Following the Grammys in the year 2114, two musicians walk into the Big Bar in the Beyond. One of them is a tall African-American male, dressed with such dapper elegance and blessed with such charm that you feel fortunate just to be in his presence. He is Edward Kennedy "Duke" Ellington, one of the greatest composers of any kind in American history. Roam through the Great American Songbook, and you'll be spending a lot of time with Ellington gems such as "Mood Indigo," "Solitude," "In A Sentimental Mood" and "Don't Get Around Much Anymore." And those were the easy pieces. Later extended works incorporated everything from Asian influences to gospel music, in constructions of sublimely organized complexity. The Pulitzer Prize Board gave him a special posthumous award in 1999, on what would have been his 100th birthday, partly in hopes of living down the continued embarrassment of never having honored Ellington during his lifetime.

The other fellow is Prince Rogers Nelson, better known as just Prince, one of the great creative minds of the rock 'n' roll era. He's shorter than Duke but equally dapper, albeit in a flashier way. He's a relentless composer, too, having united various strands of rock, funk, hip hop and more in thousands of songs recorded by himself and artists ranging from Sinead O'Connor to Tom Jones.

Both are also bandleaders and arrangers of tremendous ability. Prince for decades has helmed a rotating cast of musicians who always perform with well-rehearsed precision and sometimes spin off successful solo careers, such as Morris Day and Sheila E. A 60-some-year-old Ellington, meanwhile, was still helming a combo with such incendiary power that he nearly started a riot at a major jazz festival. (Prince has also been famously associated with concert mayhem, but directed at him. He was pelted with garbage and booed off the stage when he opened for the Rolling Stones in 1979.)

And as instrumentalists? Even the greatest performers in jazz knew to get out of Duke's way when he was on a tear. His seemingly effortless style managed to encapsulate the entire history of jazz - from stride to boogie-woogie to swing - without ever sounding ornate or the least bit difficult to enjoy. Prince is almost as dazzling with a guitar, often recalling rock icon Jimi Hendrix with a style that powerfully reclaims the R&B roots of rock 'n' roll. And guitar is only part of it. Prince is often a one-man orchestra in the recording studio. He's credited with playing 27 instruments on his 1978 debut album, "For You."

None other than legendary jazz trumpeter Miles Davis saw links between the two, declaring Prince "the most exciting artist of his time," and saying that, "he could be another Duke Ellington."

But Davis made his appraisal before Prince went through a late 1990s meltdown that revealed his greatest weakness, one Ellington never shared: inconsistency. Sure, Ellington was commonly criticized for trying to cram too many ideas into later works such as "The Far East Suite." But even at his most ornate and academic, there was an admirable precision and structure to his work.

Prince, meanwhile, has gone through periods when his motives were all but impenetrable. His desire to get out of record contracts and clear out recording studio backlog led to a series of sprawling releases in the late 1990s that even ardent fans found tiresome. His mercurial ways also have led to frequent personnel changes in his touring band, whereas Ellington was renowned for employing the same musicians for decades.

But maybe it comes down to intent. Listen to Prince's summation of a 2004 album that was as lukewarm as his comments suggest: "I make all kinds of records. For this album, I didn't feel like making some grand statement. It ain't like me trying to pull the trigger back and annihilate something. I'm just chillin'.''

Now consider Ellington's summation of how he approached every performance: "It's like an act of murder; you play with intent to commit something."

So the Great Bartender in the Sky motions toward a nearby bandstand and thunders at the two. "I keep getting musicians up here saying stuff like 'Swing it, baby,' and I don't get it. I want you to show me what it means to swing."

Prince looks to Duke, then the bandstand, then Duke again, with a smile. "You first," he says.

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