Just 18 when he started recording the album, Prince constructed entrance and exit signs with uncanny prescience. “For You” is 68 seconds of gobsmacked a cappella harmonies, devotional and harrowing, built from his full vocal range. “I’m Yours” is stadium funk, with hair-metal curls, a bass solo, and an almost subversive impulse to tuck his rough falsetto into the fully-loaded mix. In between, he lounges around the R&B landscape. He didn’t invent the explicit metaphor, but “Hey, lover/I got a sugarcane/That I wanna lose in you/Baby can you stand the pain” (from “Soft And Wet”) is one hell of a contribution to the tradition. The slow jams are gorgeously ornamented. The uptempo cuts are peppy — modern ears who demand dissipation from their R&B may require recalibration — and boast a complete sense of melody. Apart from the bookends, the most ambitious statement may be “So Blue,” a jazzy Joni tribute (with a Windham Hill intro) that pairs perfectly with Hejira’s “Blue Motel Room.” Keep in mind, if you didn’t already know, that save for Patrice Rushen’s synth work on “Baby,” the man played every instrument on the album. Prince’s career gigging and arranging in Minneapolis translates seamlessly to his debut; he’s got a complete band’s sense of dynamics. “Just As Long As We’re Together” casually dispatches a guitar solo for which any arena rock act would’ve ritually sacrificed a lighting guy. The tendency for one-person bands is to ride on one element — a loop, a steady drumbeat. Not so for Prince, who demonstrates an ability to take his foot off the brake at any time.

For You suffers in comparison to the string of records he would issue in the following decade. (One wonders what its reputation could be today if he’d titled the record 4 U.) No less assured than anything the man did, For You had no major hits — “Soft And Wet” peaked at #92 on the Hot 100 chart, #12 on Hot Soul — and displays a stylistic consistency he would soon abandon. And the style in question — synth-heavy lovers’ funk — hasn’t exactly skyrocketed in esteem since the late ’70s. This record sets itself apart through sheer virtuosity, sure, but also by how Prince inhabits the soundspace. Vocal takes play off each other, peel away and mass again, curl up in the instrumental beds. Prince released his record eight months before Marvin Gaye, the master of the mic, dropped the epochal Here, My Dear. Gaye’s record was funkier in a more traditional sense, and the interior he constructs is barely enough for one. Like so much of Prince’s subsequent work, For You is inviting, patient, and earnestly interrogative. Every single track addresses a lover. And while his genre hopping garnered him the most praise, it’s wonderful to witness him here, at the beginning, of one strong mind.