music

Early in “The Drama,” things are still good between Emma (Zendaya) and Charlie (Robert Pattinson). The young happy couple, about a week away from getting married, have enjoyed a whirlwind romance. As this dark comedy’s opening credits roll, they’re blissfully practicing their first dance, laughing and stumbling as they try to get their twirls and steps right.

But the scene’s highlight is the song that plays in the background, airy, gentle and simple. Spare guitar chords give way to a female voice that sounds unpolished but beautiful: “I want to lay with you/ In an open field/ Where yellow flowers are suns of Earth.”

For many viewers, this will be the first time they’ve ever heard “I Want to Lay With You,” one of the most gorgeous love songs of the 1970s. It’s also likely they’ll have no idea who the singer is. Her name is Shira Small, and in 1974, she recorded an incredible album, “The Line of Time and the Plane of Now,” when she was 17. She never recorded another — at least, not yet. Now nearly 70, Small may finally be getting her moment in the spotlight.

“I’m cracking up,” says Small over Zoom from her Cooperstown, N.Y., home, “because I had no idea whatsoever that that movie was coming out until my dear sister informed me via you.” Flashing a relaxed smile and sporting long gray hair, Small knows little about the controversial “The Drama,” an A24 film with a heavily guarded twist.

Robert Pattinson and Zendaya in the movie “The Drama.”

(A24)

But it’s becoming a delightfully frequent occurrence that Small learns after the fact that her music is featured prominently in a movie or television show. “The record company does what they do and then they send me royalties and I get it in a statement,” she explains. “I had a song that HBO bought for ‘Pause With Sam Jay.’ They sent me an email that was not even to me — it was this interdepartmental thing. At the bottom, it said, ‘Oh, by the way, it airs tonight.’”

Jemma Burns, music supervisor for “The Drama,” had been a fan of Small’s album, thinking “I Want to Lay With You” would be perfect for this idyllic scene, right before Emma and Charlie’s relationship implodes over a disturbing revelation that turns their dream wedding into a nightmare.

“He was trying to set up the rom-com tone,” says Burns of the movie’s writer-director Kristoffer Borgli, “one that would contrast with the modernity of the setting and where the film goes. He wanted something that was from a bygone era, but also something that felt disarmingly charming. The two lead characters are very switched-on, fashionable, arty. So it felt like something they would’ve had in their record collection.”

The youngest of five siblings, Small always loved singing. But even as an adolescent growing up in Harlem, she felt like an old soul, her thoughts running deeper than the average kid’s.

“My focus was on not understanding war and hatred and bigotry,” she says. “I was seriously into trying to make love happen everywhere.”

Against the backdrop of the war in Vietnam and the Black Power movement, Small was well on her way to becoming a hippie, a transformation amplified by her enrollment in a private Quaker boarding academy, George School, in Newtown, Penn., on a full scholarship. When she arrived at George School, Small recalls, laughing, it was “very rich and very white. But I’ve always been a flotation device. I can walk around like I don’t have a clue about things.”

Shira Small, photographed in 1971 at George School in Newtown, Penn.

(Courtesy of Shira Small)

At George School, Small sported an Afro and smoked weed. She was drawn to theater and music, impressing music teacher and classical pianist Lars Clutterham, who saw she had talent. They worked on songs together, with Small coming up with the lyrics and vocal melodies. Every student had to complete a senior project, so Small proposed that hers be an album. Not long after, she and Clutterham drove to a Philadelphia studio for a one-day session.

The 10 songs on “The Line of Time and the Plane of Now” — each recorded in only one take — mix folk, soul and jazz, radiating innocence. The arrangements, awash in old-school analog warmth, are straightforward: guitar or piano supplemented with drums, leaving plenty of space for Small’s lilting voice, which contains both idealism and, even as a teen, traces of real-life sorrow.

Her mother died while she was at George School, inspiring “My Life’s All Right,” a ballad about surviving tough times, which later appeared on the Sam Jay show. “Eternal Life” sprang out of her in one burst, celebrating the power of love to transcend life’s harsh realities. As for the movie’s “I Want to Lay With You,” it was about a boy Small liked. She just can’t remember who anymore.

“It was somebody who was just as much a friend as a person that I had a crush on,” she recalls. “I honestly felt that we could have a life together.”

Small laughs at her adolescent self. “Like I knew what it would be like to have a freaking life together! To be able to wake up with somebody and have a beautiful day and always make them smile.”

According to Small, George School’s parents and students raised money to pay for the album and 300 copies were produced. “It was a joyous time,” she recalls. “I was on my way — to somewhere!” After graduation, though, she struggled to find her footing, eventually graduating summa cum laude from the City University of New York with a theater degree. But then she chose pre-med, becoming a physician assistant.

“When I became pre-med, it was so hard for me that I was just tunnel-visioned,” explains Small about why she said goodbye to music. “I had to devote my whole self to it. It was so all-encompassing that I could think of nothing else.”

But there was another reason she walked away from music. From an early age, Small suffered debilitating stage fright. “It was so bad that it would twist my stomach into a knot,” she recalls. She gutted it out to do plays at George School and, later, record her album. After a while, though, “It just got to be too much.”

Still, didn’t she miss singing? “Constantly,” replies Small, who retired about five years ago from the medical profession. “I sang unconsciously a lot. My patients always picked up on it — they’d be like, ‘Every time you come in, you’re singing.’”

But although Small abandoned music, “The Line of Time and the Plane of Now” never went away. In 2006, the Numero Group, an archival record label, put together a compilation, “Wayfaring Strangers: Ladies From the Canyon,” devoted to under-the-radar female singers from the 1970s. Numero Group co-founder Ken Shipley made sure “Eternal Life” was included.

“I was the first person to ever reach out to Shira,” he says proudly in a separate phone interview. Shipley heard “Eternal Life” on a burned CD of femme-folk artists that was making the industry rounds at the turn of the millennium while he was putting together his “Wayfaring Strangers” lineup. “Shira was a top want for me.”

The Numero Group put “Eternal Life” on Spotify in 2013. But when the label released the full album digitally in 2022, “I don’t know that anybody really cared,” Shipley says. Undeterred, he reissued it on vinyl the following year. Maybe listeners just needed time.

“Music finds a way,” Shipley says. “Music’s like water. It’s going to get down the creek into the river into the ocean. It’s going to find its audience.”

Sure enough, strange serendipitous moments started happening for Small. A future bandmate’s ex had one of her songs on a playlist, having no idea it was Small. She recently started working part-time at a local opera house and one of the opera singers adored “Eternal Life,” unaware that Small was an employee.

And now, royalty checks arrive for the usage of her songs in films like “The Drama.” It still feels unreal to Small that her album generates revenue. “It was never for commercial purposes,” she says. “I can’t believe that I am collecting any royalties on that music and that it just keeps going and going.”

Small’s husband died in 2019 after 34 years of marriage. It sent her spiraling, but then something remarkable happened. “The day I came out of it, the music was gushing out of me so fast that I couldn’t keep up with it,” she says. “I had to walk around with a voice memo. I hadn’t spoken to Lars in more than a decade. I sent him all of these voice memos and he sent me a note: ‘Shira, you still got it.’”

In 2024, she released her first song in 50 years, “Why,” which lays out her fears for the world. Her voice is different, deeper, possessing a lifetime of experience that her teenage self couldn’t have possibly imagined. Small is now plotting out an album and has some shows lined up. Even better, she’s worked through her stage fright.

Eventually, she’ll perform her old songs, but she’s figuring out how to hit that higher register from her youth. “I’ve gone through decades of hormones and cigarettes and all the other things that I did that I’m happy I lived through,” she says, wryly.

“I still have a thing about yellow flowers in open fields,” she admits. “We have these huge sunflower fields here. The whole idea of being in such a beautiful place with yellow flowers that light up a great day is what popped into my head when I wrote that lyric.”

I ask her what she makes of that young woman she hears on “The Line of Time and the Plane of Now” today.

“I know her so well,” replies Small. “You know why? Because she’s still here. I am, at this point, everybody I’ve ever been ever, leading up to this moment.

“I still feel the same way about many things,” she continues. “I’m probably angrier now than I was when I was a child, but I still have this underlying thing about looking at a bigger picture to help me keep my lid on. When I think back on ‘Eternal Life’ and ‘My Life’s All Right,’ that music was born from my core. And my core does not have an age.”

The “Cultural Re-existence” column will provide insights into how our ancestral practices, habits, customs, and traditions remain alive today because Venezuelans preserve them through the human spirit they embody and amplify. These are expressions of women and men grounded in reality, history, and a consciousness of their subjective revolutionary role, as well as their responsibility and commitment to defending life.

March, in addition to being the month honoring women, is a month of celebration centered on Venezuela’s most widespread traditional rhythm: joropo. (1) And although this is a community tradition with unique variations throughout Venezuela, on March 19 the town of Elorza in Apure state hosts a ten-day festival that draws thousands of people from all over Venezuela and other countries, to participate and enjoy concerts until dawn, joropo llanero singing and dancing contests, sports and recreational activities linked to the Llano culture, as well as culinary and artisan fairs. Another iconic date this month is March 15, since in 2014 the Bolivarian government declared “Traditional Venezuelan Joropo in All its Diversity” to be part of the nation’s cultural heritage. From that moment, this date has been commemorated as National Joropo Day.

As a community-based festival, the Venezuelan joropo in its various forms—in the eastern, north-central coastal, llanos, western, and Andean regions—has seen Venezuelan women become committed cultural creators who are conscious of their community’s identity, the very identity that has allowed them to endure since colonial times, keeping alive the feelings, thoughts, and actions that extend beyond their own lives, into the lives of their children and grandchildren. 

Venezuelan women, as practitioners of the various joropos, have had to fight—as women and as joropo creators—against the Inquisition, the nation-state, and the cultural industry for their right to exist. It is well known that these institutions demonized them for “disturbing devotion,” and even today they compel them to adopt a masculinized representation of their own identity or impose the sexualization of their aesthetic expression. There is a historical debt to acknowledge the heroic insurgency that the practice, creation, and celebration of the various Venezuelan joropos have meant for the Venezuelan people, and this debt is owed primarily to the joroperas [female joropo practitioners] for their unrelenting commitment to our identities, even during the most complex moments of our history as an insurgent people.

For these reasons, we wanted to inaugurate our column with the perspective that Venezuelan women have on this popular community festival. Through Fabiola José, we were invited to the 3rd “Mujer Joropo” (Joropo Women) Gathering, held in honor of singer Cecilia Todd and dancer María Ruíz. This was our cue to attend the “Joropazo” organized at the San Carlos Barracks in Caracas on March 15, and to participate as singers and spectators in this gathering of women, an artistic-cultural initiative that brought together singers, dancers, and musicians of all ages, with repertoires integrating both the traditional music and dances of our communities and more contemporary musical and choreographic expressions that speak to multigenerational dialogue and the enduring relevance of this popular art form.

Honoring women’s role in joropo

Carolina Veracierta is the organizer of Mujer Joropo. A dancer, writer, designer, and singer, she explained to us that the project “focuses on women not just in a supporting role but as a protagonist, a creator, and carrier of ancestral knowledge.”

“For me, the joropo isn’t just a musical genre or a dance; it’s the language through which my body and my voice express my very essence. It’s the echo of my childhood in Monagas state and the strength that has sustained me on stages far away,” she explained. “When I dance the joropo, I don’t just move my feet; I shake off my sorrows, celebrate my victories, and honor the women who, before me, kept the rhythm in their skirts and in their songs to accompany the milking of cows.”

Asked about the importance of an event featuring women exclusively, Veracierta argued that joropo has historically had “a very masculine narrative” but that women have always been present, “sustaining the rhythm and in tandem with the man’s foot-stomping.”

“Celebrating it among women is an act of sorority and empowerment,” she concluded. “Joropo has the soul of a woman.”

Amaranta Pérez, another artist featured in the event, told us that joropo brings her an immediate jolt of happiness. “It takes me back to my family’s roots between Parmana and Valle de la Pascua [Guárico state], it is a sort of therapy,” she said. “I especially cherish the lyrics that express the love for our people, landscapes, history, and the folk tales from our wonderful authors that are turned into songs.”

Amaranta defended the importance of events like Mujer Joropo to help correct women’s “unequal” participation in the artistic sphere.

For her part, singer, professor, and bassoonist Luisana Pérez affirmed that “joropo for me is synonymous with Venezuela, from its history to the yellow, blue, red and eight stars that make up the national flag.”

Concerning Mujer Joropo, Luisana explained that “it was unusual to see women playing the mandolin, the harp, or the cuatro” and that these kinds of events “are a beautiful way to reclaim the role played by women in joropo.”

More than 20 artists participated in this third edition of Mujer Joropo, demonstrating the commitment of contemporary Venezuelan women to their own history, to the artistic legacy of their ancestors, and to the responsibility of preserving and promoting the heritage they now hold.

From underground communal festivity to national identity manufactured by the music industry

On April 10, 1749, the governor and captain general of Venezuela, Don Luis Francisco de Castellanos, published what may be the first documented reference to the joropo. He did so in the form of a decree banning the Xoropo Escobillado, “…due to its extreme movements, insolence, heel-stomping, and other indecencies, it has been frowned upon by some people of sound mind…”. The official decided to consult the Royal Audience on this matter, likely due to widespread controversy, and in the meantime, warned that those who violated the ban would face public scrutiny plus two years of imprisonment, and women would be “…confined to hospitals for an equal period…”.

Although this is the first formal ban to explicitly name joropo, we cannot overlook the fact that, as early as 1532, the Catholic Church’s published constitutions regulated and prohibited popular festivals in general, especially those where the music and dances of Mulatto, Black, and Indigenous women “…disturb devotion…,” or where both sexes mingle in dance, or those where the veneration of saints was a pretext for throwing a party. 

If we consider that there is evidence that the first vihuelas [medieval Spanish string instrument] arrived in 1529 in the territory we now call Venezuela, and if we acknowledge the express order of the Catholic Monarchs to ship instruments and musicians starting with Columbus’s second voyage (1493), we could infer that between these dates and Governor Castellanos’s ban, there were some 220–250 years of incubation for what would eventually become an irreversible trend in popular culture, which the colonial order had no choice but to accept.

Although the term xoropo has been interpreted as coming from Arabic as jarabe ( شراب , sharab), for the Andalusian researcher, poet, and musician Antonio Manuel Rodríguez Ramos, the root is undoubtedly that of drinking ( شرب , shurib), and he explains that initially, this is how the festival of drinking, singing, dancing, and eating might have been called. And the fact is that drinking –alcohol– was the best way for converts to avoid suspicion from the Tribunal of the Holy Office of the Inquisition, which was formally operational in our country between 1610 and 1821.

Related to other rhythms including fandangos, jácaras, folías, jarabes, and sones, Venezuelan joropos were documented in the independence struggle that led Bolívar’s armies as far as Peru during the nineteenth century. In the mid-twentieth century, one of these joropos, the llanero, was established as the national music style and dance, though it was a version that had certainly lost its communal and rustic character. By then, the music industry, aware of the deep roots these sounds had in Venezuelans, marketed a series of commercial products featuring music, lyrics, and singers stylized to fit institutional, urban, and bourgeois tastes.

As we noted above, on March 15, 2014, the Venezuelan government declared “Traditional Venezuelan Joropo in All its Diversity” as part of the nation’s cultural heritage, recognizing it as an element of identity and unity –not only in many of our festivities and collective expressions throughout the country, but also as a collective process of community organization. The declaration of the diversity of joropos as cultural heritage was the result of a series of debates that took place both within the community of cultural workers and among research specialists.

With the same strategy of asserting the joropo not only as a dance but as a complex cultural system that integrates music, song, dance, poetry, and oral traditions passed down through generations, Venezuela proposed to the UNESCO Intergovernmental Committee for the Safeguarding of the Intangible Cultural Heritage that the Venezuelan joropo be included on the Representative List of the Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity. The committee approved the proposal on December 9, 2025.

Venezuelan joropos thus allow people to come together and reclaim their humanity through the recognition of their own dignity. Through parrandas, festivals for singing, dancing, eating, and drinking, joropo expresses a communal setting where agriculture, cattle rearing, and fishing were the means of sustaining life. Persecuted by the colonial order, homogenized by the nation-state, and commercialized by the music industry through jingle-franchise schemes, Venezuelan joropos also survived the journey from the rural countryside to the oil-driven urban environments.

This continuous history of persecution, denial, whitewashing, and normalization has actually pushed joropo women and men to sneak away, resonate, hold firm, reinvent themselves, and stand out in a permanent process of self-consciousness, recognition, and realization. It is not merely a connection to the land, to love, to our mothers, but to the dream of living in a free land, and the will to produce a cultural liberation project.

Note

(1) With a myriad of local expressions, joropo is the most widespread traditional rhythm in Venezuela. Its execution typically features at least one singer, maracas as percussion, the Venezuelan cuatro [four-stringed instrument], and other string instruments such as the harp or the mandolin. The most well-known variations are the joropo llanero, from the plains region, joropo oriental from the eastern coastal areas and Margarita island, and joropo central from Miranda and Aragua states in the center of the country. Listen to the songs above for examples.

Fabiola José is a Venezuelan singer. She has performed in countries across South America, Africa, Europe, and Asia. Her singles and albums are available on all digital platforms. She hosted and produced “Cantante y Sonante” for Radio Nacional de Venezuela. In 2018–2019, she created a series of videos for social media, published on her YouTube channel #HechoEnCasa. She holds a bachelor’s degree in Music from IUDEM, Caracas (2005); specialized under Maestro Tom Krause in Spain (2007); and an M.A. in Arts and Cultures of the South from UNEARTE, Venezuela (2020).

Fidel Barbarito is a Venezuelan musician and researcher, with a bachelor’s and master’s degrees in music and history, respectively. He teaches in the undergraduate and graduate programs at the National Experimental University of the Arts (UNEARTE). Together with Fabiola José, he promotes several musical projects aimed at disseminating traditional folk repertoires, integrating them with contemporary compositions inspired by these sounds. Joropo llanero. Parranda de reexistencia is one of his published essays.

The views expressed in this article are the authors’ own and do not necessarily reflect those of the Venezuelanalysis editorial staff.

Bo Lueders, guitarist and co-founder of the Chicago-based hardcore metal band Harm’s Way, has died, his bandmates announced “with heavy, broken hearts” Thursday on social media. He was 38.

Lueders “will be remembered for his unwavering empathy and compassion for his friends & family and his magnetic, inimitable presence on & off the stage,” Harm’s Way wrote on Instagram, asking for “grace and privacy” during a difficult time.

No cause of death was provided, but the band offered up the 988 suicide and crisis lifeline to anyone “struggling with depression or urges to self-harm.”

Born Bohan Daniel Lueders in November 1987, the musician co-founded Harm’s Way in 2006 as a side project of the punk band Few and the Proud. It turned into a full-time band that has released five studio albums and five EPs in the years since, with songs including “Human Carrying Capacity,” “Become a Machine” and “Call My Name.”

In a bio posted by the band on Spotify, Lueders took a shot at describing the music on Harm’s Way’s 2018 album, “Posthuman,” which was followed by its fifth album, “Common Suffering,” in 2023.

“To a Harm’s Way fan, I would describe ‘Posthuman’ as a blend of ‘Isolation’ (2011) and ‘Rust’ (2015), but it’s sonically way more insane,” he said. “To anyone else, I would simply say it’s like full on aggression.”

Lueders began the “HardLore” podcast in 2022 with Twitching Tongues frontman Colin Young to chronicle life on the road in the hardcore/punk/metal scene. A new episode — the second part of a two-part interview with Madball singer Freddie Crician — was posted Wednesday.

But on March 19, before that two-parter was done, Young and Lueders posted a “HardLore” episode that broke from format, instead answering listener questions for an hour and a half. One listener asked the hosts what piece of music they wanted to hear last before they died. Young picked “My Way” by Frank Sinatra. His buddy chose another track that was distinctly non-metal and non-punk.

“Mine would be some Björk song, probably. Either ‘Unravel’ or ‘Aurora.’ I just wanna drift and go peacefully,” Lueders said, rubbing both eyes before making a drifting gesture with both hands.

“I think ‘Unravel’ is one of the most beautiful songs ever written.”

A GoFundMe campaign was launched Friday by Young on behalf of Lueders’ “mother Wendy and girlfriend Taylor to help cover the costs of both afterlife & memorial services in Chicago.” The campaign had reached nearly $140,000 by midday.

PIANO Man Billy Joel has recorded a special interview to air during Eurovision thanks to his song named after host city Vienna, I can reveal.

Afterwards, Austrian singer Cesar Sampson, who finished third in 2018, will cover the song before the results are revealed.

I’m told there were hopes Billy could fly over to make a surprise appearance at the contest.

But it was ruled out on health grounds.

Billy was diagnosed last May with a rare neurological disorder that can cause issues with hearing, balance and vision, although he is having physical therapy to treat it.

The musician has already cancelled all of his 2026 concerts, including shows in Edinburgh and Liverpool.

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However, he did make a surprise appearance in Florida on January 2.

A source close to the singer, who will turn 77 a week before the final on May 16, said: “Billy has recorded an interview talking about his love for Vienna and his links to the city, which is all tied into his song.

“Organisers originally hoped he could perform but that was ruled out. They will be making a big deal of this very rare interview with him.”

He has sold more than 160million records and is one of the best-selling artists of all time.

Vienna was released in 1977 as the B-side to Just The Way You Are, and is now among his most popular tracks.

Ultravox’s 1980 hit, also called Vienna, is arguably even more popular.

But frontman Midge Ure certainly won’t be there, as he will be in the middle of a UK tour.

The 70th edition of the contest will take place at the Wiener Stadthalle arena after 166million tuned in to see Austrian singer JJ win with Wasted Love last year.

Celine Dion had been in talks to perform at the 2025 event in Switzerland, but it didn’t happen as she continued to battle Stiff Person Syndrome.

I’ll have to keep my fingers crossed that the Eurovision entries themselves provide plenty of entertainment instead.

The bass genius Thundercat has, to his regret, been spending way too much time absorbing bad news on his phone.

“We are cellphones at this point, basically,” he said. “That’s what life feels like. It’s a weird one we’re living through right now, to say the least. You have to try to stay inspired, to keep moving forward. But like, you’re processing absolute hell and war in the background, and you’re still supposed to look cute.”

In Sunday Funday, L.A. people give us a play-by-play of their ideal Sunday around town. Find ideas and inspiration on where to go, what to eat and how to enjoy life on the weekends.

That whipsaw feeling — processing grief and destruction, while doing your song-and-dance to survive, all via the same rectangle — is the backdrop of Thundercat’s new album, “Distracted,” his fifth LP and first in six years. The album is a typically dense and playful showcase for his extravagant musicality, and packed with guests like ASAP Rocky, Tame Impala and Lil Yachty.

But it’s poignantly introspective on tracks like “What Is Left to Say” and “I Wish I Didn’t Waste Your Time.” “She Knows Too Much” has a touching cameo from his late friend and frequent collaborator Mac Miller.

“After [Miller’s] death, there were a lot of questions, a lot of stones left unturned,” Thundercat said. “But this song came to be from the simplicity of making music between friends. It’s a language, a snapshot. It was a beautiful moment between us.”

Thundercat, born Stephen Bruner, grew up in L.A. immersed in the city’s progressive jazz scene, playing with everyone from Kendrick Lamar to Suicidal Tendencies. These are some of the places around Los Angeles that still keep his inner comics-nerd satiated and musical curiosity fed — no matter what bleak news is blowing up his phone.

9 a.m. Find some coffee that slaps

If I notice that I’m doomscrolling, if stuff is getting a little bit too dark and weird and twisted, I’ll put my phone down and go drink some coffee and get way too much energy. I’ll go to the good old boys at Commissary. That’s good coffee.

My day doesn’t always consist of me picking my instrument up, but it’s more like as it feels right. If I’m not intentionally writing or working on somebody’s music, a lot of the time it’s just me. The time between is just as important as the time spent with music, so it’s learning to be OK without my bass in my hands for a second.

But there’s still so much to learn about harmony and melody from that instrument, you know? Nothing makes up for spending time with an instrument and learning it in a different manner. That’s how Larry Graham came up with slap bass. It has no bounds for what you want to create. It’s just about how far your mind can go with it.

Noon. Pick up a comic book

I find myself to be very much like a Lebowski-like character. The things that I enjoy bring me peace, like fashion and comics. The family at Golden Apple on Melrose have been my family since I was a child. The family there has always looked out for me and been avid supporters of my career. They remember my dad bringing me in — I remember the day that Image Comics premiered at Golden Apple. It’s nothing but love and artistry and great people to meet in Golden Apple — they’ve been one of the through lines in my life that has just been consistent. L.A.’s landscape keeps changing, but Golden Apple has been a beacon of nerdisms.

5 p.m. Fun at the movies

I have always been a fan of Universal CityWalk’s AMC theaters, even though they charge ridiculous prices. Everybody’s trying to keep their industry alive in this moment; it’s of one of those grit-and-bear kind of things. But at the same time, the experience that you have there is absolutely golden.

I love seeing movies there, because there’s so much to do around there. There’s a comic store, Halloween Horror Nights, Nintendo Land. There’s a Hot Topic, because I am a goth hoochie daddy. I’ve been going my whole life. I just enjoy going to the movies there by myself or with friends. Sometimes they get bored, because I will keep choosing to do this, but I don’t care, because it is a movie theater that I love. It’s always a joy to have AMC at Universal City Walk.

8 p.m. Sushi that’s a cut above

One of my favorite restaurants in L.A. is a restaurant by the name of Asanebo. It’s a sushi restaurant that is of very high prestige. The chefs there are very loving and caring. They make the most amazing food on the planet. It’s a beautiful environment — one of the best sushi restaurants, I would say, in the world. But it’s about the history for me, and the family that is built there, from the waitresses to the hosts. They treat you like royalty there.

10 p.m. Fun with friends and all that L.A. jazz

Most of the time, I don’t know what the hell is going on. A lot of the time, I would rather just sit on the couch and watch “Star Trek.” I’m not always wanting to immediately get up and just go sacrifice myself to the nightlife.

I really enjoyed growing up playing gigs all over L.A., but a lot of those places don’t even exist anymore. We could play outside the Hollywood Bowl. We’d play at a dive bar or play at a wedding, but my childhood friendships were linked to to the functionality of music in my life. If we were playing at a musty bar or some weird coffee house, it was like, “I get to play with Kamasi [Washington], and they’re going to pay us in sandwiches.”

I enjoyed The World Stage in Leimert Park. Low End Theory at the Airliner — I’d be hanging out with Flying Lotus or Tyler would drop an album and come up to perform. It was about my friends and hanging with the people that I love.

I think as time progresses, I enjoy spending time with my friends — whatever that entails. If it’s going out to a club and all that, seeing a friend perform, my friend Anderson has a beautiful club called Andy’s. There’s a restaurant called Verse, that’s owned by my friend Manny, that serves absolutely amazing food and has live music. It’s just fantastic. They just erected a Blue Note here in Los Angeles, which is awesome.

Where would you go to listen to a song by me and Channel Tres where you can dance on somebody’s butt? I’m still gonna say Andy’s, but I can finish off the night at Living Room. That’s a good place to listen and enjoy the nightlife, just a great club.

The Coachella Valley Music and Arts Festival is nearly here and our team is already preparing for a weekend full of sunshine, music and Beliebers.

We’re headed to the 25th edition of the festival, which returns to the Empire Polo Club in Indio on April 10-12 and April 17-19 with Sabrina Carpenter, Justin Bieber, Karol G at the top of the bill.

Our crew heading to the desert has literally decades of experience covering the festival, giving us unique insight into one of the world’s most famous music festivals.

So tell us — what do you want to know about Coachella? And what do you want to see from our live coverage in the field?

Are you heading to Indio or celebrating Couch-ella (and its more affordable beverage options) at home? Do you have tried-and-true tips you tell anyone when Coachella comes up in conversation? We want to know about them.

Use the form below to submit your Coachella questions or tips. Check back for our answers, your tips and live updates from the festival’s first weekend at latimes.com/coachella.

Last May, a strange thing happened on the U.S. album charts. Two metal bands (or at least metal-adjacent hard rock acts) scored No. 1 albums in the same month. The genre hadn’t seen multiple bestsellers in the same year since 2019 — and those were from veteran acts. So it was notable when the young U.K. group Sleep Token crushed on streaming and Ghost topped charts with a Taylor Swift-sized vinyl rollout. Meanwhile, avant-garde heavy rockers Deftones became unexpected TikTok darlings and arena stars.

Metal had not-so-quietly reemerged as a commercial force, and not just in the live sphere, where it’s always thrived and continues to grow. Pop culture seemed ready to welcome back a breed of hitmaker thought lost to time — the sleeve-tatted, throat-shredding hard rock star.

So the wider pop world should acquaint itself with the Virginia-born group Bad Omens, whose slam-packed Thursday night show at the Forum in Inglewood reaffirmed that they’re one of the most ambitious and skilled young bands in heavy rock, and have the star wattage and ravenous fan culture to get even bigger.

Bad Omens — with singer Noah Sebastian, bassist Nicholas Ruffilo, guitarist Joakim Karlsson and drummer Nick Folio — are not brand new. They’ve slugged it out on the metalcore and heavy rock circuit for a decade, signed to the small-ish but influential imprint Sumerian Records. But they hit their stride with 2022’s “The Death of Peace of Mind,” which melded a Weeknd-worthy R&B falsetto with rotted, churning guitars and tasteful electronics.

The band became festival headliners and racked up billions of streams, surely aided by Sebastian’s dreamboat-goth-BF good looks and striking range as a vocalist, where he veers from an ear-tickling whisper to an operatic howl and a shriek worthy of Norway in the ‘90s (sometimes on the same song, as he did on “Like a Villain”).

The band has tipped a new album for some time, though for this career-peak arena tour, it had only a handful of new singles in tow. No matter. At the Forum, the band cohered its catalog with an eye-popping stage production, one that made its case as an ultra-modern heavy rock act with the reach to be huge stars, even if they take genuine fame with some ambivalence.

That force-of-gravity was evident in the days leading up to the Forum show, where fans debated how many hours early they needed to be at the Forum to be on the barricades (the consensus — get there by breakfast). Mid-set, Sebastian pointed out one fan whom he recognized from years on the road. “You’ve been coming to see us since we sucked,” he said, laughing.

That commitment wouldn’t be possible if the music didn’t have a preternatural force to speak to current anxieties. From the first notes of its new single “Specter” — a brooding vocal workout for Sebastian that ended on pulverizing riffs — Bad Omens used cutting-edge tools and underground influence to elicit arena-rock catharsis.

One early peak of the set came when Jake Duzsik of the L.A. industrial-rock trio Health came out to duet on “The Drain,” a lurching, menacing collaborative single and a standout for both bands. Heavy-rock veterans see something compelling in Bad Omens, which helps situate the band’s pop-savvy tracks like “Left for Good” and “Just Pretend” (a platinum-selling single that wrapped up the main set) with earned feeling rather than calculation.

After the Forum show, I understood why it’s taking them so long to finish a new LP. Sebastian has been open about his mental health struggles. The band is pitched right at a difficult juncture at which their artistic ambitions abut real, life-altering attention.

They can make songs like “What It Cost” (a hooky, lecherous electro track that I’d totally believe was co-written with Max Martin if you told me) and the serrated metal that them earned them their fanbase and would cause a revolt without. It’s not easy to pair the two in a natural way. (Just ask Code Orange, once pitched as metal’s breakout stars who got bogged down in electronic experiments.) Having a K-pop-caliber devoted fanbase is great on the way up, but it’s a tense relationship.

But first and foremost, Bad Omens are gifted musicians, and whatever eldritch magic Sebastian wields onstage will always be bolstered by a serious band contorting metal, dark pop and electronic music. I saw nothing that would stop that one fan from coming back for 10 more years of Bad Omens shows, and plenty to suggest others are going to follow him.

You thought the Oscars brought awards season to an end? Think again. The iHeartRadio Music Awards took place Thursday night with performances and appearances by Taylor Swift, Miley Cyrus, Sombr, Weezer, Alex Warren, Shaboozey and John Mellencamp, among other stars. Here’s a glimpse at the best looks from the red carpet and the best moments of the show itself, which took place at the Dolby Theatre in Los Angeles.

The Show

Lainey Wilson performs onstage at the 2026 iHeartRadio Music Awards at Dolby Theatre in Hollywood.

Taylor Swift accepts the pop album of the year award onstage at the 2026 iHeartRadio Music Awards at Dolby Theatre in Hollywood.

Miley Cyrus accepts the Innovator Award onstage at the 2026 iHeartRadio Music Awards at Dolby Theatre in Hollywood.

John Mellencamp, right, performs onstage at the 2026 iHeartRadio Music Awards at Dolby Theatre in Hollywood.

Terry Ellis, from left, Cindy Herron and Maxine Jones of En Vogue perform at the 2026 iHeartRadio Music Awards.

Red Carpet

Miley Cyrus on the red carpet for the iHeartRadio Music Awards at the Dolby Theatre in Hollywood.

Ella Langley on the red carpet for the iHeartRadio Music Awards at the Dolby Theatre in Hollywood.

Shaboozey and Kehlani on the red carpet for the iHeartRadio Music Awards at the Dolby Theatre in Hollywood.

Cheryl Porter on the red carpet for the iHeartRadio Music Awards at the Dolby Theatre in Hollywood.

Cindy Herron, Maxine Jones and Terry Ellis of En Vogue on the red carpet for the iHeartRadio Music Awards at the Dolby Theatre in Hollywood.

Teddi Mellencamp on the red carpet for the iHeartRadio Music Awards at the Dolby Theatre in Hollywood.

Brianna Mazzola and Wennely Quezada of ‘3QUENCY’ on the red carpet for the iHeartRadio Music Awards at the Dolby Theatre in Hollywood.

Sublime on the red carpet for the iHeartRadio Music Awards at the Dolby Theatre in Hollywood.

Brent Smith and Zach Myers of Shinedown on the red carpet for the 2026 iHeartRadio Music Awards at the Dolby Theatre in Hollywood.

Graham Stanush, Sebastian Gonzalez, Matty Bielawski and London Hudson of Return to Dust on the red carpet for the iHeartRadio Music Awards at the Dolby Theatre in Hollywood.

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.”

Before becoming a global phenomenon in the 2000s thanks to artists like Aventura, Monchy y Alexandra and Prince Royce, and before being declared an “intangible cultural heritage of humanity” by UNESCO in 2019, bachata was — and continues to be — the soundtrack of the Dominican Republic.

The importance of the genre to the people of the Caribbean nation is at the heart of “Agridulce,” a music documentary that had its world premiere at this month’s South by Southwest Film Festival in Austin, Texas. Filmed over the course of five years, the feature follows four young students at Academia de Bachata, a music conservatory in the beachside resort town of Cabarete. It’s the only school of its kind in the world.

Academia de Bachata was founded in 2013 by music producer Benjamin De Menil. After traveling to the Dominican Republic to record for nearly three decades, De Menil says he wanted to create something that would ensure that the next generation continues the traditions of bachata.

“One of the things I loved about the bachata musicians I was working with early on is that they were such natural musicians. There was never any sheet music, so whenever we were going to record I would say, ‘Let’s do this song and it goes like this,’ and they would listen to it for a little bit before they figured it out and they were playing it,” he said. “I thought that we could somehow harness that energy in a more organized and educational format and make a school where we’re helping young children become professional musicians within this genre that has a lot of opportunity.”

De Menil partnered with DREAM Project, a nonprofit organization that did work in Cabarete, and launched Academia de Bachata in 2013. Since then, the school has provided hundreds of children with a free musical education.

“There were a lot of things we were trying to figure out along the way about what the best way to teach this music was because this wasn’t your typical conservatory. We were focusing on the traditions passed on rather than some style of music that there are already textbooks for.”

To make “Agridulce,” De Menil, who produced the film, reached out to Frank Pavich, director of the 2013 “Jodorowsky’s Dune,” the cult classic documentary about avant-garde filmmaker Alejandro Jodorowsky’s quixotic and failed attempt to adapt Frank Herbert’s 1965 sci-fi novel “Dune.” It didn’t take much to bring him on onboard.

“Ben contacted me and told me about the project. I responded with what’s Bachata?,” the Croatian American director said. “I had never even heard of the musical genre. And then he sent me some music. He sent me footage that he had shot of [Cabarete] and of the school. And it was unlike anything I’d ever seen. It was so colorful and so incredible that I just wanted to jump on right away. I was like, ‘Great, when can we go down there and start shooting? It was really that fast.”

Pavich says now he hears bachata everywhere.

“I live between Switzerland and Croatia and now that I know how to pick it up, I hear it in cars passing by a cafe in Geneva and in Croatia,” he said. “It’s everywhere, it’s infiltrated everything in the best way possible.”

“Agridulce” is an ethnomusicological documentary — it captures the music of a specific place and people and shows how the tradition is kept alive — that also doubles as a coming of age story. The film follows students of varying ages — Edickson, Frandy, Orianny and Yerian — out of the classroom, showing us moments of intimacy with their families and friends while also giving us a slice of quotidian life in Cabarete.

As such, “Agridulce” doesn’t shy away from the political tensions of the beachside resort. Much like in the U.S., immigration is a contentious topic in the Dominican Republic — the country shares the island of Hispaniola with Haiti, which has seen an exodus of its people over the decade.

De Menil and Pavich said that nearly a third of Academia de Bachata’s student body is of Haitian descent, and that they would have had to go out of their way to not include one of them in the film.

This tension plays out in the storyline of Frendy, a magnetic student of Haitian descent who uses bachata to fit in.

“Many young people are in that position of being made to feel they don’t belong at that time in life when a person most wants to find their place,” De Menil said. “We see that music can help kids, particularly immigrant kids, find belonging.”

“The film ultimately speaks to the way that culture and shared history contribute to the development of authentic, lived creativity,” said South by Southwest consulting programmer Jim Kolmar. “It’s something innate and inevitable, and ‘Agridulce’ really explores that beautifully. Obviously it’s full of incredible music, but the deeper cultural context is essential, and seeing it through the perspective of the students at Academia de Bachata helps us connect the dots.”

WASHINGTON — The Supreme Court made it harder for music and movie makers to sue for online piracy, ruling Wednesday that internet providers are usually not liable for copyright infringement even if they know their users are downloading copyrighted works.

In a 9-0 decision, the justices threw out Sony’s lawsuit and a $1-billion verdict against Cox Cable for copyright infringement.

Lower courts upheld a jury’s verdict against Cox’s internet service for contributing to music piracy, which the company did little to stop.

Sony’s lawyers pointed to hundreds of thousands of instances of Cox customers sharing copyrighted works. Put on notice, Cox did little stop it, they said.

But the high court said that is not enough to establish liability for copyright infringement.

“Under our precedents, a company is not liable as a copyright infringer for merely providing a service to the general public with knowledge that it will be used by some to infringe copyrights,” Justice Clarence Thomas wrote for the court.

Two decades ago, the court sided with the music and motion picture producers and ruled against Grokster and Napster on the grounds their software was intended to share copyrighted music and movies.

But on Wednesday, the court said “contributory” copyright infringement did not extend to internet service providers based on the actions of some of their users

“Cox provided Internet service to its subscribers, but it did not intend for that service to be used to commit copyright infringement,” Thomas said. “Cox neither induced its users’ infringement nor provided a service tailored to infringement.”

In its defense, Cox argued that internet service providers could be bankrupted by huge lawsuits for copyright infringement, which they said they did not cause and could not prevent.

AN ICONIC noughties star looked unrecognisable to many as he took to the stage during this weekend’s Estero Picnic Festival in Columbia.

Over two decades since his initial rise to fame, the now 52-year-old musician looks a far cry from the twenty-something many fans remember.

Do you recognise him?

The singer in question in Travis frontman Fran Healy!

Known for hits such as Why Does It Always Rain On Me? and Sing, Travis dominated the music scene in the late nineties and early noughties.

Lead singer Fran has swapped the bright red hair he rocked a few years ago for a bleached look, donning a sky blue jumper as he joined numerous stars in fronting the Columbian festival this weekend.

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Alongside his Travis bandmates, Dougie Payne, Andy Dunlop and Neil Primrose, Fran took to the festival’s Smirnoff stage to perform to the waiting crowds on Sunday.

The three-day festival also saw Sabrina Carpenter, Tyler The Creator, Swedish House Mafia and The Killers perform.

Alongside their own set on Sunday, Travis joined The Killers on stage to perform with them on Saturday.

Born in Stafford, Fran was raised in Glasgow and formed Travis back in 1991 while studying at the Glasgow School of Art.

Still going strong, the band are performing across Chile this month and next, with gigs in Viña del Mar, Frutillar and Santiago.

While the band have taken breaks throughout their lengthy career, they are famous for having never split up.

Their tenth studio album, L.A Times, was released in 2024.

Fran was in a relationship with German photographer Nora Kryst for 23 years before splitting back in 2019.

They share a 20-year-old son named Clay.

Last year, during one of Travis’ US gigs, Fran was rushed off stage and to the hospital after twisting his ankle on stage.

At the time, Fran took to Instagram to explain that he was wheeled out on a gurney and put into an ambulance.

Admitting that he thought he’d broken his ankle, the musician confirmed it was simply a “gnarly sprain”.

Inara George looks back on it now as wistfully as someone remembering a love affair or a semester abroad.

“It was at this tiny theater on Pico near LaBrea, next to a barbecue place,” she says. “Our backstage was behind the theater, so we’d sit out there wearing these crazy corseted outfits while the guy next door was smoking brisket.”

A fixture of the Los Angeles music scene known for her solo records and as half of the Bird and the Bee, George is recalling the summer she spent working as a 20-something actor in “The Wandering Whore,” a musical set in 18th century London by composer Eliot Douglass and lyricist Philip Littell that played L.A.’s Playwrights’ Arena in August 1997.

“There was a scene where I die,” George adds, “and then I get reanimated by a ghost and someone pays — I don’t know if you need to put this in the article — someone pays to have relations with me.” She sighs.

“It was just such a rich time.”

Three decades later, George’s warm feelings for that era — and especially for the duo who soundtracked it — have led to an exquisite new album, “Songs of Douglass & Littell,” on which she sets aside her own songwriting to interpret nine tunes by these under-the-radar veterans of West Coast musical theater: searching, funny, vividly emotional songs like “Tired Butterfly,” about a busy insect in search of “a little nap,” and “The Extra Nipple,” which ponders a “harsh encounter with another heart.”

Think of the record as George’s take on one of Ella Fitzgerald’s classic “Song Book” LPs from the late ’50s and early ’60s, when the jazz star was systematically enshrining the work of Cole Porter, Irving Berlin and other authors of the Great American Songbook.

“These men deserve to have some attention,” George says of Douglass and Littell, the latter of whom she’s known since she was a little girl performing in plays at Topanga Canyon’s Theatricum Botanicum. “I want to give them their flowers.”

Yet if the album is rooted in the creative awakenings of George’s youth, it’s also the 51-year-old’s way of embracing middle age.

Inspired by singers like Helen Merrill and Chet Baker — “Elis & Tom,” a 1974 duo album by Brazil’s Elis Regina and Antônio Carlos Jobim, was another touchstone — George turns on “Songs” from the Bird and the Bee’s blippy electronica and the folky pop of her solo work to a jazzier sound that puts her cool, breathy vocals amid piano, strings and horns.

“This is a grown-up record,” says George, who shares three teenage children with her husband, the movie director Jake Kasdan. “I don’t want to be making music that makes me feel like I’m trying to be younger — I wanted to make something that makes me feel my age.”

Inara George at home this month.

(Christina House / Los Angeles Times)

The singer is at home near Griffith Park on a recent afternoon; with her kids at school and Kasdan away on a film shoot, the house is quiet, though signs of music are everywhere: a drum set, a grand piano, a guitar once owned by George’s late father, Lowell George, who founded the cult-fave L.A. rock band Little Feat and who died of a heart attack when Inara was only 4.

“As a woman, it’s a weird time in life — there’s something in-between about it,” she says. “Even the question of what do you wear. When you’re younger, you’re like, I’m gonna wear a dress — is it sexy, is it cute? Now, all of a sudden, all I want to do is wear suits.” She laughs.

Douglass, who plays piano on the new album, hears a “groundedness” in George’s singing all the more remarkable given that the arrangements represent “a new kind of school for her,” he says. “I was wondering how she would approach it, and she’s done it with such aplomb and wisdom.”

On Friday night, Douglass will accompany George — along with more than a dozen other players — in a record-release concert at Largo at the Coronet, with proceeds going to the nonprofit LA Voice, which seeks to organize voters on issues related to immigration and affordable housing.

George happily describes “Songs of Douglass & Littell” as a passion project. “I think you get to a certain point where selling a million records is not your intention,” she says. “Obviously, I wouldn’t make a record like this if I had that intention.” (Counterpoint: the arena-filling success of Laufey.)

“I’m just about the experience,” she adds, “and this has been an amazing experience.”

The experience began one night a few years ago when George hosted a wine-soaked reunion of performers who’d worked with Douglass and Littell back in the ’90s on shows like “The Wandering Whore” and “No Miracle: A Consolation,” the latter a song cycle rooted in the losses of the AIDS epidemic.

Philip Littell, from left, Eliot Douglass and Inara George.

(Thomas Heegard)

After her years of childhood dramatics at the Theatricum — Littell remembers meeting “this bird of a girl with these huge eyes” — George had gone to Boston’s Emerson College to study acting but dropped out and returned to L.A., where she eventually made her name as a musician. (In addition to the Bird and the Bee, her duo with the Grammy-winning producer Greg Kurstin, she’s also played with the Living Sisters and sung with Foo Fighters.)

Yet her postcollege stint in the experimental theater scene always stuck with her, she says. Reconnecting with Littell, whose other work includes the libretto for André Previn’s operatic adaptation of “A Streetcar Named Desire,” and Douglass, who played piano for years with Cirque du Soleil, got George thinking about how she might help preserve their music and bring it to a modern audience.

In 2024, she put together a trio for an intimate gig at Pasadena’s Healing Force of the Universe record store; her old friend Mike Andrews, who produced her solo albums, was there and told her they should record the material. Given the number of ballads she’d worked up, George asked Douglass and Littell to write a couple of new uptempo tunes; among the ones they came up with was the frisky “La Lune S’en Va.”

Does George speak French?

“Not at all,” she says, smiling. “But Philip does. It’s so fun — I was like, ‘Yeah, I’ll take it.’ I think the pronunciation’s OK.”

She and a small crew of musicians cut the album live in the studio over three days — in part an attempt to capture some energy, in part an acknowledgment of an economic reality.

“Is music just a hobby for me now? Yeah, it is,” says George, who’s putting “Songs” out through her own label, Release Me Records. “I mean, I’m spending money to do it.” She worries about the disappearance of music’s middle class even as she notes happily that “Again & Again” by the Bird and the Bee “recently had a little TikTok moment,” as she puts it. (With 86 million streams, it’s the duo’s most popular track on Spotify, followed by an ethereal cover of the Bee Gees’ “How Deep Is Your Love.”)

Yet all that seems less important to George than taking the opportunity to honor “these incredibly talented, very sensitive people” who she says shaped the artist she became.

“Their songs just mean so much to me,” she says of Douglass and Littell. “More than ever, this is the music I want to listen to.”

Rainelle Krause, a coloratura soprano who went viral for singing a signature aria while hanging upside down from aerial silks, has died after a short hospitalization, her family announced “with immense sadness” Tuesday on social media. She was 37.

“Rainelle was a force in our lives, a brilliant talent defined by grit, fearlessness, curiosity, intelligence, integrity, and resilience,” the family said in a statement on Instagram. “Onstage, her voice matched the breathtaking power of her spirit. Offstage, she was a loving, caring soul whose vibrant energy lit up everyone around her. Our hearts are full from the years we shared, even as we’re shocked that her skyrocketing career was cut short.”

The family gave no further details about the circumstances of her death but said they were grateful to have Krause’s “preserved performances” to revisit. They said they would be planning a celebration of life “at a later date” but wanted to share the sad news now with friends and fans.

“Rainelle always gave her very best, pouring her heart into her art and those she loved,” the family said. “The best way we can honor her memory is by living her values every day. We encourage you to keep her memory alive by sharing her beautiful performances.”

Krause, whose website dubbed the Queen of the Night in “The Magic Flute” as her signature role, debuted in that role at the Metropolitan Opera over the holidays. She did the same last fall at Opera Atelier in Toronto.

“Although we knew Rainelle for only a matter of months, we will never forget her astonishing talent. We were awed by her bravery and daring and deeply moved by her willingness to draw all of us into her circle of friends,” Opera Atelier said Wednesday on social media. “Beautiful, generous, talented and kind, Rainelle is irreplaceable and will always hold a unique place in our memories.”

Born in Florida, Krause graduated from Indiana University’s Jacobs School of Music with a bachelor’s in music and a master’s degree in music in vocal performance. The English National Opera said she trained with the Sankt Goar International Music Festival and Academy in Germany, the OperaWorks Advanced Artist Program in Los Angeles, Opera Las Vegas, the Taos Opera Institute and Opera Nova Costa Rica.

She performed with opera companies in Nashville and Atlanta, and in Texas she sang with the Dallas Opera, with symphony orchestras in Irving and Plano, and with a master chorale in Amarillo. She was set to debut with the Santa Fe Opera in May.

Internationally, Krause’s “The Magic Flute” performances included gigs in Berlin, Copenhagen and elsewhere. Roles outside of the Queen of the Night included the title role in “Lucia di Lammermoor,” the princess in “The Snow Queen,” Zerlina in “Don Giovanni” and Pat Nixon in “Nixon in China.”

As for her viral acrobatic performances, those appeared to have been on hold in the year before her death.

“I can’t even begin to express how much I miss aerial work,” Krause wrote last March on social media. “I’ve been dealing with horrendous shoulder impingement for months, I’ve been in physical therapy since last summer, I’m continuously learning new ways to attempt to build strength and fluency in order to support my VERY hypermobile joints.

“I am in pain most days,” she continued. “But I’m not giving up, I’m seeing incremental improvements, and I will fly again — this time working in concert with the body I have, instead of forcing myself to ‘just put in the work’ with all the wrong pathways.”

ALFIE Boe – one of the nation’s favourite tenors – will be unleashing his inner rock god on new album Face Myself.

The record, out on April 10, is inspired by his love of the Madchester era and was produced by Myriot, who previously worked with Primal Scream.

In an exclusive chat, Alfie revealed the album’s title track pays tribute to late Stone Roses bass player Gary “Mani” Mounfield.

The classical singer said he spent his weekends travelling up to Manchester as a teenager to immerse himself in the music scene, where the Stone Roses launched hits such as I Wanna Be Adored. Alfie said: “At the time I was writing that song, Mani passed away.

“So I had to put a tribute in the song. I changed the lyrics to say, ‘For good old Mani, he played it right’.”

The high-energy track, which is released today, also name checks Liam and Noel Gallagher’s childhood home on Cranwell Drive and celebrates the Madchester spirit.

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On the track he sings: “Dreams are grown in Burnage sky, a golden past that made us cry.

“The prom is glorified with lights, for good old Mani, he played it right. Those Cranwell boys, they sang along.”

As a teen, Alfie, who has clocked up 12 Top Ten albums including four No1s, joined an indie band and later found himself exploring classical music.

“I was in an indie band called The English Roses,” Alfie said with a laugh. We were going to go on tour and I was going to be the drummer. But there was school to attend, which was fine, but then I joined lots of other little bands.”

Alfie’s new album is made up of mostly original material and he was inspired to start writing by his pal, The Who’s Pete Townshend.

And the Les Miserables stage fave says the record is all about facing his past, adding: “I thought, what is it about me I have to face?

“It was my childhood, my teenage years, and what got me to where I am today. It’s been a wonderful journey.”

Dua’s full of beans

Dua Lipa has a hefty cheque coming her way, plus a lifetime’s supply of coffee I imagine.

She’s signed up to be global ambassador for Nespresso and posed in blue co-ords to promote the new tie-in. Dua also had a snap with George Clooney, long-time face of the brand.

Greg heading to £2m…but pleads for Wills’ help again

Greg James continues his mammoth 1,000km cycle ride for Comic Relief after getting the royal seal of approval from Prince William.

He was given a boost on Tuesday, when the Prince of Wales hopped on the back of the Radio 1 DJ’s tandem.

As I caught up with Greg yesterday from the Yorkshire Moors, he said he wished William had stuck around.

Greg, resting up on a wall, below, said with a laugh: “I could’ve done with his legs today. Wills, if you’re reading this, help.”

He has remained incredibly upbeat despite the physical and mental toll the challenge is taking.

And he has been buoyed by the incredible donations from the public, which last night was creeping towards the £2million mark. Greg, who set off from Dorset last Friday and is pedalling all the way to Edinburgh, said: “The hills are very, very difficult today.

“But there was a really nice crowd of people shouting at me at the top.

“The good news is we’ve raised over £1.5million, which is an absurd amount. I’d be happy with that if it was the final total but we’ve got three days left.”

He starts his ride from Sunderland this morning with two full days to go.

Tomorrow he will begin his final push, cycling from Galashiels in the Borders to Edinburgh, where he is set to arrive in time for Comic Relief to start on BBC One at 7pm. You can do this, Greg!

Go to comicrelief.com/ride to make a donation.

Placebo are making a comeback for the 30th anniversary of their debut album, which they have reworked into a new version.

Placebo re:created will be out on June 19.

They will then kick off a European tour this September playing songs from their first two albums, with dates in Nottingham, Glasgow, Dublin, Manchester, London and Cardiff in November and December.

Big cat in Africa

Doja Cat showed her wild side in clashing animal prints while on stage in Rwanda.

The Say So rapper, who wore a blue wig with a tiger-striped bodysuit, was performing at Global Citizen’s Move Afrika concert.

She sounded great, despite her carefree lifestyle.

In a new interview with Vogue yesterday, Doja admitted she’s had to curb bad habits for the sake of her live shows.

She said: “I love trash – I’m Oscar the Grouch. I love to eat garbage, and I love to drink, and I love to party.

“Not too hard, obviously. I don’t do any drugs.”

Doja, who had a romance with actor Joseph Quinn in 2024, went on to reveal she is a serial dater, adding: “I’m 30, so I’m ovulating and horny.”

At least she tells it how it is.

Mosh-pit memories with trust

The Teenage Cancer Trust is staging a photo exhibition at the Royal Albert Hall to mark the joys of mosh pits.

Musicians including Yungblud, Wolf Alice, Fontaines DC and The Sex Pistols ft Frank Carter are featured in the show, called Good Energy.

It highlights “good energy”, which is the code used by fans to look after each other in the crowd. Frank said of his pic: “It was taken in the Royal Albert Hall.

“To play there with the Sex Pistols was a dream come true. Seeing a mosh pit inside such a venue felt like the definition of Good Punk Energy.

The exhibition runs until April 9. Buy signed copies of the prints at teenagecancer trust.org/good.

One direction’s Louis Tomlinson confessed the band’s debut No1 single, What Makes You Beautiful, was his least favourite track. He told Scott Mills’s Radio 2 show: “Performing it was always really eggy.”

Louis also took aim at the handling of 1D’s split, adding: “Hiatus, what a horrible word. It’s cringey, screams management.”

Princess is really made up

Harper Beckham has competition from another nepo baby when it comes to her upcoming beauty brand – Katie Price and Peter Andre’s daughter Princess.

The Sun told last week that Harper had taken part in a photoshoot for beauty brand Hiku by Harper, which is expected to launch in the coming months. Now Princess is following suit.

She said on the Not My Bagg podcast: “I’ve been working on it for ages. I was in Liverpool three days ago.

“I went up for a photoshoot for my beauty brand, which is so good. It’s being released this year.

I’m so excited. I’ve always wanted to be involved in some sort of business. Make-up, I love, so it had to be that.”

Here’s a hot take: South by Southwest is a Latin music festival.

When the De Los team headed to Austin, Texas, in 2024 to cover the event for the first time, approximately 60 acts that fell under the expansive Latin music genre umbrella had been invited to perform. Two years later, that number has more than doubled, with more than 150 Latin music acts featured at the iconic festival, now in its 40th year.

“Latin music has seen incredible growth at SXSW in recent years, reflecting its rise across the global music industry,” said Evelyn Gómez Rivera, associate programmer for Latin music. “2026 is shaping up to be our biggest year for the genre in over a decade, with several major labels showcasing their newest and most exciting Latin talent here.”

Ahead of the festival, which kicks off Thursday, the De Los team has assembled a list of acts that have caught our attention. And before you blow up our inboxes asking why the big acts (Fuerza Regida and Junior H are also slated to perform) weren’t included, keep in mind that what makes SXSW unique is that it’s a chance for attendees to see the next big thing before they blow up. In that spirit of discovery, our list is made up of acts you might not have heard of.

Big Soto

“Terminé siendo rapero cuando quería ser doctor,” Gustavo Rafael Guerrero Soto, better known as Big Soto, confesses in his pandemic-era collaborative session with Argentine mega-producer Bizarrap. It’s safe to say that he made the right career move. The 29-year-old from Venezuela (he now lives in Mexico) is signed to Rimas Entertainment and has been at the forefront of the Latin trap movement. — Fidel Martinez

Mariangela

Mexican-born singer Mariangela started off as a tender pop darling when she first uploaded covers to her YouTube channel in 2019, drawing inspiration from indie-pop singers like Carla Morrison and Mazzy Star’s Hope Sandoval before releasing her alt-pop debut album “Sensible” under Sony Music Latin in 2024. Now the Texas-based artist is taking her musical stylings in a new direction, drawing from her Monterrey roots with the release of her latest “Cuando Una Mujer,” a cumbia norteña about fierce female empowerment. — Andrea Flores

Esty

First-generation Dominican American singer Esty doesn’t like to be boxed in. From one track to the next, she’ll shift from a mix of dembow and alternative rock to bachata and pop, as seen in her recent single “V3n3n0,” from her upcoming album, “Domi Star.” — Cat Cardenas

Marilina Bertoldi

De Los contributor Ernesto Lechner is 100% responsible for this entry — he included the avant-garde alt rocker from Buenos Aires in his 2025 list of indie artists who deserved to win a Latin Grammy, calling her “the resident hurricane of Argentine rock, blessed with a corrosive sense of the absurd, a knack for pop-punk melodies, and attitude to spare.” How could you not want to see that? — FM

Ruido Selecto

Hailing from Medellín, Colombia, Ruido Selecto drives forward the Caribbean rhythms of cumbia, salsa, electronic dub and Afro-diasporic styles that have been traditionally transmitted through Picós, hand-painted sound systems popular throughout the country’s coast. His hybrid mixes also include elements of sonideros, most audible in tracks like “Lo Que Esconde.” I’m fascinated by his attention to detail in his project “Los 14 Cañonazos Bailables,” where he created experimental and contemporary tropical mixes using archives from Discos Fuentes, a Cartagena record label largely responsible for disseminating 1960s Caribbean sound across the coast of Colombia. — AF

Delilah

The Mexican American singer got her start in mariachi, eventually learning piano, guitar, violin and vihuela. At just 17 years old, her impressive vocals and ability to mix traditional and contemporary Mexican music have already gotten the attention of artists like Becky G and Iván Cornejo. — CC

Danny Felix

Among the biggest feathers in Danny Felix’s hat is being the producer behind the “Soy el Diablo (Remix),” a Natanael Cano track that also doubled as Bad Bunny’s first venture into the world of música mexicana. The Phoenix-based multihyphenate (in addition to producing, he is also a multiinstrumentalist and singer) has played a major role in shaping the current sound of corridos tumbados and will be repping the subgenre in Austin. — FM

60 Juno

Originating from Merced, Calif., this Central Valley post-punk band radiates a hazy, dreamlike sound, so much that one of their most popular tracks is titled “zzz.” While 60 Juno initially began as a solo project led by Jericho Tejeda in his bedroom during the pandemic, it has now expanded to include three additional members from Whittier, Calif. There’s a bit of everything in this band, mellowed surf-rock wading into punk territory that can be heard in songs like the upbeat “Enjoy the Sunset” and their most popular, hypnotic track to date, “J Song.” — AF

RIA

Before she stepped into the spotlight, Ria was writing songs for other artists. Now, she’s combining her knack for emotional lyricism with her soulful voice, recently opening for Tito Double P in Mexico, and breaking out with her recent single, “Pagana.” — CC

Sebaxxss

Sebaxxss is the on-tour DJ for Feid, the pop reggaeton singer and fellow Colombian. I’m interested to see how his set translates into a smaller, more intimate venue. — FM

Diles que no me maten

Diles que no me maten is an experimental, psychedelic rock band from Mexico City named after the famous short story by Mexican author Juan Rulfo about a man who pleads for his life after being captured for killing his neighbor decades earlier. If listeners didn’t know any better, they would think this band started in the late 1980s during the rise of homegrown rock, with its untouched vocals in songs like “Outro.” Tracks like “El Circo” sound like a gentle birth, while “(Radio Sonora Edit)” presents itself as a ghostly acoustic jazz ballad. — AF

Eydrey

Since competing on Netflix’s Latin music competition show, “La Firma,” in 2023, Eydrey has landed a record deal and released a steady stream of R&B, Mexican and reggaeton-infused tracks. Her borderland upbringing in El Paso has also shaped her Spanglish lyrics. — CC

Lena Dardelet

Hailing from Cabarete, Dominican Republic — the same beach resort town is home to the Bachata Academy, the only bachata school in the world — Lena Dardelet fuses pop with various Caribbean genres, including— yep, you guessed it — bachata. — FM

Mosmo

Signed with Rimas Entertainment, Hermosillo singer Mosmo is bringing his own crooning element to the corrido world. The rising singer first came into the spotlight in 2022 on Netflix’s “La Firma,” a competition looking to find the next Latin urban music star. Mosmo’s raw, drawled vocals can be heard in the romantic bélico “Modo B” and the agonizing “Terapia” that implores a past lover for their return. Mosmo also incorporates elements of trap and reggaeton in songs like “Dimensiones,” as well as pop in the bilingual track “Siempre Tú.” — AF

Selines

Inspired by artists like Natalia Lafourcade, singer-songwriter Selines’ guitar-based songs draw on the traditions of boleros, classical music and jazz, bringing a warm nostalgia and romance to her sound. — CC

Just in time for the Oscars, Tilly Norwood, and by extension her creator, Eline van der Velden, gave actors at every level an unexpected gift — the chance to breathe a little easier.

AI will not be replacing you any time soon.

On Tuesday, the AI phenomenon known as Tilly debuted a single and music video titled “Take the Lead.” In it, Tilly sings a self-celebratory, pro-AI anthem with the big-eyed feisty longing of an algorithm marked “Disney princess: Big song” while she wanders through increasingly fantastic self-affirming scenarios that scream “Plus ‘Barbie.’”

Van der Velden was clearly trying to persuade actors to embrace the possibilities of AI but like Timothée Chalamet, who managed to prove that opera and ballet have many devoted fans by publicly suggesting the opposite, her attempt will likely backfire. The underlying message of the video, at least to performers, appears to be: Relax — AI hasn’t figured out how to lip sync properly, much less act.

It’s a bit of good news in a time of AI anxiety, some of which was Tilly-induced. Last year, Van der Velden, a Dutch actor and founder of the production company Particle6, debuted Tilly, via Instagram, as the “world’s first AI actress.” Around the time the account hit 50,000 followers, Van der Velden announced that several talent agents were interested in representing Tilly. Not Van der Velden, but Tilly Norwood, a “performer” who did not exist.

For a few minutes, Hollywood lost its collective mind. Not only were creators and performers facing a future in which their work, bodies and faces could be scanned and fed into an algorithm capable of imitating writing styles or creating images of actors doing things they never did (in a recent AI video, Tom Cruise and Brad Pitt duke it out on a war-torn rooftop), now some feared they would be competing for jobs with “actors” who could work 24 hours a day, required no health benefits and would never demand bowls of M&Ms with the green ones removed.

SAG-AFTRA, which had just ended a strike caused in part by concerns about AI, protested Tilly and the use of “stolen performances to put actors out of work.” Various actors were outraged and some called for the interested talent agencies to be identified. Even Emily Blunt was publicly disconcerted, begging Hollywood agencies to “please stop taking away our human connection.”

Van der Velden quickly responded, insisting that Tilly was “not a replacement for a human being, but a creative work — a piece of art … a new tool — a new paintbrush.”

Then, on Tuesday, “Tilly” released a music video that seems to argue the exact opposite.

In the video, which appears over the message “Can’t wait to go to the Oscars,” the computer-generated young woman trips through a montage of “famous person moments,” as Tilly insists that she is not a puppet but a star; she encourages all actors to embrace and use AI, to own their creativity and “be free.”

A note prefacing the video states that “18 real humans” were involved in its production (including Van der Velden who is the basis of the performance), who provide the subtext for Tilly warbling: “They say it’s not real, that it’s fake, but I’m a human, make no mistake.”

Whatever Van der Velden and her team hoped to achieve, one thing is very clear: Emily Blunt has nothing to fear from Tilly Norwood.

The questionable merits of the song, performance and production value aside, the video is the best argument yet for why AI “performers” are a limited threat. As Tilly walks the streets of London, poses for selfies, signs autographs, appears on talk shows, performs live in front of enormous audiences, interacts with photographers, we are reminded that Tilly could never do any of this. AI performances are, by their very nature, limited to a screen.

Instagram fame is a real thing and can be monetarily beneficial, just as animated and digitally enhanced characters can connect deeply with audiences. But beyond her ability to raise the spectre of wholly coded “performers” constructed from borrowed bits of humans (which, as anyone who has read or seen “Frankenstein” knows, never ends well), Tilly doesn’t appear to have anything like star power.

And to consider her as existing separate from her creators is like imagining that the ventriloquist dummy Charlie McCarthy could have a career, and an agent, separate from the real performer Edgar Bergen.

Though Charlie did have the advantage of being able to be seen live and in person.

Watching Tilly, one is reminded that the magic of actors is that they are human. Audiences are, after all, human too and whether facing a stage or a screen, we are captivated by certain performers’ ability to bring all manner of characters and stories alive, while also being, as Us Weekly says, “just like us.”

People with bodies that age and change, people who fall in love, get messy, say dumb things, say smart things, fall prey to illness and accidents, shop at Trader Joe’s, end up in court or trip when about to receive an Oscar.

Their faulty, glorious humanity allows them to connect to their art, but it also connects them to us. We may never get an Oscar or be able to masterfully deliver a Shakespeare soliloquy on a chat show, but we know what it’s like to trip or say something dumb or experience aging, illness or accident.

You can’t replace actors with algorithms, even if/when someone comes up with something more convincing than Tilly, because actors are not just about performances. They are people who are alive in the world and no amount of coding can replicate that.

Back in the early 2010s, the music industry was at a low point.

Piracy was rampant. Compact disc sales were on a steady decline. And the then-new audio streaming services, like Spotify, were taking hits from creators for paying low royalty rates.

Today, Spotify has grown into the world’s most popular audio streaming subscription service and the highest-paying retailer globally — paying the music industry over $11 billion last year. The Swedish company said in a recent post that the payouts aren’t strictly going to ultra-popular artists, but that “roughly half of royalties were generated by independent artists and labels.”

“A decade ago, a lot of the questions were really fair. Spotify had to be able to prove out if it could scale as an economic engine. People didn’t know if streaming would scale as a model,” said Sam Duboff, Spotify’s global head of marketing and policy of music business.

Duboff said Spotify’s payouts aren’t “plateauing — we’re still growing that royalty pool on Spotify more than 10% per year.” He credits the streaming platform’s growth to “incentivizing people to be willing to pay for music again” by providing personalized experiences and global accessibility.

The company, founded in 2006, serves more than 751 million users, including 290 million subscribers, in 184 markets.

“The average Spotify premium subscriber listens to 200 artists every month, and nearly half of those artists are discovered for the first time,” Duboff said. “When you build an experience where people can explore and fall in love with music, it inspires them to upgrade to premium and keep paying.”

The platform offers a wide variety of playlists, curated by editors like the up-and-comer-driven Fresh Finds or rap’s latest, RapCaviar. There are also personal playlists generated for users, such as the weekly round-up Discover Weekly and the daily mix of tunes called the “daylist.”

The streamer considers itself the first step toward “an enduring career” for today’s indie artists. Last year, more than a third of artists making $10,000 on the platform in royalties started by self-releasing their music through independent distributors.

“Streaming, fundamentally, is about opportunity and access. It’s artists from all over the world releasing music the way they want to and reaching a global audience from Day One,” Duboff said. He adds that when fans have a choice, they will discover new genres and music cultures that may have otherwise languished in obscurity.

In 2025, nearly 14,000 artists earned $100,000 from Spotify alone. The streamer’s data also show that last year the 100,000th highest-earning artist made $7,300 in Spotify royalties, whereas in 2015, an artist in that same spot earned around $350.

The company, with a large presence in L.A.’s Arts District, emphasizes that the roster of artists on its platform who earn significantly more money — well into the millions — is no longer limited to the few. A decade ago, Spotify’s top artist made around $10 million in royalties. Today, the platform’s top 80 artists generate over $10 million annually. Some of 2025’s top artists globally were Bad Bunny, Taylor Swift and the Weeknd.

Spotify claims those who aren’t household names can earn six figures, with more than 1,500 artists earning $1 million last year.

For some musicians, the outlook is not as clear

Damon Krukowski, a musician and the legislative director for United Musicians & Allied Workers, argues that Spotify’s money isn’t necessarily going to artists — it’s going to their labels.

Those without labels usually upload music through distributors such as DistroKid and CD Baby. These platforms charge a small fee or commission. For example, DistroKid’s lowest-level subscription is $24.99 a year, and the site states users “keep 100% of all your earnings.”

”There are zero payments going directly to recording artists from Spotify,” Krukowski asserts. “Recording artists deserve direct payment from the streaming platforms for use of our work.”

The advocacy group, which has mobilized more than 70,000 musicians and music workers, recently helped draft the Living Wage for Musicians Act to address the streaming industry. The bill, introduced to the U.S. House of Representatives last fall, calls for a new streaming royalty that would directly pay artists a minimum of one penny per stream.

In the Q&A section of Spotify’s Loud and Clear website, the streamer confirms that it “doesn’t pay artists or songwriters directly. We pay rights holders selected by the artist or songwriter, whether that’s a record label, publisher, independent distributor, performance rights organization, or collecting society.”

Instead of following a penny-per-stream model, Spotify pays based on the artist’s share of total streams, called a “streamshare.”

“Streaming doesn’t work like buying songs. Fans pay for unlimited access, not per track they listen to,” wrote the company online. “So a ‘per stream’ rate isn’t actually how anyone gets paid — not on Spotify, or on any major streaming service.”

Fête de la musique, France

Paris has some great festivals, such as Cercle (22-24 May), with dance music stars against the backdrop of planes and rockets in an outdoor aerospace museum, but the most accessible and democratic is Fête de la musique, which began in Paris in 1982 but is now popular across the country. It is a loose event encompassing dozens of free, semi-impromptu outdoor performances all over each host city, including plenty in Lille, which is even cheaper and quicker to get to than Paris on the Eurostar from London.

While the UK may cock its ear occasionally to English-singing bands like Phoenix and the “French touch” scene that birthed Daft Punk, Justice and more, Fête de la musique is a chance to immerse yourself in the music that rarely crosses the Channel, from spirited chanson to Francophone hip-hop and the breakneck carnival styles of shatta or bouyon, where MCs rattle through commands on tracks of more than 160 beats per minute.

Eurostar goes to Paris 12 times a day from London, and to Lille six times (eight at weekends).
21 June, free, fetedelamusique.culture.gouv.fr

Roadburn, Tilburg

If you don’t mind changing trains after arriving in Amsterdam or Rotterdam on the Eurostar, there are several Dutch festivals to choose from. Le Guess Who? in Utrecht (5-8 November) is celebrating its 20th year this year, and hands over some of the curation to a series of invariably excellent left-field musical guests: the likes of Animal Collective, Lonnie Holley, Mabe Fratti and Stereolab have held the reins in recent years. Rewire in The Hague (9-12 April) is even more out-there, calling on a global array of dynamic artists, from the most pristine ambient to the most audiologist-troubling extreme noise.

But the most prestigious is Roadburn, hosted in the little visited (by Brits, anyway) university town of Tilburg, which is also accessible via a change in Brussels. It has ringfenced its own black, slippery zone of adventurous heavy music, encompassing alt-metal, noise, desert rock, drone and the fringes of punk, hip-hop and electronics. Bands often play albums in full – or two albums, in the case of Japanese legends Boris this year – and thanks to a relative dearth of hotels and B&Bs in Tilburg, many festivalgoers stay on a municipal campsite complete with its own noisy (but not sleep-disturbing) live sets.
16-19 April, €284 (£247); two-day and day tickets also available, roadburn.com

The Black Lights, Blackpool

With rail-friendly Glastonbury taking a fallow year this year, June has a festival hole that needs filling – so the timing is perfect for the arrival of the most promising new British festival in years, the Black Lights. Conceived by the White Hotel, a Salford venue that has become a cornerstone of northern underground culture, it will be hosted across multiple venues – including the beach, hosting “a modern-day War of the Roses in brass”, as brass bands from Lancashire and Yorkshire perform together.

The rest of the music programme draws from the fraying edges of rave culture, ambient, rap and dream-pop, with artists including the Caretaker – whose ultra-poignant compositions have made him an unlikely hero to gen Z on TikTok – as well as industrial-trance producer Evian Christ, lo-fi singer-songwriter Joanne Robertson, and film composer and alt-pop icon Mica Levi playing with the BBC Philharmonic Orchestra.

Blackpool’s location, halfway up the British Isles and close to dozens of large conurbations across north-west England, makes it quick and accessible via train to millions, including direct routes from London, and only one change involved from Glasgow, Newcastle, Sheffield or Bristol.
26-28 June, £150, theblacklights.uk

Westival, Pembrokeshire

“I put in everything I would have wanted playing clubs — bus parking, a great green room and amazing sound system,” Mesh said. “In L.A., I wouldn’t have come close to getting this. But Indio’s very exciting — a lot of young metal bands are thriving, and now you don’t even have to go to the high desert to find them.”

Mesh is well known in the desert’s music scene (he also opened Studio B, a high-end mix studio). The venue — formerly the Little Street Music Hall — had a knotty opening after some early ownership disputes with former partners. But for salty desert rockers and hungry young punks who can’t afford Coachella tickets, it’s a welcome addition to the scene. “Pappy’s has a vibe where you go to the club just knowing there’ll be something cool there,” Mesh said, “Indio is getting that too.”

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.

QUEEN of pop Madonna is Like a Virgin all over again — in a throwback to her 1984 hit video.

The megastar, 67, wore a white bridal corset and suspenders for the shoot.

Her outfit was similar to the look she had for her Eighties song clip — as she modelled and sang for Dolce & Gabbana.

Images posted online were captioned La ­Bambola — The Doll in Italian — a nod to the Patty Pravo 1968 hit Madonna recently covered.

Last week we told how Madonna was preparing to push boundaries yet again.

The 67-year-old singer will be filming her most X-rated music video to date, as she gears up to release her new album, dubbed Confessions Part 2.

Material girl

LaLiga club write letter to pop legend Madonna asking her to return shirt

MADON-NO

Madonna ‘turned down SEVEN million pound payday for just 20 minutes work’

A 200-strong team descended on a top-secret location in the UK to start work on the adventurous video, which will accompany her lead single later this summer.

This video is the first of a new campaign, which comes off the back of her signing a massive deal with Warner Records — the label she launched her career with — last year.

And as well as ramping up the sex, Madonna is preparing to push herself to the extreme physically.

A source said: “Madonna is reclaiming her throne.”