Saturday, November 11th, 11:40 p.m. The last time I had the pleasure of sitting in one of these VIP booths, 3121 was still called Club Rio, and someone was trying to tell me something important. "So, have you given any thought to the L-word?" he asked nervously, but I was too distracted by the buttless neon costumes on the Latin Libido dancers to catch on. "Lesbianism?!" I downed my cocktail, thinking I was about to encounter a kinky request—you, me and Mami makes three. "No, love, dummy!" Oh yeah, that.
Prince's personal DJ, Rashida, spins her boss' songs while scenes from Purple Rain alternate on the screens with advertisements: "It ain't over! The official afterparty is right here immediately following the show!" The dance floor and seats have filled since the doors opened at 10 p.m., and in the VIP booths, elegant couples flank their champagne buckets. The bars are bustling and the staff scurries around to make ready for the show.
Overall, the audience seems to range in age from 21 to at least 60. The $125 ticket price puts the show into the category of "date night," so most of the couples are dressed up for the occasion, though some Prince junkies sport pimp coats and top hats. Clearly this is not a typical nightclub experience, nor is it your average concert—my father would say this is a "happening." Then, "All right y'all, it's about that time of the night," Rashida says enticingly before she puts on one last slow jam.
Just minutes after midnight, there is a long, dramatic intro. Those fans who have invested in the $50 souvenir tambourines rattle out a drum roll. Finally, the pint-sized presence with the angelic voice steps out and joins his drummer, keyboardist and bass player. As the twin backup singers leap to their go-go boxes, my friend Jenn and I try to discern if they're really singing while gyrating that wildly to a cover of "Johnny B. Goode," but we get distracted by their crystal-encrusted shoes.
During "Lolita," the twins pop up behind two of the club's 12 giant screens for a live shadow dance. As streamers rain down on the dance floor, Prince says "Put your hands in the air" and the crowd obliges in frightening synchronicity. In his popsicle-orange suit (no shirt), The Artist and his enormous matching guitar weave through sexy slow songs, bad-ass funky jams and old faves like "Musicology," "Cream" and "U Got the Look."
"Y'all ain't ready for me. Y'all don't understand—I will tear this room apart!" Just hearing the man speak elicits wild applause. "Where you at? Say what, say what? This is your house! 3121!" Though he is said to be somewhat nitpicky and difficult to work with, the Prince we see is witty and engaging. He definitely delivers, and the fans seem to relish being in such close proximity to him. That feeling spills over into Wednesdays when Prince Presents brings other stars like Chaka Khan, Goapele and J*Davey into 3121's intimate setting.
"I love you, Las Vegas!" says the Royal Purple One (as fans and bloggers have dubbed him), leaving the stage after playing for an hour and a half, plus a 15-minute encore. While much of the older demographic clears out, the younger folk stay in the nightclub and head right for the dance floor. Rashida goes right for more Prince tunes as well as some hip-hop, but no one minds. Even after four hours of the stuff, he's still royalty in their eyes.
Xania Woodman thinks globally and parties locally. And frequently. E-mail her at
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