This dreary year’s death train rolls on. No music links. You can find the awesome, if by now somewhat cliched, live stuff (“Purple Rain” at the Superbowl, “While My Guitar Gently Weeps” at George Harrison’s RRHOF induction) on YouTube, but, beyond that, you’ll need to be more tech savvy than I am. Generally speaking, the man was obsessive about his copyrights, a capitalist with a capital “C.”.
If I could play something, it would be “I Could Never Take the Place of Your Man,” which, in a way, tells the whole story of both his boundless narcissism (because you knew part of him was lying) and his keen empathy (because you knew some other part of him was telling a hard truth in spite of himself).
If I had to pick any one album it would be Dirty Mind.
You know: “Black, white, Puerto Rican, everybody just a freakin’. Good times were rollin‘!”
But, really, mirror shades are sometimes worth a thousand words:
I hope Jehovah, if He does turn around, can see through His own reflection tonight. I’m sure Jimi and James could use the company. It’s not every day somebody comes through the Gate who can look them in the eye.