Prince in the 2010s: 4 modern songs that capture the spirit of The Purple One

April 21st of this year marks two years since the death of legendary singer Prince Rogers Nelson, who we all knew by his ever-present stage name Prince. Since then, many established and upcoming artists have pulled from the large pool of sonic idiosyncrasies that defined his one-of-a-kind, extremely volatile sound as a mixture of early rock ’n’ roll, soul, pop, and funk styles. No one can do it quite like the flamboyant mastermind, but here are a few tracks from the past few years that have heavily drawn from Prince’s massively influential sonic domain.

Childish Gambino – Redbone

Photo via The New Yorker

In 2016, Donald Glover, under his musical alias Childish Gambino, dropped his long-awaited third album, “Awaken, My Love!”, which took listeners by surprise due to its unexpected musical direction. Unlike any of his previous releases, which were hip-hop through and through, Glover borrowed sounds almost exclusively from 70s funkadelia to craft the soundscape of this project; not to mention, it lacks any and all rapping, and instead features Glover singing in extreme, unorthodox registers. This further cemented his identity as a Renaissance man, as it added to the name he had already built for himself by excelling in many different fields of entertainment, such as acting, screenwriting, producing, and rapping. It makes sense, then, that he would pull from a polymath like Prince, who was just as good as belting high notes as he was at playing nearly every Western instrument, for such a project. The lead single “Redbone” may seem like an obvious choice for this list, but it’s impossible to brush aside the most successful Prince-influenced track of the decade. The track features a groovy Bootsy Collins funk sample that Gambino rides with a flawless falsetto layered with moments of extremely high-pitched raspiness, which leaves this entry as the closest on this list to mirroring Prince’s actual vocal style. It also features a traditional electric guitar solo toward the tail end, something that sounds like it could’ve been plucked directly from one of Prince’s psychedelic, rock-flavored songs, like “Bambi” or even the iconic “Purple Rain.”

Janelle Monáe – Make Me Feel

Photo via JUCO

Janelle Monáe, known for fostering cutting-edge R&B sounds since the late 2000s, is the only entry on this list who actually had the privilege of being mentored by The Purple One. As she is known for shining a light on experimental, retro sonic ideas, Monáe wouldn’t be nearly the same artist without Prince, who was doing much of the same thing during his peak of power. Take into account that Monáe is a proponent of afrofuturism, just as Prince was in his legendary Artist Formerly Known As Prince phase, and it becomes even harder to imagine Monáe’s artistry and aesthetic absent of her inherent Prince DNA. Needless to say, her catalogue consists of a slew of tracks that have pulled from Prince’s sonic palette. “Make Me Feel,” one of the singles from her forthcoming record Dirty Computer (2018) —which she has claimed Prince himself contributed to before his passing — represents the epitome of this influence. The track is blatantly a soft cover of one of her mentor’s biggest hits ever, “Kiss.” It features similarly eccentric melodies, the same splintered guitar riffs, and just as much suggestive content as the original — lyrics like “It’s like I’m powerful with a little bit of tender / An emotional, sexual bender” heavily imply an openness to sexuality, an openness that Prince made his hallmark. Needless to say, this was a bold move for Monáe to make, yet it paid off tremendously. With its polished, sleek instrumentation and seductive, unpredictable vocals, the song brilliantly manages to capture the same sexiness that Prince did with his artist-defining track in the late 80s. This bout of funky, poppy sensuality finds power within its glamorous eroticism, something that Prince glorified throughout his entire discography.

Frank Ocean – Ivy

Photo via Andrew Gomez

For the former Odd Future conglomerate turned spotlight-rejector, Prince has always been there. Shortly after The Purple One’s passing, Frank Ocean penned a heartfelt Tumblr eulogy, in which he offered Prince commendation for allowing him to embrace his sexuality and admitted to being a lifelong stan. Sprinkled into Ocean’s discography are tidbits of sonic and lyrical allusions to the icon’s work. The intimate chorus of “Self Control” lyrically references a verse from Prince’s “When You Were Mine” — a song that Frank has claimed to be his one of his all time favorites. In the concluding verse of “Nikes,” the opening track of his enigmatic 2016 release Blonde, Frank breaks the flow of his verse to repeat the words “Rain…glitter,” seemingly referencing both Prince’s “Purple Rain” and David Bowie’s pioneering of the glitter rock / glam rock subgenre, respectively. However, it’s not “Nikes,” “Self Control,” or any one of Frank’s other more overtly Prince-referencing  songs, but rather “Ivy” that is the most outstanding representation of Prince’s work manifesting itself into the 30-year-old’s artistry. Frank Ocean isn’t the next Prince; he doesn’t brand sex — though he does write about personal sexual experiences on a good chunk of his songs — nor does he pride himself in multi-instrumental virtuosity or revolutionary 70s/80s funk. Even if he did, there will never be another Prince. But damn, do some of the vocals on “Ivy” sound like Frank channeled the man himself. The simple, somber avant-garde guitar ballad features Frank’s pitched-up vocals, which come off as boyish and innocent as he sings about an old lover. At the climax of the track, Frank develops a certain screech in his inflection, pushing his voice until he is nearly shouting about how he’s been dreaming about this person; one might criticize it as shrill or atonal if it weren’t so emotionally resonant. This is reminiscent of Prince’s trademark vocal style, heard on tracks like “Do Me, Baby” and “When Doves Cry,” and “Ivy” is thus not a far-cry from something you may have heard from one of the singer’s more stripped-down ballads.

Miguel – Do You…

Photo via Timothy Saccenti

Now, I realize Miguel has previously gotten annoyed with all the Prince comparisons. “No one will ever be that; I don’t want to be that,” he told The Sun in an interview last year. But if you’re going to be one of the few mainstream artists who continues to be invested in traditional R&B, and you dedicate the majority of your songs to all the raunchy sex you have, it’s kind of hard to leave you out of the conversation, my guy. So here we are: Miguel, I’m going to compare you to Prince, sorry in advance. “Do You,” from 2012’s Kaleidoscope, shows that Miguel’s been injecting subtle tastes of Prince throughout his music since the beginning of his discography. His voice, though obviously not quite as high-pitched, shares many of the same qualities as Prince’s did, like tone and the overall fullness. When he’s using it to irresistibly sing metaphors about drugs and sex over an enticingly soulful instrumental of guitar strumming and bright synths, the musical similarities between Prince and Miguel become even more uncanny. Miguel even rocks a modern take of Prince’s Purple Rain-era hair-do in the music video for this track. When comparing them, it’s funny to think that these two guys from wildly different eras had similar instructions for their barbers at one point. Furthermore, the two share similar complexions; just as Prince did, Miguel presents himself as being mixed-race. Of half-Mexican heritage, Miguel got his musical footing in the Latin R&B scene, from which he evolved into the international R&B star we know him as today. Not to mention, Miguel and Prince are pretty small dudes, standing at 5’6” and 5’3”, respectively. Seeing as how even their genes are analogous, Miguel may be the closest thing we have to a modern-day Prince Rogers Nelson.

Bonus Track: Harriet Brown – Paradisiac

Photo via Jason Barbagelott

Ever feel like tuning into Prince’s manifestation via an obscure, indie, Asian-American artist who inhabits the streets of LA with a bowl-cut that looks like a beanie? Bay Area native Harriet Brown has all but captured such an aesthetic, declaring himself the founder of ‘romantic funk.’ If there could ever be a name more fitting for the revivalism of 80s funk, specifically Prince’s sound, please feel free to let me know. The majority of Brown’s songs draw on the same sonic elements that The Purple One mastered, including a bold, textured falsetto, jubilant dance synths, and drawn-out guitar solos, yet do so in a way that is contemporary and refreshing. His debut LP, Contact (2017) is stuffed with all of the above. “Paradisiac,” a standout from his first demo EP, is a slow-building ode to romantic hedonism that accentuates Brown’s dreamy voice. Whether coincidentally or not, the Prince references in this song are very on-the-nose: the song ends with the instrumental fading further and further below the vocals, until all we hear is Brown’s voice muttering “Kiss.”

Written by Anthony Vega