The way the whole set works brings to mind black scholar Albert Murray’s understanding of the “Saturday Night Function” during the period of early jazz, which the theorist contrasted with the role of the Sunday morning gospel service. It’s a reminder of Prince’s guitar heroics outside the realm of the solo. During the infinity groove of “Peach (Xtended Jam),” Prince reminds concertgoers that this isn’t an arena rock show, but a club (“Ain’t nothing to look at y’all just party where ya are.”) Then, at the turnaround, he unveils a new rhythm guitar progression: a line that begins with an aggressive stabbing figure, and then rolls on with delirious suavity. And then, after steering the band through a brisk “Alphabet Street,” he mostly dispenses with pop-song singing-all the better to work as a dance instructor for the rest of the album. “I wanna sing, but it’s too funky,” the artist tells the crowd at one point. On Aftershow, the mood is exultant and celebratory. The rhythm section of drummer John Blackwell and bassist Rhonda Smith helps transform deep cuts like the instrumental “2 Nigs United 4 West Compton” into something less nervy than Prince fashioned by himself during sessions for The Black Album. Since these recordings date from Prince’s peak period of overt jazz exploration, his backing band is skilled in the art of reinterpretation. The guest-vocalist portion of the show concludes with Musiq’s appearance during a brief medley that mixes his own tune “Just Friends (Sunny)” with Sly Stone’s “If You Want Me to Stay.” After the different extremes advanced by the opening two songs, this selection introduces the more relaxed aesthetic that Prince could use to make these late-night encounters with a global icon feel like casual parties. This song is the most compelling meeting between the two artists yet to see the light of day. And while Prince starts out by shooting rhythm guitar darts into the pocket, the jam climaxes when Clinton’s raspiest vocalizations spur some joyous, arcing lead lines from the bandleader. In the early going of “We Do This,” the track has a loose-booty feel that provides ideal support for Clinton’s scat-rap. Then George Clinton joins the band, and the intergenerational lineup of funk visionaries gels just like you’d hope. It’s indulgent, excessive, and brilliant. He obsesses over individual passages with a spiritual ferocity that can stand with late-period Coltrane. The unhurried stretches of soloing carry a different air than other Prince guitar clinics-such as his famed feature during a Rock and Roll Hall of Fame tribute to George Harrison. Gradually, his command of the blues emerges as the focal point of the performance. Prince ad libs a brief bit about his new aversion to “four-letter words,” though the singer’s come-hither delivery ensures that the change does no harm to the song’s slinky vibe. Subtle revision of the song’s lyrics is as close as he comes to any lecturing on Aftershow.
Here, Prince airs it out for over ten minutes, recasting it as both a band-introduction tool and a showcase for his electric guitar showboating. The opening song, “Joy in Repetition,” dates from sessions that produced Sign ‘O’ the Times, and was later included in the scattershot soundtrack to Prince’s box-office bomb Graffiti Bridge. While avoiding his biggest hits, this nearly hour-long ride finds Prince engaging with key selections from his repertoire. There’s much to savor from that oft-overlooked wilderness period, but the urgent showmanship of One Nite Alone… The Aftershow: It Ain’t Over! makes it a highlight in Prince’s discography and a gratifying, much-needed connection with his ability to take it to the stage. Similarly, it is now available for streaming and purchase on Tidal, along with the majority of the NPG Records catalog. Years later, Prince carved out this third disc as a standalone title for sale on one of his websites. Still, most detractors couldn’t ignore the third CD, which presented a rush of screaming blues licks, rowdy funk-ensemble workouts, and sultry soul, all captured during “aftershow” parties from this same tour. Given the outlier that Children was in his catalog, a follow-up live release that repeated the same sermons over its first two discs was met with some frustration. But these setlists also explored another recent Prince recording, *The Rainbow Children-*a concept album that heralded his conversion to the Jehovah’s Witness faith. One Nite Alone…Live! was a box set that chronicled the tour in support of Prince’s similarly titled piano-and-vocals CD. In 2002, before his Musicology comeback, he gave these hardcore fans what they wanted, at long last. Message boards on his various online “music clubs” were often clogged with requests for official live discs.
Prince knew admirers bootlegged his shows.
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