Why was Prince the ultimate pop star? He transcended the spectacle of his persona, bold imagery, and electrifying live shows through an unrelenting musical curiosity and playful innovation. Prince constantly expanded and subverted existing conventions, forging a distinctive sound that reshaped pop music. His albums were masterfully constructed as interlocking experiences, each track feeding into the next with a spring‑like energy that kept listeners enthralled. In this regard, Prince’s discography set the benchmark for what a record should achieve—a dynamic, immersive journey that few artists have equaled.
The new compilation *Timeless* does not live up to that standard. Assembled from 1977 demos to 2016 live renditions, the release feels hastily cobbled together and lacks the artistic cohesion that defines Prince’s other works. Rather than offering compelling alternate takes or glimpses into his creative process, *Timeless* comes across as a disjointed set of recordings that fails to captivate.
<img class="c-lazy-image__img lrv-u-background-color-grey-lightest lrv-u-width-100p lrv-u-display-block lrv-u-height-auto" src="https://www.rollingstone.com/wp-content/themes/vip/pmc-rollingstone-2022/assets/public/lazyload-fallback.gif" data-lazy-src="https://www.rollingstone.com/wp-content/uploads/2026/08/prince-timeless.jpg?w=1024" alt="" data-lazy-srcset="" data-lazy-sizes="" height="1024" width="1024" decoding="async"/>The only justification for these selections seems to be a permissive “why not?” The strongest moments are the gritty 2007 rocker “The Guilty Ones,” with its raucous guitar squall, and the original 1981 new‑wave version of “Tick Tick Bang,” which later appeared on *Graffiti Bridge* adorned with off‑kilter synth and drum machine. Together they hint at the kind of thematic unity that a thoughtfully curated album could have achieved.
Even the more promising cuts demand concentration to be appreciated. The Oakland live rendition of “How Come U Don’t Call Me Anymore” from his final tour feels tacked on rather than organically integrated, while the opening “I Am You” largely evokes nostalgia for The Time’s “The Walk,” stripping away the power of the original demo. The brief flirtation with rap—seen in the 2003 “Calabama” and the chant “NPG cutting up a rug”—offers historical intrigue but ultimately distracts from any artistic merit.
In the end, Prince’s legendary status is not upheld by *Timeless*. If anyone cites this release as proof of his genius, listeners will quickly disengage from both the record and its advocate.
