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Prince Unleashed: The Iconic ‘Play that Funky Music’ Cover

Introduction

Prince – ‘Play that Funky Music’ is an iconic song that has left an indelible mark on the world of music. This electrifying track, originally written and performed by the band Wild Cherry, was famously covered by the legendary artist Prince, who added his unique flair and charisma to this already sensational tune. In this article, we’ll delve into the world of this song, exploring its origins, its connection to the remarkable Prince, and sharing some intriguing insights that may surprise you.Prince Dead at 57

Did You Know?

The Original Groove

The song ‘Play that Funky Music’ was first released by the American funk rock band Wild Cherry in 1976. It quickly became a massive hit, propelling the band to stardom. This disco-infused funk anthem was written by the band’s frontman, Rob Parissi, and has been celebrated for its infectious melody and unforgettable lyrics.

Prince’s Electrifying Cover

Prince, a musical genius in his own right, decided to take on this funk classic and put his own spin on it. In 2007, he performed a mesmerizing cover of ‘Play that Funky Music’ during his Super Bowl XLI halftime show. This rendition showcased Prince’s exceptional guitar skills and stage presence, leaving the audience in awe.

A Timeless Hit

‘Play that Funky Music’ is not just a song; it’s a timeless hit that has transcended generations. Both Wild Cherry’s original version and Prince’s cover continue to be played on the radio, at parties, and in movies, demonstrating the song’s enduring appeal.

Wild Cherry’s Legacy

Wild Cherry, the band behind the original track, may not have reached the same heights of stardom as Prince, but they left an indelible mark on the music scene with this song. Their contribution to the funk and disco genre is still celebrated by music enthusiasts today.

Prince’s Musical Mastery

Prince, often referred to as the “Purple One”, was a musical virtuoso known for his innovation and boundary-pushing. His cover of Play that Funky Music was just one example of how he could take a classic and make it his own, leaving an everlasting impact on music history.Prince Brings Funk to Columbia | Music Recall Magazine

Video

Lyrics: Play That Funky Music 

Hey, do it now

Hey, once I was a boogie singer
Playin’ in a rock-and-roll band
I never had no problems
Burnin’ down the one-night stands

And everything around me
Got to start to feelin’ so low
And I decided quickly
Yes, I did
To disco down and check out the show

Yeah they were dancin’ and singin’
And movin’ to the groovin’
And just when it hit me
Somebody turned around and shouted

“Play that funky music, white boy
Play that funky music right
Play that funky music, white boy
Lay down that boogie
And play that funky music ’til you die.”

‘Til you die?

I tried to understand this
I thought that they were out of their minds
How could I be so foolish
To not see I was the one behind

So still I kept on fighting
Well, losing every step by the way
… we can do
I said, I must go back there
I got to go back
And check to see if things still the same

When they were dancin’ and singin’
And movin’ to the groovin’
And just when it hit me
Somebody turned around and shouted

“Play that funky music, white boy
Play that funky music right
Play that funky music, white boy
Lay down that boogie
And play that funky music ’til you die.”

‘Til you die?
Oh, ’til you die

Gonna play some electrified funky music

Hey, wait a minute

Now first it wasn’t easy
Changing rock-and-rolling minds
And things were gettin’ shaky
I thought I’d have to leave it behind

Oh, but now it’s so much better (it’s so much better)
I’m funking out in every way
But I’ll never lose that feelin’ (you know, I won’t)
Of how I learned my lesson that day

When they were dancin’ and singin’
And movin’ to the groovin’
And just when it hit me
Somebody turned around and shouted

“Play that funky music, white boy
Play that funky music right
Play that funky music, white boy
Lay down that boogie
And play that funky music ’til you die.”

‘Til you die?
Oh, ’til you die

They shouted

“Play that funky music
Play that funky music
Play that funky music
You got to keep on playin’ funky music
Play that funky music
Play that funky music
Play that funky music
Gonna take you high and low.”

“Play that funky music, white boy
Play that funky music right
Play that funky music, white boy
Play that funky music right

Play that funky music, white boy
Play that funky music right
Play that funky music, white boy
Play that funky music right.”

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Tucked away in a private drawer, far from the polished sets of her television show, lay a bundle of 341 letters. These were not press clippings or scripts; they were brittle, handwritten testimonies from servicemen stationed in remote barracks, deep in war-torn tunnels, and across desolate battlefields. During the long years of the Second World War, as Hollywood presented a glossy, curated image of American life, Donna Reed spent her nights reading these letters and, more remarkably, personally answering them. This was the quiet, invisible work that defined her, long before the public labeled her the quintessential television mother. Behind the camera during her production years, Reed was a different person entirely. She was rarely seen holding a script for a scene; she was more likely to be found hunched over lighting diagrams or studying the intricacies of cinematography. She possessed an uncredited producer’s mind, constantly analyzing how the frame could better reflect the reality of the family she was trying to depict. The studio environment was frequently cold and high-pressured, but she moved through it with a meticulous attention to detail that frustrated those who wanted to treat her as merely another pretty face in the cast. These tactile remnants—the stacks of ink-stained paper and the forgotten notes on camera angles—tell the story of a woman who never truly fit the box Hollywood built for her. While the world remembers the steady, comforting image of a television home, she lived a life carved out of hard labor and deep empathy. She carried the weight of those soldiers’ stories and the technical burdens of the studio floor until her final days, forever balancing the fragility of her public image against the demanding, gritty reality of her actual life.