David Ball of Soft Cell, whose delectably sleazy synth-pop arrangement drove that English duo’s 1981 hit “Tainted Love” to the top of the U.K. singles chart, died Wednesday. He was 66.
The producer’s death was announced in a post on Soft Cell’s website, which didn’t state a cause but said that Ball died at his home in London. On Facebook, the duo’s singer, Marc Almond, wrote that Ball’s health “had been in slow decline over recent years” due to an unspecified illness.
“It is hard to write this, let alone process it, as Dave was in such a great place emotionally,” Almond said on Soft Cell’s site. “He was focused and so happy with the new album that we literally completed only a few days ago. It’s so sad as 2026 was all set to be such an uplifting year for him, and I take some solace from the fact that he heard the finished record and felt that it was a great piece of work.”
Ball and Almond performed as Soft Cell at last month’s Rewind Festival in England; the LP they’d just wrapped is set to be titled “Danceteria” after the New York City nightclub that became an incubator of new wave and synth-pop in the early ’80s.
Soft Cell was an “experimental electro band [writing] weird little pop tunes about consumerism,” as Almond told the Guardian in 2017, when the duo decided to record a cover of “Tainted Love,” which the soul singer Gloria Jones had introduced to little success in 1964.
Ball devised his take on the song using his “dodgy old Korg synths” as well as a state-of-the-art Synclavier that cost more than £100,000, according to the Guardian. Soft Cell’s cover felt “twisted and strange,” Ball said, which suited the “weird couple: Marc, this gay bloke in makeup, and me, a big guy who looked like a minder.”
With Almond’s panting vocal over Ball’s sexy yet sinister production, “Tainted Love” hit No. 1 in the U.K. the same year as the Human League’s “Don’t You Want Me” and “Prince Charming” by Adam & the Ants. In the U.S., “Tainted Love” peaked at No. 8 on Billboard’s Hot 100 in 1982.
Today the song has been streamed more than 1 billion times on Spotify, kept alive in part by Rihanna’s prominent sample of “Tainted Love” in her 2006 hit “SOS.”
Ball was born May 3, 1959, in Chester, England, and grew up in an adoptive family in Blackpool. He and Almond formed Soft Cell in 1979 after meeting as students at Leeds Polytechnic, where Almond was known for a performance art piece in which “he’d be naked in front of a full-length mirror, smearing himself with cat food and shagging himself,” Ball told the Guardian.
The duo released its debut album, “Non-Stop Erotic Cabaret,” in 1981, then followed it with two more LPs before splitting in 1984. “Few groups took as much pleasure in perversity,” said Rolling Stone, which called “Non-Stop Erotic Cabaret” a “conceptual salute to the sex industry.” In 2022, Pitchfork said the duo’s debut offered “a snapshot of pre-AIDS queer life at its heady peak.”
After Soft Cell’s breakup, Ball collaborated with Genesis P-Orridge of Throbbing Gristle and formed a dance group called the Grid with the producer Richard Norris; he also worked in the studio with the likes of Kylie Minogue, the Pet Shop Boys and David Bowie.
Soft Cell reunited in 2001 and again in 2018; the statement on the band’s website said “Danceteria” would come out in early 2026. According to the statement, Ball’s survivors include four children.
Every night before going to bed, Ela Minus shuts off her phone.
Oftentimes, the Colombian artist-producer won’t even turn it back on until the following afternoon. One day, in mid-September, when Minus logged on, she received an unexpected flurry of messages from both close friends and people she hadn’t spoken to in years. Each notification was congratulatory, but Minus had no idea what had transpired the night before.
It turns out the Latin Grammy nominations had been announced — and her song “QQQQ,” off her 2025 sophomore album, “Día,” was nominated for Latin electronic music performance.
“I was very confused. Nobody said what was going on in their messages. They were just telling me congratulations,” says Minus, who laughs about the moment over our Zoom call. She dialed in from Mexico City, a few hours before catching a flight to Italy to kick off a new leg of her “Día” tour.
“As soon as I figured out that I was nominated, I turned my phone off again. I needed a second to myself. To be completely honest, it was not even a little bit in my radar. I didn’t even know we submitted anything.”
Since its release last January, “Día” has left lasting impressions on critics and fans alike. In 10 synth-powered tracks, Minus channels her fluctuating emotional state as she navigated a period of reckoning — characterized by a life almost entirely lived in airplanes, hotel rooms and foreign studios — through ominous synthesizer chords and blasts of vigorous dance beats.
Much like her music, her path to Latin Grammy-worthy acclaim has been anything but linear.
“It’s not like I started singing on television, and now I’m at the Latin Grammys. It’s been an interesting path of continuous surprises and unexpected turns,” says Minus. “Not to praise myself, but every time I’ve taken an unexpected turn or been presented with it, something amazing comes out of it.”
“Every time I’m in L.A. for a longer period of time, I feel like I retire into myself more. Staying downtown too, felt very aggressive, yet familiar to me,” says Minus, of how L.A. influenced her latest record.
(Alvaro Ariso)
Minus was born as Gabriela Jimeno Caldas, in Bogotá, Colombia. She got her start in music as a drummer in a local punk band called Ratón Pérez, which she joined at the age of 12. Her percussion skills led to her leaving Colombia to attend the Berklee College of Music, where she double majored in jazz drumming and music synthesis. At school, she was introduced to hardware and software synths, and continued to explore her drumming abilities by experimenting with electronica.
After working as a touring drummer and helping design synth software, Minus’ solo career started to take off with the release of her 2020 debut album, “acts of rebellion.” She created the entire project by herself, from the depths of her at-home studio in Brooklyn. Composed of icy club beats and steadfast synthetics, she describes the album as “sonically concise,” in that she intentionally used limited instrumentation.
When approaching her 2025 follow-up record, she says that she yearned to pick up new instruments, switch up the process and hopefully end up with an entirely different result.
In a sudden turn of events, her rent in New York quadrupled because of COVID-19 inflation rates, and she had to leave the city. She says her life quickly became a “mess.” But her next steps were clear as ever — instead of settling into a new apartment, she took on a nomadic lifestyle, with making new music as her only goal.
“I wanted to start and finish a record in the moment, while all of this is happening, and when I’m feeling this way,” says Minus, who says she was feeling a self-imposed artistic pressure. “I figured I could postpone my personal life out of wanting to make this record.”
Over the course of six months, she hopped from city to city, living out of her suitcase and renting recording studios. She ended up in places like London, Mexico City and Seattle. The repetitious process of packing up and settling into new places allowed her to easily decipher which tracks she wanted to keep pushing and which ones she would leave behind.
Along her journey, she lived in downtown Los Angeles for a short period of time. She says she finds the city to be a bit “alienating” with a “uniquely heavy” energy. To her luck, the city’s ethos aligned with the sonic soundscape she was building out in “Día.”
“Every time I’m in L.A. for a longer period of time, I feel like I retire into myself more. Staying downtown too, felt very aggressive, yet familiar to me,” says Minus, who noted the lack of people walking, the amount of traffic in the streets and the boundless nature of Los Angeles.
The album began at a low point in Minus’ life, where she seems to be going through an identity crisis. Over spacey sirens and an accumulating bass line, on “Broken,” she admits to being “a fool / acting all cool” and being on her knees, without a sense of faith. Throughout the first several tracks, she confronts her inner monologue through candid lyrics, offering herself a reality check.
“Producing beats with really low bass lines feels comfortable to me. It makes me want to open up naturally to get to the point of writing lyrics and singing. When the production is more sparse, like with a guitar, it’s harder to write more vulnerably. It feels kinda cheesy,” says Minus.
“In myself, there’s this constant cohabitation of dark and light and aggressive and sweet sounds,” she continues. So when vulnerable feelings come out, the really hardcore, distorted sounds follow.”
Songs like “Idk” and “Abrir Monte” simulate the experience of being submerged as a muffled, yet pounding bass line takes charge. Other times, as in “Idols,” Minus’ dissected blend of club pop and dark ambient sounds lends a grimy, industrial feel to her mechanical melodies. She captures the commonplace (yet cathartic) experience of losing yourself in a sweaty mass of limbs on a dance floor.
The Latin Grammy-nominated track “QQQQ” marks a turning point in the album. It was a song she wrote in a matter of hours to depict her own mindset change. “I was very aware that [for] the first half of the record, there was a lot of tension. I just needed a moment of release for this [album] to land fully. I needed a moment of uncontrollable sobbing on the dance floor.”
The album ends with her resolving to confront her struggles with self-acceptance, with the frankly written “I Want To Be Better” — which escalates with the feverish punk pulse of “Onwards.”
To her, the album is equal parts apocalyptic and hopeful, reflecting both the chaos of the outside world and her newfound inner peace. Since making the record and performing it frequently, she says she’s internalized the lessons she learned along the way. “When you’re going through something, sometimes the only thing you can trust is time. Your perspective will change, maybe for better or for worse.
“Time heals,” adds Minus. “That’s something I learned for sure.”
Ela Minus will be headlining at the Echoplex in Echo Park on Oct. 29.
Rebekah Del Rio, the singer-songwriter known for bringing her talents to the David Lynch classic “Mulholland Drive,” has died.
The Los Angeles County Medical Examiner confirmed Del Rio died in her home but did not disclose a primary cause of death, which is currently listed online as deferred. She was 57.
In Lynch’s 2001 thriller, Del Rio was the siren of the Club Silencio and introduced as “La Llorona de Los Angeles.” In front of a red velvet curtain with smudged mascara and a crystal teardrop on her cheek, Del Rio delivered a moving a cappella performance of “Llorando,” a Spanish-language take of Roy Orbison’s “Crying.” Her voice echoes through the venue, bringing tears to the characters portrayed by stars Naomi Watts and Laura Harring. Del Rio’s appearance suddenly ends when she collapses and is carried off stage.
Del Rio was one of a handful of musical acts who collaborated with Lynch. The visionary director died in January. He also also worked with “Twin Peaks” composer Angelo Badalamenti, and singers Julee Cruise and Chrystabell. The last, who starred alongside Lynch in “Twin Peaks: The Return,” paid tribute to Del Rio on social media.
“The beauty and astonishing power of your voice could actually take my breath away. May your spirit know the deepest peace, may your heart rest,” Chrystabell captioned a still of Del Rio’s “Mulholland Drive” cameo. “Thank you for the kindness and care you showed me, it is written on my heart.”
In addition to “Mulholland Drive,” Del Rio appeared in Lynch’s “Twin Peaks: The Return” as a musical guest and performed her dreamy rock ballad “No Stars.” Her screen credits also include films “This Teacher,” “2307: Winter’s Dream,” “Southland Tales” and “Rabbits,” according to IMDb.
Prior to working with Lynch, Del Rio gained popularity in the Netherlands during the mid-1990s for the title track of her debut album “Nobody’s Angel.” She briefly moved to Nashville to take her music career to the next level — she was signed to Giant Records — but a car accident got in the way of those ambitions.
“Some man crashed into me and basically stole my opportunity, and I saw my own dream die,” she recalled to the Guardian in a 2022 interview.
She continued to pursue music, counting Il Divo, producer Heather Holley and composer Danny Elfman among her collaborators. Her discography includes her 2011 album “Love Hurts Love Heals,” a cover of Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelujah” and her 2021 single “Adios.” Weeks before her death, Del Rio performed at a charity event for the Philosophical Research Society.
Del Rio is preceded in death by her son Phillip, who died of cancer in 2009.
By the time Cuco arrived at Dodger Stadium on a recent Tuesday evening, thousands of fans were already lined up outside the venue’s gates, waiting to be let in.
Though the matchup against the Arizona Diamondbacks wouldn’t begin for another two hours, these Doyer diehards made their way to Chavez Ravine early to catch the pre-game festivities. It was Mexican Heritage Night, and the team had plenty of entertainment planned for the fanbase that Fernando Valenzuela built: a mini-concert by the legendary La Original Banda el Limón de Salvador Lizárraga; a lucha libre exhibition; and the throwing of the ceremonial first pitch by Chavo Guerrero Jr., scion of the storied Mexican American Guerrero wrestling clan.
Luchadores perform in the outfield during Mexican Heritage Night at Dodger Stadium.
(Gina Ferazzi / Los Angeles Times)
To complete this hodgepodge of a cultural celebration, the Dodgers also asked Cuco to sing the national anthem, a fitting invitation given that the 26-year-old Inglewood-born and Hawthorne-raised artist, whose real name is Omar Banos, had just put out “Ridin’” (released May 9 via Interscope Records). The LP, his third, is an 11-track gem of L.A. Mexican Americana dripping with the ageless sounds of Chicano soul.
Donning a team cap, a long white tee, black shorts, Dodger blue Nike SB Dunk Lows and his trademark glasses, Cuco walked into the stadium entrance reserved for suite-level ticketholders accompanied by his manager and a social content creator. Despite a heat wave that raised that day’s temperatures into the high 80s, a black Dodgers windbreaker that he planned to wear later in the evening hung around his neck. Pinned to it was a button that contained a portrait of Jaime Mendoza, his late maternal grandfather.
“My grandpa was big on the Dodgers,” Cuco said, noting that it was because of him that his whole family rooted for the Boys in Blue.
Cuco wears a pin with his grandfather Jaime Mendoza’s picture at Dodger Stadium.
(Gina Ferazzi / Los Angeles Times)
As Cuco is escorted through the concrete bowels of Dodger Stadium by a pair of team publicists taking him to sound check, fans spot him and excitedly call out his name. Some even approach him for a selfie. When asked if he often gets recognized in public, the singer-songwriter chuckled.
“Yeah, if there’s a lot of Latinos around,” he quipped. “I’m always going to say yes to a photo. I’m never going to turn them down.”
It’s cliché for any artist to say that they’d be nothing without their fans, but this adage rings particularly true when it comes to Cuco. His loyal supporters, dubbed the “Cuco Puffs,” turned a former precocious marching band geek into a bonafide indie pop star.
He began his career in the mid-2010s by uploading Spanglish lo-fi love songs recorded in his childhood bedroom to Soundcloud and Bandcamp. Dreamy, synth-heavy ballads like “Lover Is a Day” (off of his first mixtape, 2016’s “Wannabewithu”) and “Lo Que Siento” (released as a single in 2017) quickly connected with countless bicultural, Gen Z Latinos, racking up millions of streams in the process. By the time Cuco started performing at backyard shows, he had packed crowds singing every lyric back at him.
Such was the hype around him that several labels got into a two-year bidding war to sign the unlikely teen idol with a ready-made fan base.
Cuco sings the national anthem before the Dodgers game.
(Gina Ferazzi / Los Angeles Times)
“I don’t need a label. The labels mostly need me,” Cuco told The Times in 2017. “Like, in no cocky way, the reality of it is labels stay up because of the artists.”
When Interscope finally won out in 2019, it was on the artist’s terms — Cuco inked a seven-figure deal that allowed him to retain ownership of his music and gave him the creative freedom to do what he wanted. He was 20 at the time.
That summer, he released his debut album, “Para Mi,” a notable first effort that paired a blissful sound — inspired by a slew of genres, including psychedelic rock, bossa nova, pop and quiet storm R&B — with lyrics that touched on loneliness and substance abuse (“Take this and fly away till the substance numbs the pain,” he sings in “Ego Death in Thailand”). The album’s first single, “Hydrocodone,” is a nod to the pain medication he was on after being involved in a near-fatal car crash while out on tour in 2018.
The year 2022 saw the release of “Fantasy Gateway,” an ambitious concept album heavily inspired by psych rockers Tame Impala that takes the listener to another dimension, featuring notable collaborations with artists like Mexico’s indie darling Bratty and fellow sadboi romántico DannyLux. “Sitting in the Corner,” recorded with música Mexicana crooner Adriel Favela and country singer Kacey Musgraves, is a space pop ranchera that yearns for a lover who has left.
“It’s the vibe, man,” he says of the musicians he chooses to work with. “It’s not really about artists being big or not. It’s just if I get along with them and they have cool ideas and it aligns with my personality.”
With “Ridin’,” Cuco delivers his most mature album to date. Produced by Thomas Brenneck (Sharon Jones & the Dap-Kings, Mark Ronson, Amy Winehouse), the record is a neo-Chicano soul instant classic that pays tribute to the likes of Brenton Wood, Al Green and Smokey Robinson — soul and R&B artists from the ’60s and ’70s whose music has been adopted by lowrider and Chicano culture — all while maintaining that distinct Cuco sound, a perfect marriage between the old and the new.
The album’s opener, “ICNBYH” (an abbrevation of “I Could Never Break Your Heart”), would be at home in an “East Side Story” mixtape compilation. Cuco’s psychedelia roots are most apparent in songs like “Ridin’,” a track that feels like you’re cruising on a spaceship down Whittier Boulevard.
“I couldn’t really try to make something that sounded exactly like [Chicano soul]. I was hoping to embody that timelessness, but I had to work in the most authentic way possible so that it felt that way,” he said.
“I wanted to go for more natural sounds with the soul sound, but I think it’s just inevitable for me sometimes. I’m just going to end up doing some psychedelic parts with the music because that’s what I’ve always been.”
“Ridin’” is an album of the summer contender for anyone whose idea of summer means hanging out at the beach with all your friends — this exact scenario describes the music video for the album’s first single, “My 45,” which stars Mexican American actress Xochitl Gomez as a femme fatale.
And while the LP is teeming with enough vehicular references to make Bruce Springsteen jealous (the cover shows Cuco sitting on top of his 1989 Toyota Supra), Cuco says “Ridin’” isn’t strictly meant for the car.
“I’m hoping that [“Ridin’”] is something that’s interpreted however the listener chooses to interpret it, whether they’re ridin’ in your car, ridin’ for somebody or just ridin’ through life,” he says.
After sound check, Cuco made his way back to the suite level to wait for the rest of his party to arrive, which included his parents, Adolfo Banos and Irma Mendoza. The only child of immigrants, the artist has made it a point to share his success with them. Forgoing wearing anything in Dodger blue, the elder Banos donned a hoodie from his son’s latest tour. Mendoza showed up wearing a team hat and a striped shirt. Affixed to it was a button identical to her son’s. It was her idea; she had made them the night before.
Cuco gets a hug from his dad after singing the national anthem.
(Gina Ferazzi / Los Angeles Times)
As it got closer to game time, the singer was ushered down to the field once again. It was showtime.
Cuco poses with his parents before singing the national anthem.
(Gina Ferazzi / Los Angeles Times)
“Please stand and remove your hats for the singing of the national anthem,” the stadium announcer said over the P.A. system. “Joining us today is Cuco, indie pop star from Hawthorne!”
Cuco took a beat before singing “The Star-Spangled Banner” in his patented soft and mellow voice. His parents stood approximately 20 feet away, beaming with pride. After it was all over, the singer quickly made his way to them, and was met with smiles and hugs.
A minute later, a production assistant grabs Cuco for his final obligation of the night. He’s handed a microphone and is escorted back to where he performed the national anthem. He’s met by a congregation of luchadores who will act as a chorus as he delivers the phrase popularized by the legendary broadcaster Vin Scully — “It’s time for Dodger baseball!”
In the fall, Cuco will go on a nationwide tour to promote the album — he’ll be performing at the Greek Theatre on Sept. 15. But right now it’s summer and he’s ridin’ with his loved ones, about to watch a game the Dodgers will end up winning 4-3 in extra innings.
