By admin 
Introduction
The clock strikes 4:00 AM in the silent, arid stretch of the California desert, but for Barry Manilow, the day isn’t beginning—it’s reaching a fever pitch. While the rest of the world is buried in REM sleep, the “Showman” is already at his desk, his fingers hovering over a keyboard in a room illuminated only by the cold glow of a computer monitor. This isn’t just a morning routine; it is a biological anomaly that has left doctors and fans alike in a state of absolute disbelief. At 82 years old, Manilow has officially declared war on the human need for rest, surviving on a strict, four-hour sleep cycle that would collapse a man half his age.
“I never sleep,” he admits with a chilling casualness that masks the physical toll of his obsession. For decades, the man who soundtracked the world’s most romantic moments has lived in a self-imposed exile from the pillow. He describes himself as a “New York machine” that simply cannot be powered down. But the most provocative detail isn’t just the lack of shut-eye; it’s the physical breakdown he endures to keep the music flowing. Manilow has confessed to working with such intense, singular focus that he forgets to perform the most basic human functions—like eating. He often doesn’t realize he’s starving until his body begins to tremble, a visceral warning that his “biological battery” is running on empty.
In the dead of night, the silence of his Palm Springs estate becomes his ultimate collaborator. He is a “night owl” who has transitioned into a “permanent riser,” occupying that haunted space between midnight and dawn where melodies are caught like ghosts in the air. This period of forced insomnia is where his most intimate work, like the Night Songs sessions, was born—raw, stripped-back, and devoid of the Vegas glitz. It is a high-stakes gamble with his own health; a life lived at “Warp 7” where sleep is viewed not as a necessity, but as a thief of creative time. As he prepares for yet another record-breaking residency, the world is left to wonder: is this superhuman energy a gift from the gods of music, or a dangerous obsession that is slowly pushing his physical form to the absolute breaking point?