Erasure have split up and won’t be performing againCredit: Getty Images – GettyVince Clarke, part of the iconic 80s duo, revealed the news in an interviewCredit: Getty – Contributor
Erasure were responsible for some utterly iconic tunes back in their day, many of which have stood the test of time.
But now they’ve revealed that they have already performed their final gig.
Speaking to The New Cue newsletter, Erasure’s Vince Clarke spoke about the decision to stop touring and how it wasn’t an easy choice.
Vince was asked: “What’s the bravest career decision you’ve ever made?,” in an interview with the outlet.
He then continued to explain the reasoning behind the decision in more depth.
Vince elaborated: “What happened was [Erasure singer] Andy Bell and myself, we did these fan shows before Christmas and they were great but…
“It’s difficult to explain… the simple answer would be is I just don’t want to be really old and going onstage!
“I just don’t want to do it anymore.”
The pair released their first album together in 1985Credit: Getty – Contributor
Vince and Andy sent fans rushing to conclusions of a reunion years ago after posting a vague post online with the caption: “plotting and planning.”
The news thrilled fans on X, who immediately started speculating what they had up their sleeves.
“Let’s GO! Gotta see Erasure again live soon, it’s been way too long!” wrote one fan.
“So thrilled you two are still working together all these years later,” said a second.
A third noted: “New album? Would kill for a follow up to Erasure”
Erasure released their debut album Wonderland in 1985, and in the following year they broke into the UK charts with their single, Sometimes.
Since that time, they have released a staggering 19 albums, with their last being 2022’s Day-Glo.
They won Best British Group at the 1989 Brit Awards, with other hit tracks including A Little Respect, Always, Chains of Love and Breath of Life.
Andy went on to have a successful solo career, whileVince Clarkehad previously been a founding member of two more iconic bands, Depeche Mode and Yazoo.
Vince was candid about just not wanting to do it anymoreCredit: GettyTheir biggest song together was called A Little RespectCredit: Rex
A FOUNDING member of Seventies glam rock band Showaddywaddy, guitarist Trevor Oakes, has died the group announced today.
Former lead singer Dave Bartram who is now manager, said the 79-year-old musician passed away peacefully on February 18 after “a long illness”.
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The musician was a founding member of Seventies glam rock band ShowaddywaddyCredit: GettyGuitarist Trevor Oakes died aged 79Credit: GettyNo further details have been released about Oakes’ illness or cause of deathCredit: Instagram
The band specialised in Fifties and Sixties classics including their only UK No1 single Under the Moon of Love in 1976 and still tours but with only drummer Romeo Challenger from the original line-up.
It enjoyed 15 Top Twenty hits during their peak from 1974 to 1979.
Bartram, also the group’s manager, said: “Trevor was a unique character and a dedicated professional, without whom the band would never have quite scaled the dizzy heights we seemed destined to achieve.
“He was also a caring and affectionate family man, with a mischievous sense of humour, which will be sadly missed by all those dear to him.
“ I could write a book about the incredible memories we’ve shared over the past fifty-seven years, but most of all I thank him from the bottom of my heart for his unwavering friendship. Your true friend Dave.”
A source claimed to The Sun that Bartram died in a Leicester care home and that his funeral has already taken place.
No further details have been released about Oakes’ illness or cause of death.
The musician was born in Leicester and worked as press knife maker before becoming a professional musician.
Oakes quit the band when he was aged 62 in May 2009 after suffering ill health, according to his biography on its website.
He has two ex-footballer sons, Stefan Oakes who played for Leicester City in the Premier League, and Scott Oakes, whoi had a spell at Luton Town.
The band specialised in Fifties and Sixties classicsCredit: InstagramThe band enjoyed 15 Top Twenty hits during their peak from 1974 to 1979Credit: GettyOakes quit the band when he was aged 62 in May 2009 after suffering ill health, according to his biography on its websiteCredit: Instagram
“I want to lick your stink … I want to taste your foulness … I want to shower in your rot … I want to feast in your fetid funk.”
Have more romantic sweet nothings ever graced the screen? Scripted by Grace Glowicki and Ben Petrie (partners in life and in filmmaking), these words of seduction are music to the ears of a lonely Gravedigger (Glowicki), who has been formulating a perfume to cover up her corpse-like stench. What she discovers is that the right one will love her exactly the way she smells, learning that she’s not so pheromonally challenged after all.
Glowicki’s sophomore feature “Dead Lover,” sometimes presented in “Stink-O-Vision,” is one of those entirely singular freakouts that we can thank Telefilm Canada for subsidizing (see also: the Cronenberg family oeuvre, Matt Johnson’s current “Nirvanna the Band the Show the Movie” and many more).
She co-writes, directs and stars in this highly stylized, wonderfully DIY handmade project, beautifully designed with gruesomely gothic sets by production designer Becca Morrin and art director Ashley Devereux. The blend of intentional artifice paired with deep emotion calls to mind other Canadian auteurs like Guy Maddin and Matthew Rankin (“The Twentieth Century”), but Glowicki’s film also exists within another lineage: the feminist Frankenstein film.
The film opens with a quote from Mary Shelley: “There is something at work in my soul which I do not understand.” Her 1818 novel “Frankenstein: or, the Modern Prometheus” has always been a feminist text (despite Guillermo del Toro’s more bro-ey adaptation), grappling with the terrifying power of creating life — and how close that is to death. Feminist filmmakers have drawn out these inherent themes from the book, the most recent and loudest example being Maggie Gyllenhaal’s “The Bride!” But “Dead Lover” hews closer to Laura Moss’ modern medical take, “birth/rebirth,” and even more closely to Zelda Williams’ cute, poppy “Lisa Frankenstein,” in which a young seamstress stitches up a reanimated boyfriend.
Our Gravedigger speaks to us, and to the moon, about her heart’s desire in charming cockney rhyming slang. Her hopes are rather simple and conventional: one true lifelong love and a family. After much rejection, she finally finds her Lover (Petrie) in the cemetery, saving him from a ferocious beast while he mourns his late opera-singer sister (Leah Doz). After the pair consummate their fragrant lust, the Gravedigger is ready to settle down right away.
In order to make her dreams come true, Lover travels to Europe for fertility treatments, where he drowns on a ship, the only thing left of him a finger, delivered to her by fishermen. Our enterprising Gravedigger, a true woman of science, engineers a lizard elixir and regenerates the finger into a long tentacle that eventually demands a body. What better choice than his own sister? But when her wild new Creature (Doz) comes to life, all hell breaks loose, summoning the sister’s jealous, grief-stricken Widower (Lowen Morrow) into an unfortunate love triangle (or square?).
Glowicki is a terrific filmmaker, marshaling her tiny troupe to execute this unique project. Petrie, Doz and Morrow play multiple roles, including a gossipy Greek chorus and the band of merry fisherman (truly an astonishing array of Canadian accent work on display). Her commitment to her singular vision never wavers, but as an actor, Glowicki is truly astonishing. Caked in Halloween makeup and lit with an array of colored gels, Glowicki summons something primal, pure and deeply moving about the lengths one will go to for love, a screech from the depths of her gut.
With a dream-pop soundtrack by U.S. Girls that would be at home in an episode of “Twin Peaks,” “Dead Lover,” in all its stinky, sexy, queer and grotesque glory, is one of the grossest and loveliest films about love I’ve ever seen. This one’s for the horny, hopeless goth inside all of us.
‘Dead Lover’
Not rated
Running time: 1 hour, 25 minutes
Playing: Opens Friday, March 27 at Laemmle Glendale
Poverty can be and often is crushing. For Hermanos Espinoza — who are in the midst of promoting their debut studio album “Linaje,” released Friday — growing up in a family that struggled financially after a string of failed restaurants turned out to be the greatest motivator.
Since 2021, the quintet led by the sibling duo of Joel and Leonel Espinoza have steadily built an audience with their brand of new wave norteño, pairing the prominent sounds of the accordion and the bajo quinto with lyrics about making it big thanks to a combination of unrelenting working-class grit, familial love and faith.
Hermanos Espinoza were one of the most buzzed about bands at the 40th South by Southwest music festival, which took place earlier this month in Austin, Texas. At the De Los showcase — one of three appearances the band made during SXSW — the rooftop of the Mala Fama nightclub was at capacity well before the brothers set foot on stage, and a line to get in extended past the door.
“Y que c— su madre la pobreza,” lead vocalist and accordionist Joel Espinoza, 24, belted out from the stage, opening their set with their 2024 hit “Dios Por Delante.” The popular Mexicanism translates to “F— poverty.”
The crowd cheered and danced, letting loose on a late Sunday night.
“I saw my family go through so much because of money, because of poverty. They didn’t deserve it but I understand the world works in a certain way,” he would later tell De Los in a video call. “I just hated it.”
The dynamic singer delivered every lyric with his whole body as he frenetically tapped the buttons of his brightly colored accordion, doing his best to make the squeezebox sound like an electric guitar. The drum set and bajo quinto kept pace, making the set feel more like a rock show than a backyard kickback.
(Cat Cardenas / For De Los)
With “Linaje” — it translates to lineage, a term often associated with nobility and pedigree — the brothers are intent on sharing their hard-earned success with those they love most.
“Some people refer to ‘Linaje’ as royalty, or people who come from money, but for us, it’s the complete opposite,” said Joel. “Our family is hardworking and we wanted to give them credit too. To us, that’s royalty.”
The Espinoza brothers grew up in the South Texas city of McAllen, in the Rio Grande Valley, helping out at their family’s Mexican restaurants. They can still recall prepping food from the early morning hours to late at night. They say it was tedious work that made them disciplined, punctual and appreciative of the value of a hard-earned dollar.
“You see life through a different perspective,” said Leonel, who is 20 years-old.
(Cat Cardenas / For De Los)
The brothers say they brought that same work ethic in their pursuit of music; both were heavily involved in their school’s marching band as part of the drum line, which helped them master rhythmic timing, coordination and motor skills. In high school, Joel picked up the accordion — he describes playing the 49-key instrument as a “love-hate” situation — and Leonel the bajo quinto.
Their mother helped book their first gigs singing serenade covers. But by 2021, house party gigs had slowed down.
“I used to work with my dad back at his restaurant and one of those days I was just feeling really down, ready to give up on my dream of music, but he held me down,” said Joel.
It wouldn’t be long before all that hard work paid off. Hermanos Espinoza gained traction on YouTube and TikTok with their self-released tracks, “Prueba De Fuego” (2022) and the aforementioned “Dios Por Delante,” which describe leaving behind the treachery of poverty for a better life.
“People started tattooing ‘Dios Por Delante’ on their forearms and neck and that’s when we realized that this was more than music, it’s a movement,” Joel said of the impact of the latter song.
Resilience and faith remain at the core of “Linaje,” which was mixed and produced by Ernesto “Neto” Fernández, who has worked with the likes of Peso Pluma and Xavi.
The 15-track LP, a solid representative of the ever-evolving norteño sound coming from the Texas borderlands, begins with a blessing, “29:11.” The title refers to a Bible verse in the Book of Jeremiah: “‘For I know the plans I have for you,’ declares the Lord, ‘plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.’”
“A big part of this album was just letting go of trying to control everything,” said Joel. “I put it into [God’s] hands and we just let things flow.”
Money is the focus in the tracks like “La Moneda,” with Joel’s voice echoing through the backdrop as he proclaims that cash might change some tacky, incompetent chumps, but not him. Almost halfway through the set list is a hazy track, “No Puedo Amarte,” where the singer sours over an unresolved love; the crooning track is reminiscent of a twinkling sad sierreño genre, with an accordion alternating volumes between a bold tremolando and a silky legato.
Still, at its core, “Linaje” fundamentally underscores their grit in tracks like “Modelo V,” the first single under Double P Management that celebrates the journey that led them to success, which honors the lessons taught by their father.
“No matter all the adversities we face, the thing about my dad is that he’s always stayed true to himself and who he is,” says Joel. “That’s how we were raised and how we live day to day.”
Tommy DeCarlo, a longtime fan of Boston who became the classic rock band’s lead singer in the late 2000s, has died. He was 60.
DeCarlo died Monday following a battle with brain cancer, his family announced on Facebook.
“[H]e fought with incredible strength and courage right up until the very end,” the family’s statement said. “During this difficult time, we kindly ask that friends and fans respect our family’s privacy as we grieve and support one another.”
Born April 23, 1965, in Utica, N.Y., DeCarlo said he first started listening to Boston — the 1970s rock band known for its instrumental overtures and hits including “More Than a Feeling,” “Don’t Look Back” and “Peace of Mind” — as a young teenager, according to the group’s website. The vocalist credited his love for Boston’s original frontman Brad Delp and his desire to sing along with him on the radio for helping to develop his own singing voice.
After Delp’s death in 2007, DeCarlo, then a manager at a Home Depot, sent a link to his MySpace page filled with Boston covers as well as an original song in tribute to Delp to the Boston camp, hoping for a chance to participate in a tribute show for the singer. They kindly turned down his offer.
But eventually, Boston founder and lead songwriter Tom Scholz heard DeCarlo’s cover of “Don’t Look Back” and invited the singer to perform a few songs with the band at the tribute. That tribute show would be DeCarlo’s first time ever performing with any band in front of a crowd, but it wouldn’t be his last. He continued to perform with the band at live shows for years, and even joined them on some tracks for their 2013 album, “Life, Love & Hope.”
DeCarlo also formed the band Decarlo with his son, guitarist Tommy DeCarlo Jr. In October, the singer announced he was stepping away from performing due to “unexpected health issues.”
“[P]erforming and sharing music with all of you around the world has been one of the greatest joys of my life,” DeCarlo wrote in his Facebook post. “I can’t thank you all enough for the incredible love, support, and understanding you’ve shown me and my family during this time. It truly means the world to us.”
Joe McDonald, lead singer and songwriter of Country Joe and the Fish — the band known for its resounding anti-war chant at Woodstock — has died. He was 84.
His wife, Kathy McDonald, announced his death Sunday morning. He died Saturday in his Berkeley home due to complications from Parkinson’s disease.
As a formative member of the American counterculture in the 1960s and ‘70s, McDonald leaves a legacy of bridging contemporary political satire and brazen anti-war sentiments with the early sounds of acid rock.
“We’re just so proud of him. He’s our hero. He instilled in us that we have to speak up when we can, on whatever platform we can, about issues that we feel are important,” said his daughter Seven McDonald, a film producer, music manager and writer.
“While he was a very serious, earnest activist, he also had such an acute sense of cynical humor that is so fantastic and was capable of scathing satire,” her brother Devin added. “He’s most famous for that, but he also did so many heartfelt benefits for different causes.”
The siblings, who spent their childhoods on the road and in recording studios with him, joke that he was always doing a benefit show.
The musician was born on Jan. 1, 1942, in Washington to Worden McDonald and activist Florence (Plotnik) McDonald, who were both members of the Communist Party. The family soon moved to the Southern California city of El Monte, where Joe McDonald was raised.
His musical roots reach back to when his father taught him to play the guitar at 7 years old. But before embarking on his career in music, McDonald enlisted in the Navy at age 17. He served as an air traffic controller at the Atsugi, Japan, air facility for three years. Upon coming back to the states, he tried out college for a short time before dropping out and moving to Berkeley.
Before experimenting with an early variation of Country Joe and the Fish alongside guitarist Barry Melton in the mid-1960s, McDonald started a small magazine called Rag Baby. Once the group was solidified, they decided to turn their folksy roots electric and made the move to San Francisco — just before the city’s legendary Summer of Love.
The group, born out of the Bay Area psychedelic rock scene, was soon signed by Vanguard Records and in 1967 released its debut album “Electric Music for the Mind and Body.” At the time the band’s label and producer were hesitant to let the musicians fully express their politics, and excluded the soon-to-be-hit anti-war anthem “I-Feel-Like-I’m-Fixin’-to-Die Rag” with the catchy chorus that began, “And it’s 1, 2, 3 what are we fighting for?”
Instead, they went with tracks like “Superbird,” a spoof of President Lyndon B. Johnson, which received little to no backlash. When the second album came around, the band was allowed to run with “I-Feel-Like-I’m-Fixin’-to-Die Rag” as the title track. Trouble started to arise with the anti-Vietnam war anthem when the group changed the beginning chant of F-I-S-H to a more profane four letter word that starts with an “F.”
They performed this altered cheer at a gig in Massachusetts, where McDonald received a charge for inciting an audience to lewd behavior and a $500 fine. With this police run-in, Country Joe and the Fish received a slew of press, riling up the public ahead of their Woodstock performance.
The moment the band members began this chant at Woodstock became arguably the biggest moment of their careers, with over 400,000 people joining in. It’s a moment of protest that has gone down in history.
Not long after the festival, the band went their separate ways. McDonald continued to release solo music that stuck with the similar themes of politics and the Vietnam War.
“He took the toll for taking the stand,” said Seven. “He was not the biggest pop star, because he just opted to speak his mind and do his thing.”
In 1986, McDonald released “Vietnam Experience,” an album full of songs analyzing its long-term impacts on his generation. And in 1995 he was “the driving force” according to an Associated Press story, behind a war memorial to honor Berkeley veterans killed in the Vietnam War.
He told The Times in 1986 that he had “an addiction to Vietnam … I’ve been doing work with veterans now for 15 years, and I probably know more about Vietnam veterans than any other person in the entertainment industry.”
“I’ve always believed that the veterans are a basic element to the understanding of war,” he added, “and the understanding of war is the only path to peace.”
McDonald is survived by his wife of 43 years, Kathy; his five children, Seven, Devin, Ryan, Tara Taylor and Emily; a brother, Billy; and four grandchildren.
On a dreary February afternoon in Chinatown, Ben Lovett, pianist and keyboardist of the British folk-rock group Mumford & Sons, was hours away from releasing his band’s sixth album, “Prizefighter.” The LP — co-produced by Aaron Dessner with guests Hozier, Gracie Abrams and Chris Stapleton — rejuvenates a catalog that includes a Grammy for album of the year in 2013. He could have been celebrating, or at least resting up for his upcoming “Saturday Night Live” gig and fall arena tour.
Instead, Lovett was calf-deep in sludgy rain water flooding the streets from a sudden downpour, standing at the roll-gate of a ripped-apart warehouse. “You’ll need this,” Lovett told a Times reporter as he handed out hardhats, walking his construction team through the still-raw hallways, shouting over a cacophony of circular saws.
In a few weeks, this site will be Pacific Electric, a new 750-capacity music venue that Lovett and his venue-developer firm TVG Hospitality have been converting for six years. It’s a small but ambitious entry into a Los Angeles venue landscape that’s recovering from fire and economic woes, yet has also seen several jolts of life recently.
Pacific Electric is a new flagship for the team at TVG, which has become an independent-scene force in the U.S. and U.K. over the last decade. Beyond his band, this project plants Lovett’s flag as an L.A. live music entrepreneur too.
“I’ve never had such a significant moment around a venue launch,” Lovett said in the soon-to-be dressing room at Pacific Electric. “It’s the seventh venue we’ve done, but it has never coincided with such an important creative moment with the band. I have to be very disciplined right now.”
Mumford & Sons led the 2010s folk revival that minted a generation of plaintive, earnest singer-songwriter acts atop the charts. While their genre peers’ fates have varied, Mumford & Sons remained perennial arena and festival headliners, with an ambitious midcareer streak in the studio. As pop culture’s tastes shifted, and his band moved around New York, L.A. and the U.K., Lovett returned to his show-producing roots in 2016 to build the 320-capacity nightclub Omeara in London.
Los Angeles, CA – February 19: Exterior view of the new music venue Pacific Electric, which is under construction in Chinatown and owned by Ben Lovett of the Grammy-winning folk band Mumford & Sons. (Allen J. Schaben / Los Angeles Times)
(Allen J. Schaben / Los Angeles Times)
“A lot of rooms in America are owned by the promoter, so unless you are working with that promoter, you can’t play that room. I don’t like that. I think there’s something fundamentally broken with that practice,” he said. “I wanted to prove out that idea, but I had to learn everything, like how you get a liquor license. It wasn’t perfect, but the intent was so pure.”
Two years and a couple U.K. venues later, TVG got an unexpected call from the city of Huntsville, Ala., to build the Orion Amphitheater, an 8,000-capacity anchor venue for the massive civic project Apollo Park. The futuristic Grecian agora, which opened in 2022, was beyond anything they’d built before — similar to Red Rocks in Colorado or Forest Hills Stadium in New York. Suddenly, Lovett and TVG were players in the U.S. too.
“When I’m off the road, I drop my kid at school and I go to work. I sit in an office from 9 a.m. to 6 p.m.,” Lovett said. “That’s not common, but there are people I really admire like Pharrell Williams who have a foot in entrepreneurship while also being a creator of songs. By doing a day’s work with TVG, sitting down at the piano can still feel like a hobby.”
Lovett, who lives in L.A., had long wanted something closer to home. The industrial northern pocket of Chinatown housing Pacific Electric is well-known to ravers and foodies — Insomniac’s Naud Street warehouse is close by, and the upscale cocktail bar Apotheke and pan-Asian restaurant Majordomo are around the corner. But besides festivals at Los Angeles State Historic Park, there hadn’t been much of a live music presence in the area (a plan to open an outpost of the NYC venue Baby’s All Right was thwarted by the pandemic).
Pacific Electric will be on the small side for a theater, a more intimate peer of downtown’s Regent or Bellwether. But Lovett’s plowed 20 years of notes from touring into the space — from the serene sandstone-hued dressing rooms with a piano and built-in laundry facilities, to a fully-separated horseshoe bar area to keep fan drink lines moving. There’s no bad sightline in the space, from either the ground floor or upper level balcony, which looks out over a stage wreathed in pink neon and wood cutouts evoking the industrial cityscape outside.
“Keeping the dirt under my fingernails with projects like this, and watching shows as often as I do, you realize how hard and how much creativity and magic there are around shows,” Lovett said. “It’s never a given to have an audience.”
To manage the venue, TVG brought on Stacey Levine, a veteran of the Palladium, Wiltern and Theatre at the Ace Hotel (now the United Theater on Broadway). While her management experience is in larger, historic venues, the chance to build something from scratch with an artist’s insight was enticing.
“People really want to get off their phones and back into independent venues, and this little pocket of downtown is about to pop off,” Levine said. “It’s very cool and close to different areas of L.A. But the venue is also really artist-focused. At 750 capacity, do you often have really nice dressing rooms? Probably not. But this is like welcoming artists into a nice hotel.”
Pacific Electric is independent in the sense that it’s not wholly exclusive for either promoter conglomerate (they plan to work with both Live Nation, AEG and others). Lovett, who cited the San Francisco concert impresario Bill Graham as a model for his company, said, “I love the opportunity to back an artist and be their advocate, and they should be able to work in any room they want to. I’ll die on that hill.”
The music won’t lean especially Mumford-ish. Its first show, with the synthwave group TimeCop1983, is slated for March 20, with a Robyn-themed club night, heavy rockers Militarie Gun and a big comedy slate from the Netflix Is a Joke festival up next.
L.A.’s nightlife — particularly in downtown — is still recovering from the pandemic-era culling of live venues and hospitality. After the malaise that’s ripped through L.A.’s entertainment economy of late, and a year of fires, ICE raids and other withering events in Los Angeles, Pacific Electric will have its work cut out to build its regular audience.
But new venues like South Pasadena’s Sid the Cat Auditorium and Re:Frame in Atwater Village have taken similar big swings in recent months. Lovett sounded hopeful that L.A. has plenty of room for more.
“I operated five venues in the pandemic, and conversations abounded like ‘Is this the death of live experiences?’” Lovett said. “My take was different, which was the one thing that we couldn’t figure out how to fix, was how to spend time together. Our greatest void was human interaction. We’re always going to trend towards congregation. If I didn’t believe that, I wouldn’t do this.”
