Sublime

Amir was everything. Every. Thing. The name itself means “Prince.”

It was so refreshing to be a part of this conversation about the art and business of performing—a serious conversation about creating art out of music and movement—with someone who was a master in multiple crafts and had defied all reasonable expectations to achieve a level of success most performers don’t bother dreaming about.

like a frustrating unfinished octave,

would learn about him over the years: He had a way of speaking things into being. He’d say, “You know what would be cool . . .”

Something I truly loved and appreciated about Prince during the years we worked and lived together was the way he took artists like these—and like me—under his wing. When he saw talent that intrigued him, he got the artist in front of people, and his seal of approval meant a lot—in the audience and in the industry. He lifted them up above the noise

he’d met a gorgeous young Nicaraguan woman, a diplomat’s daughter named Bianca. He’d taken hundreds of pictures of her, and the Polaroids of the woman who later became Mick Jagger’s wife hung all over the apartment.

WITH FOUR HELICOPTERS full of paparazzi circling overhead, on April 19, 1997, Brooke and I get married.