Prince – サイン・オブ・ザ・タイムズ = Sign "O" The Times

In 1986, Prince had resolved to set himself up as a one-man-band and adopt an infinitely more pragmatic, methodical mind-set. In the immediate aftermath of the Revolution effectively being made redundant, he did not get down-hearted or daunted by the prospect of going it alone. Instead, he was firing on all cylinders and then some, almost constantly cogitating and creating. Previous to the ousting of the Revolution, two of its most interactive , Wendy & Lisa, contributed to what would ultimately be one of two aborted releases - the first titled “Dream Factory”, the other “Camille”. Alongside seven new cuts, including the title track, a surfeit of material from the aforementioned prior recording sessions was consolidated, recycled, and at the behest of Warner Bros, trimmed down to a more concise 79 minutes. Undoubtedly, this necessary evil averted what could have been a messy blowout with shards of scattered genius that failed to form a unified whole. Heedless of its substance being mainly comprised of a holdover, the drastically reworked vocals and instrumentation virtually renders them new recordings, infallible ones at that.

“Sign o’ the Times” was wholly unlike other albums of the era in that its so-called lavish and laborious production left a lot to be desired. As a result of a faulty mixing desk and unconventional studio practices, by all s a relentless, excessive, complex undertaking with various measures to ensure quality and maximum turnout, a large portion of the end product was closer to what you'd expect an outtake to sound like. And now that Wendy & Lisa were out of the picture, Prince’s multi-tracked vocals were used to maximum advantage, invariably expounding the strong feelings associated with a specific composition. For instance, although the “Camille” project was dropped, the titular female alter ego was maintained, with several female-centric tracks herein appropriately featuring Prince’s pitch-shifted vocals. In light of its nuanced, no-frills disposition, the album’s scope and lyrical content had to be greatly emphasized, with Prince becoming increasingly insular and expanding his reach as a songwriter, which, in his case, meant social consciousness. In a decidedly moody, soulful manner often belied by his trademark eccentric and escapist spirit, he also embraced and centralized all the personas he had previously inhabited (frenetic funkster, androgynous libertine, seemingly sincere loverman, penitent Christian, apocalypse harbinger). It was this delicate approach to downbeat, heavy subjects concerning the state of the world - social chaos, drugs, AIDS, war, etc. - that proved most favourable and evocative, invoking contrary images of sunny and stark street life.

Owing a ing debt to other exploratory, meandering yet cohesive double-albums, namely “London Calling,” “Electric Ladyland,” and “The River”, “Sign o’ the Times” flows incredibly well, its loosely arranged, vibrant, distinctive contents are more than measure up to said key albums. Aside from the usual pseudo-psychedelic pop, grinding electro-funk and hard rock, the four diverse sides span country, soul, gospel, blues, jazz and even folk. Across the glorious expanse of sixteen stylistic opuses, Prince fully realizes his potential as a multifaceted musical genius; the thematic, tense title track, grandiose, layered “Starfish and Coffee,” “The Ballad of Dorothy Parker,” and “The Cross”, beautiful yet sinister “Strange Relationship”, lusty, blazing “I Could Never Take the Place of Your Man,” “U Got The Look,” “If I Was Your Girlfriend,” and “Hot Thing”, all showcase the countless gifts of a truly unique musician, songwriter, producer, and performer. Several of the aforementioned tracks ed the album's release, considerably increasing its sales and continuing his recent success in Europe. Achieving "Purple Rain"-level sales was improbable to say the least, though it did reach number six on the Billboard 200, which, considering the sheer amount of classic albums in the charts that year, is more than acceptable.

Prince’s imperial phase is widely regarded to be roughly 1980-1988, an era in which he had interminable, limitless vision, calibre and impetus invariably fuelled by a strong fascination with not only music in general and his own psyche, but that of America, the intricacies of the recording process, controversy, equality, spirituality, liberation, women, sex, and dystopia. Prince was a renowned guitar hero and whimsical storyteller with a tendency to ask big questions and demand a lot of his audience, though he did reward them with pure visual and aural bliss in the form of dynamic live performances, music videos, and supplementary promotional movies. Immensely chameleonic and flamboyant, the ambiguity and queerness he fostered broke new ground, further broadening his stylistic range and appeal and supplying him with infinite stimulus. Undeniably adverse in of its long-term effects on his career, Prince's rigorous, balanced materialization of his musicianship, prolificacy, versatility, perspicacity and technical chops definitively refined and elevated his efficient sequencing model: tempering bleak realism with high-energy hedonism. In other words, not even he could repeat what came together so brilliantly here. As a direct consequence of the self-sufficiency he so desired, his hyper-controlling methods were not being reined in, and his lack of influence and ideas from less single-minded parties led to him urbanizing the white rock 'n' roll and psychedelic elements and vestiges from the Revolution collaborations. Eventually, he would run out of creative steam and start to follow trends rather than set them. At this point in his career, he still had a wealth of exceptional material to work from, therefore stripping away some of the virtuosic haziness and rock band flash and flourish of the well-established interior Revolution world would be deemed an advancement to a higher state... but only this once.

Only this, the first post-Revolution album, is unanimously judged as his greatest artistic statement, perhaps due to the faintly perceptible traces of Wendy & Lisa's input on the "Dream Factory" revamps, or simply because, on this occasion, he equitably kept the duration, religious imagery, mysticism and metaphors to a proportionate minimum. Not that any of the components even remotely resemble chart fodder, mind you. That being said, it is clear that Prince spent a lot of time pruning the potential hits to make them even more lucid, tight, durable and reasonably grounded - a virtue his uneven, befuddling and overly ornate prolific post-1989 output often fell short of. Deservedly viewed as the summit of Prince's creative powers, "Sign o' the Times" sharply and superbly concluded his impeccable seven-year run of greatness. It will endure as one of the most profound, immersive and intoxicating listening experiences of the 1980s.

Rating: 5/5