The real impact of Prince’s death
PRINCE died alone in his sprawling mansion, but thousands mourned on its lawns, sharing stories of a man who changed their lives.
Entertainment
Don't miss out on the headlines from Entertainment. Followed categories will be added to My News.
PRINCE died alone in his sprawling mansion, but thousands mourned him on its lawns, poking bouquets of purple blooms through wire fences and sharing stories of a man who changed their lives.
They were tales of a man who invited everyday Midwesterners into his velvet-lashed mansion to simply hang out.
He was an international music icon, but in Minneapolis Prince was a neighbour unaffected by his celebrity: they saw him riding his pushbike around town, ducking into stores and filling his car with petrol.
Fresh reports emerged yesterday Prince was relying heavily on prescription painkillers for a bad hip in the lead up to his death.
TMZ reported that the overdose the artist was treated for a week ago was an overdose on Percocet — a highly addictive drug prescribed for severe pain.
The first autopsy results released yesterday showed no signs of trauma or suicide. Authorities now await toxicology reports which could take weeks.
Local sheriff Jim Olson said Prince was last seen at 8pm the night before he died, when a friend dropped him home. He’d been alone in the estate overnight and employees found him Thursday morning local time, dead in an elevator.
Sheriff Olson said Prince was “a very private person”: “I don’t think it would be unusual for him to be there by himself,” he said.
No one knows yet who will be the beneficiary of the estate. It’s believed there is enough music material in its hidden vault to sustain another 100 albums. There is speculation Prince’s Jehovah’s Witness church could have a claim on the estate.
The fans lining the lawn outside the estate yesterday in a sea of purple transcended all demographics and age groups: adults who’d partied at the studios two decades ago, teens who knew every lyric and musos who’d jammed with the great.
The estate is huge from the outside, yet unremarkable: oversized, boxy concrete slabs in the middle of an industrial area in a quiet suburb in America’s midwest.
Prince had been warned against building his studios in his home town — it wasn’t Nashville, LA and in certainly wasn’t New York, artists told him.
But Prince did things differently. And so, while he was loved by the world, the people of Minneapolis see The Purple One as their own.
Minnesota native Andrea Swensson, 32, is just one of down to earth locals Prince took a liking to and invited into his home.
Swensson grew up attending the infamous dance parties at Paisley Park — jam sessions, full concerts, DJ sets.
Sometimes Prince would be there, other times it would be special guests who just happened to be at his studios that day like Kendrick Lamar, the Alabama Shakes and FKA Twigs.
But it was when the music journalist wrote a story about the 30th anniversary of Purple Rain that Prince reached out to her. The night her piece was published, she had an email inviting her to meet Prince at Paisley Park. “I didn’t know if I was in trouble,” Ms Swensson recalled yesterday.
She wasn’t. Instead, she spent the night “shooting the breeze” with Prince and former band member Bobby Z.
“It was just us for a couple hours. His kindness was apparent immediately. He’d be joking, giving me a hard time, cracking jokes — he was youthful and real.”
Ms Swensson regrets not attending the Paisley Park dance party last weekend, which would become the great artist’s final public appearance.
Kobie Conrath, 44, spent her 20s going to the same parties and her recollection of Prince was almost identical to the stories shared by Ms Swensson — this was a man intensely down to earth.
“He’d walk through the room, through the people, chatting to everyone,” she said of the parties.
“You didn’t need to be someone special to be there.”
But the truth was, the people in Paisley Park felt special.