The next afternoon, he’s on the patio, his white-stucco villa tucked into the island’s foothills. The backyard is dotted with palm trees and carved-stone Buddha heads, and the swimming pool is shaped like a giant crucifix. It’s the kind of place that could only belong to a rock star or a Bond villain.
From a sliding glass door, through white curtains fluttering in the breeze, comes Bruno, Sean’s elegant manservant. The two exchange a few words in Romany and Bruno re-emerges a few minutes later with salads. After that, it’s honeydew and sliced pears, followed by two of the biggest pieces of calamari known to man. “I eat, like, super-healthy,” Sean says. “I hope that’s OK.” He doesn’t smoke or do drugs, and only rarely drinks, though he does cop to a weakness for jamón ibérico. “It’s the best ham in the world.”
After lunch, we walk past a tepee and a sculpture of four-foot-tall silver letters that spell music and love to Comer’s studio. Stuck to his desk is a yellow Post-it note with Usher’s e-mail address. (AOL.) Taking a seat in his butterscotch-leather chair, he unzips his suitcase and pulls out the MacBook that contains his music. He’s starting to work on material for his next album, due in 2022. Right now, he’s limiting his production work to friends like Usher and 50 Cent. “I’m only doing favors now,” he says.