It is not every day that Paul McCartney - oops, Sir Paul - grants an interview. So when he agrees to have a chat with 20 reporters for 15 minutes, a string of conditions are attached.
No autographs, no pictures, no gifts. No questions on The Beatles. In fact, no questions on anything except his new album, called New.
But the first thing McCartney, 71, voluntarily utters in the flesh after a two-hour wait to interview him at the swish Edition Hotel in Soho, London, is a revelation about his personal life.
"You get new songs when you get a new woman," he quips, referring to his two-year marriage to American heiress Nancy Shevell, 53. The two live in London's posh St John's Wood area.
Wearing a black button-down shirt, his hair thick and in a surprising shade of auburn, the legend is all charm, personable and drawling in his distinct Liverpool accent.
He is ready to talk about New, but reporters corner him on his legacy first.
"In an impossible world, it would be nice if nobody knew what I have done. And there are people, a lot of young people don't know what I have done. But mainly, people are looking at what I am doing now as a continuation of all the other stuff," says the singer, who earns one of the world's biggest incomes from copyright collection agencies for The Beatles' back catalogue.
"I don't really worry about it. You know… the main thing I try and do is not copy what I've done in the past. I've found myself once or twice sitting down with a guitar and thinking, 'I'm gonna write a new Eleanor Rigby.' And then it all goes a bit, eeurgh… and I have to stop myself trying to do that.
"The past: I don't see it as a burden, I see it as something I'm very lucky to have. But it wouldn't be bad if people could just see New as a completely new thing."