Media Diversified
Foregrounding marginalised voices
The Morning Papers is a collection of pieces about Prince. In April 2016, Music lost a singer and musician, but we writers also lost a poet. Whether it was his characters, or his line by line precision and intimacy; Prince was every bit the alchemist of words as well as music. In this space writers were invited to talk about the artist, in whatever context they desired. Curated by Sharmila Chauhan.
Feat. Leone Ross, Rosamond S. King, Gemma Weekes, Nikesh Shukla, Salena Godden, Sunil Chauhan, Rajeev Balasubramanyam
Or: Prince, my mother, brother, father (and ur sister 2), & me by Tanuja Desai Hidier **2016 BPM** Dearly Beloved, My mama she loved U Wrote me when they found U New England—North London En route 2 our girls’ school Trans-Atlantic we mourned U WhatsApp; Gram-on-phone too… What’s funny and so true My memories… Read More
by Rajeev Balasubramanyam An insecure, bullied child in darkest, whitest Lancashire, I wanted two things: to fit in, and to be weird. Fitting in was never a realistic proposition. I was the only non-white kid for miles around; far shorter than everyone else, barely knew the rules of football (I loved cricket), left-handed, South Indian (a… Read More
by Sharmila Chauhan When I lie awake in my boudoir I think of u dear There was a time. Before U. But she can’t remember when Of course there was music, An incoherent mesh of pop, Rafi and Bob Marley. And Michael. He was there too. But she doesn’t remember that anymore. She searches for… Read More
by Salena Godden PRINCE opened his secret show with PURPLE RAIN. I wasn’t expecting that, it knocked me for six and tears sprang to my eyes as soon as he sang you say you want a leader, but you can’t seem to make up your mind, I think you better close it a lyric written long before… Read More
For the future. by Gemma Weekes Listen, it was as if even the dawn was cancelled. No sun waiting to poke from beneath the horizon. All the birds dead, dying or in drunken stupors. Forgotten how to sing. Fresh milk curdled in the fridge and your cereal suiciding itself into ash. This was a darkness… Read More
by Sunil Chauhan I was shocked when I heard that Prince had died. Not just shock that someone as clean living as he could die so relatively young. But shocked at how grief-stricken I was. Having fallen out of love with his music in recent years – a mark of how much stock I once placed in it… Read More
by Nikesh Shukla She’s falling asleep. I can hear her start to slur in the back of the car. We’re singing Old McDonald. I pause whenever it’s time to call out a new animal. She alternates between pig, cat and dog. On the seventeenth run-through of the song, she is tiring, slowing, slurring and in… Read More
by Rosamond S. King what is a star but the concentration of light and energy before the skinny black guy with big ears and a funny name legions followed the skinny black guy in stilettos with a single name 6 7 8 smooth back. spin the hours they… Read More
by Leone Ross Before I met Prince in 1995, I liked to think we’d had a moment. I think it was the year before, at some wrap party. So long ago. There was a rumour he was in town, but after several hours skulking around the room, waiting, with other hopefuls, I gave up and… Read More
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