chill

There’s a particular niche of sophisticated, loungy music that thrived from the late ’90s into the mid-2000s. It grew out of ELO’s regal rock and Serge Gainsbourg’s loucheness, taking on bits of U.K. trip-hop, midcentury exotica, the Largo scene’s orchestral flourishes and Daft Punk’s talkboxes. I don’t quite have a word for it — conversation-pit-core? — but a primary text of it is Air’s “Moon Safari.”

The French duo of Nicolas Godin and Jean-Benoît Dunckel released “Moon Safari,” Air’s debut LP, to wide acclaim in 1998. The band’s meticulously hazy synth pads paired beautifully with ultra-minimal funk bass and loping tempos. “Moon Safari” set a new benchmark for upmarket French pop, with singles like “Sexy Boy” and “Kelly Watch the Stars” proving they had chops for hooks as well. The band immediately followed it with the score for Sofia Coppola’s debut feature, “The Virgin Suicides,” and those two albums locked in Air as the ultimate turn-of-the-century band for tasteful European melancholy.

At the Bowl on Sunday, the band revisited the whole of “Moon Safari” with the Hollywood Bowl Orchestra, capping off KCRW’s festival season there. Since that album’s release, Coppola’s daughter Romy grew old enough to become an influencer herself, yet “The Virgin Suicides” remains a mood-board favorite for Gen Z. Fellow travelers like Bonobo, who opened the night with a DJ set, have become arena stars in their own right.

“Moon Safari” has held up wonderfully on its own merits. But as algorithms funnel audiences deeper into formless background listening, Sunday’s show was a reminder that chill can be compelling. Air’s intense focus gave these wispy songs a strong backbone too.

From the opener of “La Femme d’Argent,” lifted by Godin’s nimble basslines, the vibes were, as they say, immaculate. Dressed in all-white formalwear, the band took care to show how much compositional rigor went into this album’s laid-back feeling. The arrangements highlighted the nuanced tones of each of Dunckel’s many synths, and how the band’s Beatles-y chord changes could keep your ears locked into the most stark passages.

Extra credit goes to Air’s creative direction and lighting designer, who locked the band inside a rectangular elevated platform that gave the look of performing inside a James Turrell sculpture. It’s a neat conceptual challenge to visually enliven a famously blissed-out album like this onstage, and Air did it with exquisite panache on Sunday.

The Hollywood Bowl Orchestra usually kicks back on shows like this, adding some sizzle and arrangement richness but functioning more as another band member. The orchestra’s horns perked up during “Ce Matin-là” and raised the dramatic temperature on closer “Le Voyage de Pénélope,” but the whole set was an exercise in restraint as a means of making sure every good idea gets its shine. “Moon Safari” didn’t need much else, but what it got was illuminating.

The back half of the set went into the band’s score work for Coppola — “Highschool Lover” and “Alone in Kyoto,” from “The Virgin Suicides” and “Lost In Translation” respectively, stirred the wistful elder millennials among the crowd, this writer included. They adopted a Daft Punk-ish distance on “Electronic Performers,” touting how “MIDI clocks ring in my mind … We need envelope filters to say how we feel,” but they didn’t really need that wink and nudge. When they broke the spell of ethereal cuts like “Cherry Blossom Girl” for heavier, krautrock-driven numbers like “Don’t Be Light,” they proved that being roused from tasteful stoned pondering is as fun as falling into it.

On the day immigration agents swooped through MacArthur Park in armored vehicles, wearing tactical gear and riding on horseback, Contreras Learning Center football coach Manuel Guevara said more than 20 of his players skipped summer practice.

“Kids were messaging me their parents don’t want them to leave their house,” Guevara said.

The fear among families with students attending three downtown Los Angeles high schools minutes apart — Contreras, Roybal and Belmont— is real.

“Everybody’s on edge,” Guevara said.

Players don’t know if their parents will feel safe enough to watch games from the school bleachers this fall.

As official football practice begins on Monday, three downtown Los Angeles head coaches — Guevara, Roybal’s Michael Galvan and Belmont’s Kenneth Daniels — have been in constant communication and united to help their players and parents deal with ICE raids. No one knows when the raids might subside or how the ongoing anxiety might affect teams this fall.

One of the first raids happened outside an elementary school across the street from Contreras. A 17-year-old Contreras cross country and track athlete, Nory Santoy Ramos, was detained and later deported to Guatemala with her mother after showing up for an immigration appointment. Families in the area rely on afterschool programs that are facing budget cuts. Students continue to deal with issues involving homelessness, gangs and drug use at nearby MacArthur Park.

Even though all three coaches said players feel safe on campus, with Los Angeles Unified School District Supt. Alberto Carvalho vowing to make schools “safe havens,” coaches are most concerned about students’ commutes to and from school.

Federal immigration agents near MacArthur Park in the Westlake area on July 7.

(Carlin Stiehl/Los Angeles Times)

“A piece of me worries about them getting home safe,” Roybal’s Galvan said.

Guevara said one Contreras player told him he’s 80% certain his mother is going to leave and take him with her because of ICE fears. He’s had kids message him this summer that they couldn’t come to practices because their parents feared for their safety.

The Times has confirmed U.S. citizens are among those who have been detained during immigration raids in Southern California that have continued for more than six weeks. More than 2,700 people have been arrested during the raids and more than two-thirds of those detained had never previously been convicted of a crime.

“I understand their plight,” Guevara said. “I was brought here when I was 1. I became a citizen when I was 17. It’s not like you can tell anyone in this situation, ‘Suck it up.’ It’s a completely different animal. Our area is targeted.”

Students at Miguel Contreras Learning Complex in downtown Los Angeles continue to be affected by ICE raids.

(Eric Sondheimer / Los Angeles Times)

Belmont is struggling to field a football team this fall. School enrollment is down to less than 700 after once being a school of more than 6,000 — the largest in the county — until Contreras and Roybal were built. Athletic director Carlos Calderon said four sports that have been practicing on the Belmont campus this summer — cheer, girls volleyball, cross-country and football — have been affected by parental safety concerns.

“We’ve seen a deduction in kids coming to practices and increase communication with parents and having them call us [to say,] ‘We don’t feel comfortable in kids coming to practice,’” he said.

Calderon, who helps coach cross-country, has had athletes train on the school track instead of running the hills at Elysian Park to assuage parental fears.

Daniels said after one summer practice, when he learned an ICE raid was unfolding nearby, he instructed players to leave school from the back entrance instead of the front entrance.

“It’s really affecting us,” he said. “We’re not getting the numbers we need to get the workouts in.”

Belmont has 20 football players signed up, but only about half have been showing up for workouts. The team usually adds players once classes begin Aug. 14. Daniels, a walk-on coach, is already consumed by the challenge of building a new house in Altadena after his burned down during the Eaton fire.

“Nothing has been easy in 2025,” he said.

Galvan said he’s had players miss practices to go shopping for family members who feel they have to stay home. Others had medical appointments delayed because parents didn’t want to leave their homes.

“In all of my 25 years of teaching in the area, I’ve never experienced anything like this,” he said. “You just don’t know. It’s hard to explain. How do we get through one day? … We’re taking it day by day.”

The Garfield-Roosevelt game, known as the East L.A. Classic, draws the largest L.A. high school football attendance each year. It’s scheduled for Oct. 24 at a site to be determined and officials want to make sure fans attending feel safe, so a decision on the site and security arrangements in light of continuing ICE raids are being taken into consideration along with budget.

“We will continue to follow district guidelines to ensure the well-being of our entire school community,” Garfield athletic director Lorenzo Hernandez said in a text message. “Our priority is — and will always be — to keep students and families safe, informed and supported.”

Said Galvan: “We definitely have to approach this season differently and see who we can accommodate and support the kids and balance understanding the situation and keeping them safe. It’s going to be on a weekly basis how we approach each game.”

Skipping summer practices won’t prevent a team from going forward. But if players start missing practices this fall, that will cause problems, because practices are needed to help prevent injuries and get athletes into the proper physical condition to participate.

Guevara still remembers July 7, the day of the MacArthur Park show of force. He addressed players who showed up to practice and were going home.

“Be vigilant, be careful,” he told them.

It’s a message likely to be repeated again and again this fall.

Every half-decade or so, Justin Bieber sloughs off the callused skin of the pop superstar he became at age 15 to reveal the tender and quirky R&B singer he’s always been at heart. He did it in 2013 with his album “Journals,” then in 2020 with “Changes.”

Neither project did anything like the numbers of his shinier, smilier teen-idol stuff, though each seemed like a crucial reset for a guy battling the pressures of early onset celebrity. Now, at 31, he’s done it again with “Swag,” the surprise LP he dropped Thursday night just hours after revealing that it existed.

Like those earlier albums, the 21-track “Swag” comes after a period of change and tumult for Bieber: In 2022, citing the need to focus on his health, he called off a world tour behind the previous year’s “Justice” album; in 2023, he parted ways with his longtime manager, Scooter Braun; last year, he and his wife, Hailey Baldwin, had their first child together. (Somewhere in there he also sold the rights to his music catalog for a reported $200 million.) More recently, he’s been caught on video in a series of confrontations with paparazzi that got people talking about his well-being.

“It’s not clocking to you that I’m standing on business,” he tells a photographer in one clip that went viral last month — so viral, in fact, that Bieber excerpts it on “Swag,” which puts his luscious crooning over spacey, cooled-out grooves full of pillowy synths, twanging electric guitars and reverbed chillwave-’80s beats.

What distinguishes “Swag” from “Journals” and “Changes” is that this album feels much rawer and more improvisatory than the earlier ones; the production throughout is murky and smeared, and the record includes a couple of demo-like tracks that suggest Bieber simply AirDropped unfinished voice memos from his phone to whomever was sitting behind the computer in the recording studio. (One of them, a gorgeous little gospel-blues ditty, is titled “Glory Voice Memo.”) The idea that “Swag” puts across pretty sympathetically is that a messy life — let’s not forget that Bieber is also involved in a Christian organization that some have compared to a cult — yields messy music.

“When the money comes and the money goes / Only thing that’s left is the love we hold,” he sings in the thrumming “Butterflies,” which samples another of those paparazzi run-ins; “Walking Away,” a lightly psychedelic soul-rock jam, has him describing the challenges of his highly scrutinized marriage with an endearing frankness about his desire to wise up emotionally. (Braun, whom Bieber is said to have paid millions of dollars recently to settle an old debt, wrote on Instagram that “Swag” “is, without a doubt, the most authentically Justin Bieber album to date.”)

In un-polishing his music, the singer is also adapting to the scrappy and proudly idiosyncratic vibe of modern pop as found on records by the likes of SZA, Charli XCX, Lana Del Rey, even Drake — A-plus stars who’ve achieved domination in the streaming era not by honing a streamlined vision but by pursuing odd impulses and allowing the listener to feel like part of the journey. One of Bieber’s key collaborators here is Mk.gee, the mysterious guitar virtuoso whose 2024 debut made him perhaps the most talked-about musician’s musician of the last few years; “Swag” feels shaped by the way Mk.gee thinks about how a great pop song should balance novelty and familiarity. Other members of the creative team Bieber gathered for loose jam sessions at his home in Los Angeles include Dijon, a frequent partner of Mk.gee’s, and Carter Lang, who’s worked closely with SZA.

Given Bieber’s attentive nature and his good taste — think of his relatively ahead-of-the-curve participation in remixes of Wizkid’s “Essence” and “Despacito” by Luis Fonsi and Daddy Yankee — it probably figures that in 2025 he’d make a record that imagines Phil Collins sitting in with Scritti Politti. Yet as a tinkerer luxuriating in rough edges, Bieber stands alone among his fellow white male pop stars (or at last the few of them who remain near the center of the conversation): Benson Boone is doing well-rehearsed back flips on every awards show stage that will have him, while Ed Sheeran has said his upcoming album represents a return to his old hit-seeking ways after a spell in the folky wilderness. And then there’s Morgan Wallen, whose thematically gloomy “I’m the Problem” is so sonically dialed in that you almost fear what the album’s enormous success will end up doing to the guy.

Does Bieber relish his outlier status? In one of several very cringe interludes on “Swag,” the internet comedian Druski tells the singer that, although his skin is white, his soul is Black — to which Bieber, clearly operating without the guidance of a strong manager, responds, “Thank you.” Still, you can’t argue with Druski’s assessment that he can “hear the soul” on this album: Bieber’s singing has never sounded more instinctual than in songs like the crunchy “Daisies” and the country-soul “Devotion,” and even when they’re bad, his lyrics have an awkward charm, as in “Go Baby,” in which he plugs the iPhone-case-slash-lip-gloss-holder sold by his wife’s beauty brand, and “405,” a song about flirting with Baldwin in the car that rhymes “Hit the gas” with “Spider-Man on your ass.”

Shaggy, disarming, often quite beautiful, the LP argues that swag is not something to be taught (as indeed Bieber once famously enlisted someone to do) — not a skill nor a technique to be perfected and deployed. It’s a state of mind, bro. Is that clocking to you?

Red cloaks. Stiff white bonnets. Bent heads. If there’s a single image that Hulu’s “The Handmaid’s Tale” leaves audiences with as it ends its six-season run this week, it’s this one: That of women in a dystopian anti-America called Gilead, evolving from anonymous sexual slaves into rebels, warriors and, sometimes, survivors.

But for “Handmaid’s” creator Bruce Miller and star Elisabeth Moss, who also directed several episodes in the final season, the series, based on the 1985 book by Margaret Atwood, was never about what the women wore. It was about the women inside the color-coded uniforms.

“June started out as a normal person, a mom, a wife,” says Moss, whose other long-running roles include “The West Wing” and “Mad Men.” She won an Emmy for playing the “Handmaid’s” title character in 2017, the same year the show took home the first drama series prize for a streaming show.

“Then [June] had to shut down and become something that I don’t think she wasn’t proud of,” Moss continues. “But I feel she comes out of that into a place of true heroism, where she is able to be herself, be generous, forgive, inspire other people, lead — but also be vulnerable, ask questions, not know everything.”

Elisabeth Moss in the series finale of “The Handmaid’s Tale.”

(Steve Wilkie / Disney)

Miller, who stepped back from showrunning duties for the final season, with Eric Tuchman and Yahlin Chang taking over, especially wanted to ensure that as a man, he was telling a female-forward story from the female point of view — both in the writers’ room and on camera.

“I’m very mindful of the fact that I’m a boy, and who do I think I am?” he says, adding that winning the Emmy boosted his confidence in being a man telling a story about women’s rights. (The series has 15 Emmys total.) “Definitely, when you win an Emmy it helps you feel a bit less like you have one penis over the limit.”

Knowing that, Miller says he centered the story on June and Moss alike, adjusting camera angles to focus on her point of view — but lowered to an eye level that corresponded with the actress’ 5-foot-3 height. “The crowd scenes get much more scary” when you do that, he says. “I want to see the world not just through June’s eyes — but also Lizzie’s eyes, as much as she’s able to show me those things.”

Meanwhile, Moss used roles as executive producer and director to focus on the show’s look and how June came across on camera. Frequently, she’s shown smoldering with fury or dark intent, gazing up from under her brows with a lowered chin, something Moss says she lifted from Stanley Kubrick’s films. “That is ‘Clockwork Orange,’” she says. “I am certainly not the first person to do that look.”

Elisabeth Moss.

(Jason Armond / Los Angeles Times)

But she might be one of very few actresses to convey it onscreen. “It’s definitely not something women do [on camera],” she says. “Women aren’t allowed to get angry. [June] uses her anger and weaponizes it at so many points during the show — and by the final season, she knows when to do that and when not to.”

The journey June, Elisabeth and “Handmaid’s” have been on began at an uncomfortably synergistic time in American politics: Amid the airing of a series about women subject to state regulation of their bodily autonomy, real-world politicians were successfully rolling back women’s reproductive rights. In 2018, protestors began showing up at real-world events in those handmaid-red cloaks and white bonnets, putting the show in an unexpected spotlight.

“Art does have an impact,” says Moss about that kind of a response, but suggests that repurposing the show’s images, outfits or story in service of real-world politics misses a key element of the series. “I don’t think any of us necessarily set out, when you’re making a TV show, to [make a political statement], because that’s the wrong way to go about it. You’re telling this one woman’s story. … It’s always been ‘The Handmaid’s Tale,’ her story.”

That’s one reason why after six seasons the series chose to end as it did: With June back in the house where it all began, starting her memoirs — “The Handmaid’s Tale.” When Miller pitched that final episode script, Moss says it made her cry.

“I love the idea that at the end is when she starts to tell the story that is the book, and the circular nature of that gives me chills,” she says. “The fact that she realizes that she has to tell it because it wasn’t all bad.”

But the ending also does one more thing: It shows how little is truly resolved. June’s daughter Hannah is still trapped in Gilead, for example. And fans of the series know the action will pick up 15 years later when “The Testaments,” based on a 2019 sequel by Atwood and now in production, begins airing. (Moss won’t say whether she’ll cameo.)

So this is an ending — just not the ending. Now, the story leaves off, still focused on the woman who escaped the bonnet and cloak and not about the trappings of her enslavement. “For me, the ending is perfect,” says Moss. “I also don’t feel like it is an ending. The war is not over. June’s journey is not over.”