One of Prince’s most revered unreleased songs finally takes flight
Today is kind of a big deal to me. Today marks the release of what has heretofore been my favorite unreleased Prince song, “Moonbeam Levels”, forever immortalized on a new compilation that casts it as being of the same caliber as his biggest hits. Of the hundreds (or perhaps thousands) of unreleased songs in his massive vault, it is “Moonbeam Levels” that was chosen to share disc space with songs like “Kiss”, “Sign o’ the Times”, and “Diamonds and Pearls”. Curious customers who decide to give Prince a try for the first time because they like “Purple Rain” or “Raspberry Beret” and pick up this 2-disc set will be graced to hear this song as if it is just another highlight in a career full of them, rather than its current status as a deeply beloved gem sitting amongst an endless treasure trove of unreleased goodies that have seen fans pay top dollar for decades for 10th generation cassettes besieged by hiss and distortion muffling most of their sheen. But it is in that world of crazy devotion, those seas of bootlegs by the thousand chronicling a parallel universe of purple grooves and lightning-in-a-bottle concert experiences from which “Moonbeam Levels” comes. No more.
Prince fans have clamored for the release of these countless unpolished jewels to make their way onto official releases for decades, and not just so that we have these songs in superior sound quality. This may seem peculiar (and rightly so), but for so many of us, Prince has been such a constant source of limitless joy that we are so eager to share it. To be a Prince fan is to feel like you’ve stumbled upon the world’s best kept secret — that somehow you’ve tapped into a new and glorious consciousness, and as such, you’re eager to see this Uptown expand its borders as far as its diminutive colossus of a Prince can spread.
And so it is that my brother and I came to buy copies of his albums just to give away to those cashiers who responded well to hearing Prince’s music as we went through a drive-thru. We collected books that documented his feverish recording sessions and used this information to concoct our own alternative Prince albums of unreleased outtakes, agonizing over track sequencing and font sizes and colors for the album covers we designed. As such, this release of a song from his precious vault of music is a momentous occasion rendered so painfully bittersweet by the circumstances of its green light. Surely, as big of a moment as this is, I’m positive that all of us who love Prince would happily exchange it if we could somehow rewrite the history of April 21st such that the world kept turning with is most artful passenger still alive and well. But we are left with small consolations now, and I’m going to try to take what joy I can from these moments as they come.
Nonetheless, any other song chosen to turn the key unlocking Prince’s secret genius would not have had the same personal impact. “Moonbeam Levels” represents a glimpse into Prince’s vulnerability — it is a desperate plea for help from someone who has reached the end of his ability to persevere through the world while feeling so alien in its midst — a humble and hopeful supplication for other-worldly healing. The protagonist in it (Prince?) can only see what is negative (“all that’s left is pain and sorrow as far as he’s concerned”), and the call for “moonbeam levels” is a plea for healing inspired by God. The light from the moon is not its own but rather a reflection from the sun, so I think the narrator is asking the people around him for the best that they have to offer in the form of God’s love. One thing I really love about it is that it is unclear whether he is asking a person for help (i.e. “please be a reflection of God’s love”) or God himself (i.e. “please send people into my life who can demonstrate your love”). In the end, the confession “he don’t really want to die” offers a glimmer of hope. It is this feeling of otherness that unites Prince fans as a community, and I can’t think of a song that better represents that feeling than “Moonbeam Levels”.
This is a song that inspired me through many tough times growing up as an awkward kid in a place in which I never felt that I had a place. This is the song that gave me the username with which I registered on prince.org: it was as Moonbeam that I came to meet the love of my life, Tracy. And it was this song that I played on the piano in the funeral home during the last moments with my father before his cremation.
In a year that has been tough on so many fronts, I’ll take this as a reminder of the strength that I’ve needed to overcome previous hardships. The hope that the majesty of this song can more easily find its way into some other souls in need of solace brings me great joy.