1999 (1982)


  
 
 1. 1999
 2. Little Red Corvette
 3. Delirious
 4. Let's Pretend We're Married
 5. D.M.S.R.
 6. Automatic
 7. Something in the Water
    (Does Not Compute)
 8. Free
 9. Lady Cab Driver
 10.All the Critics Love U In New York
 11.International Lover

 

It took a few years, but this was the one that did it—1999 was the record that finally pushed Prince across the color line and into the broader pop consciousness. White audiences who hadn’t paid much attention before suddenly couldn’t get enough. Clubs wore it out. Proms, parties, high school dances—it was inescapable. And while every Prince fan probably has their own “favorite” album, you could make a pretty convincing case that this one was his best *at the time*. It’s certainly the most ambitious: a full-blown double LP with only eleven tracks, which means most of these songs are stretched out, jam-heavy monsters clocking in around the seven-minute mark. And yet, it all moves.

The easy thing to say here is: everything’s a highlight. That’s not too far from the truth. About four-fifths of this thing is pure, hard-driving funk—the kind Prince had already perfected, now turned up even louder and longer. Songs like Lady Cab Driver and the massive title track—which might be the greatest party anthem of the 1980s, even if it’s technically about nuclear annihilation—kick things off with enough energy to power a city. But let’s be honest: no one listens to this album for its insights on geopolitics. It’s about the feel. The movement. The groove.

And for the first time, Prince is no longer alone in the studio. He brings along a band—The Revolution—to help fill out the sound. Now, if no one had told you, you probably wouldn’t have noticed. The guy already played everything on his earlier albums anyway, and the level of precision and polish is just as strong here. Still, having a few extra hands in the room doesn’t hurt.

Oddly enough, the songs that stray furthest from the core funk formula are among the most memorable. Little Red Corvette is basically a sleek pop song with just a hint of R&B. Not a lot of grit, but a ton of glide—and it may be the most radio-friendly thing here. Then there’s Delirious, with its manic, synth-driven bounce that somehow never gets old no matter how many times it worms its way into your brain. Good luck shaking that keyboard riff after just one listen.

The first half of this double album is damn near perfect. The second half is a bit more experimental—not bad, but maybe a little more draining. Automatic, for example, has an airtight groove, but eventually morphs into what can only be described as a full-on audio S&M session. It’s not subtle. If that’s not your thing, you might want to chop off the last few minutes. (Pro tip: you’ll still have a seven-minute song left.) Meanwhile, Free tries for earnest patriotism, but ends up feeling a bit too on-the-nose for a record that mostly wants to get sweaty and weird.

By the time you get to All the Critics Love U in New York and the closer International Lover, fatigue starts to set in. Nothing wrong with the songs themselves—they're quirky and sharp in their own way—but following 60-plus minutes of high-octane funk, they can feel more exhausting than exhilarating. They work better in isolation than as part of this full-album sprint.

Of course, not everyone is going to “get” Prince. That’s fine. He was never for everyone. But if you’re trying to figure out whether he might be for *you*, this is the place to start. Because if you can’t find something to love on 1999, chances are you’re not going to love anything else in his catalog. But odds are, you will. This album’s too big, too bold, too relentless not to pull you in at some point. It’s not just an invitation to party—it’s Prince’s announcement that he’s about to take over the decade. And really, who was going to stop him?

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