Posted by 
After forty-three years tromping the terra December 29th, 2010 was my first-ever birthday show, and it was a biggie too: Prince at Madison Square Garden in New York City.
Go big or stay home, right?
M’lady and I had awoken in Worcester, Massachusetts following a Phish show the night before, and after four hours on the highway we found ourselves weaving through a city besieged with snow. It was a beautiful day as we pulled into New York City, but the evidence of the recent epic snowstorms was unmistakeable. In the streets at least one in ten roadside cars were buried, entire blocks of vehicles were submerged in heavy snow, and the space left for actual moving vehicles was minimal at best. We pulled in the mirrors and made our way slowly to our host Greg’s house in Queens.
We primed up with Greg, Todd, and Anthony and went out for the best burgers in NYC at a place called Ditmar’s Station. They squish out burgers made with a combination of beef, lamb, and veal, and top them with shaved fried onions, which I supplemented with a side of herbed mayo and an order of excellent fries. There was ketchup on the side but there was no need, the thing was just so flavourful. For dessert I enjoyed my first ever Cafe Patron tequila, which tasted like a cappuccino-enhanced bolt of pure goodness. I couldn’t have asked for a better birthday dinner.
Leaving the guys behind m’lady and I headed out for the show. We emerged from the N Train and hopped a cab from there towards MSG where we had the oh-so-New-York experience of watching the meter tick away while the taxi sat motionless in impossibly snarled traffic, broken up with shocking bursts of aggressive driving worthy of Grand Theft Auto. We got out and walked the last few blocks, saving us both time and money on a ride that cost us too much of both already.
By this point we were definitely running late for our date with Prince (1958-2016). With no opening act listed on the ticket and showtime fast approaching we had our tickets scanned and ran up the escalator to the second level of Madison Square Garden.
This was my first time in MSG so I was unfamiliar with the layout. I was pulling on m’lady’s hand as we came off the escalator at a run. The mezzanine was basically empty as most people had already made their way to their seats and as we were running past the concession area to join them all we almost stepped on…
Prince.
Racing around a corner we reared up on our heels and found ourselves face-to-face with the Purple One, having almost completely barrelled into him and the pretty girl that was on his arm. I was, of course, in utter shock. I mean, less than two feet from me was tiny little Prince! M’lady was even closer; so close she almost stepped on his toes. We froze, blinking. Prince looked up at me with a sly smile and raised one eyebrow, like “What U gonna do?” There was nobody else around except another pretty girl who was hovering nearby snapping pictures.
And here’s what my flabbergasted little brain went through:
I’m in New York City, in a building with 20,000 Prince fans. This city is full of freaks, weirdos, and hipsters of all kinds – there must be at least a dozen Prince impersonators in MSG tonight in full costume trying to turn every head they see. Prince is supposed to be onstage right now, this very minute. There is no way Prince is just strolling through the concession area of Madison Square Garden without any guards or escorts; he would risk getting mobbed or worse. This, therefore, must not be the real Prince.
All of this brilliant reasoning took place in the wink of an eyebrow. I took a last glance at little fake Prince (pretty good job though) and grabbed m’lady by the hand. “We’ve got to get to our seats,” I said, pulling her away and running off to find our section, leaving faux-Prince and his mini-entourage behind.
In our seats we could see that the stage was set up in-the-round, with floor seats on all four sides. Soon we saw an entire section of fans stand up and point, cheering. Then another and another as our Prince-imitator stuck his head through the gates. And then, can you believe it, the guy walked right through the crowd and down onto the floor where security ushered him past the gates and under the stage.
If you thought I was flabbergasted before you should have seen me when I realized it was actually the real Prince after all. My jaw was on the floor, where it would remain for the rest of the evening.
There was an opening act after all: Janelle Monáe, a singer/rapper bundle of energy boasting a tight band and a really happening guitarist. But c’mon now, this show was all about the Purple One.
Prince was just so good at what he did, and he did everything. The tiny wonder looked a mile high as he effortlessly covered his Prince-symbol-shaped stage-in-the-round, running around like a maniac in four-inch heels. His band was unstoppable, and when Prince strapped on his Telecaster his tone was delicious and his playing was staggering. I mean Prince could really, really play the guitar and he was well-rehearsed and juicy.
The set was laden with hits; name a Prince song and he played it. The whole crowd stood throughout the show, clapping eagerly every time Prince asked them to (which was often) and singing along with every number. There were three encores, the second of which comprised entirely of Prince on solo piano and for the third he pulled about seventy fans onstage to dance along, a crowd that included Cyndi Lauper, who traded inspired vocal belts with Prince before the night was finally called to a close.
The concert was just so spectacular. The guy just did not know how to put on a show that was anything less that thrilling. I will always kick myself for not saying a word to him when we actually came nose-to-navel but overall the encounter is a fun little memory to mix in with the wonderful memories I have of the five times I was fortunate enough to watch him play music live in person.
And it happened on my birthday no less.
Todd Man Out 