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t is, in theory, a mundane sight, nothing 2 get excited about: just a 55-year-old man in his suburban Minneapolis workplace, scrolling through a Windows Media Player library on a clunky Dell computer.
He tests me, making sure I can recognize Chaka Khan and Sly and the Family Stone, while giving me a pass on missing Tower of Power and Grand Funk Railroad.For the first time in years, he's been opening up Paisley Park to local fans for spontaneous events.There's talk of staging one of these shows on the night of my visit, though it evaporates with no notice." Prince laughs, not unkindly, and imitates her, chirping "Hi, I'm Prince" in a high voice, as he reaches out a firm, businesslike handshake.His actual speaking voice is deep, soft and calming, like a DJ on a smooth-jazz station.I have giant bills, large payrolls, so I do have to do tours. But there's no to record anymore." He makes a direct connection between fasting, celibacy and his abstention from recording. I had to see what it's like to stop making albums.
"After four days, you don't want food anymore. It's like this thing that says, ' Feed me, feed me.' When it realizes it's not going to get fed, it goes away. And then you go, ' Oh, wait a minute, I don't feel the need to do that anymore.'" the album that would finally break his recording fast.
He's very thin, but not fragile – a strict vegan who, by his own account, sometimes doesn't eat at all ("I have gone long periods with no food, and also water – people have to remind me to drink water because I always forget to do that").
He doesn't sleep enough, either, and he avoids sex: One of the most deliriously sensual performers who ever lived – the one who sang "Jack U Off" and "Gett Off" and "Do Me, Baby" – insists he's celibate.
Playing the album in his office, he charmingly takes pains to turn the player's visualizer function on, providing state-of-2002 fractal accompaniment to the music.
On a stand in the corner is a century-old Portuguese guitar with a teardrop-shape body.
or the Super Bowl here," he notes of one empty space, murmuring something about eventually turning Paisley Park into a museum.