music

It’s a day and night to celebrate women in sports.

MaxPreps is hosting an 18-team flag football tournament in San Diego. No. 1 JSerra is competing.

In the evening, Nike has flown in a custom-made outdoor volleyball court so Sherman Oaks Notre Dame can host Harvard-Westlake in a 7 p.m. girls’ volleyball match played on the Notre Dame baseball field. There will be food trucks, music and other surprises.

There’s also the Venice girls volleyball tournament taking place at Venice High and the Woodbridge Classic cross-country meet at the Great Park in Irvine.

This is a daily look at the positive happenings in high school sports. To submit any news, please email eric.sondheimer@latimes.com.

THEY were the cool Brit pop duo that broke onto the music scene in 2007 with a number one album and chart-topping smash hit.

And almost two decades later, the husband-and-wife pair are still releasing new music – though their look is worlds away from their noughties heydey.

The Ting Tings, comprised of married couple Katie White and Jules De Martino have taken to TikTok to share a clip of them singing their brand new song Home.

In the video, rock chick turned boho babe Katie can be seen showing off her impressive vocals, while hubby Jules plays guitar.

They look world’s away from their earlier rock and roll vibe with Katie in particular then known for her heavy eye make-up and platinum blonde Debbie Harry-esque locks.

They wrote over their new video: “Hey, we’re Katie & Jules from a band called The Ting Tings and you might remember us from our song That’s Not My Name.

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“This is us, 18 years on singing Home from our latest album with our daughter. A lot has changed since 2008.”

The caption read: “18 years & 5 albums later… we are back in the studio, song writing and working on our 6th record.”

The iconic band made a shock comeback to the music industry back in January 2024.

In a cute video posted to Instagram, they added the caption: “Where have we been? Here, making the record of our lives. Get ready. J K x”

The scenes showed a blonde-haired toddler strolling around, leading one fan to quiz: “Is that a baby Ting Ting?”

During a chat with the BBC in 2022, they confirmed their happy news – with the tot dubbed “mini Ting” aged one at the time.

Katie admitted: “We never particularly spoke about it.

“We always wanted to keep it quite separate from the music, but it’s quite hard when you have literally a mini person.

“We’ve been together a long time now.”

The Salford-based duo formed in 2007, with their debut album We Started Nothing topping the UK charts just a year later.

Their iconic track That’s Not My Name became a huge success and has been streamed more than 1.1million times.

The group then fine-tuned their material in New York, yet a tour scheduled for three years later was scrapped after Katie suffered a hand injury.

Following their comeback, they went on to release their fifth album Home and are now gearing up for their sixth offering.

One could say that I’ve been waiting my whole life for this moment.

It’s a musical event some might have thought unlikely or impossible — but to me, it wasn’t a matter of if Beyoncé would ever release a collaboration with Selena but when. And on Thursday night, with the release of the special anniversary edition of Beyoncé’s sophomore album, “B’Day,” it finally happened.

Alongside an expanded track list that includes remastered versions of the 2006 album’s original songs, plus new remixes and collaborations, there’s “Irreemplazable (Como La Flor),” a mashup of Beyoncé’s first Spanish-language release and one of Selena’s most beloved hits.

In her tragic absence, Selena’s estate gave a rare blessing to Beyoncé for the collaboration. A press release for the album noted that this “resounding approval” from the Quintanilla family “made it possible for this timely and meaningful duet.”

“Two women from Texas. Two unmistakable and irreplaceable voices that broke down and continue to break down barriers,” read the statement.

But not everyone was happy about the remix. Some fans viewed the collaboration cynically, criticizing it as a way for Beyoncé to capitalize on Selena’s legacy, or to court more Latino fans. Some voiced their dissatisfaction under a post from Selena’s husband, Chris Pérez, on Instagram — but he was quick to shut them down.

“Shout out to Beyoncé for showing respect to an ICON,” wrote Perez on Instagram. “In my opinion, nobody will ever, CAN ever, top Selena’s performance. But, dammit … can’t you just appreciate that another iconic/amazing artist chose to highlight Selena in this way?”

For those who need reminding: This isn’t Beyoncé’s first foray into Spanish-language music — and it’s not even her first tribute to Selena.

Long before Beyoncé reached superstardom, she was a girl from Houston who grew up listening to Selena on the radio. In 2007, she credited the “Queen of Tejano” with inspiring her to release “Irreemplazable,” a Spanish-language companion album to “B’Day.”

Working alongside Cuban American composer Rudy Pérez, the songs on that record were workshopped to retain the spirit of their English lyrics without being word-for-word translations: the catchy “To the left, to the left” refrain in “Irreplaceable” became “Ya lo ves, ya lo ves / Te olvidé, te olvidé” (“Now you see, now you see/I forgot you).”

Like Selena, Beyoncé learned to sing in Spanish phonetically, and in a 2007 MTV Tr3s documentary on the making of the album, you can see her angling toward perfection as Pérez and a friend corrected her pronunciation. Some of the lyrics she was tasked with delivering were tongue-twisters, even for native Spanish speakers. Try saying “Tú creías que eras imprescindible” five times fast and in key.

“I spent a lot of time on it making sure it was perfect because I didn’t want to disrespect the language, because it’s so beautiful,” Beyoncé told People en Español that year.

At the time, Beyoncé wasn’t the only major American artist making waves in Latin music. The pop landscape was undergoing a massive shift, thanks to the work of such crossover sensations as Daddy Yankee, Don Omar, and Shakira — and artists in the States were eager to tap into the burgeoning Latino market.

And while that was certainly a part of Beyoncé’s calculus when plotting “Irreemplazable,” she has a personal attachment to Spanish music. “A lot of my family, a lot of my friends who I grew up with speak Spanish, I grew up in Texas,” she said in the MTV doc. “I just have so much respect for the culture, and I really relate to it.”

“The heart and rhythm of the music and the drums and the spiciness,” she added, in her People interview, “it all reminds me of Creole, which is my heritage, and where I come from.”

While Beyoncé’s early solo releases were built on R&B, she demonstrated a curiosity for global sounds like reggae, Latin and Arabic music. Selena’s background was in Tejano, yet she was heavily influenced by heavy-hitters in pop, disco and R&B — namely Jody Watley, Janet Jackson and Donna Summer.

The two share a similar cultural background, one forged by migration, changing borders and centuries of history. And, as second- and third-generation Texans, Beyoncé and Selena were both able to take their heritage and interpret it, while also melding it with the melting pot of influences they were surrounded by.

Twenty years after the release of “B’Day,” Beyoncé has had the luxury of growing and maturing as an artist. She’s delivered masterful musical dissertations that challenge rigid ideas of “genre” and reemphasized the Black origins of traditions like country, rock and Americana.

Selena didn’t have the benefit of time; but in the years since her death, her music has been kept alive, replayed, reinterpreted, and remixed, so that new generations continue to celebrate her Tejano roots. With “Irremplazable (Como La Flor),” Selena and Beyoncé’s artistry gets to coexist.

It’s a blending of their worlds and voices — the merging of two songs empowering women to move on from their heartbreak, as well as a union of two artists who are so different, but so very much alike.

Since its monumental debut in March, “sister dreamer lauren halsey’s architectural ode to tha surge n splurge of south central los angeles” has been active.

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’s the official name of Lauren Halsey’s public sculptural park nestled at the corner of 76th and Western in South-Central. In its first few months, the park has hosted intimate jazz shows, Kemetic yoga classes, art workshops and album listening parties where artists like Childish Gambino and Vince Staples have performed. For Halsey, a contemporary visual artist who began dreaming up the space 17 years ago, it’s all been part of the plan.

“At a museum or a gallery, I can program in a context that makes sense there, but at the park, it becomes a venue that is limitless,” she says. “So I can have a music series. People can roller skate. It can be a classroom. It can be a dance floor. It can be a theater, so I’m getting to know it every day, which is just so cool.”

She adds, “It’s just very alive so I love it.”

Now, Halsey is plotting on her next project: “emajendat,” a music festival that merges fine art, music and community activation all in one night. Featuring live performances from Erykah Badu, the Alchemist, Flea (of Red Hot Chili Peppers), DJ Pee .Wee (a.k.a Anderson .Paak) and the Charles Gaines Collective (with Black Nile and Devin Daniels), the immersive event will take place on Sept. 29 at the Hollywood Bowl.

Ahead of the big night, the South-Central native shared her itinerary for a magical day in L.A. It involves listening to rare ‘70s funk and soul music at her favorite brunch spot, supporting all of her favorite vendors (including a henna artist) in Venice Beach and bowling at Lucky Strike.

6:30: Coffee and produce at the Westchester Farmers’ Market

I wake up early no matter what. I’m out of my door between 6 to 6:30 a.m. I’d do my walk around my neighborhood and wait until my partner gets up then we’re off to the Westchester Farmers’ Market, which we go to sometimes. There’s this really amazing vendor called Gus’ Coffee. He makes coffee with his daughter. I’d get a black coffee with a tiny bit of milk or a horchata-based coffee and we’ll just shop for produce. We’d get some yellow watermelons, which are in season right now.

11 a.m: Brunch and ‘70s funk music at RVR

I’m going to my favorite restaurant RVR in Venice for brunch. I’m talking to the chefs, Travis and Ian. I’m listening to amazing music because they have this wonderful vinyl program led by Carlos Niño. So I’m listening to this rare B-side of the B-side ‘70s soul and funk while eating amazing plates. They change their menu quite often because it’s a call and response to what produce is available seasonally. No matter what, I start with the pickled vegetables then I get one of the hamachi rolls. Right now, I’m getting the melon salad, egg plate and the spotted prawn. Depending on the day, they’ll have six or 21 of the prawns, so sometimes they’ll hold me one when they know I’m coming in. Then I’m getting the dessert. Right now it’s banana ice cream with blueberries and it’s heaven.

2 p.m.: Get blasted with henna tattoos in Venice Beach

Then we’re racing to Venice Beach, which has been my favorite since I was a kid. It’s just so wild and grungy and weird and fun yet family friendly and safe. My girlfriend’s best friend lives on the boardwalk so we’ll go see him. I’ve always loved the vendors there so I have my favorites. Right now I’m really into Martha who is a henna tattoo artist, so I just get blasted with henna tattoos. She has a fat notebook of [inspiration], so I’ll pick some and then I’ll remix them with her. It’s this really cool collaboration. I do it every few weeks. I’ll sit with her for like two hours while life is happening, watching the roller skaters, the families, the cool outfits, the riffraff. Sometimes I’ll go to a lady to get the back of my hair wrapped in thread, which I used to do as a kid. It’s just another way I can adorn myself with color. Also, I love a hat, so I’ll go to everyone who’s selling a hat and maybe we’ll buy some fruit.

5 p.m.: Bowl and live my WNBA dreams at Lucky Strike

We’re going bowling at Lucky Strike, which used to Bowlero. We have the summer season passes and we just go ham. We go to the arcade first and I just live my WNBA dreams. Then we’ll go bowl two or three games. My partner usually orders the chicken wings. I don’t eat meat, so I’ll do a beer, French fries with “truffle,” shrimp tacos and maybe some candy.

8:30 p.m.: Head home to prepare for the week

Next, we’re going home. I’d look at my calendar for the week and answer emails. Then I’d take a shower and watch something with my partner. I’m into heist films and basketball. She’s into the psychological thrillers and those sort of crime investigation shows, so we meet in the middle. It’s going to sound so silly and I don’t care, but the last good show I watched was Tyler Perry’s “Beauty in Black.” His imagination is wild, so we just can’t wait until Season 3. It’s ridiculous that it’s so good. We’d watch something until I fall asleep usually by 10 p.m.

August Wilson’s “Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom,” the first of his plays to reach Broadway, catapulted the author’s playwriting career.

It’s the only drama in Wilson’s 10-play American Century Cycle not set in Pittsburgh’s Hill District. But the series might never have come to fruition were it not for the way “Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom” heralded the emergence of a major new American dramatist.

Although it’s still one of his most produced works, “Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom” has the hallmarks of an early piece. Wilson discovers his playwriting voice in this play, but he’s still working out his approach to dramatic structure.

I wasn’t champing at the bit to see another production of “Ma Rainey’s,” but I’m glad I didn’t miss this latest Wilson revival at A Noise Within, directed by Gregg T. Daniel. Acted with breathtaking ensemble naturalness, the play seems lived in rather than performed.

Francis C. Edemobi, from left, Amber Liekhus and CJ Obilom in August Wilson’s “Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom” at A Noise Within.

(Craig Schwartz)

The voices of the characters come through as though we’re eavesdropping from a discreet distance on their banter and squabbles. There’s nothing more riveting on stage than the truth, and here we have human beings in all their flagrant, unadorned and seemingly irreconcilable complications.

Set in a Chicago recording studio in 1927, the play splits its focus between the title character, a fictitious re-creation of the great blues singer Ma Rainey engaged in a power struggle with her white industry overlords, and the exchanges of her sidemen, a quartet of Black men with markedly different ambitions and sensibilities.

Levee, the role magnificently played by Chadwick Boseman in George C. Wolfe‘s 2020 film adaptation, may have more of a claim on the protagonist role than even Ma Rainey, who’s the play’s thematic center. As she throws her diva weight around in defense of a talent born out of Black suffering, she crystallizes the racial politics that Wilson powerfully illuminates.

But Levee’s role is the most dynamic in the play. A trumpeter who wants to move the band in a more musically sophisticated direction, he’s written his own arrangement of the song “Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom” that they’ve come to the studio to record. But Ma Rainey insists on doing it her way, even if Levee’s version is more interesting from a jazz perspective.

Overcome with anger from a traumatic childhood in which he witnessed his mother being raped by a mob of white men, he can’t tolerate slights, big or small. And his fiery temper, igniting at every possible moment with his older and more accommodating bandmates, turns this snapshot of history into genuine tragedy.

Kai A. Ealy, from left, Alex Morris, Gerald C. Rivers and Jamar Gilbert in August Wilson’s “Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom” at A Noise Within.

(Craig Schwartz)

The bedraggled studio has been visually renovated with the wood-slatted elegance of Tesshi Nakagawa’s scenic design. Daniel’s production demands that we experience the play in a fresh light. The period is respected but never allowed to become stiff or artificial. This isn’t a waxwork staging.

Standing microphones, placed on different tiers of the set, never let us forget that Wilson was first and foremost a conductor of voices. He bestows on his characters arias, and Daniel’s cast delivers them as though the words were expressly made for these particular actors.

Jamar Gilbert’s Levee moves through the world as if it’s a battle zone, which of course for him it has been. Conflict has dogged him his entire life, and injustice is what he’s come to expect. His focus is on himself, his music, his sensual pleasures and his determination not to be anyone’s victim. He takes as much pride in the shine of his new shoes as he does in the flirtatious giggle of a pretty woman.

Toledo (Gerald C. Rivers), the philosopher and historian of the group, tries to broaden Levee’s perspective, but the two men have a knack for getting under each other’s skin. Their antagonism is fueled in part by Levee’s immaturity, but there’s also a divide in their worldview: Levee wants society to change in time for him to make good while Toledo is more concerned with the collective spirit of his people.

Meanwhile, Slow Drag (Alex Morris) mostly wants to get on with the session, collect his money and enjoy life as it was meant to be enjoyed, with whiskey, a little reefer and good-looking women. Cutler (Kai A. Ealy) tries to be a moderating influence, but he winds up as exasperated by Levee as Toledo.

Alex Morris, from left, Amber Liekhus and Jamar Gilbert in August Wilson’s “Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom” at A Noise Within.

(Craig Schwartz)

The authenticity of the production encompasses the music. These actors don’t mime making music, as is often the case in revivals. They jam together, modestly but effectively enough to make their recording session real to us.

There’s nothing at all modest about Amber Liekhus’ musical talent. Indeed, Liekhus is the first actor who was able to convince me that the character of Ma Rainey really is a professional, jobbing singer. She doesn’t imitate being the mother of the blues, as her character is known. She earns the distinction through the wondrous depths of her soulful singing.

She refuses to be bulldozed by either Irvin (Bert Emmett), her manager, or Sturdyvant (Matt Foyer), the owner of the recording studio, knowing full well that they depend on her gift for their pile of money. Her insistence that Sylvester (Francis C. Edemobi), her nephew with a pronounced stutter, speaks the intro to her new record, is her way of asserting human control over corporate greed.

Liekhus’ Ma Rainey isn’t merely being temperamental, as Sturdyvant and Irvin assume. She’s using her limited leverage in whatever ways she can. There’s something touching about her imperiousness, a regal vulnerability that shines through even in her romantic interaction with Dussie Mae (CJ Obilom), whom Levee has his predatory eye on.

The honesty of the acting is so enlivening that I’m tempted to rank this production among the very best Wilson revivals I’ve seen. If there’s one slight misstep, it happens at the play’s violent climax. The moment makes perfect psychological and dramatic sense, but the confrontation needs a few more beats than Daniel allows.

But this encounter with “Ma Rainey” reveals that even early Wilson can, in the right hands, offer unadulterated playwriting greatness.

EVER wanted to head to a music festival abroad? Well, how about heading to the world’s biggest where most concerts are free?

Found in the capital of Morocco – Rabat – Mawazine isn’t your usual festival.

Instead of lasting the normal three-days, Mawazine goes on for nine days in total.

The festival takes place each June and its attendance always breaks records with 3.75million people visiting in 2025 – making it the largest music festival in the world by attendance.

As for whats on at the festival, around 90 per cent of the concerts are free to attend.

You can expect Moroccan and Arab artists as well as global headliners.

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There are a seven stages in total including OLM Souissi, which is the main stage where international stars such as Rihanna, Beyoncé, Shakira, Elton John, Stevie Wonder, Justin Timberlake and Maroon 5 have all performed.

You could then go to the Nahda Stage, which is dedicated to Arabic and Oriental music.

And over at Chellah, you’ll find a historic Roman site used for calm with acoustic music.

The festival isn’t just music either – you can expect art exhibitions, workshops and film screenings.

If you want to head to the festival, make sure to book your hotel well ahead.

The city of Rabat is transformed for the nine days as well, with cafes and shops open later.

The city is also a UNESCO World Heritage Site meaning there is plenty to explore including a huge medina, Hassan Tower and Kasbah of the Oudayas – a historic fortress with sea views.

Return flights from the UK to Rabat cost as little as £125 in June.

Long gone are the days of Mexican Americans’ alienation from Mexico — at least, if the Mexican government can help it.

On Sunday, hundreds of spectators gathered inside the Orpheum Theatre in downtown Los Angeles to watch the United States semifinals for “México Canta,” a binational music competition for rising artists from the U.S. and Mexico, organized by the latter’s Ministry of Culture.

Seven participants of Mexican descent from across the U.S. braved the stage with original songs, in what can only be described as a heartfelt singing contest, without the scorn of nitpicky judges or behind-the-scenes melodrama, but rather a zealous crowd made up of all age groups.

Voting was handed over to the public, as the segment broadcast live on public television across the United States and Mexico. Over 300,000 individuals tuned in to cast a vote to advance the top three contestants: Tiffany Galaviz, Joshua Soto and Rosalba Valdez. They will go on to compete in the grand finale of México Canta on Sept. 13 at the Auditorio Nacional in Mexico City for a chance at a record deal.

“There’s always that saying that if you’re Mexican American, you’re not Mexican enough, but I think that’s wrong,” said 18-year-old Soto, a Bronx native whose musical theater background and deep R&B groove gave depth to the bilingual country-corrido “Terco Callejero.”

“Ever since I was little, my parents always showed me my culture, my roots. It’s in my blood. It’s in the traditions that I follow and the music that I listen to every day,” added Soto, who is enrolled in New York University’s vocal performance program in music theater.

For 27-year-old semifinalist Valdez — a Chicagoan whose signature red hair and bedazzled fringe fit distinguished her onstage, as she sang her merengue-infused tune “Por Bonita” — being Mexican American is both a huge privilege and responsibility.

“When I was younger, I used to think the opposite, because of what our community went through,” said Valdez. “Now I see it as a superpower. [Being Mexican American is] something that I want more people to understand has power. We can create a lot of change when we realize the power that we have.”

Over 300,000 individuals tuned in live to cast a vote for the top three contestants: Joshua Soto, Tiffany Galaviz and Rosalba Valdez

(Ronaldo Bolanos / Los Angeles Times)

Speaking to The Times, Mexico Secretary of Culture Claudia Curiel de Icaza, stressed the importance of binational programming — adding that she believed that the singing contest can unite young people across the U.S.-Mexico border.

“We cannot think that we are merely divided by territory. Culture transcends borders, music transcends borders,” she said. “We are separated, but ultimately there is an extremely intimate and rich cultural development because culture has been the space of resistance, of resilience.”

As host and singer, Majo Aguilar — granddaughter of Mexican film and music legends Antonio Aguilar and Flor Silvestre — ushered vocalists on and off the stage. Large screens lit up with educational stories of the legacy of Mexican nationals, such as Pedro J. González, one of the first Spanish radio broadcasters in the U.S.

The show also paid homage to American-born individuals who have elevated Mexican music: including Texas-born Gloria Ríos, who helped pioneer rock ’n’ roll in Mexico in 1956 and Arizona-born Linda Ronstadt, whose 1987 album “Canciones de Mi Padre” became the bestselling non-English language record in U.S. history.

This year, the contest placed an emphasis on música mexicana. According to Spotify, global streams of the genre have grown by 295% since 2021; in the U.S. alone, its popularity has grown by 162% since 2021.

In large part, its popularity has been driven by corrido tumbados, or songs which blend traditional Mexican folk with trap, often underscoring street life, “the hustle” and the riches that can follow.

Its most prominent acts include Junior H, Fuerza Regida and Peso Pluma. These were the biggest streaming Latin musicians in the U.S. in 2024, just below reggaeton superstar Bad Bunny — yet none of these popular música mexicana artists were recognized during the competition.

“Mexican music is among the most consumed worldwide and it’s a matter of choosing a genre where young people feel identified and music that transcends borders,” said Curiel de Icaza. “And no, we are not censoring it.”

México Canta began in 2025 as state-sponsored programming to promote musical narratives beyond themes of violence and drug-trafficking.

Besides banning the use of artificial intelligence and other audio alterations, the contest did not permit “songs that glorify violence or drug use.” Failure to comply with the rules would result in disqualification for contestants.

“More than banning, it’s about educating, guiding, and getting young people to stop listening to that music,” President Claudia Sheinbaum said in a news conference last year when the program was first introduced.

President of Mexico Claudia Sheinbaum speaks during the daily morning briefing at Palacio Nacional on Aug. 6, 2025, in Mexico City.

(Manuel Velasquez / Getty Images)

The singing competition comes at a time when 10 out of 32 Mexican states have implemented bans or limitations on corridos in public spaces; namely narcocorridos, or ballads that recount or glamorize elements of drug culture or organized crime.

Some lawmakers assert that the lyrics in these songs promote violence, including Mexico City lawmakers who, in May, passed a law barring the songs from being played at public events.

“The bans, which come amid President Trump’s hyper-focus on drug trafficking in Mexico, have sparked debates here about freedom of expression and state censorship and have raised provocative questions: Do narcocorridos merely reflect reality in a nation gripped by powerful drug gangs? Or do they somehow shape it?” wrote Times correspondent Kate Linthicum in a May 2025 article.

In May, the second edition of México Canta was announced during Sheinbaum’s daily news conference, generating online buzz when famed corrido tumbado singer Junior H vocalized support for the contest — while also lamenting his past musical choices.

“In my initial [career], some of the stories that I shared in my music didn’t add to the positive message that reflect my current compositions,” said Junior H, whose real name is Antonio Herrera Pérez, in the news conference. “I kept growing and I learned that music, besides being a form of expression, also implies a responsibility when millions of people hear you worldwide.”

The 25-year-old rose to fame through popular narcocorridos such as 2023’s “El Azul,” which is believed to be about Sinaloan drug lord Juan Jose Esparragoza Moreno; as well as his 2022 banda-fused track, “El Hijo Mayor,” which some speculate to be about the son of Joaquín “El Chapo” Guzmán.

“When you grow up, you have a career path and you see that you have an impact on young people, you start to mature and evolve your career,” Curiel de Icaza said of Junior H. “And you realize you want to go in a different direction, that’s when he understood and decided that it was better to focus on something else.”

During the news conference, Sheinbaum denounced the idea that the music contest was a form of censorship. Curiel de Icaza also refuted those claims: “We’re not prohibiting anything. Music will continue to exist, different voices exist and we’re not prohibiting or censoring songs.”

To help amplify the values of México Canta, organizers enlisted the help of Los Tigres del Norte, one of the most successful regional Mexican acts in the U.S. The night before the semifinals in L.A., Los Tigres performed with Gustavo Dudamel at the Hollywood Bowl.

The band closed Sunday’s competition with a performance of “México Sigue De Pie,” a new song that underscores the grit of the Mexican community. “They’re legendary,” Curiel de Icaza said of the band.

Coincidentally, the esteemed guests were early pioneers of narcocorridos: including their 1974 song “Contrabando y Traición,” which details a fictional drug trade tale of Emilio Varela and Camelia la Texana, as well as their 1978 track “La Banda del Carro Rojo,” which describes cocaine trafficking across the state lines.

But over the last decade, the band, too, has been advised by concert organizers in Mexico to avoid playing these types of songs when performing in certain venues, leading them to voice concern over the criticism of corridos — which they argue provide listeners with details over real-life truths, in the same way journalists engage in storytelling.

“We’re narrators of people’s lives,” bandleader Jorge Hernández told El País last year.

KYLIE Minogue shares some unseen throwback snaps to celebrate Can’t Get You Out Of My Head becoming her first billion-streaming hit.

The pop icon, 58, also told of her pride as the hit surpassed the Spotify milestone 25 years after its release on September 8, 2001.

The video, showing her in outfits including a deeply-plunging white number slashed to both thighs, was a fan favourite.

She wrote: “Thank you to everyone all around the world who has streamed and sang and danced and loved!

“Way before streaming, here I am doing wardrobe and glam tests in preparation for the video.

“Someone tell her she’s hit a billion.”

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The song is currently streamed around 850,000 times per day.

It was the lead single from her acclaimed album, Fever.

The single topped the charts in more than 40 countries with over five million sales globally.

The Aussie may be popping champagne corks but, in an interview with Vogue Australia this week, she said she had reigned in her drinking since her wildest days.

She joins the billion stream club alongside stars including The Weeknd, who tops the chart with 5.5billion streams for hit Blinding Lights.

Ed Sheeran comes a close second with Shape Of You, with 5.1billion.

Earlier this month she said: “I do believe that it has its place in that realm..

“Sonically and visually and at that point in my life, I think, what was I? What, 32? I was settling into myself.”’

It was part of her 21st century comeback after establishing herself with early hits from Stock, Aitken and Waterman and then dance label Deconstruction.

But Can’t Get You . . . was, says Kylie: “Like riding a spaceship.”

Venezuelan popular artist Luis Mariano Rivera was born on August 19, 1906. His music is a tribute to life and a commitment to his community’s identity and cultural sovereignty. Rivera’s works remind us that when a people sow their land and tell their stories, they become resistant to oppression and invincible against foreign domination.

A brief and affectionate profile

In the fertile and sunny lands of eastern Venezuela, specifically in the lush village of Canchunchú in Bermúdez Municipality, Sucre State, Luis Mariano Rivera was born on August 19, 1906, 120 years ago. His life was shaped by the rural realities of this area, which combined the abundance of nature with the profound inequalities of a latifundista-dominated agrarian economy.

His childhood was marked by early orphanhood and farm labor. Far from leading to resentment or resignation, this experience shaped in Rivera a loving and vital sensibility that allowed him to dismantle traditional notions of property and patriarchal-landowner hierarchy, enabling him to identify with the land, plants, and animals that surrounded him. This connection to the land enriched his imagination, and his extended family ultimately came to encompass the entire territory.

Rivera’s creative work blossomed after he turned 48. A self-taught musician, poet, and playwright, he composed his first verses using the Venezuelan four-stringed cuatro guitar as his primary instrument. His artistic output became an act of defiance that placed elements dismissed by the dominant culture at the center of Venezuelan poetry: local biodiversity, manual labor, trees, fruits, and wildlife.

Through his popular theater plays and musical compositions, Rivera portrayed a cosmogony in which nature is not merely a resource to be exploited, but a subject with rights to be loved and respected.

Although he never joined any political party nor sought public office, his approach to life and art constitutes a profound political statement. In a Caribbean and Venezuelan context where the neocolonial oil rentier model displaced agricultural production and fueled the exodus from the countryside to the city, Rivera’s insistence on staying in Canchunchú and singing about rural life was a clear act of resistance.

His politics were rooted in pacifism, fraternity, and love for the land. In the face of the metastasizing commodification of life, he prioritized the ethics of care, respect for natural cycles, and community solidarity. Various artists of national and international renown, including Alí Primera, Lilia Vera, Cecilia Todd, Soledad Bravo, Gualberto Ibarreto, and Morella Muñoz, performed his songs, transforming his local message into a banner of continental identity. Alí Primera, in particular, saw Rivera as a beacon of popular dignity, celebrating his ability to transform everyday rural life into revolutionary and loving poetry.

Luis Mariano Rivera passed away on March 15, 2002, in Carúpano, Sucre State, at the age of 95, after nearly a century devoted to cultivating the poetry of life, simplicity, and affection. His legacy is recognized as a symbol of the musical identity that flows directly from the harmonious relationship with the land and the wisdom of the people.

Sound, memory, and collective identity

In many of the ancestral cultures of Abya Yala, sound is part of the creation myth of the women and men who originally inhabited these territories. For all of humanity, sounds have played an important role in the formation of identities. Languages and music stem from this very relationship and our need to connect, to name ourselves, and to determine our own destinies.

Every landscape has its own sonority. In other words, a set of sounds that form its geohistory. This includes our ways of speaking and our music, but also the sounds of the wind, the rain, the sea, the river, birds, insects. In short, all the sounds of life expressing itself, as well as the sounds of human inventions that are now part of our daily lives.

Within this spectrum, there are human beings who manage to connect the sounds of past, present, and future memories to bequeath a sonic identity that transcends the purely artistic realm, becoming the very landscape narrated in their poetry. Luis Mariano Rivera is an example of this transcendental audacity to place oneself beyond time with a unique music.

At the age of 48, driven by the desire to express himself without relying on others to write his letters and thoughts, he taught himself to read and write. Already in his mature years, he began composing verses, parrandas, merengues, and eastern joropos through which he paid tribute to the flora, fauna, and everyday life of his village.

Rivera’s remarkable sensitivity stems from his direct observation of the countryside. His lyrics preserve idioms, sayings, and oral expressions from eastern Venezuela that would otherwise have been lost. Long before the rise of globalized environmental movements, his songs already championed the balance between humans, wildlife, and flora from a local, community-based, and decolonizing perspective. Rivera’s legacy transcends mere musical composition; he represents a defense of communal life and a living example of how it is possible to reclaim one’s own history to create sounds that cement collective identity.

For him, Canchunchú was not merely a geographical reference point, but the center of the world. By singing about his village and embracing rural daily life as a symbol of belonging with a claim to universality, he created an affective geohistory that recognized the dignity of life as equivalent to that of the cherry, the guácara [snail], and the mango. He showed to his community that their own reality is worthy of being celebrated and sung about. As such, his work did not stem from ego. It was born out of the village’s celebrations and gatherings, and like collective knowledge, it has no other purpose than enjoyment and the strengthening of collective unity.

Singing honestly about one’s own village, honoring the vernacular of one’s community without resorting to artificial language, taught us a sense of pride in our ways of feeling, understanding, and reasoning. 

Rivera’s music, paraphrasing Alí Primera, grounds us in our own land, with the profound simplicity of one who surrenders to the magnitude of the surrounding beauty. His deep connection to his native Canchunchú never served as chauvinistic isolation or picturesque folklorism. Rather, it was a gateway to the human condition prior to the violent irruption of Western capitalist modernity, with its imposition of individuality, the commodification of nature, and linear progress, at the expense of communal memory. Rivera’s work operates in the opposite direction: it reconnects with an organic body of knowledge that does not require academia to be legitimate, because it is engraved in the lived collective experience.

It is no secret to anyone that traditional community music, as well as rural poetry, serves as a means of transmitting memory. It is not mere entertainment. Rhythmic patterns, melodic turns, and poetic meter interact with the biological, agricultural, and communal cycles that humankind has cultivated for millennia.

Rivera did not theorize about nature: he embodied it. His philosophy sprang from working the land, from sweat, and from the sounds of the countryside. It is the knowledge transmitted through the body and emotion, that “communal way of life” that predates modernity and remains a reservoir from which to conceive alternatives to capitalism, fascism, imperialism, and Zionism.

True universality does not consist in erasing differences under a single mold with domineering hegemonic pretensions, but rather in reaching our very roots. When we reaffirm the dignity of our communities, we validate the “peripheries” as the center of our own worldviews without the need for external recognition.

Rivera demonstrates that the periphery is a center in and of itself by stripping away the pretensions of colonial modernity. His music taps into the common core of humanity: the wonder of being alive, communal solidarity, and respect for the sacred meaning of life. And this is not a nostalgic gaze toward the past, but rather a reservoir of meaning and hope for the present. It reminds us that beneath the veneer of modernity, the human species remains hardwired to come together, celebrate, and sustain communities.

Finally, Rivera’s production is above all an expression of love. Love toward the full life experience. But when a poet sings about love, it is usually limited to romantic love, or heartbreak in the absence of corresponding feelings. Nevertheless, Rivera did count on a “spiritual companion,” to use his own words: Maximina Marsella, known as La Negra Marsella and whom he affectionately called “la negra,” in what is a very common expression in Venezuela. She was presented as the only woman capable of understanding his silences and his late passion for words. He dedicated many love verses to her, expressing how they shared feelings and devotion for the small things in life and the land.

Writing our own history and cultural sovereignty

The act by which a dispossessed individual reclaims control over the written word is, in essence, an act of sociopolitical liberation. For Luis Mariano Rivera, the decision to learn to read and write on his own as an adult was not merely a matter of functional education or an attempt to conform to bourgeois standards. It represented taking control of his own narrative and a fundamental reaffirmation of his personal and communal sovereignty. In a system dominated by the colonialism of knowledge, where official writing has historically functioned as a mechanism of subordination and administrative control, mastering the alphabet from the campesino perspective means dismantling the monopoly on truth. Rivera lucidly understood that mastering the written code granted him the historical ability to cease being a passive subject, an object of study in folklorism, and become the chronicler and philosopher of his own time. He ceased to be narrated by others and assumed authorship of his territorial memory.

This literacy and poetic endeavor took place against a profoundly adverse historical backdrop. Throughout the twentieth century, Venezuela underwent a traumatic transformation driven by the emergence of the neocolonial oil enclave. Urban modernization advanced aggressively through its ideological and economic strategy of marginalizing the countryside, dismantling traditional community structures, and promoting rural depopulation in favor of slums in the major cities.

The extraction of hydrocarbons by transnational corporations tied to the geopolitical interests of US and European imperialism came alongside an overwhelming wave of cultural propaganda. This ideological penetration sought to impose the American consumerist lifestyle, eroding peasant identity and dismissing local agriculture as synonymous with backwardness and savagery. Venezuela, which was barely emerging from the devastating aftermath of the war of independence and successive nineteenth-century insurrections, revolutions, and civil wars stoked by local elites and foreign capital, saw its food sovereignty and historical memory shaken.

Amid this landscape of alienation, where the country was rapidly transforming into a consumerist, import-dependent enclave, Rivera’s insistence on remaining in his Canchunchú valley and singing about the communal way of life was not a nostalgic or folkloric retreat, but rather a deeply political and assertive affirmation of cultural re-existence.

He sang with such transparent and loving clarity that his powerful message took root in the national collective imagination, ethically reframing the traditions, sufferings, joys, and experiences of campesinos in eastern Venezuela. Against the aesthetics of waste and the logic of neocolonial dispossession, he countered with the ethics of care and the sacredness of everyday life. His compositions served as a mechanism for preserving historical memory: he warned against the collective amnesia regarding the communal way of life driven by the discourse of developmental modernity; he championed food sovereignty in the face of dependence on the globalizing market; he dignified rural labor in the face of urban prejudice, revealing the profound ecological philosophy inherent in popular knowledge. But, moreover, his profound poetic work demonstrates that true national sovereignty is more than just the defense of natural resources or borders. It requires the preservation of the collective soul, the dignity of the living word, and the self-determination of the people’s power.

Luis Mariano Rivera’s life journey teaches us that decolonization is not achieved solely through theoretical confrontation or bellicose rhetoric, but above all through an organic connection to the land and the community. By recognizing himself through his own voice, he prevented imperialist corporations and the oil industry’s maelstrom from erasing the humanity of his surroundings. His music endures as an indestructible testament to cultural sovereignty: living proof that a people who remember their roots, cultivate their land, and tell their own stories become resilient in the face of modern oppressions and invincible against any attempt at external domination.

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 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.

DOLLY Parton’s late husband’s will has revealed clues into how the music icon will divide up her massive $650 million fortune in the months after her death.

In Carl Dean’s last will and testament obtained by The U.S. Sun, he set out his wishes for his property, including what should happen to Dolly’s estate.

Carl died on March 3, 2025, just 18 months before Dolly’s death.

Carl’s will claimed Dolly would have trusted him with her estate should she have died first, so his will appears to have been done in coordination with the music legend.

In his 2013 will, Carl set out a directive specifically about Dolly’s personal effects relating to her “music and entertainment career.”

Carl said that if Dolly does not survive him, all of her career artifacts “including…pictures, costumes, jewelry, musical instruments and equipment and souvenirs” are to be distributed according to the terms of the Carl Thomas Dean Trust.

FINAL POSE

Dolly Parton looked upbeat in final photos just weeks before her death

The actual terms of that trust, however, are not public.

Carl then directed that for the rest of his belongings, in the event that Dolly died before him, should be distributed among their nieces and nephews.

At the time of his will, which was updated in 2013, Carl acknowledged five of his own nieces and nephews, and then another 14 on Dolly’s side, who are named to be beneficiaries of the estate.

Dolly and Carl had no children together.

Despite online rumors that Dolly left all royalties relating to her song Jolene to her goddaughter Miley Cyrus, there was no mention of the pop star in Carl’s filings.

The philanthropist’s husband also set out a specific clause for the allocation of money to charity.

Under a section titled Payment of Debts and Administration Expenses, Carl authorized his executor to make decisions to pay out any “unpaid charitable pledges” at their sole discretion.

Carl essentially was leaving the door open for his executor to pay any charity that may have had an outstanding donation promise from his and Dolly’s estate.

As The U.S. Sun exclusively reported, Dolly was quietly getting her affairs squared away during her final months.

Public records show that her expansive Willow Lake Plantation property was transferred to the DP Dean Trust on April 21 of this year for $0.

A county clerk noted that the estate was previously held under the DP Spousal Trust before being shifted into the DP Dean Trust.

Since Dolly served as the trustee for the spousal trust, it seems clear she was actively rearranging her real estate holdings just four months before her passing.

Recent 2025 tax records assessed her main home in Brentwood, Tennessee, at $10,700,400, while her neighboring property was appraised at $1,282,800.

Dolly was the sole beneficiary of the Carl Thomas Dean Trust.

As The U.S. Sun previously exclusively revealed, her personal real estate holdings in Tennessee alone were valued at a minimum of $180 million.

Forbes estimated her net worth at roughly $450 million in 2025.

Much of that fortune stemmed from her 50 percent ownership of the Dollywood theme park, alongside a prized music catalog featuring over 3,000 songs—including massive hits like 9 to 5 and I Will Always Love You —which was valued at around $120 million.

Beyond her music and business ventures, she also founded Dolly Parton’s Imagination Library, a beloved charity that mails free books to young children across five countries.

The icon passed away at 80 years old following a brief battle with cancer.

In death as in life, Parton left us one of the few spaces where Americans can still unite under a single banner. The banner of Dolly.

Flags are flying at half-mast to honor singer Dolly Parton, who died Tuesday at the age of 80.

There are few artists, let alone individuals of any stripe, whose loss compels a national day of mourning. Especially now, when it can appear there is little to agree upon and everything to debate.

But in death as in life, Parton left us one of the few spaces where Americans can still unite under a single banner: The banner of Dolly.

Her music was borderless, disarming and genuine. Simply put, it was a reflection of the woman who wrote and performed the songs. Her outsized personality, warmth, compassion and charm made her more than a country music star. Parton was an icon whose music, philanthropy and authenticity superseded genre, class, sexuality, color and politics.

She ingratiated herself to the public in bigger-than-big wigs, “trashy” outfits (her words) and with an unfailing sense of humor about herself. When I interviewed Parton in 2001 upon release of her album “Little Sparrow,” she expounded on her fashion sense.

“Just ‘cause I’m singing about a farmer doesn’t mean I have to come out in overalls,” she said. “Or just ‘cause I’m singing about a woman having a baby doesn’t mean I have to wear a maternity smock. But if I did, I’d put rhinestones on it.”

Parton’s self-effacing jokes made her immense talent less threatening in an entertainment industry that often reserved the title of “genius songwriter” for men. And women’s contributions were often minimized by putting the focus elsewhere.

In 1977, when she appeared on “The Tonight Show Starring Johnny Carson,” the most powerful man on television asked what her ample bustline would have been called back home. “Healthy,” he joked? She laughed it off. He then said he would give a year’s pay to “peek under there.” She was quick with a comeback, “I paid good money for these.”

Parton was a master at meeting wisecracks about her shapely figure with her own one-liners. When Carson’s successor Jay Leno asked if her breasts were real, Parton replied, “They’re real big!”

The boob jokes were predictable during her frequent appearances on talk and variety shows. But the of-its-time sexism was neutralized when she’d pull out her acoustic guitar and perform a song as comfortably as if she were sitting on the porch of her childhood home in Appalachia. The audience was then reminded that it was her indelible songs like “Coat of Many Colors” or “Jolene,” and the home-spun beauty of Parton’s voice, that made her a star.

The fourth of 12 children born to a poor sharecropper in a one-room cabin on the banks of the Little Pigeon River in Pittman Center, Tenn., Parton over six decades sold more than 100 million records to become one of the bestselling music artists of all time. She expanded her audience when in 1980 she played an overworked, underappreciated secretary alongside Jane Fonda and Lily Tomlin in “9 to 5.” The title track she wrote and performed for the film is an enduring work anthem, no matter the generation.

Despite Parton’s huge pop successes, which also included “Here You Come Again” and “Islands in the Stream,” she always came back to her roots. “When I came out of the Smoky Mountains, I tried to make a living doing [mountain music], but I couldn’t,” she said back in 2001. “I had to prostitute myself in certain ways musically in order to make a living. It’s almost like I had to get rich in order to sing like I was poor again.”

But it was largely what Parton did and said outside the recording studio and film set that made her such an inspiring and beloved figure, especially in communities that had been overlooked, marginalized or demonized.

She spent her lifetime giving back to Appalachia and other regions of her home state, sponsoring literacy programs and building the Dollywood theme park to attract tourism and create jobs. She covered tuition and related college expenses should Dollywood employees enroll in higher education. It was also reported that Parton had anonymously paid for the band uniforms for a number of Tennessee high schools for years.

When Whitney Houston popularized the country singer’s song “I Will Always Love You,” Parton used her songwriting royalties to buy property in a historically Black Nashville neighborhood, and moved her own business offices into the complex rather than in the city’s corporate or music-row districts. Functioning as a local commercial building and office space, it allowed her to invest directly in the surrounding community. Parton referred to the property as “the house that Whitney built.”

Parton was also known for her long history of openly supporting the gay community. She raised money for HIV-related charities, and her production company, Sandollar Productions, co-produced the Oscar-winning documentary “Common Threads: Stories From the Quilt,” which honored people lost to AIDS. She also publicly came out in support of same-sex marriage in 2009 and voiced her support for the trans community after several anti-trans measures came into law in Tennessee in 2023.

Communities across the political and cultural spectrum, and countries overseas, are now remembering and honoring Parton with drag parades, New Orleans brass band tributes and even a King’s Guard rendition of “9 to 5” outside Buckingham Palace.

Parton’s acts weren’t political. They were empathetic. And unifying. Even in death.

Dolly Parton had reportedly been battling cancer before her death.

A spokesperson for Parton’s estate confirmed the cause of death to the New York Times.

In a statement, also shared with People, a representative for the country music icon said: “After bravely facing a brief battle with cancer, Dolly departed her Earthly life today at the Vanderbilt-Ingram Cancer Center surrounded by loved ones.”

The type of cancer was not specified. TMZ had previously reported that Parton had been hospitalized early Friday for kidney and autoimmune issues.

Parton’s death at age 80 was announced earlier Tuesday by her nephew Bryan Seaver in a news release and in a video shared to the singer’s Instagram page. Tributes from entertainment luminaries, politicians and others immediately followed.

An entertainer and philanthropist, Parton had previously had a series of health issues that led her to postpone several public appearances and performances. She missed the announcement of a Dollywood attraction to recover from a kidney stone in September 2025. Later that month, she delayed her residency at Caesars Palace in Las Vegas for unspecified “health challenges.”

“Our beloved Dolly Parton spent her life and career bringing joy, laughter, hope and integrity into everything she touched,” the statement from her representatives read. “Her unmatched generosity reached the lives of countless people whom she would never meet, yet she was always there to offer a helping hand.

“Whether it be the hundreds of millions of books donated through her invaluable Imagination Library or funding research that helped create a lifesaving vaccine used around the world, Dolly’s unconditional love for all people was the guiding force for her lasting impact.”

DOLLY Parton’s cause of death has been revealed as the country music superstar died following a “brief battle with cancer”, aged 80.

The Queen of Country passed away on Tuesday after suffering from a number of health issues in recent months.

It has now been revealed that Dolly died “surrounded by loved ones” in Nashville after a “brief battle” with cancer, reports People.

Representatives revealed the news in a statement to the outlet which did not reveal the type of cancer Dolly had been battling.

The statement read: “Our beloved Dolly Parton spent her life and career bringing joy, laughter, hope and integrity into everything she touched.

“Her unmatched generosity reached the lives of countless people whom she would never meet, yet she was always there to offer a helping hand.

BITTERSWEET GOODBYE

Dolly Parton’s funeral plans revealed after family announces her death

‘A TRUE LOSS’

American flags to be lowered for a week to honor Dolly Parton, Trump says

It comes as:

“Whether it be the hundreds of millions of books donated through her invaluable Imagination Library or funding research that helped create a lifesaving vaccine used around the world, Dolly’s unconditional love for all people was the guiding force for her lasting impact.

“After bravely facing a brief battle with cancer, Dolly departed her Earthly life today at the Vanderbilt-Ingram Cancer Center surrounded by loved ones.”

Dolly’s nephew Bryan Seaver announced her death in a heartbreaking statement on her official Instagram page Tuesday afternoon, shocking her fans worldwide.

Dolly had been struggling with her health for some time before her passing and was forced to bow out of numerous gigs.

She told PEOPLE on Friday: “I am dealing with some health issues that I just didn’t pay attention to when I was watching over Carl.”

Her beloved husband of 60 years, Carl Thomas Dean, died last March after being diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease in 2019. He was 82 years old.

After cancelling a slew of shows in December, the Tennessee native admitted she needed to go through “a few procedures”.

Last October, Dolly’s sister Frieda had pleaded with her fans to pray for her sibling due to fears around her health.

It was only earlier this month that she shared an update with fans on social media saying she had a “few little health issues”.

She added that “sometimes I get a little dizzy and I get dehydrated”, saying her doctors had banned her from traveling to the opening of Dollywood’s latest ride.

But during her last public appearance, Dolly appeared upbeat at the unveiling of her new Nashville truck stop.

And just one week before her death, she shared about her excitement to open a new museum in her very last post.

Dolly has no children but leaves behind her legacy in music.

Across her illustrious career, Dolly became one of the most-honored female country performers of all time.

Dolly Parton’s Career Highlights

Dolly Parton is one of the most well-known country stars in the business, and her career has continued to flourish. Here’s a look at the highlights of the music legend’s decades-long career.

• Dolly wrote and released her first single, Puppy Love, including the B-track Girl Left Alone, on Goldband Records when she was 11 years old.
• Although her single wasn’t a big hit, she ended up performing at Nashville, Tennessee’s Grand Ole Opry for the first time at 13 years old and was introduced by Johnny Cash.
• Dolly made the Billboard country charts in January 1967 with two singles from Monument Records: Dumb Blonde and Something Fishy.
• The singer earned her first number-one hit in 1971 with her single Joshua.
• In 1974, Dolly’s arguably most well-known song, Jolene, reached number one on the country charts.
• Her music continued to succeed, and she was awarded the Female Vocalist of the Year award at the CMAs in 1975.
• Dolly’s track, Here You Come Again, achieved platinum status in 1978, and the album earned her a Grammy award for Best Female Country Vocal Performance.
• In 1980, Dolly starred in her first film, 9 to 5, alongside Lily Tomlin and Jane Fonda and released her hit song of the same name.
• The star opened her famed amusement park, Dollywood, in Pigeon Forge, Tennessee, in 1986.
• Later that year, she was inducted into the Nashville Songwriters Hall of Fame.
• At 75 years old, Dolly recreated her 1978 Playboy Cover for her husband Carl Dean’s birthday.
• In May 2022, it was announced that Dolly would officially be inducted into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame, alongside Eminem, Lionel Richie, Carly Simon, Eurythmics, Duran Duran, and Pat Benatar.

A total of 25 of her singles or albums became Gold, Platinum or Multi-Platinum records. 

She had 26 songs reach number one on the Billboard country charts – a record for a female artist – and 42 career top 10 country albums.

As of 2012, she had written more than 3,000 songs and sold more than 100 million records.

She also boasts a whole host of awards including 11 Grammy Awards alongside 55 nominations.

Dolly is also in several halls of fame across the US including the Hollywood Walk of Fame, Country Music Hall of Fame and the Nashville Songwriters Hall of Fame.

In 2023, she was even ranked at number 27 on Rolling Stone‘s 2023 list of the 200 Greatest Singers of All Time.

Dolly Parton was the last star in music everyone in America could agree on. Her brilliant career as a carefully-sculpted backwoods icon (one with unmatched insight into the human heart) told the nation stories it craved to hear about itself — songs about resilience and dignity under poverty and labor, how to hold conflicting feelings of devotion and loss. None of the canon of extras — the charmingly ramshackle Dollywood theme park, the purehearted children’s literacy initiatives, the rhinestone cowgirl aesthetics — would be possible without one of the most emotionally attuned, beautifully performed and broadly reaching catalogs in American music.

She is one of the finest singer-songwriters this country ever produced, and it’s inconceivable to sum up her catalog in just an LP’s worth of tunes. But Parton — the songwriter, the vocalist, the instrumentalist, the collaborator — only ever wanted to invite a listener in, wherever they arrive from. Here are 10 songs to start with.

Coat of Many Colors (1971)

The foundational text of Parton’s career, this 1971 single lovingly details her mother’s make-do resilience, stitching a fall coat from scraps of cloth in the spirit of a beloved Bible story. Its storytelling economy is just as crafty, finding splendor with humble tools, and distills Parton’s whole persona into one perfect song.

Touch Your Woman (1972)

You could spend tens of thousands on couple’s therapy and never get as good advice as “We can’t always both be right, we sometimes disagree / But you’ve got the right to speak your mind and it’s the same with me / When the anger’s at an end, and you want inside my arms again / All you have to do to make it right is just / Touch your woman.”

Jolene (1974)

Try to forget how ubiquitous this song is in pop culture, even though it’s been covered by Beyoncé (who laced her own domestic strife into a version), the White Stripes and Parton’s goddaughter Miley Cyrus. Listen to how eerie the thing actually is, how the harmonies capture the desperation, panic and preemptive grief of losing a love to someone whose appeal is undeniable. Nothing that haunted can ever be overplayed.

I Will Always Love You (1974)

Any songwriter should be so lucky — to have one of your hallmark tunes be lovingly swept out from under you and become one of the definitive ballads of pop music. Whitney Houston’s powerhouse version stands alone, but Dolly’s quieter, mournful ode to her collaboration with Porter Wagoner is the artful, formative sketch to a colossal mural.

The Bargain Store (1975)

Taking the themes of “Coat” in intimate new directions, there’s a pained, darker tang to lines like “Take these old, used memories from the past / And these broken dreams and plans that didn’t last / I’ll trade them for a future, I can’t use them anymore.” A perfect distillation of Parton’s themes and craftsmanship, where melancholy and resilience fight it out in the empty spaces.

Two Doors Down (1977)

One of Parton’s first forays into purer pop, this single has the stomp and shuffle of funk and could easily be retrofitted into disco DJ sets. Soul horns and synths liven the production up, but it all underlines how far her writing and vocal performances could travel through genres.

9 to 5 (1980)

The song that made Parton a true pop crossover, a movie star with Jane Fonda and Lily Tomlin and an Oscar nominee. But don’t let the relatable career-girl pluck of the movie dilute the fact that this song is pissed off about capitalism, even as its hooks make the grind of working life more bearable.

Old Flames (Can’t Hold A Candle To You) (1980)

Dolly chose her covers carefully, but even she couldn’t have known how full-circle this would come around. A take on songwriter Pebe Sebert’s ballad that went to No. 1 on the country charts in 1980, Sebert’s daughter Kesha would eventually return the favor with a version decades later, two women who turned an act playing ditzy into resonant, affecting music.

To Know Him Is To Love Him (1987)

Parton’s pen and persona had no equals, but she was an enthusiastic collaborator as well, from her early partnership with Porter Wagoner up to her 2023 hard rock LP. She was at her best with the women of Trio, a supergroup with Linda Ronstadt and Emmylou Harris, and this regal single of nascent, unrequited commitment is as lovely as they come.

Smoky Mountain Memories (Live – 1994)

Parton was a virtuoso at staying, if not apolitical, at least a neutral zone of relatability for conservatives and leftists alike, each of whom had ways to read their lives into her storytelling. A song like “Smoky Mountain Memories,” a gut-wrenching live rework of an earlier song, lent dignity to her family’s toil and loneliness, while raging against the circumstances that created it — “It takes all I’ve got to give what life demands / Oh, you go insane if you give into it.”

Dolly Parton, the singer and songwriter from Locust Ridge, Tenn., who willed herself into being the very symbol of country music stardom, has died in Nashville.

Parton died peacefully Tuesday, her nephew Bryan Seaver announced in a press release shared with The Times. Seaver also announced her death in a video shared to the singer’s Instagram page. She was 80.

The fabled entertainer died after a series of health issues that led her to postpone several performing commitments. In September 2025, she missed the announcement of a Dollywood attraction to recover from a kidney stone. Later that month she delayed her residency at Caesars Palace — her first residency on the Las Vegas Strip in more than 30 years — due to unspecified “health challenges.”

Over the course of a flamboyant 50-plus-year career as a songwriter, recording artist, actor and businesswoman, Parton reinvented the American success story through a combination of grit and wit, faith and sex appeal, virtuosity and plainspokenness, empathy for the human condition and plastic surgery.

She seized on the roles that American culture allowed for women in the spotlight — waif, trollop, fallen woman, country girl in over her head — and played them to the hilt, achieving artistic and financial heights few female performers have ever reached. By the time of her death, she was said to be one of the few things that Americans of most every persuasion could agree on.

One of the most honored musicians in modern history, Parton earned 10 Grammy Awards, two Academy Award nominations, a Primetime Emmy, 10 Country Music Assn. awards, and in 1999 she was enshrined in the Country Music Hall of Fame.

In 2005 President George W. Bush presented Parton with the National Medal of the Arts, and a year later she was given a Kennedy Center for the Arts Award for her lifetime contribution to the arts. Parton logged some 25 gold or platinum records and 25 No. 1 songs on the country chart. Parton also won a Liseberg Applause Award, the biggest prize in the theme park industry, for her fabled tourist attraction Dollywood.

Parton’s rags-to-riches tale reads like a classic country music story-song. But before it became mythical, it was only incredibly hard.

Dolly Rebecca Parton was born in Locust Ridge, Tenn., in the Great Smoky Mountains, on Jan. 19, 1946. Her father was a tobacco sharecropper and she was the fourth of 12 children. In her autobiography, “Dolly: My Life and Other Unfinished Business,” Parton related how her parents were so poor they paid the doctor who delivered her with a sack of cornmeal.

Raised in a one-room cabin with no electricity, she listened to the Grand Ole Opry on a battery-powered radio. When she was 7 she started writing songs; a year later she picked up the guitar. At 10 she was singing on a Knoxville radio and TV program, “Cas Walker Farm & Home Hour.”

The Parton family was musical, and there were always banjos, fiddles, mandolins and guitars around the cabin. Her voice, a birdlike soprano with an animated trill, hadn’t changed much from her youth: “I sound like a little girl singing all these Lord-awful songs,” she told “Fresh Air’s” Terry Gross in 2001.

On a Friday night in 1964, Parton became the first in her family to graduate from high school. The next afternoon she was on a bus heading for Nashville, targeting a career in country music.

Bob Hope gets an adjustment to his reindeer costume as he and Dolly Parton prepare to tape a 1988 Christmas special on a cruise ship docked in Miami.

(Kathy Willens / Associated Press)

Women had little real power in Nashville at the time, and though rural women were a growing part of the country music audience, they were marginalized as artists. Parton signed to the Monument label, but felt that they wanted a pop singer more than they wanted her. An early breakthrough came when singer Bill Phillips heard a demo version of her “Put It Off Until Tomorrow”; not only did he want to record the song, but he recorded it with Parton singing harmony on it. The song went to No. 6 on the country chart in 1966.

In 1967 she recorded Curly Putman’s “Dumb Blonde,” her first charting song as a singer and a savvy choice that spoke to her as both an image and as flesh and blood, as she sang:

Just because I’m blond
Don’t think I’m dumb
‘Cause this dumb blond ain’t nobody’s fool

Nashville noticed. That year, country music star Porter Wagoner was looking for a new “girl singer” for his popular TV show, after Norma Jean left. Parton got the gig, and for weeks, legend has it, was greeted by the studio audience shouting “Norma Jean” when Parton opened her mouth. It was the kind of challenge she lived for. Carefully deferential to the star, Parton carved out a foothold for herself.

They were a complicated team. Tall, gaunt and calculating, Wagoner’s angles had angles, but somehow standing next to her, his pompadour dwarfing her considerable bouffant, it worked. At their peak, they had a weekly TV viewership of over 3.5 million, and recorded numerous hit duets, “Holding on to Nothin” (1968), “If Teardrops Were Pennies” (1973) and “Please Don’t Stop Loving Me” (1974) among them.

On her solo recordings at the time, Parton included a raft of songs about poor children in trouble. These gothic, occasionally autobiographical compositions, including “Coat of Many Colors,” “My Blue Ridge Mountain Boy,” “Evening Shade,” “Daddy Come and Get Me” and “Down From Dover,” would have been more than enough to make her, if not a star, at least a country music legend. But the kind of attention even her lesser work with Wagoner enjoyed continued to elude her own material.

Dolly Parton and Kenny Rogers laugh together backstage at an April 2010 show honoring her “Islands in the Stream” singing partner.

(Rick Diamond / Getty Images)

By 1973, Parton realized that if she was going to be her own star she would have to be on her own. Wagoner fought and threatened, and finally, Parton wrote a song as a way to help him understand both her gratitude and her need for independence, “I Will Always Love You.” He liked the song, but it didn’t convince him. Wagoner sued her for $20 million over breach of contract and settled for $1 million.

But Parton had won her freedom, and she made the most of it. Her album from that year, “My Tennessee Mountain Home,” was a reintroduction to her audience, an autobiographical cycle of songs telling the story of a singer leaving home to make it on Music Row. And in 1974, “Jolene” became her chart-topping breakthrough.

The title was the name of a red-haired, green-eyed young fan Parton met signing autographs, and the story of a woman begging a rival to leave her man alone. Parton said she made it up after discovering a bank teller had a crush on her husband. With a beveled chord progression and a haunting repetition of the name, it became perhaps her most requested song, and was covered by many, including the White Stripes, Candi Staton, Reba McEntire and Olivia Newton-John.

“I wanted to be seen, I wanted to be recognized, I wanted to be a star,” she explained. The last part was now coming into focus.

In 1976 she hosted a short-lived variety TV series, “Dolly!” Her name was her brand, and so, too, was her profile: the full bosom and tiny waist, platinum wig and baubles like sprinkles on an ice cream cone, 5 feet tall standing in five-inch heels. She was a disarming contradiction: manufactured and utterly sincere.

“A country girl’s idea of what glamour was,” she explained.

“I didn’t have any money to have stuff and I’ve often joked about it, but it’s the real truth that I patterned myself after what they considered the trash in our hometown.” She took shame and made it a flag, one big enough for all sorts of Americans to settle beneath.

Dolly Parton checks out an exhibit honoring her life and career at the Country Music Hall of Fame and Museum in May 2025.

(Jason Kempin / Getty Images)

Building on her fame, in the mid-’70s Parton decided to reinvent herself by reaching beyond the confines of country music. She signed with L.A.-based talent manager Sandy Gallin, who had made Mac Davis a country crossover star and would soon work with Cher and Michael Jackson.

Parton laid off her longtime Traveling Family Band and sought out musicians and songs that were more purely pop. Hits that followed included “Here You Come Again” (No. 20 on the pop chart, 1977), “Heartbreaker” (No. 37, 1978) and duets with Kenny Rogers like “Islands in the Stream” (No. 1, 1983).

The pop move was muttered over and seen by gatekeepers as a rejection of Southern-based authenticity. It was the era of “Urban Cowboy” and purity was being policed. “I love country music. It’s my first love,” she told the SoHo News. “But it was confining. You can only go so far in a circle.”

The movie “9 to 5” from 1980 settled her broadening stardom; acting alongside Jane Fonda and Lily Tomlin in a comedy about three office workers who get even with an abusive boss, Parton charmed viewers. It was her first acting role, and Roger Ebert called her “a natural born movie star.” She wrote and sang the movie’s theme song, which topped Billboard’s pop and country charts.

Dolly Parton and her “9 to 5” castmates Jane Fonda, left, and Lily Tomlin assemble at a 1980 news conference to promote the movie.

(Wally Fong / Associated Press)

Parton would go on to act in “The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas” (1982), “Rhinestone” (1984), “Steel Magnolias” (1989), the “Hannah Montana” TV series (she was Miley Cyrus’ godmother in real life too), and in many more films and TV shows. But her biggest cinematic moment came with a song she’d written years before; “I Will Always Love You” was sung by Whitney Houston in the 1992 film “The Bodyguard,” turning her air kiss to Porter Wagoner into a No. 1 hit for 14 weeks.

In the mid-1980s, Parton suffered a number of setbacks. She experienced depression. “I was just broken down,” she said later. In 1982, abdominal pain and bleeding forced her to cancel a tour, and in 1984 she had a partial hysterectomy. There were bouts of binge eating, and when she hit bottom she considered suicide. A series of conversations with God were instrumental in her recovery, Parton said.

Underscoring her connection to her origins while also illustrating how far she had gone, in 1986 she bought an old amusement park in Pigeon Forge, Tenn., and reinvented it as Dollywood, a booming theme park, resort and theater. Other businesses included Sandollar Productions, a film and TV company. In the 1990s Parton formed her own label, Blue Eye Records.

Success meant she could settle into being Dolly. A trio of beloved bluegrass albums, “The Grass Is Blue,” “Little Sparrow” and “Halos & Horns,” around the turn of the millennium reestablished her as a performer with extensive roots in rural America. She recorded with everyone from Linda Ronstadt and Emmylou Harris to Ladysmith Black Mambazo. Her 2019 cover of John Hiatt’s “Faith,” made with Swedish duo Galantis, topped the EDM charts.

She embraced her Christian and LGBTQ+ fans, and perhaps no American artist had more of each. Inclusivity mattered to Parton. She was an icon to the LGBTQ+ community. In 2002 at the House of Blues in Los Angeles, Parton replaced the name Jolene with “drag queen” and sang her famous song as a roster of drag performers looked on.

Dolly Parton at the 57th Academy of Country Music Awards in 2022.

(John Locher / Associated Press)

Just two years later, in 2004, the Library of Congress presented Parton with the since-retired “Living Legend Medal,” which sought to recognize those that made significant creative contributions to American life.

Singer and songwriter Brandi Carlile called Parton “an angel on my shoulder and also the devil on my other shoulder.”

“When I was 15 years old I read the back of Dolly Parton’s book when she became the first country artist ever to speak out in support of LGBTQ people. And I can tell you that as a queer kid from a small town, getting love from Dolly is second only to God.”

Parton has been honored in musical tributes by Carrie Underwood, Alison Krauss and Shania Twain. “Jolene” became the subject of the short story “Jolene: A Life,” by E.L. Doctorow. In 2019 WNYC and Jad Abumrad presented “Dolly Parton’s America,” a nine-segment podcast devoted to, and with the cooperation of, Parton; it examined her persona and impact on American life.

That same year Netflix presented “Dolly Parton’s Heartstrings,” an anthology series in which each episode presents a fictional narrative built around a Parton song; the series features appearances by Kathleen Turner, Delta Burke and Melissa Leo.

Dolly Parton and President Carter embrace as First Lady Rosalynn Carter looks on before a White House luncheon in October 1979.

(Georges / Associated Press)

Her influence was so vast she has even been proposed as a field of academic study, and scrutinized in the 2018 academic study from Leigh H. Edwards, “Dolly Parton, Gender, and Country Music.”

She was married to the same man, Carl Thomas Dean, for over 50 years. They met on the day she arrived in Nashville in 1964, as she stood outside a laundromat. Parton and Dean were rarely seen in public together, and renewed vows in 2016. Dean died at age 82 in March 2025.

“Carl and I spent many wonderful years together,” Parton said in a statement at the time. “Words can’t do justice to the love we shared for over 60 years. Thank you for your prayers and sympathy.”

Parton remained a source of interest and fascination, and though few if anyone could really claim to know her, many thought they did. As she once put it: “I look one way and am another. It makes for a good combination.”

FROM pretty colonial towns and buzzing cities to rugged coasts, sandy beaches and beautiful mountains, there is nowhere quite like New England.

And the best time to see it is in the Fall (autumn), when the leaves turn red and gold and you can do a bit of whale watching, too.

New England’s six states – Massachusetts, Maine, Vermont, New Hampshire, Connecticut and Rhode Island – are all quite different but add up to one amazing holiday experience.

It is one of the ultimate bucket list trips and doable – if you plan carefully.

We decided to cover all six states plus Boston in one mega two-week, 600-mile round trip.

It can be done – New England is small enough to fit into Texas four times over.

WAIL OF A TIME

I drove Irish Route 66 with deserted golden beaches and pirate-like islands

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Tiny ‘Bali of Europe’ town with stunning beaches, €3 cocktails and £20 flights

We didn’t see eveything, obviously, but we had a damned good go!

Netherlands international Memphis Depay has defended the release of his new music video showing Corinthians’ headquarters in flames as “just art” – days after a contract row with the Brazilian club.

The former Manchester United forward agreed to take a “significant” pay cut to stay at Corinthians on Tuesday.

It came a week after the club opted against renewing his contract.

But Depay has now come under scrutiny for releasing the controversial music video for his track ‘Don’t Panic’.

It was released just 24 hours after the 32-year-old helped Corinthians reach the quarter-final of the Copa Libertadores, and appears to contain references to his recent disputes with the club, showing him watching their administrative center Parque Sao Jorge in flames.

In the song, Depay does not name who he is referring to, but mentions “rivals” and sings: “I know a vice-president who is now my enemy.”

Corinthians fans are currently protesting against the club’s ownership amid growing financial and governance issues and Depay moved to dampen any potential backlash against the video before further protests, external by saying it was filmed “months ago”.

“I hope its a peaceful protest where people can express what they think calmly. About my music, I insist it’s just art,” he said on social media, external.

Referencing to the club’s headquarters’ being in flames, the Dutchman added he was “fully against any type of violence of all kind”.

Grammy-winning singer Jill Scott brought her “To Whom This May Concern” album — her first in more than a decade — to life at Inglewood’s YouTube Theater last week. Backed by a razor-sharp 11-piece all-male band (including background singers fittingly dubbed “Freeman”), Scott moved effortlessly through a two-hour set filled with songs from the genre-expansive album along with several fan favorites like “He Loves Me (Lyzel in E Flat)” and “Gettin’ in the Way.”

Enforcing a phone-free policy at her personal request, the North Philadelphia native kept the audience intensely locked in — hanging onto her every word and every seemingly impossible note she struck with ease. Before long, it was easy to forget that we didn’t have our devices. Smiles filled the intimate room. Couples danced together. Strangers sang to each other in joyful unison, while others closed their eyes or held their hands on their chest in complete awe of witnessing a veteran artist in her element.

Jill Scott is on tour for “To Whom This May Concern,” her first album in over a decade.

(Jada Imani M)

In her only interview during the tour thus far, we caught up with Scott backstage to talk why she never performs a song the same way twice, how removing devices makes concerts better and why she thinks “To Whom This May Concern” deserves several accolades.

I’m still coming down from all of the energy from the show. How are you feeling post-show?

I am hot from the inside, and it’s gonna take me hours to calm down. [Laughs]

You’ve always described music as an intimate, two-way conversation between you and the audience. For this tour, you created a strictly phone-free space. Why did you decide to do that and how did this shift the experience for you as a performer?

In a couple of ways. One part is that it’s terrifying because there’s no buffer between me and them, so that’s actually scary, but I embrace it. The other part of it is that it’s wonderful because people initially come in kind of nervous about not having a buffer between myself and the space or themselves and space. Then I watch them gradually release, and I get a kick out of that every night. That’s my favorite part.

I’m surprised to hear that it’s scary for someone like you who’s been performing at such a high level for so many years.

Because I care. It matters to me. I really want them to have a good time. I really want them to release some things, allow themselves to be. If you want to make out, if you want to dance, if you want to cry, if you want to shout, or put up your hands in the air, or sit still, I want them to be able to do that. I think it’s important. That’s the relationship. That’s the real relationship between artist and fans of the music. It’s the connection between the music. I’m here to [be of] service. I’m here to push the ship along, but it’s really their relationship with the music and I’m a conduit. That part is probably one of my other favorites. You have to relinquish your id and allow the thing to be the thing. I think sometimes you can practice the joy and the life out of a thing. We practice a lot, but then we forget everything we practice so that it’s alive. My musicians’ freedom is mandatory. It’s a part of the job. So if they show up and play the exact same thing in the exact same way every night, they’re probably not going to be around very long. I need them to be wide open and to rediscover the music every night from their perspective. It’s their 11 perspectives on stage, and then of course there’s the lighting designer. I need him to be free. Don’t give me the same light at the same time every night. Even front-of-the-house sound engineer as well as our in-ear monitors, everybody is playing a part. “What does she need? Let’s read her. Let’s, you know, pay attention. What does she want?” It’s a lot of fun.

You could see really feel that from you and your entire band.

Tonight was a different audience. They were very attentive. Last night they danced all night long from the very beginning. I couldn’t even see the floor. Tonight they were listening. I know it’s a Wednesday night. Everybody’s got to go to work [the next morning], but they were beautiful. The listening audience is probably my favorite. They get quiet and I’m like “Oh, it’s so scary. Am I doing the right thing?” [Laughs] But that means they’re listening. Who doesn’t want to be heard?

Your son came out with you tonight. How was that experience for you?

It’s beautiful to see. He told me Tierra Whack is not traveling with us because she has a new album out, “Whack’s Museum,” so she’s a little busy. He was like, “Mom, how do you feel about me doing the second verse?” and I was like “Be at sound check tomorrow with a mic in your hand.”

He looked so comfortable on stage.

He does. It’s kind of scary. Super exciting. I don’t know what he’ll want to do, but he’s working our set, so he’s a part of the crew. So after he does his performance, he puts back on his blacks and he does his job, and I love that for him, to have that sense of responsibility. He’s exceeding anybody’s and everybody’s expectations. He’s so good at this. All the clothes you see, he steamed up.

He’s really working his way up.

Yes, you must earn your way.

Your album “To Whom This May Concern” released in February, and it feels like a love letter from your favorite auntie. There’s lessons about learning from your mistakes, honoring your ancestors and loving yourself. Now that your fans have been living with these songs for several months, I’m curious if performing them live has shifted your relationship with them at all?

No. On a great night, I like telling the stories that I’ve read. I like embodying them in front of other people. I like watching them experience them in a new way. I’m a fan of that. It just makes it more and more true. Then I see how many people are singing along and how many people are looking at me, and I’m like “Yesss.” It’s reaching the people and I know it’s going to be different because there’s a different audience every night. So I’m thrilled about the project and how it’s touching people. You hope you don’t work this hard at a thing for it to fall on deaf ears, and I know how microwavable music has been, but I believe the cream rises to the top. It’s been a beautiful 26 years. I look forward to 26 more — in my way.

Your album has been receiving a lot of praise from fans and critics. There’s still a few months before the Grammy nominations are announced, but at this point in your career, how important is that recognition to you? Is it as important as it was when you first started your career?

I think I deserve it. That’s all. [Flashes a smile]

I mean everything about this project from beginning to end is blood, sweat and tears. I stayed up many nights just to write, a hunger in my belly and a savage appetite. And I mean it. Everything is true and I love that for me. That’s the kind of thing that takes time and I think musically, it’s incredible. I think the stories are awesome and intentional, and everything about it, from the planning of it to the marketing, has been from my soul, and I think it deserves several.

A SMALL UK train station that sees thousands of festivalgoers every year has had a glow-up.

Castle Cary train station in Somerset has had a £835,000 vintage makeover.

The train station is close to Glastonbury Festival, making it the ideal stop to get to the festival.

The inside of the station has now been restored to a classic style, with the original entrance reopened.

Along the platform, travellers will find more seating, a digital departure board and a new toilet.

The ticket office boasts a wooden panelled exterior with a black and beige sign that reads ‘tickets’.

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The walls are then painted in different shades of brown.

There is a new ramp for wheelchair access as well.

Around 350,000 people use the station each year to head to Glastonbury Festival, which is around six miles away and served by a free shuttle during the festival.

From the station, there are numerous services including Great Western Railway services direct to London Paddington.

According to the BBC, Tim Hedley Jones, director of the Railway Heritage Trust, said: “I’m particularly pleased to see the reproduction of the original Great Western Railway benches so that people can appreciate the quality of furniture that was provided in stations, and also the colours that were used.

“Historic stations have character. This project, whilst also bringing back the old heritage at the station, removed the clutter and made it a much more positive experience for passengers in a modern context.”

Christian metal band Demon Hunter is suing Netflix, alleging trademark infringement associated with the streamer’s hit film “KPop Demon Hunters.”

The lawsuit was filed Tuesday by Hyde Lane, the corporate entity for Demon Hunter, against Netflix, Netflix Studios and AEG Presents, the live-entertainment division of AEG, with claims that the defendants have “created a substantial likelihood of confusion” among consumers.

The metalcore band — which was formed in 2000 out of Seattle by brothers Ryan and Don Clark — claims the success of the 2025 urban fantasy flick has “eclipse[d]” the group’s “established identity” and “commercial fate,” especially as plans for a KPop Demon Hunters global concert tour were announced in May in partnership with AEG Presents.

Hyde Lane originally trademarked “Demon Hunter” in 2014 under entertainment, namely live performances. To date, the band has released 12 studio albums and amassed more than 348,000 monthly listeners on Spotify. Several of its early music videos, including popular tracks like “Dead Flowers” and “Someone to Hate,” have garnered millions of views on YouTube.

In 2022, the company submitted other trademark protections for recorded music and merchandise.

By comparison, Netflix filed 10 applications under the U.S. Patent and Trademark Office for “KPop Demon Hunters” for merchandise purposes starting in August 2025.

Hyde Lane has “been forced to surrender control over its commercial identity simply because Defendants have greater resources and a larger marketplace footprint,” the lawsuit states.

In the suit, the plaintiffs cite instances where there has been “consumer confusion.”

On Feb. 26, 2026, someone requested a refund after purchasing $500 tickets to a Demon Hunter show in Albany, N.Y., believing it was for a KPop Demon Hunters concert, according to the suit. “If I dont get it refunded I will not be able to purchase tickets to the actual ‘K pop demon hunters show,’” the email read.

On March 16, 2026, a producer from “Inside Edition” emailed Demon Hunter manager Ryan J. Downey to request an interview with songwriter Yu Han Lee (of KPop Demon Hunters) following the Oscar win for original song, the lawsuit states.

Additionally, the plaintiffs say the Christian band has been incorrectly tagged in connection to various KPop Demon Hunters content.

“Due to Defendants’ wrongful actions, Demon Hunter’s established identity is becoming increasingly obscured within recorded music, live touring and merchandise-related channels due to overlapping use by the KPop Demon Hunters brand,” the lawsuit states.

Hyde Lane is requesting Netflix and Netflix Studios be held liable for infringement, although no specified amount was listed in the suit.

The complaint arrives a year after the 2025 animated musical “KPop Demon Hunters” — which centered on Huntrix, a music trio who hunt demons — reached unprecedented heights, becoming Netflix’s most-watched animated original movie. Earlier this year, the film’s focus track, “Golden,” became the first K-pop song to win an Oscar.

Plans for the “KPop Demon Hunters” sequel are already underway as the lawsuit makes its way through the California court system.

“Other than the needle drops, this is probably my favorite part about making ‘Beef,’” says creator Lee Sung Jin of the show’s episodic title cards, which in Season 2 marry historical paintings with abridged quotations from authors and poets. For the finale, which sees its two feuding couples (Carey Mulligan, Oscar Isaac, Cailee Spaeny and Charles Melton) swept up in a seemingly inescapable fight for survival, the paintings of Giuseppe Arcimboldo’s “The Four Seasons” matched with the title “It Will Stay This Way And You Will Obey,” a reference to a passage in Marion Woodman’s “Coming Home to Myself: Reflections for Nurturing a Woman’s Body & Soul.” “It’s almost prisonlike because these very prominent faces of literally nature have created this wall that the title is stuck in. We wanted to express the cycles and how the four seasons come for you no matter what,” Lee says, alluding to the season’s central idea that people often repeat the same destructive habits. “The final shot is homage to the Buddhist concept of samsara. It was important for us to allow the audience to take a moment after all the craziness of the season to think about their own lives, think about society at large … and depending on where you are, come to your own conclusion.”