nelson

In late 1980 or early 1981, Prince moved to a house on Kiowa Trail on Lake Riley in Chanhassen, MN. As part of that process, he installed a proper studio, with no drain in the drum booth this time. Most of his recording between now and 1985 took place here, with some additional material recorded at Sunset Sound in Hollywood, and in 1983, a nearby warehouse. He recorded almost constantly for the next thirty-five years. His discography now starts to get messy as a result. Most weeks, I will still try to stick to one year, but in this case, I’m breaking up 1981 into two parts. This one covers the production, release and subsequent tour for The Time’s first album. Usually, “related artist” albums will not get this much attention, but I feel like the quality of this work plus the important precedents it sets for the future, merit more of a spotlight.

1981-1982 Part 1: A Tale Of Two Times

The First Time

In Spring 1981, Prince got to work keeping a promise to an old friend. During the sessions for “Dirty Mind,” Prince promised to get his friend Morris Day a record deal in return for a drum groove Prince wanted to use on the album. Part of Prince’s record deal gave him the ability to develop and support other artists for Warner Bros. It’s unclear exactly why he wanted this provision, but The Time would be his first project to take advantage of this privilege.

When I was first getting into Prince’s music, the story of The Time seemed pretty simple. I was convinced the band called The Time did not actually exist. Prince made their albums, stuck Morris Day on lead vocals and credited the albums to an imaginary band. Nobody in “the band” (including Morris) had any input whatsoever. Prince probably did this just to provide himself an outlet for music (usually second rate material) that could not be released in any other way. And I assumed almost all of the bands who were part of the “Minneapolis Sound” were the same story. There was no “Minneapolis Sound,” there was just Prince’s castaways.

Almost everything in the above paragraph is false, but those assumptions didn’t come from nowhere. In fact, The Time’s first album was made under almost those exact conditions. Every track on the album has input from Prince, but not exclusively Prince as I had always assumed. In fact, Morris Day was essential to the sessions, as a writer, singer and performer.

“The Time” does not consist of Prince B-list material. According to Morris Day, whose story agrees with the session info on princevault.com, the album was created as a collaboration between Prince and Morris. In that order. It was by no means an equal partnership, but that is not the same as treating Morris as a hired gun, bringing him in to sing lead on the album. The rest of the band does not appear on the album for the simple reason that the band did not yet exist.

Introducing Mr. Morris E. Day

Hey, you! Whatcha gonna do after hi school? The old crew, Morris Day in the center, the rightmost Afro is Skipper Nelson.

Morris Day was born in Illinois and his mother relocated to Minneapolis while he was in elementary school. After finishing high school with Prince, Morris had moved to Maryland. When he heard “Soft And Wet” on the radio, he decided it was time to head back to Minneapolis, which he did with the express intention of being the drummer in Prince’s band, just as he had back in their high school band Grand Central. By the time he found Prince and asked for the job, he was turned down flat by Prince. He had already hired Bobby Z for the drums and did not intend to replace him. According to Morris, Prince simply muttered, “No. I have a drummer.”

Instead, Morris became Prince’s cameraman, recording shows for Prince to review later. Also, he got access to Prince’s home studio (and the drain of water in the drum booth) any time Prince was out of town. This led to Morris creating the drum track that Prince used in “Partyup.” In spite of it being “his” deal, Morris still thought he would be the drummer in the band.

The problem was, they didn’t find a singer they could work with, which ultimately gave Prince the idea that Morris should front the band. So into the studio Prince and Morris went, and produced what I would consider to be the first album that had the full Minneapolis sound.

As I mentioned before, it was a genuine collaboration, with Morris on the drums, and Prince playing some other instrument (often bass, it seems) until they found a groove they liked. After that, they would essentially co-produce the track, with Prince playing all the instruments and Morris adding the lead vocals, even though the lyrics were usually written by Prince with minimal contribution by Morris. The Time’s first two albums were both produced essentially this way, although there are no writing credits listed on the album, and the producer is supposed to be someone named Jamie Starr. Mr. Starr, unsurprisingly does not exist any more than the band did at this point.

Morris Day and Jamie Starr in Prince's Kiowa Trail studio. Note the suspicious level of Mr. Starr's "Princey-ness"

1. Get It Up

The first track was also the first single, but it was produced in a novel way compared to most of the album. It was recorded in February 1981 by Prince alone. He had actually offered the song to another band, but was rejected. It stayed in Prince’s back pocket for a couple of months until sessions for The Time began, and “Get It Up” resurfaced. It’s a long track, as are many of The Time’s album tracks, this one being a mid-tempo stroll through the outskirts of Prince’s red – light district. Dr Fink contributes a synth solo. As with many songs on The Time’s albums, Prince’s voice is easily audible, giving credence to the theory that The Time was merely a beard for Prince, but the song is fantastic, so I’m pretty sure nobody is too worried about that at this point.

2. Girl

The first ballad on the album, it is a surprisingly full-throated and soulful performance, giving Morris an opportunity to stretch his range. “Girl” would be at home on records by any number of R & B crooners, and it still surprises me how well Morris pulls it off. His drumming also gives the whole track an almost “Motown” feel. I’m sure nobody would take this track over “Jungle Love” or “Cool,” but it fulfills its purpose on the album effortlessly.

3. After Hi School

This track was actually written by Prince’s guitarist, Dez Dickerson, although it is assumed Prince played all the instruments. It’s an almost jarring change of pace, but like so much of the album, it works anyway. It almost feels like a cross between a John Waters soundtrack and an early Beatles song.

4. Cool

This is the best track on the album. The hook should have legendary status, and Prince’s rhythm guitar sets the standard for the rest of his career. The song goes on for ten minutes, but it never feels long. It’s a measure of Prince’s esteem for the song that in the last decade of his career, he would often use “Cool” as an extended jam for the band in the middle of concerts. Legend has it the lyrics came about as an extension of a conversation Morris had with Prince when Morris felt uncomfortable being in front of the band. He said he didn’t know what to do in that situation. Prince is said to have replied, “Put your hands in your pockets and be cool.”

5. Oh Baby

Yup, it’s the flipside’s ballad. Like “Gotta Broken Heart Again” this song is leftover from 1979, but Morris breathes some new life into it. This album’s ballads are probably the least satisfying in The Time’s discography, mostly because Morris had not yet nailed down the character he would play on stage, and without knowing who the stage version of Morris would be, it’s difficult to find slow songs for that person to sing.

6. The Stick

The Library of Congress seems to think “The Stick” was written by Prince, but Lisa Coleman actually wrote it. The album closes out with another swinging funk piece that feels like the swaggering schtick one expects of Morris Day. It slinks along for almost ten minutes and never wears out its welcome. Like so much of this album, I underestimated this material for far too long, and I urge you not to make the same mistake.

The Second Time

Prince’s strategy worked. Both Prince’s management and Warner Bros liked the album, and soon Morris Day had his record deal. “Get It Up” was a top ten hit, the album was selling well, and The Time was to open for Prince on his tour to promote “Controversy.” There was only one real problem. There was, in fact, no band. So Prince and Morris quickly recruited one from two existing Minneapolis bands: Flytetyme and Enterprise.

The original lineup of The Time was: Jellybean Johnson took over from Morris on the drums, Monte Moir and Jimmy Jam on keyboards, Terry Lewis on bass and Jesse Johnson on guitar. Some of these names may be familiar to you, because the whole band went on to have incredibly successful careers outside of The Time. Jimmy Jam and Terry Lewis in particular would go on to have their own musical empire (called Flyte Tyme Studios), the centerpiece of which was their work with Janet Jackson on nearly all of her albums. In other words, if Prince’s plan was to create a band that was good, but couldn’t quite compete on his level, he made a terrible error.

We're Gonna Have A Real Good Time

The Time demonstrate the value of subtlety.

Prince had spent more than three years working with his touring band, slowly working shaping them and himself into a group that would soon be without peer in the music scene of the 1980s. And by the time the tour in support of “Controversy” kicked off, that work was beginning to pay off. In light of all this, it is unsurprising that Prince was annoyed when The Time, a band that had been together for just a few months, upstaged his act at every show they played.

Several times over the years, Prince was asked if there were any bands in the early 80s that struck fear into his heart. He always answered “The Time.” I used to scoff and roll my eyes at this, but as it turns out, The Time routinely kicked his ass. I normally do not mention bootlegs here, but in this case, I am going to make an exception. If you don’t believe that The Time blew the roof off places so hard that Prince did not want to follow them, track down a bootleg of The Time in Memphis from February 24, 1982. The fact that they burn the house down is even more impressive considering only Morris had any real hand in the recording process.

It Ain't All Peace, Love, and Purple Rain

I’m going to say this as diplomatically as I know how: Prince did not always treat Morris Day or The Time as he should have. Especially on tour, he could be a complete ass. In fact, the shades of Rick James were unmistakable, and there is no excuse for the kind of nonsense Prince pulled on these people who were supposed to be friends.

On the last date of the “Controversy” tour, just before The Time’s last song, Prince had his bodyguard (an absolutely enormous man called Chick Huntsberry) grab Jesse Johnson and lock him in the dressing room while Prince took his place for the last song in The Time’s set.

The most legendary story of Prince’s utterly unprofessional crappiness comes from this tour. The Time was in the middle of their set when Prince and his band (either from the audience, the side of the stage or both) began throwing eggs at The Time. They struggled through their set and as they came off stage, Prince was howling with laughter and said to Morris “Hey, don’t even think about doing that back to us.”

This was bullying, pure and simple. So Morris did responded exactly as one should with bullies: he sent someone to the nearest grocery store for several dozen eggs. Prince was not happy about being egged during his set. When the show was over, there was a continuation of the food fight that just became a fight. At least one hotel room was wrecked. In the end Prince, with the kind of utter bastardness we have forgotten about since his passing, made Morris pay for all the damages.

In spite of all this, Prince and Morris’ friendship - basically a brotherly rivalry - persisted for the rest of Prince’s life. Furthermore, The Time’s success did not discourage Prince from using this method to produce other artists for many years.

I’ve heard The Time’s creation described as “Prince creating his own competition” but I have found no evidence he ever thought of it that way. It really seems that he was genuinely interested (at least at first) in helping The Time and other artists create great albums. Unfortunately for the artists concerned, Prince was experiencing a tremendous expansion of his creativity. He could not seem to record fast enough. And Prince was Prince, so he treated these projects as “his,” and required the same amount of control over them as he did for any of his work. Even though the music was often fantastic, these projects are now some of the most problematic of his career.

Next Week: Prince releases “Controversy” and fate exacts terrible revenge for Prince’s mistreatment of his opening act.