It was almost dusk by the time I landed in Minneapolis. Greeted by a blinding sunset, I peered outside to see nature's ephemeral colours indicate a new season setting in. On my way to the hotel, the oaks, brambles and lakes reminded me of home.

I had hoped that the visit to Prince's town would have a salutary effect, having so far failed to shake off the pining melancholy that has burdened me since his death. As one of the lucky few who got tickets for the very first public tour at Paisley Park, I felt a spectacular combustion of conflicting emotions leading up to the trip. I feared it was too soon and worried that it would not befit the memory of Prince, his cherished music or represent the extraordinary volume of his work.

Forty-eight hours before Paisley Park was due to open, Chanhassen City Council decided to take another look at the permission it had granted to rezone the area for access. Residential concerns and traffic safety were cited. The request for more time to consider the plan was approved – and panicked fans, some of them already en route to Paisley Park, pushed for a temporary resolution. Fortunately for me, a three permit deal was brokered and the night before opening, fans received instructions to meet at a designated car park for pick up.

Buses had been organised to ferry fans from there to Paisley Park, to alleviate congestion and placate the naysayers. We had prior warning too that neither cameras nor any recording device would be secured and if that anyone was caught taking photographs they would be banned from the facility for life.

SOFT OPENING
Thursday, the day of the tour arrived. Excited – and also somewhat apprehensive – fans converged on the car park, clutching their golden tickets tightly. The bus driver ushered us aboard, where we remained quiet and anxious.

A short distance of two miles up the road, there it was, beaming in the morning sun, like a white aluminium rubix cube. The gate unlocked, there was a lift in everyone's mood and bemusement at the antics of a number of waiting journalists, vying for position. Some of the ladies grabbed their lipsticks and the men straightened themselves up. My game plan was to be last off the bus, so that all of the copy-hungry reporters could net their prey before I moved into view.

It worked. I walked unmolested through the open doors of Paisley Park Museum. The Mayor of Chanhassen, Denny Laufenburger, extended his hand, welcoming me into the reception area.

Here, we were informed that a ribbon cutting ceremony had been planned, but because of the rumble with the council this had been downgraded to a soft opening. Which was fine with me...

SADNESS & TEARS
Prince is omnipresent: he is everywhere. Inscribed on the wall I read, ‘“In this trusted place, U can erase, every tear that ever rolled down your weary face." Artwork from Diamonds and Pearls is hanging on the wall. I feel a hot, searing surge of tears welling up, but can't compose myself sufficiently to suppress them. After taking a moment to calm myself, I rejoin the collective.

We must look likes crows transfixed by all the shiny objects shimmering up and down the corridor: certified platinum discs and cassette tapes for Batman; 88 different Musicology concert tickets framed in a circle; hand-written lyrics from Dirty Minds; The Gold Experience certified gold disc (I spot the Irish flag on that); 'Sign of the Times’ memorabilia, with a peach drum kit and guitar, jewel encrusted denim jacket and album artwork.

There’s so much to take in – and barely time to absorb it all. The tour guide tells us that Prince loved the Atrium as a place where possibilities were endless, adding that he didn't believe in ceilings or parameters. Everyone is looking up at the light: there are gilded doves flying upwards.

I have already written on hotpress.com how, directly beneath the apex of light, a miniature replica of Paisley Park is locked in a glass case. Suddenly, and yet remarkably casually, the guide points with two hands to the display, and says… “Here is Prince's Urn, his ashes are inside.”

Reactions vary. Everyone gasps – or moans. Most of us want to be near him, others are unsure or still transfixed in disbelief: they stand like statues. The moment feels like an indelible shock that will stay with me for a long, long time to come at least.

Tyka Nelson, Prince's only full sibling, we are told, designed the 3D printed urn with Foreverence (the company that also made Lemmy Kilmister's custom-urn). Shying away from traditional concave, vase-like vessels, the replica Paisley Park contains seven crystals, ornamental doves and a purple piano.

Observing all of this, we withdraw individually into silence, sadness and tears, heads bowed in thought and prayer. The mortal remains of Prince are before us; indeed we mortals are in the presence of immortality.

PRINCE’S TRAVEL BAG
We move on to Studio A, still upset but embracing the spirit that has grown in our group. Aretha Franklin, Celine Dion, Stevie Wonder and Madonna have all worked in here. Love sexy, Batman, Diamonds & Pearls and The Gold Experience were among the albums crafted within. In addition to the enormous mixing desk, there are individual recording booths, one with a guitar, a rainbow of peddles and miles of cable coiled up neatly and stored, a grand piano, drums and old school vintage microphones. It has a really cool vibe – beautifully carved acoustical barriers, Persian rugs and I feel pretty sure, when I look down at the parquet flooring, that James Brown did the mashed potato or boogaloo while he recorded here. Before leaving we listen to an untitled jazz track Prince had been working on; it sounds sublime.

Studio B is more modern but it is stylish and inviting nonetheless. There is an aquatic motif, calming oceanic hues in the session space and lots of candles. Prince's symbol features on the playback speakers and recording equipment.

It was on the custom-built De Medio console that Sign O' the Times, Emancipation and Graffiti Bridge were recorded. In Prince's private office, hand-scrolled notes and his travel bag are out in plain view. One can see where he played table tennis or watched movies in his down-time. Throughout each section of the compound, music is being piped and there is something for everyone on the tour, with stories about the eclectic mix of entertainers who have booked studio time, including The Bee Gees and R.E.M..

Prince's made-to-order Schimmel Pegasus piano is breathtaking. The rooms that were once used for choreography practice and rehearsals – and an arcade – have been transformed and are adorned with 7,000 items, including material from 39 studio albums and paraphernalia from 29 tours.

TWELVE RED ROSES
The Purple Rain room houses Prince's white cloud guitar, stunt motorbike, a leather bound copy of the movie script, his coat and the Oscar he won for best original song score. Purple Rain has been certified 13 times platinum in the US and spent 24 consecutive weeks at No.1. Prince is the only artist to have ever had a number one album, single, movie and tour all at the same time, selling over 1.7 million concert tickets for those shows. Film clips are being played with its accompanying audio. Everyone stops – hypnotised, momentarily suspended in the solace of the music.

Further along, we find an Under the Cherry Moon/Parade/Graffiti Bridge exhibit with custom amps and drums, another motorbike and more costumes. The walls have been wrapped with movie stills. One hallway is a gallery cramped with awards ranging from Grammys to MTV Awards, a BET Lifetime Achievement, a Golden Globe and that unforgettable induction to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 2004.

There are plaques from local organisations recognising Prince's philanthropic contributions. I laugh when I notice a familiar larger than life cardboard cut-out of Prince holding a cane that was used to promote Hits 1, 2 & B-Sides. It’s the same one I had as a teenager, having wrestled it home in a black plastic bag in gale-force winds, after a local record shop had finished with it.

We continue on to the expansive 12,400 sq. ft sound stage, more memories rekindled with the sight of Prince's Piano and Microphone Tour set up. Another thunderbolt strikes as I remember the last time I saw Prince, in February, on that tour in Oakland, California singing David Bowie’s ‘Heroes'. I have to retreat behind a curtain to sob.

Once again the big projector catches us, screening one of Prince's final performances at Paisley Park. He looks beautiful, tinkering on the keys, clapping and rousing his adoring audience. The rhythm inspires an irresistible urge to drop everything and groove – but we settle for tapping a foot. Instruments from Prince's last band, 3rdeyegirl, and tailored clothes designed by Prince from the Diamond & Pearls and Symbol eras cast further light into this vast dark space. Despite the creative energy that bounces around I imagine that, when it's empty, it would be a lonely place.

We wander on to The NPG Music Club, a private members-only nightclub. It is cold inside. All of the violet, velour sofas are pushed back so that no one gets cosy. The diner, of course, is closed. Two lonesome turntables await spinning onstage, and the surrounding haremesque pillows beg for some company again.

The tour is ending. As we make our way out to the incomplete Superbowl Room, our tour guide advises us that there’s more to be added to the museum's collection. At the back of the room there is a makeshift post with fan tributes, sketches, jewellery, flowers and love letters, salvaged from the chain link fence around the grounds of Paisley Park.

Here, I lay twelve red roses down to represent the thrilling Prince concerts I got to see, not forgetting the extraordinary after show parties.

For fellow Irish fans back home, I clasp a pearl bracelet with a note attached, to say that we will love him until the end of time. Our group leaves via a marquee where Prince's favourite food is being served and the merchandise is hastily snapped up: tambourines, t-shirts, caps, plectrums and even purple ping pong balls are up for grabs.

OPEN FOR ARTISTS
Back outside, the tone has changed. Staff look relaxed and relieved: the divergences in relation to the urn notwithstanding, the response has been good. Everyone disperses as strangers once again.

It is a strange thought: we know where and how Prince died but we still don't know why. On that point we are none the wiser.

Overall, however, I feel it was a cathartic experience. I got to say goodbye. With my penance served, I have started to allow myself to enjoy music again. I will return someday with my daughter and educate her generation. As an observer of his art, it occurs to me that, out of respect for Prince, his musicianship, his creativity, his skill and his humility, we must share that art with those who have yet to find it.

Prince's family have announced that the studios will be opened for artists to use in the future. Music from Prince's vault will be released. It is a prospect that offers a palpable sense that the show isn't over.

Sonja Fagan

For fans who want to take their pilgrimage further see www.minneapolis.org/princes-minneapolis
Visit: Paisley Park, 7801 Audubon Road Chanhassen MN 55317 USA
www.officialpaisleypark.com