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Willie Colón, a legendary trombonist and pioneer of salsa music, has died. He was 75.

His death on Saturday was confirmed in a Facebook post by his longtime manager, Pietro Carlos.

News of the singer’s condition circulated on the web in recent days. Yonkers Voice News reported Colón was admitted to NewYork-Presbyterian Westchester hospital in Bronxville, N.Y., on Tuesday with respiratory problems and he appeared fragile.

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Born William Anthony Colón Román on April 28, 1950, to Puerto Rican parents in New York City, Colón first picked up the trumpet in school. It seemed like a natural choice for the former bugle-playing Boy Scout, who attended the youth program at the suggestion of his grandmother.

“So I could learn how to be a good boy,” said Colón in a 1988 interview with Associated Press.

By age 13, Colón had started a band and played at some weddings and in the bustling nightclubs of New York City. At one point, he forged a cabaret card, a mandated ID for musicians and entertainers between 1940 and 1967 who worked in establishments serving alcohol, which required individuals to be 18 years and older.

The thrilling 1960s Latin music scene in New York consumed Colón, who was deeply inspired by Latin jazz pioneer and bandleader Eddie Palmieri, once part of a main act at the Palladium Ballroom who went on to form La Perfecta, a Cuban conjunto that revolutionized the New York Latin music scene with its inclusion of two trombones, played by Barry Rogers and Jose Rodriguez, instead of the costly four-set trumpets.

But Colón’s instrumental preference changed once he heard the bodied timbre of Mon Rivera’s all-trombone brass lineup marching to a bomba beat. “It would knock my socks off,” said Colón in a 1988 interview with Associated Press, leading the singer to teach himself how to play the instrument.

By age 15, Colón was signed to Fania Records. Two years later at age 17, he went on to release his debut album, “El Malo,” a record that defined the fierce sounds of New York’s salsa scene, which Colón later described as the Latin equivalent of rap.

According to his former label, the name of “El Malo” was bestowed upon Colón by older musicians who sought to mock his trombone range at the time, though the young bandleader would find a way to use the label to his advantage.

On the LP, Colón’s sound moved away from the polished mambo sounds of orchestral bands decades prior, in large part due to Puerto Rican singer Héctor Lavoe, whose vocals can be heard in tracks like the gritty “El Malo” that vows to knock out any wanna-be street phony.

The pair would go on to record a total of 14 albums through 1973, with Lavoe’s talents for improvisation complementing Colón’s raw, aggressive trombone.

“Salsa came from the same kind of situation that rap does,” Colon said in a 1992 interview with The Times. “It was kind of a hybrid of a bunch of different elements. Hector had just come from Puerto Rico and didn’t speak English. I didn’t speak much Spanish, I was a little New York kid. We got together and just started with the same kind of irreverent, rebellious attitude, writing songs about the baddest guy on the block, drugs and sex. Before that, the lyrics and whole attitude of Latin music was, ‘Look at me dance, listen to those drums, I’m cutting sugar cane.’ It was a rural, folkloric emphasis; we changed it to an inner-city kind of culture.”

Colón’s impact went beyond live music. The album cover of “El Malo,” which showed two serious profiles of Colón, depicted the singer as a sly bad boy, and ultimately gave rise to his gangster persona, which would be a throughline in future projects, including his sophomore 1968 album, “The Hustler” which featured the band with fitted suits, smoking cigars and placing bets in a pool hall. His 1970 album “Cosa Nuestra” featured Colón smoking a cigar while overlooking a dead body in broad daylight in Manhattan’s East River Bikeway. Most famously, his 1971 album, “La Gran Fuga,” depicted the singer on a fake FBI “Most Wanted” poster.

These mob-like depictions occurred long before cult-favorite films like Francis Ford Coppola’s 1972 “The Godfather” and Brian De Palma 1983’s “Scarface” became the prominent gangster storylines various male acts venerate in their music.

By 1973, Colón and Lavoe split — allegedly due to Lavoe’s drug addiction leading to many missed concert performances — although the two would remain frequent collaborators until the latter’s death in 1993 due to complications of AIDS.

The Nuyorican musician would introduce Blades as the new singer of his orchestra, whom he had met years prior while visiting Panama during carnivals. They collaborated briefly on Colón’s 1975 LP “The Good, the Bad, the Ugly,” cementing their partnership in the 1977 album “Metiendo Mano,” which delved into socio-political themes, notably in their track “Pablo Pueblo,” which shares the story of a working class man with broken dreams halted by toils of daily life. Other tracks like “Plantación Adentro,” detailed the story of Camilo Manrique, a fictionalized enslaved character who died at the hands of a Spanish colonizer in 1745.

Many considered this album Colón’s first foray into intellectual salsa — in large part because of Blades, who had a knack for storytelling and political interests (he unsuccessfully ran for president of Panama in 1994) — that addressed colonialism and class disparities. Together they released three albums, including their 1978 “Siembra,” one of the bestselling salsa albums at that time; from the start, their track “Plastico” fused the popular disco music of the moment while addressing superficial beauty standards and colorism in Latin America.

According to 1996 reporting by The Times, “Siembra” delivered pulsating salsa rhythms that “carried messages of freedom at a time when most of Latin America was oppressed by military dictatorships.”

By 1982, Blades and Colón parted ways, but they collaborated again on projects like their 2005 LP “Tras La Tormenta” — which led the bandleader to sing for the first time in his career, “I had to start from zero, and it took me many years to feel comfortable,” Colón said.

This newfound independence gave rise to some of Colón’s most famous songs, including his 1995 track “Talento de Televisión,” an upbeat song with his signature trombone wailing in the backdrop as he sang about an attractive woman with a lack of talent.

Many across Latin America might be familiar with his 1989 song “El Gran Varon” — which narrated the story of a trans woman who is rejected by her father and presumably dies of AIDS — a landmark salsa song that brought awareness to LGBTQ+ themes during the AIDS crisis. Colón would later serve as a member of the Latino Commission on AIDS. “El Gran Varon” is an anthem to this day.

Colón released more than 40 albums in all.

He also acted, taking roles in films including 1982’s “Vigilante,” the 1983 sports drama “The Last Fight,” as well as one-episode stints in TV shows like “Miami Vice” and “The Cosby Show.” He was even featured in Bad Bunny’s “Nuevayol” music video, cutting a slice of cake; the 31-year-old superstar pays homage to the singer in its lyrics: “Willie Colón, me dicen el malo, ey. Porque pasan los años y sigo dando palo”/ “Willie Colón, they say I’m bad, because the years come and I’m still hitting.”

In his later years, he became more involved in politics. In 1994, he unsuccessfully went up against U.S. Rep. Eliot Engel of the Bronx in the Democratic primary. He also ran as a Democrat for Public Advocate in 2001, focusing on community issues, education and AIDS awareness, but failed to gain the popular vote. In 2008, he endorsed Hillary Rodham Clinton over Barack Obama in the primary election.

On May 26, 2014, after graduating from Westchester County Police Academy, Colón was sworn in as a deputy sheriff for the Department of Public Safety, later becoming deputy lieutenant.

As President Trump took office in his first term, Colón’s politics shifted in support of the right-wing candidate, and he said he would be open to performing at his inauguration in 2017.

Billboard magazine named him one of the most influential Latino artists of all time in 2018.

Colón is survived by his wife, Julia Colón, and his four sons and grandsons.

A sparkly pink electric guitar hangs on a wall of the recording studio where Hilary Duff made her new album. The cozy, gear-filled joint near the Van Nuys Airport belongs to her husband, Matthew Koma, who produced “Luck… or Something,” the singer and actor’s first LP in more than a decade. But as Duff points out on a recent afternoon, the paisley-print guitar is all hers.

“I got it for my 16th birthday,” she says proudly — a gift from the Fender company. “I found it in the storage unit and Matt was like, ‘Oh, that’s going up there.’”

Before Miley Cyrus, before Sabrina Carpenter, before Olivia Rodrigo, Duff arrived in the early 2000s as a Disney kid with pop-idol ambitions. She broke out in the endearingly awkward title role of the Disney Channel’s “Lizzie McGuire” then went on to star in family-friendly movies like “Agent Cody Banks” and “Cheaper by the Dozen.” By the time she received that guitar, she’d topped the Billboard 200 with her album “Metamorphosis,” which sold 4 million copies and spawned hit singles like “So Yesterday” and “Come Clean.”

Duff stepped away from music for most of her 20s to focus on acting and starting a family. (An attempted comeback album in 2015, “Breathe In. Breathe Out.,” didn’t really go anywhere.) Now, at 38, she’s returned with a bracingly honest record full of the texture and detail of her life as a wife, sister and mother of four.

In frank yet wordy songs that layer guitars and synths over shimmering grooves, Duff sings about trying to overcome old habits and about her fear that her best times are behind her. “We Don’t Talk” appears to address her estrangement from her older sister, Haylie, while “Weather for Tennis” describes her tendency to keep the peace as a child of divorce. In “Holiday Party,” she recounts a recurring dream in which Koma cheats on her with her friends.

“I wake up in a rage and he’s like, ‘I didn’t do anything!’” she says with a laugh. “And I’m like, ‘But you want to.’ A lot of this stuff came out of the hormonal boom of: I’ve just had a baby and I’m nursing and I’m trying to get my two feet back on the ground again.” (Duff and Koma have three daughters aged 7, 4 and 1, while Duff shares a 13-year-old son with her ex-husband, former hockey player Mike Comrie.)

Asked how he hopes the album fares commercially, Koma says, “I don’t [care]. Public perception or sales, that’s all cool, but it’s a separate experience from why we did it.” The producer, who’s known for his work with Zedd and Shania Twain, adds, “The whole purpose was to make something that Hilary could feel good about stepping into.”

Yet early-2000s nostalgia led to a recent run of sold-out theater gigs, and this summer it’ll carry her into arenas around the world, including Inglewood’s Kia Forum on July 8 and 9. (Less happily for Duff, it also made a viral sensation of an essay in the Cut by her fellow millennial Ashley Tisdale in which Tisdale wrote about leaving a “toxic mom group” that allegedly included Duff and Mandy Moore.)

Curled on a sofa in the studio’s control room, Duff says, “I’m finally at this place where I’m zero percent ashamed of my past and any of the things that used to embarrass me” — one reason she made the bold choice to open her set at the Wiltern last month with two of her biggest hits, “Wake Up” and “So Yesterday.”

After those songs came “Roommates,” perhaps the most vulnerable track on Duff’s new album. It’s about navigating a dry patch in a marriage, and the language is as vivid as it is unsparing: “I only want the beginning / I don’t want the end,” she sings, adding that she longs to be in the “back of a dive bar, giving you h—.”

A surprising word choice.
How would you have said it? Sometimes you need to make the lyrics fit — you need it to rhyme with something. [Laughs] It’s meant to be polarizing because it’s such a desperate plea. I can say I haven’t actually given h— in the back of a dive bar. But it’s just trying to capture the feeling of a time when you felt alive.

Like all teen stars, you had to figure out how to grow up and talk about sex as a public figure. Now there’s the idea that it’s better left to the young.
I finally feel like I know a lot about sex. My whole 20s, sex was not always enjoyable — it was so much to figure out. Now I finally understand it. Maybe that’s a female thing, but I’m not ready to be put out to pasture. People come up to me all the time and they’re like, “Wow, you aged really well.” I’m like, “I’m only 38! Just because you’ve known me since I was 9…”

You’re handling senior citizenship well.
When do I start getting the discounts? I feel like 38 is not old, although when I thought about my parents at 40, they looked so different than we look now.

I always stop at those TikToks where it shows what 35 looked like in 1982.
I don’t think anyone drank water back then. They were, like, dusty-crusty.

Hilary Duff, left, and Matthew Koma at Apple Music Studios in Los Angeles in December.

(Amy Sussman / Getty Images for Apple Music)

You borrow the chorus of Blink-182’s “Dammit” for your song “Growing Up.” Why?
Blink is one of my favorite bands. I remember getting my driver’s license, and that was what was playing on my iPod. “Growing Up” is such a deeply personal song to me, talking about sitting in the backyard with one of my best friends and just needing to drink too much wine and unload about life. But it also feels like a love letter to my fans. I don’t like saying that word, but I genuinely feel like I’ve had fans for 25 years, and getting to see them now in adulthood — I didn’t know I was going to have this opportunity.

What’s the problem with “fan”?
It puts me on a pedestal that makes me feel uncomfortable. If you were to talk to Matt or someone close to me, they’d probably say, “Hilary doesn’t understand what she’s meant to some people.” And I think that’s true. When I think of myself, I’m not like a grand pop star — I feel more like a woman of the people.

A woman of the people?
Am I allowed to say that? [Laughs] Is that offensive in any way? My feet hit the ground in the morning, and I’ve got a million things to do. Sometimes my baby’s still sleeping. And I have a teenager to get ready for school that we’re always all waiting on.

Why do you have four children?
I know — we’re sick.

Did you expect to have four?
I thought I would have at least three. I always wanted a big family because I come from a super small family and I always wanted more siblings. I had Luca obviously pre-Matt, and then we had Banks before we got married. Then the pandemic hit — we had a pandemic baby like everybody else. The fourth was just a crazy-a— decision. Matt was like, “Everybody’s gonna think we’re really Christ-y if we go for No. 4.” We also have three dogs, two cats and eight chickens.

As two artists, how do you sort out the work of child-rearing?
I don’t know if I’ve actually said this out loud — to Matt I have for sure — but I think that part of my wanting to make a record was coming out of having my fourth child. I love motherhood, obviously — I wouldn’t have four kids if I didn’t. But I think I felt really jealous that he got to go to work every day and just be alone with his thoughts. I was like, I need to stretch. That’s what it felt like after the fourth baby: I’m either gonna lose myself completely and just become a stay-at-home mom and wait for the phone to ring, or I’m gonna go make something that moves me.

You don’t need me to tell you that our culture is always happy to make moms feel guilty. Was it a journey to accept that it’s OK to do something for yourself?
That’s what the healthy part of the brain says. But the other part that’s wired to be with the children you birthed — sometimes that part overshadows it. And it’s very hard to fight that. I could probably cry right now thinking about all the things I’m gonna miss this year.

Hilary Duff in the studio where she recorded her new album.

(Jay L Clendenin / For The Times)

You’ve got a line in “Roommates” where you say, “Life is life-ing and pressure is pressuring me.” At the shows you just played, did you think of your audience as being at the same place in life as you?
For sure. When they were scream-singing it back to me, I was like, “Oh, you know.” That doesn’t mean you have to be a parent. “Life is life-ing” is the bills and the monotony and the traffic and the family — it’s all the things. I knew that if it’s bumping around inside my head, and I’ve been living a pretty normal life for 10 years — normal as I can get — then people would see themselves in it.

Twenty-five years ago, you were playing to 10-year-olds. Would a 10-year-old today be interested in your new songs?
I don’t think so. But I mean, I used to sing Natalie Imbruglia’s “Torn” all the time, and I had no idea what it was about.

The last decade has been a golden age for young female songwriters: Taylor Swift, Billie Eilish, Olivia Rodrigo.
You forgot Chappell Roan.

“Luck… or Something” feels aligned with that deepening craft. But maybe your early stuff felt sophisticated to you.
I don’t think the intent back then was sophisticated songwriting. There was no Taylor Swift yet — it’s like before Christ and after Christ.

She changed the game?
On all the levels.

How’d you end up on Atlantic Records? I wondered whether this was a product of personal friendships — the Elliot Grainge and Sofia Richie and Good Charlotte of it all.
We’re more personally friends with them now. I finished making the record and for the first time ever was like, “It’s done — do you like it?”

You weren’t looking for notes from the label.
I’m not saying I didn’t have meetings with A&R. But pretty much the record was created, and that was that. I didn’t go shopping anywhere else, which was fantastic because I hate a dog-and-pony show.

Did you feel like you’d been chewed up by the record industry in any way?
After “Breathe In. Breathe Out.,” it was very easy to be like, “RCA forced me to lead with this song when I knew it should’ve been this song.” But that was me not having [courage], you know what I mean? It was a joint effort of [messing] it up. But I learned a lot from that. I don’t think I would’ve made this record if I hadn’t fumbled the ball a little.

The story about the toxic mom group blew up just as you were launching this album. Did that experience give you pause about reentering the pop world?
I mean, this is not new for me. I’ve had this since I was maybe 15 and starting to get followed around by paparazzi. Everything starts getting documented and everyone knows my life and all the players in it. So the stories that get news pickup — it’s not what happens to a normal person who maybe became an actor as an adult. And now it’s escalated by the talking heads on TikTok that need clickbait. It’s hard because you’re like, “Wait, whoa, that person kind of got it right,” and “Whoa that person doesn’t know what they’re talking about.” I saw something that was like, “None of the moms at school actually like her and neither do the teachers,” and I was like, “First of all…”

Is it hard or easy for you to tune out —
By the way, the women at school are lovely and I’m obsessed with all of them.

But can you ignore the chatter about you on social media?
It just depends on the day. Knowing that I get to open up the backdoors and play soccer as a family and take a hot tub and go get our chicken eggs — that’s the purpose of life. On the days when crazy s— happens, I go home and quiet the noise.

Jesy Nelson’s documentary has brought the X Factor winners back into the spotlight – but what are they up to these days?

Little Mix’s unexpected split has come back into conversation following Jesy Nelson’s recent admission that another band member tried to walk away first.

Fans of the iconic group were left heartbroken when Jesy announced she was quitting the band in 2020, citing mental health reasons.

She left her bandmates Leigh-Anne Pinnock, Perrie Edwards and Jade Thirlwall to continue carrying the torch, but they soon went on a hiatus in 2022.

The X Factor winners’ legacy is still carried by their catchy tunes, which still attract over 16 million monthly listeners on Spotify.

In light of Jesy sharing behind-the-scenes truths about the band, let’s take a look at where they are today.

Jesy Nelson

Jesy has recently opened up about her life since leaving the band in a new Prime Video docuseries, Life After Little Mix.

The 34-year-old had a short-lived solo music career because her first single sparked backlash. She released ‘Boyz’ featuring Nicki Minaj in 2021, and followed it up with a music video.

Fans accused Jesy of ‘Blackfishing’ in the video, which featured her wearing makeup and fake tan that they claim made her appear Black or mixed-race. This scandal caused so much headache for the star that she vowed to never return to music in her new documentary.

Outside of music, Jesy was in a long-term relationship with ex fiancé Zion Foster, which came to an end earlier this month. The former couple welcomed twin daughters Ocean Jade and Story Monroe in May 2025.

Following their birth, the singer discovered they had a life-threatening condition called Spinal Muscular Atrophy (SMA) Type 1. The rare genetic condition causes progressive muscle weakness. Jesy is now campaigning to raise awareness about the condition.

Perrie Edwards

Perrie focused on her family life following the group’s hiatus in May 2022, as she had just welcomed her first son Axel months prior.

The 32-year-old has since welcomed daughter Alanis with footballer fiancé Alex Oxlade-Chamberlain. But she hasn’t forgotten about music. The mum-of-two released her debut album ‘Perrie’ last year and dropped new single ‘Woman in Love’ earlier this month.

Her first album featured the ballad ‘Same Place Different View,’ which is widely understood to be about her former bandmate Jesy.

The lyrics delve into the pain of losing a close friendship and how these losses can be just as devastating as romantic break ups.

For the latest showbiz, TV, movie and streaming news, go to the new ** Everything Gossip ** website.

Leigh-Anne Pinnock

Leigh-Anne also married a famous footballer named Andre Gray. The couple share twins but have kept their identities private.

As for her music career, Leigh-Anne has just dropped her first studio album ‘My Ego Told Me To’ and will be touring this April.

Announcing her tour to fans, she wrote: “I’m going on tour baby!!! I can’t tell you how excited I am to perform this album live for you! Get me back to my happy place nowww! This one’s going to be so special!”

Jade Thirlwall

Jade is also embarking on a tour, which spans across the UK, Europe and the US. It comes after her first album ‘That’s Showbiz Baby!’ dropped in September.

The 33-year-old bagged two BRIT Award nominations for Best Pop Act and Artist of the Year following her debut.

As for her personal life, Jade is in a long-term relationship with Rizzle Kicks members Jordan Stephens.

Jesy Nelson: Life After Little Mix is streaming now on Prime Video.

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Britney Spears scored the early 2000s with hits from “Oops!… I Did It Again” to “Toxic.”

Now, the rights to those songs will belong to music publishing company Primary Wave after Spears reportedly signed a major new deal, according to NBC News. The outlet approximated the deal was for $200 million, and details of the sale were not disclosed.

Primary Wave, which was founded 20 years ago with the acquisition of 50% interest and partnership in Kurt Cobain’s music publishing catalog, also owns songs from the catalogs of music legends Bob Marley, Stevie Nicks and Whitney Houston, among others.

Representatives for Primary Wave and Spears did not immediately respond to The Times’ requests for comment.

Music rights acquisitions have become increasingly popular investments in recent years as the recorded music industry has boomed with the advent of streaming. With access to sprawling libraries on Spotify and Apple Music, consumers are listening to albums and artist catalogs at higher rates, and older artists are more prone to popping back into the zeitgeist. Licensing for movies and TV is also booming, and with Y2K nostalgia permeating today’s media, Spears may be selling at an opportune time.

Trade publication Music Business Worldwide estimated that more than $5 billion changed hands through music rights acquisitions in 2021, The Times previously reported. Additionally, songwriting catalogs at that time were being valued at twice the average price than in the 25 years prior.

Notable sellers include Bruce Springsteen, who in 2021 made a deal with Sony Music Entertainment to relinquish his master recordings and songs for $500 million. Shortly thereafter, David Bowie‘s estate sold his songwriting catalog to Warner Chappell Music for $250 million. ZZ Top, Tina Turner and Paul Simon all made similar deals around the same time.

Spears in 2023 released her memoir, “The Woman in Me,” which recounted her rise to fame and yearslong battle to escape a conservatorship she was placed under in 2008 for alleged mental health concerns. Music writer Jeff Weiss’ 2025 book, “Waiting for Britney Spears: A True Story, Allegedly,” included details — some true, some fabricated — from that highly publicized time in the singer’s life.

Spears’ ex-husband Kevin Federline followed the “Gimme More” singer’s memoir with last year’s “You Thought You Knew,” in which he accused Spears of consuming cocaine while she was still breastfeeding their second son, among other alleged concerning behaviors. Spears denied the allegations on social media.

Former Times staff writer Ryan Faughnder contributed to this report.

Brad Arnold, the 47-year-old cofounder and lead singer of the Mississippi rock band 3 Doors Down, died Saturday, nine months after revealing a diagnosis of kidney cancer.

The band announced Arnold’s death in a social media post, which said he had “helped redefine mainstream rock music, blending post-grunge accessibility with emotionally direct songwriting.”

In May 2025, Arnold announced that the band would be canceling its summer tour because he had advanced-stage kidney cancer that has spread to his lungs.

“That’s not real good,” he said of his diagnosis. “But you know what? We serve a mighty God, and He can overcome anything. So I have no fear. I really sincerely am not scared of it at all.” He added, “I’d love for you to lift me up in prayer every chance you get.”

He was public about his battle with alcoholism. He said he started drinking in his teens, an addiction fueled by the pressure of stepping on a tour bus at 20 years old.

“It’s just a lot to hand a 20 year old,” he told a Christian podcaster. He thanked religion for his sobriety and took to proclaiming his faith on stage.

Born in Escatawpa, Mississippi in Sept. 1978, Arnold formed the band with friends Todd Harrell and Matt Roberts in the mid-1990s.

As a 15-year-old in algebra class, he wrote the song “Kryptonite,” drumming out the beat on his desk.

“I used to be our drummer,” he told the lead vocalist of the band Candlebox in an interview. “I only became the singer because we didn’t have a singer. That beat just came from just sitting on a desk. I probably wrote that song in the length of time that it took to me to just to write it down. It really was just one of those that kind of fell out of the sky.”

It became the band’s breakout hit in 2000 and earned a Grammy nomination.

“The Better Life,” the first of the band’s six albums, sold more than 6 million copies, and the 2005 album “Seventeen Days” entered the national charts at No. 1. That year, reviewing a Los Angeles performance, a critic noted Arnold’s “heartland drawl” and sleeveless denim shirt, calling him “less punk than Springsteen.”

The band released its final album, “Us And The Night,” in 2016. The following year, the band played at the inauguration of President Donald Trump. Arnold is survived by his wife, Jennifer.

Finneas O’Connell took to social media to defend Billie Eilish and her Grammys acceptance speech from a specific demographic that was angered by her remarks.

“Seeing a lot of very powerful old white men outraged about what my 24 year old sister said during her acceptance speech,” O’Connell wrote Wednesday on Threads. “We can literally see your names in the Epstein files.”

The sibling duo won the Grammy for song of the year Sunday, becoming the first ever three-time winners of the category. The “Wildflower” songwriters were among those wearing “ICE Out” pins at the 2026 Grammy Awards as a statement against the Department of Homeland Security’s immigration-enforcement agency and its tactics after the killings of Renee Good and Alex Pretti in Minnesota sparked a national outcry.

“No one is illegal on stolen land,” Eilish said while accepting the award. “It’s just really hard to know what to say and what to do right now. I feel really hopeful in this room and like we just need to keep fighting, speaking up and protesting. Our voices really matter.”

While some of her speech was censored during the live broadcast, Eilish was also heard saying “F— ICE,” drawing cheers from those in attendance.

Eilish was one of many artists who used their moment on the Grammys stage to speak out against the Trump administration and the federal immigration raids that have been happening in multiple states, including California. Some, including R&B song and performance winner Kehlani, were just as direct in their language condemning ICE. Other winners, including Bad Bunny and Shaboozey, used their speeches to celebrate immigrant communities.

History was made in more than one way at Sunday night’s 68th Grammy Awards.

Bad Bunny’s “Debí Tirar Más Fotos” won album of the year — the first Spanish-language LP to take the Recording Academy’s highest honor. Kendrick Lamar and SZA’s “Luther” was named record of the year, making Lamar the winningest rapper in Grammy history (and just the fourth artist to go back-to-back for the record prize). Then there were Billie Eilish and her brother, Finneas O’Connell, who took song of the year with “Wildflower”; they’re now the only songwriters with three wins in that prestigious category.

To go by demographics, the ceremony clearly embodied the diversity gains the academy has been saying proudly are happening among its 15,000 voting members. But if new kinds of faces are becoming Grammy darlings, the music they’re being recognized for still upholds many of the academy’s old values. A night for making history was also a night for reveling in it.

Take “Luther,” a soulful hip-hop slow jam built on a prominent sample of Luther Vandross and Cheryl Lynn’s 1982 rendition of a love song Marvin Gaye and Tammi Terrell recorded in the late 1960s — an intricate piece of lineage-making meant to bridge multiple generations.

Olivia Dean performs.

(Myung J. Chun / Los Angeles Times)

“First and foremost, let’s give a shout-out to the late, great Luther Vandross,” the producer Sounwave said as he, Lamar, SZA and the song’s other creators accepted their award at Crypto.com Arena. (Before they made it onstage, Cher misread the card identifying “Luther” as record of the year and said that Vandross himself had won.) Lamar added, “This is what music is about,” and expressed his gratitude for being allowed “the privilege” to use Vandross’ music as long as he and SZA promised the singer’s estate not to curse on their record.

You can hear a similar reverence for those who came before in Olivia Dean, the 26-year-old British singer named best new artist on the strength of her hit “The Art of Loving” LP, which looks back to the gleaming pop-soul of Diana Ross and Whitney Houston.

Even Bad Bunny, the Puerto Rican rapper and singer who became a superstar at the bleeding edge of reggaeton and Latin trap, achieved his Grammy breakthrough with something of a throwback move: “Debí Tirar Más Fotos” is an exactingly arranged tribute to his native island, with elements of Puerto Rican folk styles such as bomba and plena and more hand-played instrumentation than he utilized for 2022’s sleek “Un Verano Sin Ti,” which scored a Grammy nomination for album of the year but lost to “Harry’s House” by Harry Styles (who, as it happens, presented the album prize Sunday).

Part of Bad Bunny’s success this year can be attributed to the fact that he’s a far bigger celebrity than he was three years ago; indeed, his Grammy triumph impressively sets up the halftime performance he’ll give this coming weekend at Super Bowl LX. But not unlike Beyoncé’s rootsy “Cowboy Carter,” which finally brought her a win for album of the year in 2025 after a number of outrage-inducing defeats, “Debí Tirar Más Fotos” is also primo Grammy bait: a work steeped in tradition from a natural innovator.

SZA backstage.

(Allen J. Schaben / Los Angeles Times)

For years, the Grammys’ rearview gaze used to bum me out — and, to be honest, as lovely as Eilish’s “Wildflower” is, her song of the year win with the tender acoustic ballad felt like a failure of imagination among voters I wish had recognized the hurtling exuberance of “Golden,” from Netflix’s “KPop Demon Hunters.” (“Golden” did take the prize for song written for visual media, which made it the first K-pop tune to win a Grammy.)

Yet something about Sunday’s ceremony made it hard to get too worked up about all the historicizing. Perhaps it was how plainly yet passionately many artists used their time onstage to speak about the issues pressing on us right now. “Before I say thanks to God, I’m gonna say: ICE out,” Bad Bunny told the crowd as he accepted an award for música urbana album. “We’re not savage, we’re not animals, we’re not aliens. We are humans, and we are Americans.”

Lady Gaga on the red carpet.

(Christina House/Los Angeles Times)

Eilish said, “No one is illegal on stolen land.” Dean pointed out that she’s the granddaughter of an immigrant and that “those people deserve to be celebrated.”

I was also moved by how personal so much of the music felt — a cry of imperfection like Lola Young’s “Messy,” for instance, which she performed by herself on piano and which won pop solo performance in an upset over the likes of Lady Gaga and Sabrina Carpenter. “I don’t know what I’m gonna say because I don’t have any speech prepared,” she yelled into the microphone as she received her trophy. “Obviously, I don’t — it’s messy, do you know what I mean?”

Weirdly for a show with yesterday so heavily on its mind, a tribute to the late R&B trailblazers Roberta Flack and D’Angelo was a disappointment, with Lauryn Hill as bandleader moving way too quickly (in way too short an allotted time) through songs that require real space to unfurl.

That’s what Justin Bieber had for the evening’s most striking performance: a slow and radically stripped-down rendition of his song “Yukon” that he sang wearing only boxer shorts and socks, accompanying himself with a scratchy electric guitar riff he fed through a looping station.

“Yukon” is from Bieber’s impressive “Swag” album, which he released last year after a lengthy stretch in the pop-star wilderness; it’s an LP, kind of like “Messy,” about learning to forgive yourself for your flaws, and here he sang “Yukon” like a guy who’d figured out — maybe a guy figuring out — how to build a life outside the punishing expectations of celebrity. The music had the past in it, of course, but didn’t feel constrained by it.

Justin Bieber performs.

(Myung J. Chun / Los Angeles Times)

In speech after speech, this year’s Grammy-winning artists returned to one message—ICE is a menace that must be stopped.

After dramatic, violent escalations in federal raids on immigrant communities and their supporters in Minneapolis and across the country, Americans have been shocked into despair and action. Many artists up for top Grammys have been vocal about their opposition to these raids, but at Sunday’s Grammys, the topic was front and center for many winners in their speeches.

“I want to dedicate this to all the people who had to leave their home, their country, to follow their dreams,” Bad Bunny said in his mostly-Spanish acceptance speech for the Grammys top prize, Album of the Year.

Earlier in the night, he joked with host Trevor Noah about Puerto Rico not being a great place for Noah should flee to, the island still being an American territory and all. But Bad Bunny made his point clearly even before taking home his biggest prize yet. “Ice out,” he said. “If we fight, we have to do it with love.”

With a Super Bowl halftime show coming next week, he’ll take the stage as the most important musician on earth right now, an urgent message brought to the heart of the most aggressively American live event.

As musicians around the country and the globe use their platforms to organize and speak out against the ICE raids, many acts wore pins on the red carpet Sunday—from Joni Mitchell and Carole King to Olivia Rodrigo, Brandi Carlile and Justin and Hailey Bieber.

Yet it was striking just how many artists used the acceptance speeches to decry the agency’s actions under President Trump.

Billie Eilish, an upset winner with brother Finneas for song for “Wildflower,” was even more direct. “No one is illegal on stolen land,” she said. “It’s hard to know what to say and what to do, but we need to keep fighting and speaking up and protesting. Our voices really do matter.” Then came a long, bleeped moment on the CBS broadcast—presumably something urgently profane directed at a similar target.

That sentiment spanned genres and cultures. New artist winner, the U.K. R&B singer Olivia Dean, acknowledged the gifts of being “the granddaughter of an immigrant. I’m a product of bravery and I think these people deserve to be celebrated.”

“Immigrants built this country, literally,” said country star Shaboozey, a descendant of Nigerian immigrant parents, winning for country duo/group performance. “This is also for those who came to this country in search of better opportunity to be part of a nation that promised freedom for all and equal opportunity to everyone willing to work for it. Thank you for bringing your culture your music, your stories and your traditions here.”

Kehlani, a winner for R&B song and performance, said that “Together, we’re stronger in numbers to speak out against all the injustice going on in the world right now. I hope everyone is inspired to come together as a community of artists ad speak out against what’s going on.”

” F— Ice,” Kehlani added, walking off the stage.

Recording Academy chief Harvey Mason Jr. also used his speech to underscore the “uncertainty and real trauma,” of the environment in America now. “It can be easy to feel overwhelmed, even helpless in challenging times. But music never stands still,” he said. “When we’re exhausted, music restores us. When were grieving, music sits with us.”

Alongside the night’s words of warning and rage, singer SZA offered what amounted to reassurance in her speech after winning record for “Luther,” her Hot 100-dominating collaboration with Kendrick Lamar.

“Please don’t fall into despair,” she said. “I know algorithms tell us it’s so scary and all is lost. But we can go on, we need each other. We’re not governed by the government, we’re governed by God.”

Kendrick Lamar and SZA’s “Luther” was named record of the year at Sunday night’s 68th Grammy Awards, giving Lamar his second straight win in the category after he took it in 2025 with his smash-hit Drake diss, “Not Like Us.”

The Compton-born rapper is one of only four acts in Grammy history who’ve gone back to back in record of the year, along with Billie Eilish, U2 and Roberta Flack.

Built on a prominent sample of Luther Vandross and Cheryl Lynn’s 1982 duet “If This World Were Mine” (itself a cover of the song Marvin Gaye and Tammi Terrell introduced in 1967), “Luther” is from Lamar’s sixth studio album, “GNX,” which came out in November 2024.

“Luther forever,” Lamar said while accepting the speech. Cher announced the winner after accepting the Lifetime achievement award, at first just reading off Vandross’ name.

The song — which was produced by Jack Antonoff, Bridgeway, M-Tech, Roselilah, Sounwave and Kamasi Washington — spent 13 weeks atop Billboard’s Hot 100, longer than any other single in 2025. On Spotify, “Luther” has been streamed more than 1.3 billion times.

The other songs nominated for record of the year were Bad Bunny’s “DTMF,” Sabrina Carpenter’s “Manchild,” Doechii’s “Anxiety,” Billie Eilish’s “Wildflower,” Lady Gaga’s “Abracadabra,” Chappell Roan’s “The Subway” and “Apt.” by Rosé and Bruno Mars.

During the summer of 1998, a 19-year-old rapper named Eve (formerly known as Eve of Destruction) received a phone call from her producer friend Scott Storch about an opportunity to hop on a record with the Roots.

The hip-hop band from Philadelphia, formed by Black Thought and Questlove, was bubbling at the time and Eve, a known battle rapper in the city, was excited to work together on a song called “You Got Me.”

After tweaking the verse that Black Thought, the band’s lead MC and co-founder, wrote for her, Eve laid down her vocals, rhyming the lyrics “Another lonely night? / It seems like I’m on the side, you only lovin’ your mic.”

“It was really exciting,” Eve said, while lounging on a couch in a Hollywood residence. The rapper, actor and fashion designer has been based in London for the last decade. “I think that was my most professional setting because they obviously were already signed.”

When the song, which is featured on the Roots’ career-defining “Things Fall Apart” album, was released in 1999, it was the first time the world heard Eve’s voice — but no one knew it was her. To her surprise, she wasn’t listed as a contributing artist on the track.

She was also surprised to find out that Jill Scott, a poet and rising neo-soul singer from Philadelphia who wrote and sang the initial hook, was replaced by Grammy-winning singer Erykah Badu. After receiving the wrong address for the shoot, Eve wasn’t featured in the music video either.

In 2000, the Roots and Badu won a Grammy for “You Got Me,” but because Eve wasn’t listed on the track, she didn’t receive an award. By this time, Eve was signed to Ruff Ryders and promoting her debut album “Let There Be Eve…Ruff Ryders’ First Lady” including her breakout single “Want Ya Want,” so although it hurt her feelings at the time, she moved past it, she said.

“There was no time to kind of go back and think about it,” said Eve, who opened up about the situation in her 2024 memoir “Who’s That Girl.” After years of seeing each other and even performing the song together, she and Questlove spoke about the matter for the first time when she made an appearance on his podcast and apologized to Eve for the oversight. “We were extremely inconsiderate, insular and uncommunicative with each other that things like that always spilled on the sidelines,” the drummer said on the podcast. (Questlove wasn’t available for comment further at the time of publication.)

(Allen J. Schaben/Los Angeles Times)

Last fall, Eve received another unexpected phone call — this time from the Recording Academy. After hearing Eve talk about the “You Got Me” situation on Ebro Darden’s podcast, the Recording Academy wanted to give her an award for her contributions to the track.

“They were like, ‘Listen, we didn’t even know about this situation at all until we heard the podcast,’” Eve recalled.

After 26 years, Eve was given a golden gramophone Thursday night during the Recording Academy Honors presented by the Black Music Collective in front of a star-studded audience. For her, the award feels like “validation in a way to that little girl, to little Eve,” she said. “She deserves that.”

She added, “Whatever is yours can’t miss you.”

Ahead of the ceremony, Eve spoke to The Times about coming up in the Philadelphia music scene as a teenager, what the “You Got Me” situation has taught her and what receiving this award means to her now. She also talked about the impact of her second studio album, “Scorpion,” which turns 25 this year, and what it was like to bring her toddler son on tour with her for the first time.

This interview has been lightly edited for length and clarity.

You grew up in West Philly at a time when so many future greats were coming up at once — the Roots, Jill Scott, Bilal and Scott Storch. When you were just a teenager, you were hanging out at studios with some of them and attending jam sessions at Questlove’s house. What did the energy in Philly feel like back then?

It was amazing because music was everywhere. I knew that I wanted it to be my life, so every weekend I was doing something. I should’ve been going to school, but I was going to the studio because I knew that I wanted music to be my life. And in Philly, there was always something going on whether it was a block party or a jam session or an open mic night. I was at everything.

Scott Storch was the person who called you about getting on the Roots’ “You Got Me” record. What was your reaction when you got that call?

When you are young, there’s that no fear thing. I remember being excited, of course, but also like, “Yes! I’m supposed to be here,” not from a cocky place but more affirmative. It was really exciting, but it was also very professional. I think that was my most professional setting because they obviously were already signed. I’d never been around that before, so I remember [being] like “This feels like the business.”

(Allen J. Schaben/Los Angeles Times)

You were around 19 or 20 at that time, right?

I must have been around 19 because I would’ve gotten signed and dropped [from Aftermath] when I was 18. [laughs]

At that time you were in between record deals, so it must have felt like a big opportunity.

Absolutely. You know what’s funny, I probably just took it for granted in the sense of like “Oh yeah, this is the start.” They are signed. It’s funny because I think back on the situation and I guess I thought it was gonna pop off from there. That’s why all the events that happened afterward were like “Ugh.”

Take me back to the day that you laid down your verse. Who was in the studio with you?

I’m pretty sure Black Thought and Jill [Scott] were there. Even if not the whole session, I don’t know if I’d come in if she’d finished or whatever, but I’m pretty sure she was there.

How did your verse come together?

I had this whole thing in my head, but Black Thought had a whole verse already. But then I was like, “I’m not gonna just say your verse.” Now, I have a writer sometimes, but back then, especially because I was a battle rapper, it was like I can’t say somebody else’s bars. That’s not real. So he had this whole thing and then I kind of tweaked it to make it feel and sound like me.

I had a lot of audacity back then. I really did. [laughs] Because most people would be like “Yeah, cool.” Also, I was like if I’m going to put my voice on this, I really want to feel like me. I have thought about this [situation] so much now, and I’m sure that also attributed to them being like, “We don’t need to reach out. We don’t need to make sure it’s OK” because the majority of it was written by him. Not that that’s an excuse because there is no excuse.

When was the first time that you realized you didn’t receive credit for the song? If I’m not mistaken, I think Jill Scott found out that her vocals were replaced by Erykah Badu after she heard it on the radio.

I think it was kind of the same thing. It all happened so fast like, “Oh, the song is out.” I probably heard it around the same time and thought “Oh, that’s not Jill. Oh, that’s Erykah Badu.” It was such a weird timeline because I did the song a year or a few months before, and then by the time I heard the song, I was living in Harlem and I was signed to Ruff Ryders.

The song went on to win a Grammy for rap performance by a duo or group in 2000, but because you weren’t credited, you didn’t receive an award. In your book, you talk about how this situation lined up with you being dropped from Aftermath Entertainment and moving back home from L.A. How did you deal with all of this emotionally?

I feel like I had a month that I was just [felt] — I don’t know if I’d call it depressed — deflated. I really felt like damn, this was it and now I’m back home. I was just in L.A. in a condo with a nice bank account. Now I’m back at my mom’s house in my pajamas and I gotta catch the bus. What the hell is happening to my life? [laughs] That was horrible so I was wrestling with my feelings and my sadness, but my mom was great. My mom has always been my rock. She was supportive and she [didn’t] tell me to get over it. She kind of just let me wallow in it, but [she was] positive as well like, “Maybe that wasn’t the time.” It was crazy, but I will say, I needed it. I’m happy that happened because I wouldn’t have the career I have now. Like going back to the Aftermath thing, if I had come out then, I wouldn’t have the career that I have now. I feel like I did need to be humbled because it was definitely the Philly attitude that got me fired, that got me dropped. [laughs] My name at the time was Eve of Destruction, my battle rap name, so it was the time that I sat with my feelings and I was like if I get this chance again who is it that I want to be as an artist? Who do I want to show the world? I didn’t want to take on a title. I was like I’m just going to show them myself. I’m going to show them Eve.

Some fans knew that you didn’t receive credit on this track, but others found out for the first time when you talked about it last year during an appearance on Ebro Darden’s podcast.

It’s crazy how many people are mad about it for me. I had friends who were like, “Girl, so what’s going to happen?” [laughs] But it is a funny thing. Why wasn’t I mad enough? Or was it — this is the over-analyzer [in me] — one of those moments where I just wanted to forget about it. Because, yeah, my feelings were definitely hurt if it was a fake address. Or did we get the address wrong? So maybe I was like, “I’ll just put it on the back burner,” but Ebro definitely did not. And you know what, I’m happy he didn’t because sometimes it takes for a person to be your champion or your cheerleader in certain things and I do appreciate it.

“You Got Me” is one of the Roots’ biggest songs to this day. Was it weird hearing it played everywhere when it first came out?

During that time I did not see them. It was very weird. That song had come out, I was doing my thing, but we ran in different circles hip-hop-wise. I guess we just never crossed paths. I never really saw them. I think they were on tour by then and I was with Ruff Ryders. We didn’t see each other until years later because we have performed that song now three times probably at separate points in my career, which is also weird. [laughs]

That is weird.

It’s weird. I don’t know what’s wrong.

Now, 26 years after “You Got Me” won a Grammy, you are finally receiving your award and honored at the Black Music Collective Recording Academy Honors. What was your reaction when you found out?

It was weird at first because the [academy] called a lot of different people. They called like four different people because they wouldn’t tell anybody why they wanted to talk to me. Finally, I think Swizz [Beatz] was probably the last person they called. Then we got on the phone and I remember I was having martinis in London. It was a FaceTime [call] and I was standing under a lamp. It was not professional on my side and I was trying real hard not to be tipsy. I was like, “This is so cool. Thank you, guys.” [laughs] My friend, who I was with, was like “What did you have to take a call for?” and I was like “Girllll.” So it was a fun night. I came home and told my husband, fell asleep and when I woke up, I completely forgot about it. Then my friend texted me and was like “Do you remember?” and I was like “Oh s—! Yeah!” It’s just such a cool thing and since then it’s been like “Wow.” They said, “We could send you the Grammy, but we’d like to give it to you.” It’s really nice. It’s a really interesting feeling because obviously it’s been so long, something that I thought I was done with, in a way, so it feels good.

What did they tell you exactly?

They were like “Listen, we didn’t even know about this situation at all until we heard the podcast.” It was the podcast that I did with Ebro when they were like “Oh nah.” Even Swizz was like “Sis, we gotta make this happen. That’s not cool.” And I was like “OK, cool.”

Does receiving this award now feel like reconciliation at all? Or maybe validation?

In a way, validation to that little girl, to little me. It sounds a bit cheesy, but she deserves that. It’s a great moment. I’m still wrapping my head around it in a way especially since I’ve been away from music for so long and for this to be happening like this is very cool.

(Allen J. Schaben/Los Angeles Times)

What have you learned or taken away from this situation?

I think I’m honestly still processing because I was joking, but kind of not, like I want to talk to my therapist about why I let this go. What was it? Why did I think, “Oh nah, it’s cool. We squashed it.” But it’s like no, this is bigger than that. But good s— comes to good people and I know for sure I definitely deserve it. [laughs]

In other exciting news, this March marks the 25th anniversary of your second album, “Scorpion.” What memories rush back to you when you think about that time of your life, living and working in Miami?

Oh my God. There’s so many. It was so fun. I remember the house we rented. I had one Yorkie, then I bought her a friend in Florida. It was silly s— that I remember and then just being in the studio day and night. Then the Marleys were on the other side. It was just a good time. I was fully in it. It was a lot of pressure because it was like “We gotta get this album done now.” It’s when I really think I felt the business of music in the sense of like, “We gotta meet these deadlines. We gotta get this album out,” which was stressful but I was still naive enough, I think, to still be having fun. I was going out. I met Trina. Trina is my girl. Overall, it was a really good time.

Between experimenting with new sounds, crossing genres with artists like Gwen Stefani, and making the theme red, “Scorpion” felt very intentional. Reflecting back, what did that era represent for you personally beyond the music?

I feel very lucky that Ruff Ryders always allowed me to artistically do what I wanted to do. They never said things like “Oh this might not work.” And even sonically, they weren’t the ones who were fighting back, it was more like executives and Interscope, but for me “Scorpion” means red. Red is a scorpion color. We gotta come out stinging, but I also want to show that I’ve grown, that I’ve matured and really show what my ear is. I felt really lucky that they didn’t fight me on it. They let me do exactly what I needed to do. It felt collaborative because that’s how Ruff Ryders worked anyway. There were people in and out of the studio all the time, but it made it good because sometimes a conversation led to a hook or a verse.

Last year you went on tour with Nelly, Ja Rule and Chingy, and you brought along your son. What was it like having him there with you, seeing you on stage?

It was grueling. I ain’t gone lie. It was amazing, but being on tour with a toddler is different. That being said, the reason I said yes to doing the tour is because he’s young enough that I can kind of tote him around, but he’s old enough that he can remember. Seeing him on the side of the stage was like “Oh, my little baby.” It was also fun. Like everybody on that tour had bangers, so even me performing or being backstage and hearing Ja or hearing Nelly or hearing Chingy, it was a good tour. The crowd showed up. It was a really cool tour too because in some places, it was like generations of people together like the kids and the moms, and then there were a lot of young people, and I was like “Oh, I love this.”

What else do you have coming up?

Listening to new music and discovering new artists. I am excited about this 25th anniversary because we are going to do some really fun stuff with it and we’re talking about some re-imaginings with it. Just touch some of the songs that people love and give it a bit of life. What else? I don’t know. I’m just “momming.” That’s my favorite thing right now. He’s getting so big. I cannot believe he’s about to be 4. Watching him grow is nice.

Take That reveal a new song hidden in their Netflix documentary which is launched on the streaming site today

Take That have shocked fans by unveiling a secret new song hidden in their Netflix documentary. The song called ‘You’re A Superstar’ appears in the closing credits of the third and final episode and sources close to the band confirmed it is the first track from a new Take That album coming out later in the year.

The source said: “The band thought it would be a great surprise and a treat for fans at the end of the Netflix series. It’s a great way to tease their new material and the full single will be coming soon.”

The band were originally made up of Gary Barlow, Howard Donald and Mark Owen, Jason Orange and Robbie Williams, but these days are a trio with Jason and Robbie not in the band. In May last year, songwriter and band member Gary, 55, had revealed that a tenth Take That album was on the cards. At the time he said: “We all came off tour at the end of [2024] and said, ‘Right, let’s get to work’. It’s been slated for next year. We just don’t want to stop, really.”

The new track an upbeat pop track and appears to be about being in love. It contains the lyrics: ‘My heart comes alive, all the stars turn bright, a million times in your arms, tonight. And I want to let you know, you’re a superstar, and I’m yours.” Whilst the end song is very upbeat, the Netflix documentary charts the highs of the band but also lots of lows, with each member of the band enjoying some surprising struggles which in some cases have not been fully expressed before.

The three part series features 35 years of rare archive material, never-before-seen footage, and personal material. There are also new interviews with Gary, Howard and Mark and archive interviews with Jason and Robbie to tell the story.

Gary admitted: “Some of it was hard to watch – especially that middle hour, which covers the period after the band broke up. It was just a hard, hard time. I am quite good at leaving things in the past. I’m not a regretful person, and I was happy to leave it behind. So, seeing those memories brought to life on screen again was strange.”

Take That have enjoyed staggering success since forming in 1990 with 12 Number 1 singles and nine Number 1 albums so far in the UK alone. They will begin The Circus tour in May based on their previous hit tour from 2009, but the trio of Gary, Mark and Howard have to look after their bodies these days.

In an interview at the weekend, Howard said: “We have to look after our bodies. We watch what food we eat, do Pilates, which I need for my core, so my back doesn’t go. I’ve got sorer knees than in the Nineties, but we try to do as much dancing on stage as possible. It’s the satisfaction of sweating your ass off. If we’re all sat on stools, it wouldn’t be Take That.”

Of the TT fans that keep coming back, Gary said: “These days, that gorgeous audience, I want to go around and kiss one by one, because they’ve loved us and they’ve made us part of their lives for years and years, and they still keep coming.”

* Three part series Take That is out now on Netflix. The Circus tour begins in Southampton on May 29 then touring until July 4. Tickets can be purchased from takethat.com

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