Too Much : Q Magazine 1998

Will those vaults ever empty? Prince Crystal Ball NPG0CT9871CD

Is the little man in danger of drowning under the weight of his own creativity? Barely a year after Emancipation, a 36-track triple album celebrating his creative freedom after a messy split from Warner’s, here comes another monster. There are four CDs in total; three have “bootleg” scrawled on them and feature 30 songs never previously released in this form, most of them never even heard before. And then comes a fourth disc of 12 acoustic songs recorded at the end of last year. It’s incredible that Prince has so many tunes of course, but such quantity makes it head-spinningly hard even for the most affectionate of aficionados to assimilate this vast bank of work. Sounds like a complaint? Not a bit of it. Firstly, the original version of Crystal Ball, only available via the Internet and your credit card, actually featured an extra disc, Kamasutra, a ballet written by Prince (that’s his name, right?) for his wife Mayte and performed at their wedding. So maybe we’re getting off lightly here. And secondly, no-one should be afraid of a bit of hard graft, especially when Crystal Ball is so ultimately rewarding. There are 14 years of stockpiled recordings here, shining a light into every nook and cranny of Prince’s oeuvre to show not the depth of the man, but rather the breadth. What’s most surprising about Crystal Ball is not so much that Prince hasn’t bothered to release this stuff before, but that it’s so consistently, spellbindingly, wondrously great. From the bizarre mix of breezy funk and heads down rock of Da Bang to the sublime ballad Crucial (ousted from Sign O’ The Times for Adore). From the downright dirty Hide The Bone to the offbeat and very funny Movie Star (“I’m the only star on the scene!”). From the sprawling, ambitious and 10-minutes-plus title track to the pop classic Last Heart. There’s quality burnt right through damn near every song. It is, honestly, frightening. The acoustic stuff is fascinating too, not least for the delightful Circle Of Amour, but it’s effectively the relish for the meat of the rest of the songs, Prince goofing off and having fun. Enjoying himself; Rumour has it that Prince’s fans are deserting him in droves. Is it because he’s simply become too hard to handle? Because on the showing of Crystal Ball, it sure as hell can’t be because he’s lost it. **** hard graft, especially when Crystal Ball is so ultimately rewarding. There are 14 years of stockpiled recordings here, shining a light into every nook and cranny of Prince’s oeuvre to show not the depth of the man, but rather the breadth. What’s most surprising about Crystal Ball is not so much that Prince hasn’t bothered to release this stuff before, but that it’s so consistently, spellbindingly, wondrously great. From the bizarre mix of breezy funk and heads down rock of Da Bang to the sublime ballad Crucial (ousted from Sign O’ The Times for Adore). From the downright dirty Hide The Bone to the offbeat and very funny Movie Star (“I’m the only star on the scene!”). From the sprawling, ambitious and 10-minutes-plus title track to the pop classic Last Heart. There’s quality burnt right through damn near every song. It is, honestly, frightening. The acoustic stuff is fascinating too, not least for the delightful Circle Of Amour, but it’s effectively the relish for the meat of the rest of the songs, Prince goofing off and having fun. Enjoying himself; Rumour has it that Prince’s fans are deserting him in droves. Is it because he’s simply become too hard to handle? Because on the showing of Crystal Ball, it sure as hell can’t be because he’s lost it. ****