The recording career of pop satyr Prince Rogers Nelson will forever be divided into two eras: the early years when he went simply by the name Prince and the later, still-aborning period when he insists on being referred to as a hieroglyphic symbol that is unpronounceable and damn near irreproducible. This package, a collection of unreleased songs, sneaks into the first camp and outshines much of his recent output.
That doesn't mean that his primary concern has changed, though. The man is still obsessed by sex. You get the impression that to Prince a bowl of cornflakes looks like a Georgia O'Keeffe canvas. This album kicks off with the title track, an R-rated brass-driven sex suite. It finishes, with—look, we don't name this stuff—"Orgasm," in which the moaning is exactly what the title suggests. In between there are several musical treats, such as the fat-backed funk workout "Pheromone" and "Solo," on which Prince executes some Curtis Mayfield-like vocal pyrotechnics to a minimalist, ambient arrangement.
This is a surprisingly consistent record for what is essentially a throwaway effort. Perhaps his Nibs should shift through the catacombs more often. (Warner Bros.)