I have been a Prince fan since the summer of 1982. I was twelve years old, sneaking a Controversy cassette into my cousin’s Pontiac Trans Am so my mother would not catch me listening to what she called “devil music.” I did not fully understand what I was hearing, but I knew right away that Prince was different and that I needed more.

For the next 34 years, I stayed fully immersed in his world. I bought every album, watched every movie, read every article I could find, and saw him in concert. I even kept a scrapbook filled with photos and mementos.

So when the news of his death broke on April 21, 2016, I was devastated. 

Prince was one of the greatest musicians who ever lived. His music could move your body, break your heart, and stretch your mind, sometimes in the same song. You can hear it across his catalog, but you can see it most clearly in moments like his Rock and Roll Hall of Fame performance on “While My Guitar Gently Weeps,” when he reminded the entire world that there are gifted musicians, and then there was Prince. 

But his influence on me went far beyond the music. Prince shaped how I think about personal style, artistic risk, and what it means to build a life that actually reflects who you are. 

He taught me that style was never just about clothes. The way he dressed and moved through the world showed me that how you present yourself is part of the art. 

He also showed me what it looks like to create without waiting for permission. Prince trusted his instincts, followed his own vision, and kept building at a level that still feels hard to comprehend. He made me want to create work that feels honest, personal, and fully mine.

Long before artist ownership became a common conversation, Prince was fighting for control of his work. He understood that talent is one thing, but ownership is something else entirely. That is a philosophy I bring into Mocha Man Music and try to pass on to every artist I work with.

There is also a Houston connection that genuinely moved me when I learned about it. Prince was famously protective of his music and rarely cleared samples, but he allowed Lil’ Troy to use “Little Red Corvette” for “Wanna Be a Baller.” If you are from Houston, you know that song is woven into the fabric of this city, and I’m so happy that Prince allowed it to exist.

In 2021, I visited Paisley Park, and it was one of the most meaningful experiences of my life. Walking through the place where he lived, created, and recorded made his genius feel tangible in a way I did not expect. You could feel him in every room and in the details he chose to surround himself with. It was everything I hoped it would be. And it made his absence feel heavier than ever.

That absence is something I try to honor rather than just grieve. Every June, I host a Prince Day event here in Houston, and it has become one of my favorite things I do all year. His birthday was June 7, and bringing fans together to dance, remember, and celebrate him just feels right. There is something powerful about being in a room full of people who grew up with his music the way I did, who felt it the way I did, and who miss him the way I do.

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