Growing up in the 1980s, there were huge pop megastars. There was Madonna, Michael Jackson, and there was Prince. Madge and Jacko were total tabloid favourites. Madonna for her colourful private life and ceaseless assaults on hypocritical sexual conventions. Michael for his eccentric behaviour which, as we know, later took a darker turn. And there was Prince, whose aloof and controlled persona managed the trick of object-of-media-fascination without having his life splashed across the front pages. Of the three, he arguably preferred to let the music do the talking, and the image rode to popular consciousness off the back of their pull. Like Bowie, I wasn't what you'd describe as a fan. But as per the aforementioned, Prince was always in the background, a celebrity deity who'd remind you of his existence on occasion, and latterly soundtrack the odd YouTube or Spotify splurge. This is why his premature passing will be a wrench for a lot of people, regardless of whether his music plays a big part in their lives or not.
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