If you’re looking for a legendary Super Bowl showdown filled with nail-biting plays and unforgettable on-field action, the 2007 game between the Chicago Bears and the Indianapolis Colts might not be the first to come to mind. Truth be told, the game itself was somewhat lackluster, dampened by heavy rain and less-than-stellar performances from both teams. While Peyton Manning finally secured his first Super Bowl victory, leading the Colts’ formidable offense against the Bears’ vaunted defense, the game is hardly etched in football history books as an instant classic.
However, 2007 is indelibly marked in Super Bowl lore for a different kind of performance, one that transcended the sport itself: Prince’s iconic halftime show. For those who witnessed it, either in person or on television, the memory of Prince, drenched in purple rain (both literal and metaphorical), shredding on his guitar remains far more vivid than any play from the game itself.
Back in 2007, as an avid young football fan, the nuances of Prince’s musical genius were lost on me. My team, the Baltimore Ravens, had been defeated by the Colts, leaving me with no vested interest in the Super Bowl outcome. My dad, however, managed to get us tickets, albeit nosebleed seats. Despite my lack of enthusiasm for the game, the allure of the Super Bowl spectacle was undeniable. Little did I know I was about to witness a performance that would redefine the very concept of the halftime show.
Perched high above the Miami field in Hard Rock Stadium, the elements were as much a character in the unfolding drama as the players or the musicians. Rain poured down relentlessly, testing the flimsy dollar-store ponchos we’d purchased. The Southeast Regional Climate Center recorded almost an inch of rain that day. Midway through the game, my dad, seeking refuge from the downpour, suggested we watch the second half from a friend’s luxurious Star Island home. Surprisingly, my 11-year-old self declined. “No,” I insisted, “I want to see the second half. And that guy Prince.” My Prince knowledge at the time was limited to “Kiss,” yet something about the anticipation of his performance held me captive.
The Super Bowl halftime show, often a predictable medley of hits from established rock acts, rarely achieves true cultural resonance. From its beginnings, the NFL prioritizedoffensive-free entertainment, opting for marching bands, dance troupes, and safe musical choices to appeal to a broad audience. The aim was inoffensiveness and mass appeal, not necessarily groundbreaking artistry.
Then came 1993 and Michael Jackson. His performance at the Rose Bowl, beginning with a mesmerizing 90 seconds of motionless silence as the roar of the crowd washed over him, revolutionized the halftime show. Suddenly, it wasn’t just filler; it was a spectacle in itself. Artists from Diana Ross to U2, The Rolling Stones to Paul McCartney, and even pop acts like NSYNC, attempted to replicate Jackson’s impact, but it was Prince in 2007 who truly elevated the halftime show to an art form.
Prior to Prince, the halftime show’s potential as a unifying cultural experience remained largely untapped. Hundreds of millions tuned in each year, yet the performances often felt more like elaborate productions than genuine cultural moments. Prince, with his stated ambition to create a “global, spiritual moment,” seemed to understand this untapped potential.
Charles Coplin, the NFL’s former Head of Programming, recounted his pre-show meeting with Prince in The Daily Beast. In November 2006, months before the Super Bowl, Coplin and others visited Prince at the Beverly Wilshire Hotel in Los Angeles. Prince played them a track-by-track recording of his planned halftime show through concert-sized speakers. After the 12-minute presentation, Prince left them to absorb his vision. Coplin described Prince’s dramatic return during “Purple Rain”: “towards the end—when “Purple Rain” was playing—he wheeled back in carrying a box of tissues and, without a word or explanation, gave each of us one from the box… He placed the tissue up to his eye and it appeared he was starting to cry. Just as things couldn’t get more uncomfortable, he broke out in a very big smile and started to laugh. ‘It brings a tear to your eye,’ he said.” This anecdote encapsulates Prince’s theatricality and deep connection to his music.
Prince’s electrifying stage presence during the Super Bowl XLI Halftime Show, showcasing his unique blend of showmanship and musical artistry.
On paper, Prince seemed an unlikely choice for the Super Bowl. The NFL had leaned towards safer, arena-rock acts in the years following Justin Timberlake and Janet Jackson’s controversial “wardrobe malfunction.” Prince, with his overtly sensual persona, unpredictable performances, and guitar virtuosity that defied categorization, represented the very kind of risk the league typically avoided. His sexuality was palpable, his music often challenging, and his guitar playing anything but conventional. Would Middle America embrace such an enigmatic figure during their beloved football game?
However, 2007 was different. The Super Bowl that year held historical significance beyond the game itself. Lovie Smith of the Bears and Tony Dungy of the Colts made history as the first African-American head coaches to lead their teams to the Super Bowl, during Black History Month, coinciding with the 60th anniversary of Jackie Robinson breaking the color barrier in baseball. This confluence of events created a unique cultural moment, a celebration of Black excellence. In this context, Prince, a groundbreaking Black artist who defied genre and convention, wasn’t just a performer; he was a symbol. His presence anchored the day’s historic significance, making him the perfect choice to command the halftime stage.
The show itself was a dazzling spectacle of pyrotechnics and musical brilliance. Prince, in an eye-catching aqua blue suit and tangerine shirt, delivered a setlist that was as eclectic and vibrant as he was. He opened with Queen’s “We Will Rock You,” a bold statement of intent, positioning his performance as a spiritual successor to Queen’s legendary Live Aid set. After four powerful blasts and the appearance of his iconic purple glyph on the field, Prince smoothly declared, “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to get through this thing called life,” before launching into electrifying renditions of his classics “Let’s Go Crazy” and “Baby I’m a Star.” He then seamlessly transitioned into a thrilling medley of covers: Creedence Clearwater Revival’s “Proud Mary,” Jimi Hendrix’s rendition of “All Along the Watchtower,” and Foo Fighters’ “Best of You,” each infused with his unique musical DNA.
But the pinnacle of the performance, the moment that truly cemented its legendary status, was “Purple Rain.” Seconds into the song, as the heavens opened up and rain poured down even harder, Prince posed a simple yet profound question: “Can I play this guitar?” Whether seeking permission or simply making a statement of intent, the answer was resounding. He tossed his do-rag aside and unleashed a guitar solo for the ages, a soaring, soulful expression that mirrored the intensity of the storm raging around him. As the guitar notes climbed to a crescendo, a giant, suggestive silhouette appeared behind a billowing sheet, a moment of playful provocation that underscored Prince’s unapologetic artistry. It was a moment of pure musical catharsis, a convergence of performance, weather, and raw emotion. 74,000 fans in the stadium and 140 million viewers at home became his choir, singing along as Prince, and his Super Bowl Guitar, took center stage. While the monsoon conditions might have been less than ideal for the live audience, the rain paradoxically amplified the drama and visual impact for television viewers, creating an unforgettable spectacle.
Prince’s legendary guitar solo during “Purple Rain” at Super Bowl XLI, a moment where his musical genius transcended the pouring rain and captivated a global audience.
Prince’s Super Bowl halftime show wasn’t a moment that needed time to mature into legend; its impact was immediately apparent. Music critics and football fans alike recognized the extraordinary nature of what they had just witnessed. It wasn’t shock value, like Janet Jackson’s infamous wardrobe malfunction, nor quirky novelty, like Katy Perry’s dancing sharks. It was pure, unadulterated musicianship, a level of artistry that couldn’t be manufactured or faked. The New York Times declared it “one of the most thrilling halftime shows ever; certainly the most unpredictable, and perhaps the best.” Years later, Pitchfork proclaimed it “the greatest Super Bowl Halftime Show there ever was, and ever will be.”
Much has changed since 2007. The halftime show itself, now a highly anticipated event, owes a significant debt to Prince’s groundbreaking performance. Tony Dungy and Lovie Smith have retired from coaching. Peyton Manning has hung up his cleats. And tragically, Prince is gone. Yet, the memory of that rainy Miami night, and the electrifying performance that unfolded, endures. In a time of increasing division, Americans, united by the power of music, collectively marveled at Prince, a true artist who embraced the elements and transformed a downpour into a masterpiece. When the confetti settled and the game concluded, there was no doubt who the real winner of Super Bowl XLI was: music, personified by Prince and his unforgettable super bowl guitar.
Jake Nevins is a writer based in New York.
