guitar

IT WAS must-see viewing for Britain’s teenagers slumped on the sofa on Saturday and Sunday mornings. The cool young cast of T4 delivered zany segments and upbeat links between popular programmes including Hollyoaks and Shipwrecked.

And now as a former teen telly icon is given a peer by Keir Starmer we reveal where some of the other popular TV presenters are now.

June Sarpong (2000-2007)

SHE was a working class immigrant kid who grew up on a council estate but now TV star June Sarpong is taking a seat in the House of Lords. 

The proud honour marks a meteoric rise for June, 49, who first appeared on our screens as a host of MTV before joining the iconic Noughties show T4 way back in 2000.

She was awarded an MBE for services to broadcasting and has made a name for herself as a high profile equality campaigner.

As she celebrated the political honour yesterday, June said: “Words cannot even begin to describe how truly honoured and humbled I feel to have been appointed to the House of Lords by Keir Starmer on his final Honours list.

HEAD HUNT

Chris Evans says June Sarpong & Matt Forde ‘in talks’ to host Virgin Sunday show

double take

Vernon Kay’s daughter Phoebe, 21, looks just like mum Tess Daly in mini-dress

“As a working class immigrant kid from a council estate in East London it is not lost on me what this means.

“As I embark on this next chapter, I look forward to being able to use this role to further champion the causes and issues that are dear to my heart.”

But June is not the only former member of the T4 gang who has gone on to bigger and better things. 

It was a hugely successful launchpad for many of the most familiar faces on TV today.

Dermot O’Leary (1998-2001)

A baby faced skinhead, Dermot was part of the original presenting line up when T4 first launched.

Before that he had been a DJ on Radio Essex but Dermot, now 53, proved  such a success with the viewers that Channel 4 swiftly selected him to front spin off show Big Brother’s Little Brother until 2008.

He has since landed a string of high profile presenting gigs including The X-Factor which he hosted for 11 years.

Now Dermot has a Radio 2 show and fronts This Morning on Fridays, as well as publishing a string of hugely successful children’s books about Toto The Ninja Cat. 

Margherita Taylor (1999-2001) 

She was a DJ at Birmingham based radio station BRMB when she took part in a radio contest and moved to Capital Radio. 

From there Margherita landed a spot on T4’s starting line-up alongside Dermot and Vernon Kay and never looked back.

Margherita, 53, went on to present BBC One’s Escape to the Country between 2016 and 2022.

Now she is a familiar guest presenter on  Good Morning Britain, Lorraine, Countryfile and This Morning, but her first love was always radio and she still hosts shows on Smooth Radio and Classic FM.

Ben Shephard (1999-2000)

Ben, 51, was a regular host of Channel 4’s spin-off morning show The Bigger Breakfast when bosses decided to put him on T4.

Just two years later he joined ITV’s GMTV as an entertainment host, then as a main presenter in 2005.

He quit the show in 2010, weeks before it was axed anyway, but returned to ITV in 2014 to front the newly-launched Good Morning Britain, where he remains as one of the country’s most recognisable presenters.

Now the much loved millionaire dad of two is rarely off the box, having swapped his seat at the Good Morning Britain newsdesk for the sofa at This Morning alongside Cat Deeley.

Ben has also hosted hit gameshows including The Summit, Tipping Point and Ninja Warrior UK.

Vernon Kay (2000-2005)

Hunky Bolton lad Vern was working as a model when he was scouted by TV bosses to front T4 and soared to stardom.

After quitting the show All Star Family Fortunes made him a household name.

His 23 year marriage to Strictly’s Tess Daly has crumbled but this week he was named as one of the BBC’s best paid presenters, raking in a staggering £450,000 a year for his Radio 2 mid-morning show, Alternative Dance Sounds of the 90s and other appearances.

Steve Jones (2003-2010)

Welsh lad Steve, 49, – who stripped off several times on the show, was one of T4’s best loved presenters when Simon Cowell chose him to present the American version of The X Factor.

But the show bombed and Steve was axed after just one series.

The former model went on to present a property show called Perfect House, Secret Location and appeared on This Morning before landing a full time gig in 2016 to lead the presenting team for Channel 4’s F1 coverage. 

Miquita Oliver (2006-2010)

While most of the original T4 crew were newbies, Miquita already had five years of telly experience under her belt having fronted Popworld with Simon Amstell. 

But she was suspended from T4 in 2010 after being overheard insulting singer Kesha.

She has also claimed she lost a job on Radio 1 for “saying silly things”.

Since then fashion favourite Miquita, 42, has been on a string of TV programmes, including Celebrity Gogglebox alongside her mum Andi, and has a hit podcast with her pal Lily Allen.

Rick Edwards (2007-2011)

Rick, 47, was performing stand-up comedy at Cambridge University when he was spotted by T4 producers who gave him his first TV job. 

Since then he went on to land a string of presenting gigs including Tool Academy, Made in Chelsea, Freshly Squeezed, E4 Music, and much of Channel 4‘s 2012 Paralympics coverage.

Rick has also hosted a BBC One quiz show called !mpossible and now he can be heard on BBC Radio 5 Live’s Breakfast Show every morning, as well as Fighting Talk on Saturdays and their Premier League review on Sundays.

Alexa Chung (2008-2009)

Fashion icon Alexa, 42, began working as a model after she was scouted at the Reading Festival at the age of 16. She joined Popworld alongside Alex Zane in 2006 before joining T4 two years later. 

She famously inspired the Alexa handbag by British designer Mulberry, and has dated big names like Arctic Monkey’s Alex Turner and actor Alexander Skarsgard.

She pivoted back to style and lifestyle content on TV for shows like Gok’s Fashion Fix, Next In Fashion and now runs her own lucrative fashion label.

Jameela Jamil (2009-2012)

London born Actress and activist Jameela, 40, was working as a school teacher when she was scouted by a TV producer in a bar.

She followed Alexa on to music show Freshly Squeezed alongside Nick Grimshaw and became a DJ on Radio 1 and the event circuit – with her first show being at Elton John’s birthday party.

In 2016 she moved to LA to become a screenwriter but ended up landing a role in American hit comedy The Good Place as Tahani Al-Jamil.

She’s also become an outspoken campaigner for equality and is dating pop star James Blake.

Nick Grimshaw (2010-2012)

Grimmy started out in student radio before landing a job on Radio 1’s Switch youth programme in 2007.

His career really kicked off the following year when he landed the station’s weekend breakfast show, before moving to a late-night presenting slot.

In 2010, Nick, 41, added T4 to his roster, fronting it until he was promoted to the Beeb’s breakfast show, replacing Chris Moyles.

On TV he’s been a judge on The X Factor, filmed cameos for soaps including EastEnders, Coronation Street and Emmerdale and has also starred on Celebrity Gogglebox.

Now he hosts BBC Radio 6 Music’s flagship breakfast show, Sidetracked with Annie Mac and foodie podcast Dish.

Here’s a terrible-seeming idea: The Rolling Stones should get started on their next album.

Like, now.

After taking nearly two decades to release 2023’s “Hackney Diamonds” — the band’s first set of original material since “A Bigger Bang” in 2005 — the Stones are back this week with a follow-up, “Foreign Tongues,” that took them less than 36 months to get out.

And it’s the better record in every way.

In the old days, of course, two and a half years was all they needed to make “Beggars Banquet,” “Let It Bleed” and “Sticky Fingers.” So let’s not get too carried away by the fact Mick Jagger, Keith Richards and Ronnie Wood are working as fast as they are in their late 70s and early 80s.

Yet to listen to the brisk and sportive “Foreign Tongues” is to hear a band clearly going on instinct rather than overthinking the music à la any number of veteran acts in legacy-maintenance mode. I don’t know if the result is the Stones’ best since 1978’s “Some Girls,” but it’s definitely the funniest, which is actually the more impressive achievement.

“Wake up in the morning and you wanna make me puke,” Jagger sneers in the punky “Hit Me in the Head” — exactly the kind of lyric you’d hope to hear from a band whose only possible reason for still being in the game is to have a gas-gas-gas.

Like “Hackney Diamonds” — and, for that matter, like Paul McCartney’s “The Boys of Dungeon Lane” (to name one recent overthinking-veteran LP) — “Foreign Tongues” was produced by 35-year-old Andrew Watt, who’s made a career of helping boomer icons put a little shine on their late-in-life efforts. And he’s helped the Stones convene an appealingly motley crew of collaborators here, including McCartney (who plays bass on “Covered in You”), the Cure’s Robert Smith (who contributes guitar to “Divine Intervention”), Steve Winwood (who plays piano and organ throughout the album) and Bruno Mars (who’s credited with, uh, cowbell in “Never Wanna Lose You”).

You also get a welcome appearance from the late Charlie Watts in a hard-thwacking performance recorded before his death in 2021. (Steve Jordan otherwise keeps time.)

But none of the stunt casting feels like the point of the album, which instead simply doles out a dozen tunes in the Stones’ various idioms — the bluesy stomp, the country-ish lope, the sleazy disco jam — plus a couple of covers in just over an hour. It’s frisky and lighthearted, even when Jagger is lamenting what he sees as the sorry state of his beloved America in “Ringing Hollow” and when Richards is croaking about love having put him on his knees in “Some of Us.”

And when they go goblin mode, they really lean in: “Mr. Charm” is a demented soul-rock rave-up about how boring money is — OK, Mick — in which Jagger drops a diss of the “mad mogul Mr. Musk” into a verse laying out the delights of staying home and doing anagrams.

In “Divine Intervention,” Jagger offers a colorful travelogue of trips through New York and Los Angeles — “I kept moving on to Silver Lake / To play guitar with a brand new friend of mine” — while Richards and Wood get their guitars slip-sliding all over the place. “Jealous Lover” is gorgeously trashy: a horny little strut that sounds like “Dirty Mind”-era Prince doing “Waiting on a Friend.” (Legitimately loony Mick vocal here.)

For God knows what reason, the Stones offer up a faithful rendition of Amy Winehouse’s “You Know I’m No Good” with Jagger on harmonica. And the album ends with a very ragged take on Chuck Berry’s “Beautiful Delilah,” obviously meant to remind you of how the two lifers at the core of the Stones came together more than half a century ago.

The memory is ancient; the thrill, somehow, is alive.

NEW YORK — David Clayton-Thomas, the lead singer of Blood, Sweat & Tears, whose husky, high-strung tenor on “Spinning Wheel,” “And When I Die” and other hits helped make the so-called brass rock band among the most popular acts of the late 1960s, has died at age 84.

Spokesperson Eric Alper said that Clayton-Thomas died peacefully Wednesday at St. Michael’s Hospital in Toronto. Alper did not cite a specific cause of death.

Clayton-Thomas was a onetime street fighter and petty thief from Canada who briefly became a rock superstar, the front man of a nine-member group that sold millions of records and won two Grammys for “Blood, Sweat & Tears,” which beat out the Beatles’ “Abbey Road” for best album of 1969. Calling out amid a jazzy parade of horns, keyboards and percussion, Clayton-Thomas’ urgent shout was a signature voice of the era, preaching love on the Motown cover “You’ve Made Me So Very Happy,” a lasting legacy on Laura Nyro’s “And When I Die” and a cool head on his own “Spinning Wheel.” Meanwhile, Blood, Sweat & Tears helped inspire a wave of horn-led bands, among them Chicago, the Electric Flag and Ten Wheel Drive.

“A lot of the guys [in Blood, Sweat & Tears] would play a Broadway show matinee, then go up to Harlem and play Latin music or R&B and funk at night, or come down to the Village and play pure jazz the next night,” Clayton-Thomas told Bestclassicbands.com in 2023. “I was just a blues player: Give me three chords and I’ve got a song.”

At its peak, Blood, Sweat & Tears’ appeal was so broad it helped lead to the band’s downfall.

Hip enough to perform at the 1969 Woodstock festival, where they were among the highest paid acts, they also were known enough to the establishment to tour Eastern Europe the following year on behalf of the State Department. When Clayton-Thomas and other band members denounced the Communist regimes on the other side of the Cold War, Rolling Stone’s David Felton wrote that “the State Department got its money worth.” Counterculture Yippies would turn up at a 1970 Blood, Sweat & Tears show at Madison Square Garden, carrying obscene banners outside and dumping manure by the front gate.

The band had practical reasons for going along with the government: Clayton-Thomas, who had allegedly wielded a gun at his girlfriend, had been denied a green card and faced deportation. But after topping the charts in 1970 with the album “Blood, Sweat & Tears 3,” their appeal soon faded. A burned-out Clayton-Thomas left the group in 1972, and neither he nor the remaining musicians ever regained their old stature. Blood, Sweat & Tears would continue recording over the next few years, and even briefly reunited with Clayton-Thomas, who went on to release more than a dozen solo albums and tour on his own for decades.

Beginning under a licensing agreement reached in 1984, Clayton-Thomas toured as “Blood, Sweat Tears” for 20 years with a revolving roster of bandmates. A 1994 Times review of a show at the Coach House in San Juan Capistrano reported that “BS&T’s formula has legs, that its music has withstood the test of time. Indeed, in a world full of today’s pop harmonic minimalism, the sound of trumpets, trombones, guitar and sax backing a singer somehow seems fresh, even if it has been around for so long,” and Clayton-Thomas “still has all the enthusiasm and buzz-saw roughness that gave his voice its distinctive quality way back when.”

In 2005, BS&T re-formed (without Clayton-Thomas, who continued his solo career) and has toured since with various lead singers.

Clayton-Thomas was inducted into the Canadian Music Hall of Fame in 1996. “Spinning Wheel,” covered by everyone from James Brown to TV star Barbara Eden, was voted into the Canadian Songwriters Hall of Fame a decade later.

Born David Henry Thomsett on Sept. 13, 1941, in Kingston upon Thames, near London, and raised near Toronto and Ottawa, he was the son of a Canadian World War II veteran and of a pianist-entertainer who helped inspire her son’s interest in music. Thomsett was lucky to have the chance. He fought violently with his father, was living in the streets by his mid-teens and by age 20 was serving time in a reformatory for vagrancy, assault and other crimes.

An old guitar, left behind by a fellow inmate, changed his life. He taught himself to play and began spending extensive time in the early 1960s around Toronto’s Yonge Street music “strip,” where peers included the American rockabilly star Ronnie Hawkins, a mentor to Robbie Robertson and other future members of the Band and a guide for Thomsett early in his career.

Eager to reinvent himself, he changed his last name to Clayton-Thomas while leading his own groups. In the mid-’60s, he released such albums as “Sings Like It Is” and had a hit single with the antiwar rocker “Brainwashed.” He would also befriend a rising star, Joni Mitchell, whose childlike “Circle Game” helped inspire “Spinning Wheel,” and the venerable John Lee Hooker, who would indirectly contribute to Clayton-Thomas’ breakthrough in the U.S.

The band Blood, Sweat & Tears, including David Clayton-Thomas, far right, from the documentary “What the Hell Happened to Blood, Sweat & Tears?”

(Sony Music Archives)

Hooker had encouraged Clayton-Thomas to move to New York, where the American bluesman had an engagement at the Cafe Au Go Go in Greenwich Village. When Hooker unexpectedly departed for a tour of Europe, club owner Howard Solomon needed a replacement and recruited Clayton-Thomas.

“So I played him a couple songs on the guitar,” Clayton-Thomas told Bestclassicbands.com. “He said, ‘Do you have a band?’ I said, ‘Sure,’ and went out into Greenwich Village looking for anybody carrying a guitar case or even looking like a musician, and we put together a little band and we opened there that night. We ended up staying there for several months.”

Around the same time, session man-producer Al Kooper was looking to form a jazz-rock group and was joined by such musicians as guitarist Steve Katz, drummer Bobby Colomby and horn players Randy Brecker and Jerry Weiss. They called themselves Blood, Sweat & Tears, releasing the debut album “Child Is Father to the Man” early in 1968. Although praised by Rolling Stone publisher Jann Wenner as “a fine, exemplary group,” members were torn between those allied with Kooper and those who thought his vocals too weak to attract a substantial audience.

By the end of the year, Kooper and others had departed, and the band was seeking a new singer. After Judy Collins saw Clayton-Thomas perform, she recommended him to Colomby.

“I got home and just a couple of days later, Bobby Colomby called me up and said, ‘Hey, Kooper’s gone. We got four guys left out of the nine. And we still got a record contract with Columbia. Do you want to come down and try out for the band?’ ” Clayton-Thomas told Bestclassicbands.com. ”I said, ‘You’re damn right.’ I knew [bassist] Jim Fielder real well and I knew they were superb musicians. So I was on the next plane. We had a rehearsal that afternoon, an audition, and it was instant magic. We just knew right off the bat.”

Clayton-Thomas is survived by his daughters, Ashleigh Clayton-Thomas and Christine Graham.

Italie writes for the Associated Press.

A cross section of a 250-year-old Pasadena oak tree that was uprooted in a 1993 windstorm is among the first things visitors will see upon entering the Huntington’s new exhibit, “This Land Is…” Jagged cracks in the trunk, which was once rooted in the Huntington’s lawn, are feebly held together by wooden joints.

It’s a fitting emblem of what’s to come in a long-planned show curated to coincide with the country’s upcoming semiquincentennial, and crafted to pose land itself as central to the country’s complex past. After taking in the exhibit, attendees can draw their own conclusions about the land’s role as a “geographical and metaphorical space of promise, struggle, and belonging.”

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On a recent late afternoon, the Pasadena sun drilled down on the facade of the Huntington’s MaryLou and George Boone Gallery, where the show’s organizers waited beside four chiseled columns with their hands tucked behind their backs, swaying in anticipation.

“It’s the first time anyone is seeing it,” said Linde B. Lehtinen, the museum’s senior curator of photography.

Joining her are Josh Garrett-Davis, curator of Western American history, and Armando Pulido, assistant curator for special projects. All three smile with excitement.

For the better part of the last two and a half years, Lehtinen and Garrett-Davis have spearheaded the curation of “This Land Is…,” which opens Sunday and runs through early next year.

For them the fallen oak tree represents hope amid disturbance: Another once-towering elder on the museum’s North Vista was uprooted during a windstorm in 2025 — one of its acorns has since sprouted and now stands more than 6-feet tall.

Still, it only brushes the surface of an exhibition that seamlessly draws upon a plethora of works crafted across U.S. history. Want to plan a visit? Here are five things you shouldn’t miss seeing.

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“This machine kills fascists,” etched on the back of Woody Guthrie’s guitar on display at The Huntington.  (Robert Gauthier/Los Angeles Times)

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A closer view of the “This Machine Kills Facists” etching.  (Robert Gauthier/Los Angeles Times)

Woody Guthrie’s guitar, inscribed with ‘This Machine Kills Fascists’

In 1940, Woody Guthrie sat in a Midtown Manhattan hotel, toiling over lyrics for what would become “This Land Is Your Land.” Today, it’s been adopted as a quasi-anthem for the U.S. and the epitome of American progressivism.

For this exhibition, the museum acquired Guthrie’s C.F. Martin and Co. guitar, a seamless blend of spruce, mahogany, celluloid, ebony and mother-of-pearl. On its back, a carved inscription reads, “This Machine Kills Fascists.”

“The idea for ‘This Land Is…’ emerged … because the scope and breadth of his voice in terms of his activism and how prolific he was … and thinking about how he reflected on and experienced American land,” Lehtinen said.

Alongside the guitar is a copy of the Declaration of Independence, annotated by John McKesson, secretary of New York’s Fourth Provincial Congress, in the days following July 4, 1776. According to Lehtinen, the two objects were paired as instruments of protest and change.

“We talked to [Guthrie’s] granddaughter Anna Canoni, and she said to us at one point that he used guitars like pens or tools, and that was so appropriate to how we were thinking about its relationship to this document,” she added.

A map of the Butte Community, Gila River Relocation Center drawn by an internee.

(Robert Gauthier/Los Angeles Times)

Japanese flower farmers photographed before, during and after internment

Not far from the Guthrie guitar is a panoramic portrait of the Kuromi family, posing amid a flower farm that stood where Los Feliz Boulevard is now. To its right is a watercolor painting of the Gila River War Relocation Center in Arizona, where many members of the family were forcibly transported to and imprisoned during World War II.

“I was looking at a historic preservation report, and the name was the same as my mechanic in Los Feliz,” Garrett-Davis said. “The next time I went to get my oil changed, I took a printout of that panorama and was going to show it to them and ask, ‘Do you know anything about this? Is this related?’

“I walked into their office, and a copy of that photo had been on their wall for years. In 10 years, I had never noticed it,” he said with a laugh.

After their internment, the Kuromi family returned to their farm in 1945 to find their equipment stolen. The process of regaining access to their land was slow, but they eventually settled back in, and operated the farm until losing their lease in 1961.

‘A Harvest of Death’ and mail from home on the Civil War front

One of the most grotesque displays on view is an albumen print of an 1863 photo titled “A Harvest of Death,” taken by Timothy H. O’Sullivan after the Battle of Gettysburg. Within its frame lies the bodies of fallen soldiers, sprawled out and lifeless on the grass.

“That evocative title signals some of the other things that we have been thinking about, whether it’s looking at gardens or loss … in this case, these are bodies that have been left, and they’re decomposing,” Lehtinen said.

Paired with the print is a letter from a young woman named Harriet Bailey to her uncle on the front lines of the Civil War, containing seeds delicately etched with drawings of a ship, facesand a dog. The two pieces represent a stark contrast in experiences during the same conflict, once again touching upon the theme of hope amid disturbance.

“This is a remnant of home that he’s actually being sent while on the battlefield,” she continued. “So, the joy and lightness to what is an incredibly somber moment in American history.”

“Archiving the Watershed” is a collection of artifacts from the Colorado River assembled by Otis R. “Dock” Marston on display.

(Robert Gauthier/Los Angeles Times)

The Colorado River, mapped out through an adventurer’s eyes

This display is described as a “tiny slice” of the Huntington’s archive on Otis Reed “Dock” Marston, a historian and river runner who made it his life’s goal to collect information on the Colorado River. According to Garrett-Davis, Marston had around 185 binders full of photographs, often placed on a cut-out map of where they were taken and organized mile-by-mile, from below the U.S.-Mexico border all the way into Utah.

This taps into a focal point of the exhibition: adapting it to a West Coast perspective. In this way, the idea of independence is viewed expansively as it unfolds across time and place.

“The Huntington has a wonderful collection of presidential papers and documents relating to the Colonial era, but we also have materials on California … from the lens of the West,” said Huntington President Karen R. Lawrence.

“We can show the West’s visual culture at the same time that we can show the original copies of the Declaration of Independence … we have a breadth that’s quite rare.”

Artist Noni Olabiisi’s, “Troubled Island” mural on canvas, depicting the struggling of the Haitian revolution.

(Robert Gauthier/Los Angeles Times)

‘Troubled Island’ and a mirrored struggle

The Haitian Revolution may seem out of place in an exhibition celebrating the U.S., but Haiti was the second independent nation in the Western Hemisphere. Its independence from the French was proclaimed in 1804, just two decades after the American colonies signed the Treaty of Paris.

In the mural “Troubled Island,” Noni Olabisi chronicles the Haitian struggle for independence, including how suffering under French colonists led to the 1791 slave rebellion. The piece was first painted for the William Grant Still Arts Center in West Adams in 2003, referencing an opera of the same name.

The opera was composed by Still with a libretto from the Missouri-born poet, playwright, novelist and social activist Langston Hughes, who connected Haiti’s struggle for freedom to his home country’s.

“We wanted to focus on parts that might seem peripheral but are actually quite central to American history,” Garrett-Davis said.

Three years later, Olabasi would render the same powerful mural on canvas.

VENEZUELA Fury fumed at new husband Noah and ranted “I’m trying to talk” after he made a noisy interruption during her latest TikTok.

The Netflix star and newlywed, 16, was talking to her social media fans about how her glowing tan had started to fade when her spouse chipped in.

The teenage newlyweds have just returned from their £30k honeymoon and are settling into life as a married couple.

Though Noah’s love for playing live music, now the pair are back on home turf, appeared to have left her irked.

Venezuela was seen in a white top and glammed up with red lippie, speaking direct to the camera after one fan quipped: “They toned the tan down”.

The teen left her brunette locks in a poker straight style and accessorised with silver hoop earrings.

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STUNNING WIFE

Venezuela Fury looks incredible as she shows off outfit in her static home

She flaunted her glittering diamond ring and glam nail extensions for her clip, clearly eager to make some strong TikTok content.

The TV star told one of her online followers: “I know how pale I am, but you don’t understand how hard I work to get that colour”.

Noah can be heard in the background and he asked: “Who is that?” to which she replied: “I am making a video”.

Attempting to continue her clip, she said: “And the magazine made me look so pale”.

Noah then sat on the sofa and began to strum his guitar, prompting her to squeal: “I am trying to talk!”

She added: “Does anyone else get driven insane by a guitar?

“Go, sing!”

Noah then interjected: “Don’t delete it,” referring to the clip, and she retorted: “I’m not deleting it, I haven’t deleted it.

“Anyway I give up!

“Noah’s a great guitar player because I can’t talk,” before urging him to “sing then sing with confidence”.

Noah, mid flow, could then be heard in the background as he said: “Whose ringing my phone this time of day oh my God,” during an interruption to his performance.

Fans were quick to comment on the light-hearted lovers’ tiff.

One wrote: “Stop they obviously adore each other”.

A second posted: “You two are so cute he adores and loves you and ya picked a go one x” as a third joked: “Welcome to married life”.

A fan wrote: “That was the most chaotic video I understand with the random guitar noise tho,” as another noted: “I can see who is the boss in that house”.

One then referred to At Home With The Furys star’s role as the head of her six siblings and posted: “You being the oldest sibling has given you great patience”.

A user then quipped: “I can see who is the boss in that house”.

Following her lavish wedding earlier this month, Venezuela has traded her parents’ £8million mansion on the Isle of Man for a plush static home in East Riding of Yorkshire.

The young wife, who is the daughter of Tyson, 37, and Paris, 36, yesterday revealed her glam new wardrobe.

She also got a chance to show off her impressive tan from her luxury honeymoon.

Venezuela and Noah tied the knot on May 16, in a no expense spared wedding.

They then headed off on their lavish honeymoon to Marbella, as they continued to celebrate their marriage.

Onlookers said that the couple “couldn’t stop smiling” during their holiday.

One source told The Sun: “They looked completely smitten. Everyone in the restaurant noticed them straight away.”

Venezuela’s parents Tyson and Paris paid for their lavish honeymoon as a wedding present.

Meanwhile, before heading off on their romantic trip, Venezuela gave fans a tour of her and Noah’s marital home.

Along with their wedding and their expensive honeymoon, Venezuela’s parents also paid for the static home and gave her a cash lump sum.

A source previously revealed to us: “Tyson and Paris gave Venezuela and Noah a wedding present of £5million to kick-start their life, obviously, they were over the moon.

“Some family members thought it was a lot of money for a young couple so there were some mixed feelings – but it’s up to Tyson and Paris.

“Tyson also paid for the honeymoon and got them a traditional gypsy wagon as a sentimental gift. Tyson’s got one in his front yard.

Maya Hawke sits at a picnic table in Griffith Park with an iced tea and a small notebook and happily reports that she still likes her new record.

“Every other album cycle I’ve done, by the time I got to the point where the album came out, I hated it,” says the 27-year-old singer and actor. “I was just exhausted by the internet and by being public, and I wouldn’t want to post about it. So I kind of tried to build this rollout where it could be enjoyable. And it seems to be working.”

On this recent morning, she’s about a week and a half from releasing “Maitreya Corso,” a set of deep-thinking folk-pop songs about love and art and how the two intersect; to help drum up interest in the LP, Hawke’s fourth, she’s on tour playing intimate live gigs like the one she did last night at the Troubadour, where she was accompanied by Christian Lee Hutson, with whom she made the record.

Hutson, who’s known for his work with Phoebe Bridgers, is also Hawke’s husband: After collaborating on her 2022 album “Moss” and 2024’s “Chaos Angel,” the two were married this past Valentine’s Day in Hawke’s hometown of New York. (You may have seen the pictures in People magazine of the couple on the street with Hawke’s parents, Ethan Hawke and Uma Thurman, and her castmates from “Stranger Things.”)

As we talk, Hawke wears the same vintage Beastie Boys T-shirt she had on at the Troubadour; when we’re finished, she’s got a flight to catch to Denver for her and Hutson’s next show.

I was struck last night by the intense eye contact between you and your husband.
I’ve never played guitar before onstage, and so I think a lot of that is me being nervous and wanting to keep rhythm. I’m looking at his eyes but also at his hands. His chordal shapes are different than mine but I’m following the rhythm to make sure I’m staying in the pocket.

Why didn’t you play guitar before?
I’ve been playing since I was 11, but I reached a point where I was getting better a lot slower than my brother was or than other people in my life. You pick up the guitar to play and then a bunch of guys sit down next to you and they’re like, “Oh, can we jam?” And you’re like, “I don’t know if I can jam. I was trying to write a song and now you’re noodling all over me. You know what? I’ll just put it down.” Later, when I started making music professionally, I met all these extraordinary musicians, and I thought: Why would I play guitar when I’m not as good as you are? Then I really hated doing shows.

Because of that?
I’m not a dancer — I don’t want to be a pop star and do dance moves. I don’t have a big Adele voice. And standing up there and just singing — I was like, I should be at a poetry reading. So I made myself a promise that if I made another record I would have to play guitar and write songs that I can play.

It’s funny: You were both super locked-in during the songs, but then between them your banter was extremely loose.
I wanted to build a show that was a concert I would want to go see. I’m weird — I don’t love concerts, but I do I like it when people talk. I can hear the record at home — what I don’t get at home is a sense of the person.

Who would you say are some of music’s great between-song talkers?
Hmm.

I think Adele might be the best I’ve seen.
She’s really good. I saw her once when I was younger — I had a year where my dad took me to see all the biggest women of that year. I remember thinking: When I leave the theater, I’m filled only with joy and no jealousy because I could never do what she’s doing. That’s a gift from God, and I’m not in competition with that gift.

But after she hits you with that, she’ll just freestyle for three or four minutes.
That’s what I want too — I want to see some humanity, especially these days when everybody is being force-fed so much perfection and so much unattainable grace.

There are a tremendous number of words on this record.
It’s very verbose.

Why?
I love words — lyrics are my favorite part of songs. One of the first songs that got written for this record was “Devil You Know,” which was like an experiment where I wrote this poem in free verse. I’ve been in a fight with my husband about free verse versus poetic form. He’s pro-free-verse, I’m anti-free-verse.

What’s your beef?
My beef is: Free verse is great — I wish you could have spent a little more time making it rhythmically sound.

To you it feels like —
Like a first draft. The confines of a structure make your brain work in a different way: How do I get this idea across in a sonnet or a villanelle? But I tried writing this free verse thing, and I really liked it and wanted to write more things like that. Normally, I love the arrow of a Willie Nelson lyric, which is: What’s the simplest way I can say the most complicated thing? And I have some of that on this record, like in “Bring Home My Man.” But I also was like, What’s the most complicated way I can say the simplest thing?

OK, speaking of that: I read the essay you had this philosopher Justin Smith-Ruiu write about the album. I understood probably 11% of it.
I’m obsessed with him. I read his Substack religiously — it’s called the Hinternet. He’s just a brilliant genius, and I was like, I don’t know what he’s gonna say, and I don’t know if it’ll make sense to anyone, but it’ll make sense to me.

Honestly, some of the songs might also have gone over my head. How important is it to you that the listener grasps everything that’s going on in your music?
Zero percent important. I want people to take from it what they take from it. One of the coolest things in my life has been putting out songs and having people form crazy personal attachments — sometimes communal attachments, where all the people think it’s about the same thing and they’re all wrong. That’s so much more interesting to me than if they just thought it was exactly what I thought it was.

How do you listen to the songs you love? Are you trying to figure out where they came from?
Yes, but I don’t care if I’m right. I’ve had many a debate about what [Elliott Smith’s] “Say Yes” is about — gone through the lyrics with friends and been like, “Wouldn’t you say that this supports my theory?” But it doesn’t matter to me what it is. It’s just fun to try to connect all the dots.

Maya Hawke and Christian Lee Hutson in New York in March.

(Ilya S. Savenok / Getty Images for Tibet House US)

Break down the chronology of your and Christian’s relationship. You made this record not as married people but —
As engaged people.

How did that compare to the previous album?
When we made “Chaos Angel” we were maybe in a slightly uncanny valley of being friends who were in love but not together at all. But our working dynamic has always been pretty amazing, even from when we met doing “Moss.” Christian was really the person who made me want to play guitar and write music. He was like, “What do you mean your music isn’t good enough? Why, because you didn’t go to jazz school? I didn’t go to jazz school.” That kind of belief really shaped my journey from “Moss” until this record.

Are you the type of person who needs a facilitator?
I really enjoy support and encouragement, and I often need permission.

I wonder why.
Just a couple of weeks ago, I was talking to someone, and I was like, I want to spend less time with this person, but I want them to want to spend less time with me. I don’t want to be the one to draw the boundary — I need their permission to draw a boundary between us. My therapist was like, “We can work on that.”

Is this classic child-actor people-pleasing stuff?
I wasn’t a child actor.

When did you start?
I did my first audition at 15 but I didn’t get the part. Then I didn’t end up working until I was 18.

I’d argue that at 18 the world still sees you —
As a young person, yeah.

But I take your point.
I don’t know what it has to do with. It’s not exactly people-pleasing. There’s definitely an oldest-sibling thing I have a bit. I’m very interested in sibling-order theory. I think it’s extremely influential to who people are — better than astrology, for sure.

You’re older?
I’m oldest of five. Generally, when I meet eldest siblings, there’s a kind of interesting energy of someone who both needs to be in charge and needs a lot of permission.

Has anything changed about the way you and Christian collaborate since you got married?
We’re really happy, and we’ve been really happy. It’s awesome that we were friends for a long time first. When I got into relationships in the past, I would kind of pick the person that liked me the least. I didn’t like myself very much, and I thought that someone who didn’t like me must be a genius and that I could overcome my inherent ineptitude by getting them to like me. And in order to get them to like me, I would transform myself into becoming a person that they would like. Then we’d have a very happy couple of months until I got bored of not being myself. What being friends with someone first did was that it made it very hard to trick them.

Some of these new songs seem very clearly to be about the two of you.
Totally. A lot of this record is about how much I learned about what love really is — what it could be and how to be good to another person. My ideas about those things really transformed in the last couple of years.

As a child of divorce, were you ambivalent about marriage?
I think if anything it was the reverse. I wanted to get married twice in my life. Once was when I was 18 years old, and it was definitely mental illness: I want the nuclear family that I didn’t have, and I want it now. Then I was kind of neutral on whether or not I would get married. Then I met Christian, and I was like, “I don’t know if I’m ready to be in this kind of relationship, but you’re my person.” And we stayed in each other’s lives until it ended up being the right time.

Plenty of people find their person without wanting to have a wedding.
Are you a romantic?

I’m not sure I know.
When I was younger, I imagined myself in a sort of French marriage where we both cheated on each other but didn’t talk about it and had a lot of mutual respect. But I didn’t find a French marriage — I found my best friend. You know what a piece of s— I am and you still love me? I wake up every morning still happy to see you? That’s a miracle — we gotta have a party.

Last thing: Did finishing “Stranger Things,” which had defined the structure of your life for so long — did that change the way you think about making music?
It’s changed the way I think about everything. Basically, from about four months before the show wrapped until a year after that, I was pretty freaked out.

Because you knew a big change was coming?
Because I didn’t know how I would be reborn out of it. Even when I was resentful of being like, “I’m booked, and I can’t do this other thing that I want to do,” the show was so grounding. I was really lost without it. I’m not freaked out about it anymore, but I’m in a renegotiation of the structure of what I want my life to look like.

Do you feel some kinship with your former castmates on that?
Everyone freaked out in different amounts and at different times and to different degrees of wanting to talk about it. But we all collectively had a very, very intense time moving through the last season.

You’ve got upcoming acting projects —
I didn’t actually die like I thought I was going to.

But did the end of that job create space for music to play a bigger role in your life?
In some ways, it could become smaller. I had an ensemble part in a show that takes a year to film, which creates a tremendous amount of waiting-around time. I think that’s why so many “Stranger Things” actors have musical projects: You can’t film anything else but you can sit in your house with your keyboard. What I’ve really been feeling since the show ended was an invigorated desire to double down on acting. I’ll never not make music, but the music industry is difficult for me. I don’t know if it’s just that I was raised in the acting industry and I understand the things that are f— up about it better.

The music biz feels more opaque to you?
I struggle with some of the things that one should do in that industry to grow their project. When you’re promoting a movie, you’re on a team promoting an external item. When you promote a record, you’re doing self-promotion: “Buy my stuff. Do my thing. Put me on your chest.” It feels a little too “Look at me,” which isn’t my comfort zone.

Better start making those TikToks.
Yeah, I can’t. I really can’t.