Prince - The last vestige of God's trace

With the unending loss of the Artist Prince the music’s world has lost the last vestige of God’s trace. If we assume that a Superior Power exists it is precisely because of the appearance of such beings in mankind. Human beings who are boundless, indescribable into earthly definitions.

We lost a lot in a single slice, we have lost many genius in one person.
Prince used to be, and bring brought to perfection, so many previous talents. He was Hendrix, James Brown, Steve Vai, Michael Jackson, Aretha Franklin, Santana, Lionel Richie, Elvis Presley, Miles Davis, Smokey Robinson, Marvin Gaye and more. All in one body that knew how to play every instrument and turn it into gold. He knew how to dance making unthinkable movements, he knew showed us the direction of revolutionary manifestation that the Art teaches, and he even knew how to sing every style (Gospel, Soul, Funk, Pop, Ballad, R&B, Rock, Jazz...) until it was perfection itself. Always he was prone to the change, everything he has done it has done with depth and sublime taste.

That is why Prince has marked us and, even more, he was a big generator to artists.
My music has started with him and all my musical life he has been a North to follow, a constant inspiration.
When I wrote my essay 'The Music has Died' I placed a boundary in my own career and today those words become in flesh.
I think perhaps we have lost the last vestige of God's trace.

In this Age, where the art is over-estimated, this sudden loss marks an (even more) acephalic direction.

In 1988, with tremendous sadness, Prince had written the song 'Sometimes it snows in April' dedicated to a friend who suddenly passed away. Now Prince himself, surprising us even in his last breath, has left this life also in April.
Many things evinced an End of Cycle. With a natural Afro in his hair he looked again, after his entire career, like his early days. He wrote a song in his penultimate disc ('Way Back Home') where he detailed his return to home and he thanked his parents that have had the courage to raise a boy like him. He starts his last album with the exactly same audio that he used to open the first track of his first album. A couple days ago he played intimate concerts only with piano and voice, devoid of everything else.

Perhaps the Spirit has indicated a direction that slowly was foreshadowed.


Now, our chance of enjoy his ritualistic and magic shows has disappeared but also this moment giving even more  importance the 2013 concert in Anaheim (California) where, touching the stage, I could see a magical performer Prince displaying his talent only one meter away from me. One meter that disappeared when he jumped into the audience and we had to hold his tiny body with our hands. If a God exists, and if He sometimes sends to us glimpses of His most perfect children, I can say that at least I have held with my hands One of Them.

At this time of emptiness I have only these remains, I have only memories. I have the same remains that we have (all of us) at the end of the day.
Just a few images of what we thought our existence was.
I can feel in its complete dimension the concept: "Life is only a dream".

Just like dreams, they are real  while we dream and suddenly... Puff!!! ... everything, early or late, fades at the forgotten.
Thereby the instance of “what has vanished may have been just a momentary dream” begins in that moment. We are marked by oblivion and irregular events which designs us.
We are constituted by several vacuums.

Today Prince, the King’s son, the Son of God, has left us but at least we have his Great Art to fill this sorrowful vacuum until our own demise is consummated.

Mr. President Barack Obama

The manifestations of the nature are not so dissimilar on all over the world, the rivers continue their streams and the lakes extend their resting waters, every mountain dreams to reach the sky, and all the species unlimitedly continue its mission. Everything in the 'wild' world, with no limitation in ideals, it is on a natural movement. A faithful pace towards its same own site.

What makes the difference between dissimilar lands is neither the slopes, nor the valleys, nor the rivers, nor even the fauna. What it makes the difference is the ideal of certain values on each Nation. Every day, the people make the substantial difference.

Today, I feel the first step toward my rebirth has begun. I am now a resident of the United States of America and the emotion brings me to write this letter.

I think I was born in a wrong place. America should be my Land.

By empathy with this land and its people, I feel myself an American. To me, the people is the land itself.

Being American is my proudly choice. The American dream, to me, is not about buying things but to be alive in the air of this land.

In fact, is it not bravest to make a change direction instead of settle in the given life I had?

Throughout my life, I have studied American history, and many of its great men became my heroes. Geniuses like Thomas Edison, the great Abraham Lincoln, Theodore Roosevelt (one of my biggest heroes,) the magnificent Martin Luther King Jr, the Alan Lomax's contributions to the Congress, just to name a few of an endless list. Even not to mention great personalities of the sports and the arts. People that made an important history from America to the whole world.

To me, Mr. President you are in that magnificent list.

I have followed, your administration and I have been on tenterhooks beside you in many of your big decisions.

Today, I am very happy but also I have a little regret. I am starting my residence in this land just when you are concluding your administration. Therefore, I will not be able to enjoy your work anymore. Just now that this is my own place too.

Let me tell you, Mr. President, a great man always leaves an unmistakable trail and an undeniable path for future generations.

You have brought some inspiration to me. You have demonstrated that it is always possible to break the barrier and go farther away from the boundary.

In this virtually global world in which we live, the history has taken a very different dynamic. History is no longer moving in a straight line, history nowadays has a radial feature. I am pretty sure that you have launched ripples that will continue inspiring the minds of people that will change this world.

The least I can do is thank you in this letter. Thanks from someone who is an American in his heart, someone that admires and values the way that your presidency has given a dignified fresh voice to the world.

I ask myself what, for a man, it is more intimate than his own voice. The voice is a wisp of ideas coming from within to link us with others. Our human voices are our human race.

You, like every great man, is defined not just for his acts but for his voice too. I am grateful to have been a contemporary of your administration.

As happened to me, I hope your actions will continue inspiring much more people that will continue making bigger this Great Nation through more sublimes ideals.




Most Respectfully

Halasius Bradford


Axioms

- SHAME IS AN ACT OF ARROGANCE.

- CULTURE IS THE RESULT OF OUR RACE'S SURVIVAL INSTINCT.

- THE CONSTANT IDEA OF CONSPIRACIES IS A JUSTIFICATION OF INDIVIDUAL LONELINESS.

- PAST IS THE SEARCH OF COHERENCE OF PRESENT. FUTURE IS THE TEMPORARY LINE OF THIS ACTION.

-TECHNOLOGY IS FOR THE HUMAN RACE AS THE SPIRITUAL EVOLUTION IS FOR THE INDIVIDUAL.


- INTUITION IS THE ANALOG SIDE OF INTELLIGENCE.


- FALLING IN LOVE IS A FUNCTION OF MELANCHOLY.

- EVERYTHING WE DO WE DO IT TO DIE.


- THE LAMENT IS A WAY OF DROUGHT.


- THE POPULAR "LUCK RITUALS" ARE AN IGNORANT GESTURE OF THE AN OLD WISE CAUSE.

- METAPHOR IS THE DAUGHTER OF THE LIE.

- BETRAYAL'S MOTHER IS THE COWARDICE.


- TENDERNESS IS THE SPIRITUALIZATION OF EMBARRASSING ELSE’S FEELING.

- ELEGANCE IS BASED ON THE ARTICULATION OF ETHICS AND BRAVERY.

- OFTEN, AN ECCENTRIC REALITY IS MANAGED BY AN AUTHENTIC SOLITUDE.

THE MUSIC HAS DIED

Now there's only the breath of inseparable memory from that old melody that we have been.
The music has died. The Spirit has withdrawn.
We will continue having musicians and we will continue playing some chords, but everything will be only a reactivation, a wake of it that from the beginning has escorted us. Our auto-preservation mandate.

THE MUSIC HAS DIED, THE MUSICIAN IS THE EXECUTIONER.

Why is music used to standardize and not to open new ways?
Why is it no longer a sign of revelation/rebellion but only a sign of the system where it was born immersed?
Why does musical creativity yield its concept to the sound?

When that Being with pulse appeared with timidity and determination from the shadows of the humanity's dawn he began the manifestation of his own pulse, even before being aware of itself.
Every living Being has an implicit mandate to preserves itself in what is its essence. Hence the survival.
That mandate of sublimated permanence is what time transformed into our Culture.

Culture is the way to read us historically and to become aware of our existence as an Indivisible Beings.
Conceiving our race as a whole in its kind is the function of doing Culture.
Long before the survival became into the culture, the rhythm already encouraged us and gave us a pulse to the incipient consciousness. The consciousness that would not be itself until to discover the dimension of the lie that soon will engender the metaphor.
The consciousness will be discovered in its own wake, the thought, giving rise to an uncontainable happening until our actuality.

As children of postmodernity, we were synthesizing and humanizing everything in our path, reaching the radial way in which we live today.
Now we are out of the historical linearity.
We have produced the end of the story. We have invented the network and we supplanted to God.
In this virtuality the human beings no longer constructs or destroys, he just makes updates.

This is the Era of the end of the Line and the beginning of the Radius.
Thus, we live "by and for" the Network.
We are lonely human beings but without being able to "exist alone", that is the concept of Network.

That once was a branch or a stone to our ancestors is to us, in our virtuality, machines with to instrument some music. Music that, in beforehand, we already know.
Nowadays, music even comes to do without the musician himself and puts the concept in the main place.
Now, we scratch, rub and beat with finger sensitivity to play sounds that one day has been born from the amazement.

Has the Music concluded its passage through our world? Has the Music left our musical creativity orphan?

We will answer each question one by one in this essay that I have called :

THE MUSIC HAS DIED.