Charli XCX announced Monday that her new album, “Music, Fashion, Film,” drops July 24, and it already looks iconic.
That’s because the cover art, which Charli shared on Instagram, features three icons within their fields. The Velvet Underground’s John Cale represents music, Marc Jacobs stands for fashion and beloved director Martin Scorsese symbolizes film.
“My new album Music, Fashion, Film is out july 24th,” Charli wrote on Instagram. “11 songs, 30 minutes, 5 seconds. available to pre order now, love you xx.”
She released the first two singles, “Rock Music” and “SS26,” in May. The latter, a shorthand for the fashion industry’s current “Spring, Summer ‘26” season, has an accompanying video that features the artist strutting down an X-shaped runway, singing, “We’re walking on a runway that goes straight to hell / Nothing’s gonna save us, not music, fashion or film.”
“Rock Music,” the album’s first single, was met with mixed reactions from critics and fans. The song telegraphs Charli’s genre switch from electronic pop to the titular rock music, announcing, “I think the dance floor is dead” over heavily distorted guitar.
“If I’d made another album that felt more dance-leaning, it would have felt really hard, really sad,” Charli told British Vogue in April. “What’s interesting for me is to bend the possibilities of what my perspective on [rock music] could be.” She later clarified on Instagram, “I never said i was making a rock album.”
“Music, Fashion, Film” is not the artist’s first album in 2026. She released “Wuthering Heights,” the soundtrack to Emerald Fennel’s movie of the same name, in February. Cale is featured on “House,” the soundtrack album’s lead single.
Charli has added acting and producing to her repertoire in recent years. She produced and played a somewhat fictionalized version of herself in Aidan Zamiri’s mockumentary “The Moment,” based on the “Brat” album cycle, which Times film critic Amy Nicholson called “ ‘Spinal Tap’ for the era of stan culture.”
She also co-starred in Daniel Goldhaber’s “Faces of Death” remake, released in April, and is set to appear in Gregg Araki’s upcoming erotic comedy “I Want Your Sex” and Cathy Yan’s art-world thriller “The Gallerist” by year’s end.
“I’ve always been really inspired by cinema when making my music, more so than listening to music, to be honest,” Charli told The Times at the Sundance Film Festival in January. “It’s an honor to be able to be acting, working on projects and writing and producing films. It’s kind of my dream.”
PALM SPRINGS — Barry Manilow steers a golf cart to the end of a long driveway, pulls to a stop and flings a plush toy goose across a manicured lawn to the delight of his two Labrador retrievers.
“OK, where we doing this?” the 82-year-old singer asks about our interview. Dressed in a khaki shirt and slim-fitting rust-colored trousers, he’s got the look of a man prepared to undertake some très chic brush clearance; in reality, he’s motored down here merely to answer questions about his fabulous life and career.
Manilow and his husband and longtime manager, Garry Kief, moved to this sprawling desert estate from Los Angeles in the late 1990s. “We kept coming out, and it’s so beautiful that eventually we said, ‘Screw it — let’s just stay,’” he says. By then, Manilow had long since established himself as one of music’s premier showmen, with a Grammy Award, 11 Top 10 hits and a storied 15-night run at L.A.’s Greek Theatre under his belt.
So you might’ve taken Palm Springs as a sign that he was ready to slow down. Instead, he launched a residency at the Las Vegas Hilton in 2005 that eventually surpassed the length of Elvis Presley’s show there; in 2006, he released “The Greatest Songs of the Fifties,” which went platinum and spawned a series of successful follow-up albums.
Last month, Sabrina Carpenter interpolated a bit of Manilow’s iconic “Copacabana (At the Copa)” into her headlining set at Coachella just days before he was honored by the American Advertising Federation for his work writing commercial jingles. The range of those achievements said something about his blend of music-nerd craft and pop-star razzle-dazzle.
“Barry loves music as much as anyone I’ve ever known,” says Bette Midler, who hired Manilow as her pianist for the name-making gig she played at New York’s Continental Baths in the early 1970s. Performing, Midler adds, “isn’t a job with him — it’s a vocation, a calling.”
Yet now that calling faces a threat. In December, Manilow announced that he’d been diagnosed with lung cancer and that surgery would require him to postpone a number of concert dates; five months later, he has yet to return to the stage — the longest break, COVID-19 aside, he can remember taking in decades.
Fortunately for Manilow, he has a new album, “What a Time,” with which to occupy himself. Due June 5, it consists mostly of original material — his first such LP in nearly 15 years — though it opens with a sumptuous rendition of Peter Allen and Dean Pitchford’s “Once Before I Go.” Manilow notes proudly that the song, which was produced by Kenneth “Babyface” Edmonds, recently made Billboard’s adult contemporary chart, extending his run on that tally beyond the half-century mark.
Barry Manilow performs in Beverly Hills in 2025.
(Gina Ferazzi / Los Angeles Times)
Still, performing is clearly on his mind as he leads me into a tile-roofed gym equipped with weights, a treadmill and a massage table. Manilow has been working out here every morning, he says, to regain the strength needed for his show; he’s got Vegas dates on the books for July but admits he’s unsure whether they’ll happen or not. We settle into two leather club chairs, his dogs Jake and Abby at his feet.
“Please be brilliant,” he tells me. “Don’t be boring.”
What are you doing on a day you’re not working? Working.
I see. Since the surgery, I can’t go on the road. Ninety minutes of screaming in tune, which is what I do for a living — I’m not up for that yet. I will be, but it’s taking a long time to get my voice back. They warned me that I’d have to learn to breathe again. So these days, I get up, I go to my piano and I try to be creative. Before I know it, the afternoon’s over.
Was the diagnosis a shock? Imagine your doctor saying, “You’ve got lung cancer.”
Fair enough. I’ll tell you the story. I have terrible hips — bursitis and everything — and they hurt so bad that I thought maybe I broke a bone or something. So I asked my wonderful family doctor, I said, “Can you just do one of those MRIs and see?” Now, before that, I’d had two bad bouts of bronchitis, one after the next. Have you ever had bronchitis?
I have. It stinks. So I asked him if he could check my hip, and he told the guys that were doing it, “Why don’t you check his lungs?” And I think he might have saved my life because they found a big black thing in my chest. One doctor said it was probably remnants of the bronchitis, the other doctor said it could be cancer. I voted for the bronchitis. But they went back in to see and it was a cancerous tumor.
How’d you react? When they told me, I was on the road, and I just went back to sound check. What else could I do? I never thought cancer would get me — it wasn’t in the cards. They wanted to get rid of it as soon as possible, so we made a deal: I’d finish the couple of weeks of shows that I had, then I’d go to the hospital and they’d remove it. It was supposed to be a no-brainer — it hadn’t spread yet, thank goodness. But then my AFib kicked in and acid reflux kicked in and pneumonia kicked in. They rushed me to the ICU for seven days.
Barry Manilow with Dionne Warwick in Los Angeles in 1985.
(Paul Harris / Getty Images)
Sorry to be morbid, but were you close to death? They said at one point — I didn’t hear them say this but I heard that they did say it — “We don’t want to lose him.” It’s all a total blur now. When they finally brought me back to my lovely room at the Eisenhower [medical center], I weighed 128 pounds.
How long you figure it had been since you weighed 128 pounds? I don’t remember ever being 128.
You said you never thought cancer would get you. Why? I’m too busy. Pretty stupid. What I realized is that I’ve always been the leader — leader of the band, leader of an audience — but I wasn’t the leader of this one. That was a big lesson for me. I had to rely on everybody else. Nurses, doctors, friends — you should see some of the notes people have sent.
What’s it been like to be offstage for so long? Agony. Make an album, go on the road, come back, make an album, go on the road — that’s what my life’s been for years. And I like it. Now I just have to get better and do what the doctors are telling me. It’s the only way out.
Well, there’s one other way. I’m not ready to croak. But I wasn’t ready to stop performing either, and it just went like that [snaps fingers]. The day before surgery, people are screaming, standing ovation, band sounds great. Next day I’m packing to go to the hospital.
Are you working with a vocal coach? Yep. But I get winded just walking down the hallway. I turn on my old records and sing along, and three songs in I’m like [pants].
Could you do a show where you skip the uptempos? No “It’s a Miracle” or “Copacabana”? I’m trying ballads too — my ballads end big.
Are you allowed to smoke or drink? I stopped smoking many, many years ago. I vape but hardly — I just like holding it. I was a great smoker. Brooklyn in the ’50s? Please. I started smoking when I was 9. I got up to three packs of Pall Mall non-filters a day, and it never bothered me — never had any problem breathing. I was just a skinny piano player who smoked. That’s who I am. That’s who I was.
Before he was a skinny piano player, he was a skinny accordion player.
Manilow grew up poor in Brooklyn, the only son of a Jewish mother and an Irish father who split up right after he was born. As a kid he entertained his mom and his maternal grandparents by squeezing out the Jewish folk song “Hava Nagila”; later, his stepfather brought home records by Gerry Mulligan and Judy Garland that opened his mind to jazz and pop.
He says today that he never saw himself as a performer — he wanted to write, arrange, produce. His first success came with jingles for brands like State Farm — “Like a Good Neighbor” is his handiwork — and Band-Aid.
“My ideas were good for pop music because of the commercials,” he says. “The rules are pretty much the same — you need to grab the listener as soon as possible. For a commercial, you’ve got about five seconds. For a pop song, you’ve got 10.”
In 1971, Manilow got the job with Midler and ended up working on her million-selling debut, “The Divine Miss M,” which led to a deal of Manilow’s own with Clive Davis’ Arista Records. Despite Manilow’s insistence that he was a behind-the-scenes guy, he scored a No. 1 hit out of the box with the plaintive “Mandy,” then quickly followed that with another chart-topper, “I Write the Songs” — a pop-philosophical epic, as nobody’s tired of pointing out ever since, that Manilow didn’t actually write.
Barry Manilow at home in Palm Springs.
(Christina House / Los Angeles Times)
Bruce Johnston, who wrote “I Write the Songs” — and won a Grammy for song of the year thanks to Manilow’s recording — says the key to Manilow’s performance is that “he’s never too cool for school.” A Beach Boy for six decades until he retired from the band this year, Johnston adds that Manilow’s rendition of the song, which was also cut by Captain & Tennille and David Cassidy, “is the only one I care about, honestly. He really grabbed it — he’s just as real as he could be.”
After several more Manilow hits — “Tryin’ to Get the Feeling Again,” “Weekend in New England,” “Looks Like We Made It” — Davis asked the singer to produce a would-be comeback album by his latest Arista signing, Dionne Warwick. Warwick’s initial reaction to that idea: “Really?” she says with a laugh. “Did Barry Manilow really know anything about Dionne Warwick? As it turned out, he knew quite a bit,” adds Warwick, who recalls turning up for their first session to discover that Manilow had laid every one of her albums on his piano. “He was letting me know: I know you,” she says.
“Dionne,” the album they made together, went on to win a pair of Grammys and spun off silky hit singles including “Deja Vu” and “I’ll Never Love This Way Again” that reinvigorated Warwick’s career and helped solidify Manilow’s standing as a kind of soft-rock auteur.
Which isn’t to say that rock’s intelligentsia ever viewed him kindly. Though his best music finds an emotional truth in over-the-top theatrics, critics routinely dismissed Manilow as a lightweight or a schlockmeister; even now, he seems an unlikely candidate for the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame, where he’s been eligible for induction for decades.
Manilow, who entered the Songwriters Hall of Fame in 2002, insists the slights don’t bother him. “I’ve never been one of the guys,” he says. We’ve been talking for a while, and because of the bursitis, perhaps, he’s hoisted one of his legs over the arm of his chair. “I don’t think about awards and parties and stuff like that. I’m very lucky — I live in the most gorgeous place I’ve ever seen and I have the most wonderful partner that you can imagine. I’m grateful he’s chosen to share his life with me. We’ve been together for over 46 years, and we still laugh and we still love each other. That’s the greatest award I’ll ever get.”
Manilow and Kief married in 2014; the singer came out as gay three years later. (Manilow was briefly married to his high school girlfriend, Susan Deixler, in the mid-1960s.) Has he found that the world looks at him differently since he came out?
“It was a non-event. Nobody gave a s—,” he says. “They all knew. I never really hid it, but in the ’70s and ’80s, that would have killed the career, and I didn’t want to do that. So I just never talked about it.” He smiles.
“Garry and I are just two guys that live in a house on a hill with two dogs that we love.”
Like many of Manilow’s hits, “Once Before I Go” was Davis’ idea.
Allen, the late Australian entertainer portrayed by Hugh Jackman in Broadway’s Tony-winning “The Boy From Oz,” had played the tune for Manilow in the early ’80s. “And I loved it,” Manilow says now. “But I was too young to sing a song like that — that song needs age to be able to pull it off honestly.”
Davis first suggested that Manilow perform it in his set at the post-pandemic We Love NYC concert that Davis put on in Central Park in 2021. After the show, which was called off due to weather as Manilow sang “Can’t Smile Without You,” Davis repeatedly advised the singer to record it.
Clive Davis, left, with Barry Manilow at an Arista Records party in Los Angeles in 1989.
(Lester Cohen / Getty Images)
“I don’t know, he had a bug up his ass,” Manilow says. “He loved it, and he loved it for me. And I’m not even on his record label anymore — he’s just a friend at this point. But he was right once again.”
Given the cancer diagnosis, did Manilow worry that fans might interpret the song — a teary goodbye from a well-wishing lover — as a more permanent farewell?
“Not one time has anybody said, ‘Is he talking about dying?’”
You wouldn’t necessarily call “What a Time” a concept album, though many of the songs ponder the ways memory and history can shape a romance. Manilow knows he’s regarded as a singles act but says that putting together LPs is what he’s always enjoyed best. His favorite is 1984’s jazzy “2:00 AM Paradise Cafe,” on which he collaborated with Mulligan, Sarah Vaughan and Mel Tormé.
“That was one where the critics who’d been killing me, they didn’t know I was capable of doing something like that,” he says. “But frankly, I’d been surprised that I was capable of doing the pop stuff.”
You made records of hits from the ’50s, ’60s, ’70s and ’80s. Why’d you stop before “The Greatest Songs of the Nineties”? Were there songs in the ’90s?
Barry. Didn’t it start to go downhill?
I can think of a handful of classics by Whitney Houston alone. You can’t touch those. I’m a good arranger, but you can’t top those records. Maybe four of those albums was enough. I was ready to go back to writing.
You’ve said the problem with modern pop is that there’s no melody anymore. That’s what I miss. Clive’s been pushing me to do “The Great New American Songbook.”
Like he did with Johnny Mathis a few years ago. So I’ve been studying the Top 20. The one I like is Lady Gaga and Bruno Mars.
“Die With a Smile.” Love that. But the way they’re writing songs these days is not the way I know how to write songs. They don’t do a verse, a chorus, a bridge, a chorus, a big ending. To me, when I listen, the songs feel like run-on sentences.
Barry Manilow with his dog Abby.
(Christina House / Los Angeles Times)
I was trying to think of artists older than you who are still performing. Name me one.
You’re invoking the widely held assumption that he lip syncs. I loved Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons. Who didn’t?
Would you ever lip sync? I’m terrible at it. I try now and again.
Do you find it morally objectionable? Depends on the artist. I like being in the moment, not knowing what’s gonna happen in the next bar or at the ending. It’s exciting to me to see if I can make those high notes.
Would not being able to make them mean it’s time to hang it up? Well, what’s happening right now, I’m on the verge. But I’m getting stronger, so maybe I don’t have to hang it up yet. I look fantastic, but I’m a hundred years old, right? I don’t know how that happened, by the way — I don’t get Botox or anything.
You’ve had no work done? No! I must say: There was one time when we lived in L.A. that I did do a facelift. But after that it’s just been a little here, a little there.
Wait, I asked you — “Work” is like a facelift, and I only had one of those. The rest of it — I see something falling down, sure, I’ll do that. I’m as vain as anybody else. One of my old friends, his mother said, “I always knew he was talented, but when did he get so handsome?”
Rapper Rob Base, one-half of the hip-hop duo Rob Base & DJ E-Z Rock, died on Friday after a battle with cancer. He was 59.
“Rob’s music, energy, and legacy helped shape a generation and brought joy to millions around the world. Beyond the stage, he was a loving father, family man, friend and creative force whose impact will never be forgotten,” a statement on Base’s Instagram read.
The statement also expressed gratitude to Base, who was surrounded by family as he died, for “the music, the memories and the moments that became the soundtrack to our lives.”
Rob Base was born Robert Ginyard in May 1967. He was best known for his collaborations with DJ E-Z Rock. The two were lifelong friends, meeting in fifth grade while living in Harlem. Their song “It Takes Two” was released in 1988 by Profile Records. The song became a breakout single for the duo and peaked at No. 3 on the Billboard U.S. dance club songs chart, with The Times calling “It Takes Two” “the rage of the rap underground.”
The duo followed up the hit with the release of the singles “Joy and Pain” and “Get On the Dance Floor.” Base released his solo album, “The Incredible Base,” in 1989.
Base was an ardent supporter of the rap genre, explaining to The Times in 1989 the nuance of the music.
“People outside rap don’t understand it. There’s all sorts of subtle things — key things — happening over and above the beat in rap songs. The fans want new stuff all the time,” Base said.
Base had two children, De’Jené Ginyard and Robert Ginyard Jr. His wife, April, died in 2013.
Few would contend that Lerner and Loewe’s “Brigadoon” and Rodgers and Hammerstein’s “Flower Drum Song” represent the best work of these legendary duos.
Unlike Lerner and Loewe’s eternally popular “My Fair Lady,” “Brigadoon” hasn’t had a Broadway revival since 1980. “Flower Drum Song,” relegated to the shadows of Rodgers and Hammerstein’s “Oklahoma!” and “South Pacific,” didn’t last long when it received its first and only Broadway revival in 2002.
I assumed nostalgia was fueling the desire to give these Golden Age musicals a makeover. But when I sat in the audience for these shows and fell immediately under the spell of their scores, I had a different answer.
The music makes a case for why “Brigadoon,” now in a soaring revival at Pasadena Playhouse, and “Flower Drum Song,” making a less assured reemergence at the Aratani Theatre in Little Tokyo, should live again. I was particularly skeptical of “Brigadoon,” with its airy-fairy book and heavy dose of romantic hokum, but the Broadway-level production at Pasadena Playhouse may be the best local staging of a musical I’ve seen in my 20 years covering the scene for The Times.
Kylie Victoria Edwards and Daniel Yearwood in “Brigadoon” at Pasadena Playhouse.
(Jeff Lorch)
I knew both musicals principally from their film adaptations. I missed David Henry Hwang‘s original rewrite of “Flower Drum Song,” which was a storied success at the Mark Taper Forum in 2001 but fared less favorably when it moved to New York the following year. I suppose I first saw “Brigadoon” as a kid at my grandmother’s house, amused at the way she goofily sang along. When I recently watched both movies again, it was like falling into a musical comedy time warp.
The enduring love for these Broadway shows isn’t just about the standards they have bequeathed to the American songbook. It’s also about the yearning for a more optimistic era of musical storytelling, when goodness could be counted on to prevail and a happy ending might be delayed but only rarely denied.
“Brigadoon,” a romantic fantasy about two Americans who stumble upon a mystical Scottish village that magically comes to life for a single day once every 100 years, might seem to be irredeemably old-fashioned. The show, which premiered on Broadway in 1947, was Lerner and Loewe’s first hit after a string of flops and fizzles. Without the success of “Brigadoon,” “My Fair Lady,” “Camelot” and the movie musical “Gigi” might never have happened.
Betsy Morgan and Max von Essen in “Brigadoon” at Pasadena Playhouse.
(Jeff Lorch)
But how do you solve a problem like Alan Jay Lerner’s book, written for a sensibility markedly more wholesome than our own? Enter playwright Alexandra Silber, whose fresh adaptation works for the most part remarkably well. There are a few lumpy patches, moments when the revision over-explains itself or belabors a point. But the way Tommy Albright (Max Von Essen) and Jeff Douglas (Happy Anderson), the accidental American intruders, have been modernized is a fizzy delight.
Imagine if Vincente Minnelli’s screen version of “Brigadoon,” starring Gene Kelly and Van Johnson, was remade with Paul Rudd and John Goodman, and you’ll have some idea of the comic chemistry here. But I should preface this thought exercise by first extolling the musical theater prowess of Von Essen, who received a Tony nomination for his work in “An American in Paris” and has a voice that could make the angels swoon. Less is required of Anderson’s jaded, booze-sodden Jeff, but this smart-alecky sidekick is re-imagined with crackling comic vitality.
The production, directed and choreographed by Katie Spelman, saves its most assertive interventions for its female characters. Fiona MacLaren (Betsy Morgan), the unmarried heroine who catches Tommy’s amorous eye, still falls heedlessly in love but not before correcting some of her American suitor’s chauvinistic assumptions. Morgan might overdo Fiona’s fiery streak when she sings “Waitin’ For My Dearie,” but the driving impulse is to bring the musical’s out-of-time female characters into the 21st century.
“Brigadoon” ensemble at Pasadena Playhouse.
(Jeff Lorch)
Meg Brockie (Donna Vivino), no longer the town floozie single-mindedly out to bed Jeff, is now the proprietor of Brockie’s Pub and the keeper of Brigadoon’s traditional language and culture. She’s still a sensual wrecking ball, but she’s too formidable to be treated as comic relief.
Silber has transformed Mr. Lundie, Brigadoon’s schoolmaster and moral guide, into Widow Lundie. The casting of the great Tyne Daly in the role is reason enough to make the gender switch, but it’s all part of a recalibration of the values of this theatrical world.
The dynamism of the singing and dancing smooths out some of the adaptation’s rough edges. Spelman puts her own stamp on Agnes DeMille’s original choreography, which was as integral to the storytelling as the book, lyrics and music.
When Charlie (a phenomenal Daniel Yearwood), a genial groom readying himself for the big wedding day, performs with his buddies “I’ll Go Home With Bonnie Jean,” Pasadena Playhouse erupts in a stomping frenzy of Celtic ecstasy. And Yearwood’s gorgeous rendition of “Come to Me, Bend to Me” is so seductive, it’s no wonder that Jean (Kylie Victoria Edwards), Fiona’s sister, has chosen to marry him.
“Brigadoon” ensemble at Pasadena Playhouse.
(Jeff Lorch)
All, however, is not idyllic in time-forgotten Brigadoon. Casting a pall over the nuptials, Harry Beaton (Spencer Davis Milford), hopelessly in love with Jean, threatens to destroy Brigadoon’s miracle by leaving the town for good.
Silber deepens Harry’s character and gives his story more emotional weight. (Milford manages to be both convincingly menacing and pitiably heartbroken.) The movie tweaked Harry’s fatal ending, but the adaptation does something even more striking with his desperation. The change is absorbed naturally by the musical, even if the funeral dance that Maggie (Jessica Lee Keller) elaborately performs might be more moving on a reduced scale.
The adaptation doesn’t always get the dramatic proportions right. When Jeff bares his soul to Tommy after the two are back on barstools in New York, the revelation that he is a heartsick widower complicates our understanding of a character originally conceived as a cynical bachelor. But Silber tries to extract too much sympathy from the exchange and stops the action when it should be moving rapidly toward its big finish.
Marc Oka, foreground, and Esther Lee, from left, Gemma Pedersen, Ai Toyoshima, Sally Hong, Hillary Tang and Emma Park in Rodgers and Hammerstein’s “Flower Drum Song,” produced by East West Players and the Japanese American Cultural and Community Center.
(Mike Palma)
But nothing can derail the success of this extraordinary production, the high watermark so far of Pasadena Playhouse producing artistic director Danny Feldman’s ongoing reexamination of the American musical canon. Jason Sherwood’s ravishing scenic design, full of eye-catching texture and lush density, makes it impossible not to dream along with the characters. Even the stage curtain, graced with Brigadoon’s floral insignia, is a work of art.
A 22-piece orchestra, under the music supervision of Darryl Archibald, draws out the all the sublime color of Frederick Loewe’s music. Most spectacularly, the blend of Von Essen’s lyric baritone and Morgan’s assertive soprano gives eternal life to Tommy and Fiona’s numbers. Hearing “The Heather on the Hill,” “Almost Like Being in Love” and “From This Day On” in the majestic intimacy of Pasadena Playhouse is a memory that will last at least a lifetime.
It’s a bit harder to judge this update of “Flower Drum Song,” which is Hwang’s second crack at revising the book, originally written by Oscar Hammerstein II and Joseph Fields. A co-production between East West Players and the Japanese American Cultural and Community Center, the revival doesn’t have the resources of Pasadena Playhouse’s “Brigadoon” and likely doesn’t have the same goals.
Ai Toyoshima, from left, Brian Shimasaki Liebson, Grace Yoo and Scott Keiji Takeda in Rodgers and Hammerstein’s “Flower Drum Song,” produced by East West Players and the Japanese American Cultural and Community Center.
(Mike Palma)
The musical, which premiered on Broadway in 1958, was groundbreaking for the way it provided a showcase for Asian American performers. Henry Koster’s 1961 studio film adaptation followed suit with an even greater reach. The intention was to create musical theater entertainment built around generational conflict — a longstanding device of romantic comedy. But here the clash involves immigrants in San Francisco trying to reconcile traditional Chinese culture and modern American life.
Stereotypes, however, prevailed, leaving a community at once grateful for representation and uncomfortable with the reinforcement of old tropes. Hwang (author of the Tony Award-winning “M. Butterfly”) set out to re-imagine the characters from the perspective of a contemporary Asian American dramatist nearly 25 years ago. But times continue to change along with cultural sensitivities, and he wanted to revisit his work for East West Players’ 60th anniversary season.
Directed by EWP artistic director Lily Tung Crystal, who is of Chinese heritage, the production is on a quest for a deeper authenticity. This mission is to provide a more genuine reflection of Asian American experience — community members speaking directly to fellow community members.
Grace Yoo, left, and Scott Keiji Takeda in Rodgers and Hammerstein’s “Flower Drum Song,” produced by East West Players and the Japanese American Cultural and Community Center.
(Mike Palma)
The production is most effective when the actors are singing, especially Grace Yoo, who plays Mei-Li and had me entranced the moment she started singing “A Hundred Million Miracles.” Don’t let the traditional flower drum she totes around fool you. She’s no longer the quietly obedient daughter of authority. Having fled communism, she has arrived in the U.S. without papers and (unlike the original) her father, and isn’t too keen on anyone dictating to her what she can and cannot do.
Scott Keiji Takeda, who plays Ta, Mei-Li’s reluctant inamorato, has a sumptuous voice that captures the hues of Richard Rodgers’ music. But unfortunately his wooden characterization raises questions about what exactly Mei-Li sees in him.
There’s a tension between the update’s good intentions and the tendency of musical comedy to traffic in amusing caricatures. (Exaggeration and simplification are par for the course.) In trying to root out offensive Asian American stereotypes, Hwang imports swishing stereotypes for laughs in his creation of a new character, Harvard (Kenton Chen), who works at the theater owned by Ta’s father and seems a throwback to the campy, wisecracking gay characters that were a staple of 1980s big-budget movie comedies. Harvard may get a more empowering storyline than his florist-hairdresser-retail-clerk predecessors, but the humor is redolent of the same punishing cliches.
Krista Marie Yu in Rodgers and Hammerstein’s “Flower Drum Song,” produced by East West Players and the Japanese American Cultural and Community Center.
(Mike Palma)
Emily Kuroda as take-charge producer Madame Liang and Marc Oka as Wang, Ta’s old-school father, throw themselves into the revival with full farcical force. Crystal’s fluid staging, full of agile and vibrant design choices, smoothly maneuvers the action. But earnestness is the enemy of hilarity. Hwang can be very witty, but how can the production let itself go when it’s so often being called upon to make an important point?
Linda Low (Krista Marie Yu), no longer Mei-Li’s rival for Ta’s hand in marriage, is now her ally. When she sings a middling version of “I Enjoy Being a Girl,” the joke isn’t on her but a society that leaves women so few options. The problem is that for Hwang to rebuild Mei-Li and Linda into characters of credible modern-day complexity, he would have to start from scratch, not just retooling the book but commissioning a new score to flesh out his more complicated vision. In other words, leaving Rodgers and Hammerstein’s musical behind.
“Brigadoon” manages to transcend time, but this take on “Flower Drum Song” falters between eras.
‘Brigadoon’
Where: Pasadena Playhouse, 39 S. El Molino Ave.
When: 8 p.m. Tuesdays (5/26), Wednesdays and Fridays; 7 p.m. Thursdays; 2 and 8 p.m. Saturdays; 2 p.m. Sundays and 7:30 p.m. June 14 (closing night).
For Arteta, building a legacy of sustained success is the ambition. Winning once is impressive, but repeating it is the mark of a truly great team.
With the Spaniard’s contract up at the end of the next season, the immediate priority for all parties is to agree an extension.
That process is under way and will accelerate after the Champions League final, with a will from all parties to have the new contract tied up before next season.
The expectation is Arteta will sign a new contract that will earn him a sharp increase on his current financial package of a basic £10m per season plus a further £5m for Champions League qualification.
There has been some internal talk, too, about Berta possibly engaging in conversations to extend his contract having been linked with potential moves to Saudi Arabia.
Arsenal are a club now moulded in Arteta’s image, with his job title changing from head coach to manager in September 2020.
The manager sits on the football leadership team with Kroenke, Garlick, James King and Berta. It is that five-man group that makes decisions on the direction of football at the club.
Arteta’s coaching staff are like him – passionate and intense, with even the analysts shouting from the stands.
And the manager was joined last summer by long-term friend and former team-mate Gabriel Heinze, who is an assistant coach. The Argentine has had a big impact this season, and has introduced a motivational huddle for defenders before each game.
Arteta is very hands-on and knows when to make an impact on his players with a strong telling-off and when he should coach.
But he has become good at delegating, too, with all of the backroom team delivering sessions so the squad don’t get tired of hearing one voice.
And now Arteta has guided this group to silverware, the focus can shift to the next campaign.
Arsenal are keen to recruit a midfielder, left-winger and striker, but we should expect a sharper focus on outgoings after last year’s £250m splurge.
The only senior player to depart last summer was Albert Lokonga.
This time, Arsenal have already agreed to sell defender Jakub Kiwior to Porto for an initial £14.7m. It is understood Christian Norgaard, who arrived in a deal worth up to £15m, will be allowed to leave, and the club are expected to listen to offers for Ben White, Gabriel Martinelli, Gabriel Jesus and Fabio Vieira.
Arsenal are also giving consideration to a significant homegrown sale that would represent ‘pure profit’ on their balance sheet.
There have been internal discussions about selling Nwaneri, who is on loan at Marseille, or Lewis-Skelly though the latter’s emergence as a genuine central-midfield option for Arteta in recent weeks has been noted.
There is also a desire to keep the wage bill manageable. That is easier said than done, though, with defender Jurrien Timber and midfielder Declan Rice both in line for new deals in the not-too-distant future and Gabriel Magalhaes, William Saliba, Lewis-Skelly, Saka and Nwaneri having recently renewed their contracts.
With lucrative bonuses to be paid to players in light of this season’s success – not to mention the expectation Arteta’s salary will move closer to the £20m mark – keeping a rein on the club’s overheads will not be easy.
There is a growing sense behind the scenes the club must start planning a squad rebuild given a number of key players are in their late 20s.
This summer, they have a keen interest in Leicester teenager Jeremy Monga, and with Dowman, Marli Salmon, Edwin and Holger Quintero and Lewis-Skelly all in their teens, there is hope the rebuild may not prompt a noticeable drop in levels.
VIENNA — Vienna’s famed coffeehouses have embraced the Eurovision Song Contest. They have also been touched by tensions over Israel’s inclusion in the sequin-drenched pop music competition.
When officials announced a list of “Eurofan Cafes” — Vienna coffee shops offering food and music from competing countries — Israel was initially left out.
MQ Kantine, a modern café in the city’s arty museums quarter, offered to step in. Now it has falafel, bagels with lox and kosher wine on the menu, a string of small Israeli flags hanging from the ceiling — and a police officer outside the door.
Security is tight across Vienna during the international music contest, whose “United by Music” slogan rings sightly hollow this year. Five countries are boycotting because Israel is taking part. Pro-Palestinian activists are planning a protest concert — one of several Eurovision alternatives across Europe — and an anti-Israel march before Saturday’s grand final.
At MQ Kantine, volunteers take turns to monitor for potential trouble. But so far the mood has been supportive, said Daniel Kapp, a PR consultant and pro-Israel campaigner.
“It’s beautiful,” he said, as people drank coffee and beer on the café terrace in the spring sunshine, though he noted that the police officer on duty showed that all is “not entirely normal.”
“My feeling is that Austria to a certain degree has learned from its history,” Kapp said, referring to the deadly antisemitism under the Nazis before and during World War II. “Which is why the support for Israel is a lot more normal than it is in other countries.”
Israel has competed in Eurovision for more than 50 years, and won four times. But its participation has been contested since it launched a war in Gaza after 1,200 people were killed in a Hamas-led cross-border attack on Oct. 7, 2023. More than 73,000 Palestinians have been killed since the war began, according to the territory’s Health Ministry, which operates under the Hamas-run government and whose detailed records are viewed as generally reliable by the international community.
Israel’s government has repeatedly defended its campaign as a response to the Oct. 7 attack. But a number of experts, including those commissioned by a United Nations body, have said that Israel’s offensive in Gaza amounts to genocide. Israel, home to many Holocaust survivors and their relatives, has vigorously denied the claim.
The latest Israel-Hezbollah war in Lebanon and the U.S.-Israeli war on Iran have driven tensions still higher.
The 2024 Eurovision contest in Malmo, Sweden, and last year’s event in Basel, Switzerland, saw pro-Palestinian protests that called for Israel to be expelled. Five countries — Iceland, Ireland, the Netherlands, Slovenia and Spain — pulled out of the 2026 contest after organizers allowed Israel to compete.
Partying amid tight security
The tensions have produced a Eurovision of two halves. An upbeat party atmosphere prevails inside the Wiener Stadthalle arena and in the separate Eurovision Village fan zone. But getting in means passing through a ring of steel, with searches, scanners and a ban on all bags inside the arena. Armed police are a very visible presence on the streets.
Awareness of risk from terror plots is high in the city after a 21-year-old Austrian man accused of pledging allegiance to the Islamic State group pleaded guilty to plotting to attack a Taylor Swift concert in Vienna in 2024.
Israeli singer Noam Bettan told Israeli media that, like last year’s Israeli competitor Yuval Raphael, he practiced performing while being booed. There were scattered shouts amid the cheers when he performed in the first Eurovision semifinal on Tuesday. He secured a spot in Saturday’s final by being one of the top 10 finishers in voting by viewers and national juries.
Organizers said four people were removed from the 10,000-strong audience for disruptive behavior.
Austrian Eurovision fan Ivo Herzl, who attended the semifinal, said “the vibe was incredibly positive.” He is showing support for Israel by making and selling Mazel Lov T-shirts — a play on “mazel tov,” a Hebrew and Yiddish phrase of congratulations.
“Vienna has always been a city of tolerance,” Herzl said. “It’s the city of music and we’ll always do everything possible for everyone to enjoy a musical event.”
Some Israeli fans said they were reassured by the tight security. Oz Yona, attending his first Eurovision, said he had experienced “no hate” and felt Austria took antisemitism seriously.
He came with friends to cheer for Israel, though he was not optimistic about Bettan’s chances — for musical rather than political reasons.
“I don’t think he will win,” Yona said. “Finland is better this year. Greece is better this year. We have a good song, but not a winning song.”
Birgitta Peterson and Kristina Nilsson, who wear matching pink bomber jackets and call themselves the Swedish Ladies, love to explore new cities and meet up each year with their “Eurovision family” of fellow fans. They plan to wave Israeli flags at Saturday’s final, after Swedish contestant Felicia said earlier this year that she didn’t think Israel should be in the contest.
They say tensions over Israel have divided a fan community long known for its friendliness and embrace of diversity.
“The wounds are very deep at the moment,” Nilsson said.
“This event should really be about ‘united by music’ and happiness,” she added. “That’s what Eurovision is all about.”
The Eurovision Song Consest has closed out its milestone seventieth year as another winner of the international competition has been confirmed after a close call
00:04, 17 May 2026Updated 00:17, 17 May 2026
Bulgaria has won the Eurovision Song Contest(Image: Jessica Gow/TT/Shutterstock)
Bulgaria has won the Eurovision Song Contest. Singer DARA, 27, had been representing the country with Bangaranga and managed to reign supreme in the international competition by accumulating 516 points in total.
To cheers from around the stadium in Vienna, she then performed the track once again to close out the contest, and, in the process, confirming that it will all take place in Bulgaria next year. Just moments before her big win, DARA admitted: “Honey, I still do not know what’s going on.
“I want to thank everyone who gave us those points, we really tried to give our best. Thank you so much for the whole show.”
Last year’s winner, JJ, then presented the trophy as he screamed: “Oh my god, I love you, congratulations girl!” It all got tense in the last few moments as it was either going to be Israel or Bulgaria but, in the end, Bulgaria stormed ahead with having been awarded an incredible amount of points.
Things didn’t end so well for the United Kingdom as Look Mum No Computer crashed out of the competition with just one point.
The YouTuber, whose real name Sam Battle, picked up one point from the jury votes and zero from the public tonight. Three previous acts – Remember Monday, Olly Alexander and Mae Muller – also received zero points from the public vote.
The UK gave its 12 points to France in the jury vote of the Eurovision 2026 grand final. The result, presented by Strictly Come Dancing star La Voix, also saw Bulgaria awarded 10 points, Czechia awarded eight and Ukraine given seven.
The social media star was fairly optimistic just hours beforehand, but it just wasn’t to be. Asked if he has a fear of scoring nothing, he said: “No, in fact, there’s a T-shirt that I’m dreaming of saying, ‘Look Mum, No Points’ There’s an outcome where there’s still fun to be had, even if there is nul points.”
Sam admitted that while it was a “very risky” track to put forward to represent the nation, he is confident that he has put a lot of effort into making it right for the big night.
Speaking to The Sun, he added: “It’s got a good ring to it, even though I have a feeling in my crystal ball, I might be wrong — and don’t hold me to this — I do think we’re gonna get points.
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Sarah Engels is representing Germany at Eurovision 2026Credit: AFPShe performed during the first semi-final on May 12, but Germany had already qualified as part of this year’s Big Four nationsCredit: EPA
Who is Germany’s Eurovision entrant Sarah Engels?
Sarah Engels, 33, is a German singer and TV personality of Italian descent who has been a household name in her homeland for more than a decade.
She first burst onto the scene in 2011 when she finished as runner-up on the eighth season of Deutschland sucht den Superstar (DSDS) – Germany’s equivalent of The X Factor.
Her debut single Call My Name reached number two in the German charts and earned her an Echo Award nomination.
Engels, who was previously known by her married name Sarah Lombardi, has carved out an incredibly successful career on German reality TV.
She also works as a presenter, actress and voice artist.
Since November 2025, Sarah has been playing the lead role of Satine in the Cologne production of hit musical Moulin Rouge!
In her personal life, Sarah married fellow DSDS star Pietro Lombardi – who won the show the same year she came second – in March 2013.
The couple welcomed son Alessio in 2015, but split a year later.
She later tied the knot with former footballer Julian Büscher in May 2021, with the groom taking her surname.
Their daughter Solea was born later that year.
What is her Eurovision song ‘Fire’ about?
On February 28, Sarah was crowned Germany’s Eurovision pick after winning the national final Berlin.
She pipped wavvyboi’s Black Glitter and Molly Sue’s Optimist (Ha Ha Ha), with 38.3% of the public vote.
Fire was written by Sarah alongside Dario Schürmann, Luisa Heinemann, Raphael Lott and Valentin Boes.
On the surface, it is a punchy synth-pop banger about a lying, two-faced ex.
In the lyrics, Sarah brands a former flame a “vampire” who only comes out at night, telling him to stop denying his deceit and saying: “Boy, I’m out of your league”.
But the song’s deeper message is one of empowerment, solidarity and self-determination.
These themes are close to Sarah’s heart thanks to her foundation Stiftung Starke Mädchen, or Strong Girls, which she set up to inspire young women.
Sarah said taking part in Eurovision was a chance to share her message, “which comes deep from my heart”.
She added: “My motto for Vienna is: I’m on fire. I truly have no fear at all – I’m just incredibly excited.”
As one of Eurovision’s Big Four, Germany has automatic qualification to Saturday’s Grand Final at Vienna’s Wiener Stadthalle.
The country has won the contest twice – in 1982 with Nicole’s Ein bißchen Frieden, and also in 2010 with Lena’s Satellite.
Clarence Carter, the blues and soul singer famous for songs including the raunchy hit “Strokin’” featured in Eddie Murphy’s “The Nutty Professor,” has died.
Fame Recording Studios in Carter’s native Alabama announced the singer-songwriter’s death Thursday morning. In a statement shared to Facebook, the studio said Carter “was more than an artist to us,” adding he “was family.” The post did not disclose additional details about Carter’s passing, including the cause of death. Carter was 90.
The Grammy-nominated musician, who was blind since age 1, was most popular in the late 1960s and early ’70s, with chart-busting hits including 1968’s romantic “Slip Away,” 1970’s “Patches” and the Christmas hit “Back Door Santa.” He released a steady stream of music through the ’90s — Carter released 22 studio albums over the course of his career — and earned two Grammy Award nominations.
Carter received his first nod in 1970 for composing ex-wife Candi Staton’s single “I’d Rather Be an Old Man’s Sweetheart,” which was nominated for the rhythm & blues song category. He received his own nomination in R&B vocal performance the following year for his story-driven “Patches,” about a young man fulfilling his father’s expectations.
Former Times pop music critic Robert Hilburn wrote in 1992: “Clarence Carter is one of the most overlooked soul stylists of the modern pop era.”
Among Carter’s musical talents was a knack for descriptive lyricism, which he channeled for unapologetically sexual songs “G Spot” and “Strokin’.” In these numbers, Carter spares no detail in his approach to lovemaking. “Strokin’,’” released in 1986, notably received play in 1996‘s “The Nutty Professor” as Murphy’s titular character drives over to a date.
Born in 1936 in Montgomery, Ala., Carter took an interest in music in his youth, enjoying the blues records his stepfather bought and learning to play the guitar. “I would lie in my bed and hear those bands playing and say to myself, ‘One of these days I’m going to play just like that,’” he told The Times in 1987.
He graduated from Alabama State College in 1960 with a bachelor’s in music and worked briefly as a schoolteacher before beginning his professional music career. Carter formed a duo with friend and singer Calvin Scott, but his collaborator was later seriously injured in an automobile accident. Carter then went solo and began recording music with producer Rick Hall and Fame in Muscle Shoals, amid the late-’60s soul boom.
After the success of his early hits in the ’70s, Carter struggled to find the same chart success amid disco’s popularity. “Nobody’s gonna keep a hit record all the time,” he told The Times. In the early ’80s, his “Working on a Love Building” was a moderate hit. Carter signed to Ichiban Records to record his 1986 album “Dr. C.C.,” which featured “Strokin’” among its tracks.
“By the time I finished doing that song and walked back up to the control room, [the engineer] was laughing so hard he hadn’t even turned the tape machine off,” he said a year after the hit’s release.
Carter released his final studio album, “Sing Along With Clarence Carter,” in 2011 but continued to release live albums and compilations until 2020. He also continued performing live through the 2010s.
The singer-songwriter was married to Staton from 1970 to 1973 and they share a son, Clarence Carter Jr. He married Joyce Jenkins in 2001 and has lived in DeKalb County, Ga., since 1983.
“Clarence Carter leaves behind a legacy of timeless music, unforgettable performances, and a friendship we will always cherish,” Fame Studios said in its statement. “We extend our love and prayers to his family, friends, and fans around the world.”
South Korean boy band BTS, U.S. pop culture icon Madonna and Latin music superstar Shakira will be performing at halftime during the World Cup final July 19 at MetLife Stadium in East Rutherford, N.J., FIFA announced Thursday morning.
The performance will support the FIFA Global Citizen Education Fund, which is looking to raise $100 million to assist children in accessing education and soccer.
FIFA president Gianni Infantino wrote on Instagram that the show “will be a truly special moment, bringing together music, football and a shared commitment to improving the lives of children around the world.”
“It’s a chance to show how amazing all different kinds of humans are,” Martin explains to Elmo in the video.
The three acts will bring a variety of cultures, musical styles and generations of fans to the Super Bowl-style concert, which will be the first of its kind for a World Cup final.
Madonna headlined the Super Bowl XLVI halftime show in 2012, and Shakira teamed with Jennifer Lopez to co-headline the Super Bowl LIV halftime show in 2020. Also, Coldplay headlined the Super Bowl 50 halftime show in 2016.
No duration time has been announced for the World Cup show, although soccer halftimes are not supposed to last more than 15 minutes. Bad Bunny’s halftime performance at Super Bowl LX in February lasted 13 minutes.
Among the three of them, Madonna, Shakira and BTS have compiled 20 No. 1 songs on Billboard’s Hot 100 singles chart, 10 Grammys and 37 MTV Video Music Awards. Shakira is scheduled to release “Dai Dai” with Nigerian singer Burna Boy as the official song of the 2026 World Cup this month.
The 69th Grammy Awards will take place Feb. 7 at Crypto.com Arena in downtown Los Angeles, organizers said Tuesday during Disney’s annual upfront presentation to advertisers. The show will be the first to air on Disney’s ABC network (and stream on its Hulu and Disney+ platforms) since the Recording Academy ended its half-century-long partnership with Paramount’s CBS.
Nominations for the 2027 ceremony — which will recognize recordings released between Aug. 31, 2025 and Aug. 28, 2026 — are set to be announced Nov. 16. Final Grammys voting will open Dec. 10 and close Jan. 7.
A host for the show hasn’t been announced. Trevor Noah, who began hosting the Grammys in 2021, said his gig at February’s 68th ceremony would be his last.
Big winners at the 2026 Grammys included Bad Bunny, whose “Debí Tirar Más Fotos” was named album of the year; Kendrick Lamar and SZA, who won record of the year with “Luther”; Billie Eilish and her brother, Finneas O’Connell, whose “Wildflower” took song of the year; and Olivia Dean, who was named best new artist.
Among the albums and songs already thought to be in contention for high-level nods next year are Taylor Swift’s “The Life of a Showgirl,” Noah Kahan’s “The Great Divide,” Bruno Mars’ “The Romantic,” Rosalía’s “Lux,” Ella Langley’s “Choosin’ Texas” and Sienna Spiro’s “Die on This Hill.”
In the last two months, the corrido tumbado band from Salinas, Calif., performed at the South by Southwest music festival in Texas—and made headlines by singing a narcocorrido; spoke to Latino students at Cornell University in upstate New York; and even embarked on a impromptu 10-hour road trip to show their support for Juan, a contestant from Mexico on one of MrBeast’s latest challenges who has become a viral sensation.
In fact, the trio— lead singer Alejandro Ahumada, guitarist Leonardo Lomeli and tololoche player Rogelio Gonzalez — felt so compelled to make the pilgrimage to the North Carolina grocery store where Juan has been sequestered for months, that they ditched all press events for their latest EP “Afterafter,” released on April 30, in order to meet and serenade him. The band even awarded a $5,000 scholarship to his son, Angel.
“Why? Because it felt so right,” said Ahumada. “His story connected with us, because we also come from hardworking parents that really gave it all for us.”
As the rush of East Coast travel wore off, Clave Especial returned to Salinas to throw a huge homecoming bash. “It’s like a full-circle moment,” said Ahumada of their May 4 performance at the Salinas Sports Complex.
They joined a video call from their childhood bedrooms to discuss “Afterafter,” a five-track project set to a fiery tempo — 140 BPM to be exact — that is nostalgic for summer days and the never-ending after-parties they bring. The songs were selected from their vault, they said, which includes a long list of tracks that didn’t make the cut for “Mija No Te Asustes,” the band’s 2025 critically acclaimed debut that featured co-signs by Fuerza Regida, Edgardo Nuñez and Luis R Conquirez.
This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity.
What was it like to perform back home in Salinas?
Alex: That’s actually the second time that we come back as Clave Especial. The first show was at the Fox Theater, which was a sold-out show. People were asking us, “Hey when are you guys coming back?” We decided to do it now at the Salinas Sports Complex.
Jumping to the EP, how did “Afterafter” come to be?
Alex: It was more like a fun concept that we kind of had in mind. We were actually working towards an album at a writers camp in Ensenada. It was at the beach. Then we jumped around to Miami, Puerto Vallarta. We caught ourselves jumping around beaches, a lot of parties. We want to give people like a summer EP, something they can slap during the summer when they’re partying.
If “Mija No Te Asustes” is an album about this confident boss man calling the shots, how would you characterize “Afterafter”?
Alex: I think it’s that same guy from the first album, he’s still living it up. In “Mija No Te Asustes” there’s some songs like “Como Capo” that introduce that vibe to this EP, so we just continued that wave. It was our biggest song yet. We knew that people liked us apart from the corridos like “Rápido Soy,” “No Son Doritos,” but I think with “Como Capo” we discovered that people like other sounds and lyrics. That’s what we tried to continue in “Afterafter.”
Musically, how would you describe the sound of this EP?
Leo: One thing about us, when we get in the studio, we play a lot in the tempo 6/8s, this upbeat speed. We always hit the BPM at 140 BPM — that’s the Clave Especial essence.
One of the songs that caught my interest was “Scary Movie,” because it reminded me of a corrido-inspired “Thriller” (by Michael Jackson). It also connects the past album because there’s a phrase where you say “Mija, no te asustes.” Tell me the backstory of that spooky song.
Alex: That’s funny, because I’m going to watch the Michael Jackson movie today. That song was actually composed by someone from Street Mob from Ensenada. I think that song was already in the vault.
Leo: That song was tailored for [the past] album. The [ad lib] was an Easter egg.
I saw that you were all recently in North Carolina at the grocery store where Mr. Beast is doing a challenge. There’s one Mexican dad named Juan competing for the million-dollar prize. You guys went to see him and also gave his son a scholarship. Why was it important for you guys to show up?
Alex: Basically we were in [New York] having dinner. We had some press the next day but we had to cancel on them. We commented on Mr. Beast’s video, and the comment got a lot of likes, we’re like “oh shoot, this is dope, this has a real impact on the Mexican community.” His son had swiped up on us, thanking us for supporting his dad.
We saw that Juan told his son to leave the competition ‘cause he wanted to keep going to school. I think we’re one of the few bands in the industry that went to school. I have my bachelor’s degree from Fresno State. It was something that really resonated with us. We had also just come off a panel there at Cornell University so everything just set the tone. We saw the map. It was 10 hours away, obviously a drive, but this opportunity’s never gonna come. We’re from Cali and this is on the other side of the country and we’re here now. Let’s show that the Mexican community is very powerful, united. Let’s go show some support to Juan and his kid. Hopefully he wins!
The last time we chatted was at the Rolling Stone showcase at SXSW. I didn’t get a chance to talk to y’all afterwards, during the end of your set, you sang a cover of Los Alegres del Barranco’s “El Del Palenque” which venerates the narco leader El Mencho, who was killed by Mexican forces just weeks prior. Why was it important for Clave to sing that song specifically?
Alex: We just like the song. At the end of the day it’s just music. It’s storytelling. It’s corridos. That’s what corridos is all about, and that’s why I got into the music scene. We just like the song. We’re from Jalisco, from Michoacán. It always turns up the crowd, so we did it for the people. People want to hear corridos. We’ve been seeing the censorship going on, but at the end of the day I don’t think that’s the problem. It’s a lot deeper than that, and music is just music, we’re just storytelling, singing music, having fun on stage. I don’t know if we had it in our set list or not, but I think we had just played a song prior to that that had the same tones. I was like, keep it going, let’s play this one next. Nothing deep.
So it wasn’t planned?
Alex: No, it wasn’t. Afterwards I was like, “Damn, I sang that.” But, eh, who cares?
Do you guys ever get worried when you sing corridos? Or is that something that you’re able to manage being from the U.S., which provides a layer of protection?
Alex: There’s a famous dicho: El que nada debe, nada teme. Like at the end of the day we don’t owe anybody anything. We do music, we’re here by our own sacrifice. People that know our story know that.
Route 66 was 20 years old and World War II had just ended when Bobby Troup, an aspiring songwriter from Pennsylvania, decided to go west. As it turned out, that drive in early 1946 did more than anyone could have imagined to establish the road as a symbol of footloose American freedom.
Stories, photos and travel recommendations from America’s Mother Road
Troup, 25 at the time, had already earned an economics degree from the University of Pennsylvania, written a hit song (1941’s “Daddy,” sung by Sammy Kaye), worked for bandleader Tommy Dorsey and served as a Marine through the war years. But to restart his career as a songwriter and actor, he believed that he needed to be in Los Angeles. So he and his wife, Cynthia, pointed their 1941 Buick toward California.
They started on U.S. 40, then picked up Route 66 in Illinois. Along the way, as Troup told author Michael Wallis in the book “Route 66: The Mother Road,” Cynthia came up with a phrase she thought was songworthy.
Bobby Troup, composer of the hit song “Route 66” and grand marshal of Duarte, Calif.’s Salute to Route 66 parade, rides in a 1948 Buick convertible and waves to fans in 1996.
(Louisa Gauerke / Associated Press)
“Get your kicks on Route 66,” she said.
Troup took it from there, creating “a kind of musical map of the highway.”
As Troup later recalled in an introduction to a Route 66 book by Tom Snyder, they heard Louis Armstrong play a club in St. Louis, stopped at Meramec Caverns in Missouri and found that “a good part of the highway was absolutely miserable — narrow, just two lanes, and very twisting through the Ozarks and Kansas.” Then came a snowstorm in Texas.
By the end of the drive, the up-tempo tune was half-done. Then, not quite a week after arrival, Troup landed a chance to pitch a few songs to Nat “King” Cole, who had already won fame with hits including “Sweet Lorraine” and “Straighten Up and Fly Right.”
They were sitting by a piano on stage — after Cole’s last set of the night at the Trocadero on Sunset Strip — when the nervous young songwriter decided to share his unfinished road song.
“I got up on the riser, pulled the piano bench back a little bit — and it went over the side and I fell over backwards,” Troup confessed in a later interview.
Still, Cole “loved it,” Troup recalled. “As a matter of fact, he got on the piano with me and played it.”
This was February. By mid-March, the song was done and Cole was recording it in a studio on Santa Monica Boulevard, part of Route 66.
The finished version name-checked a dozen cities along the route, including these words:
Now you go through Saint Looey
Joplin, Missouri,
And Oklahoma City is mighty pretty.
You see Amarillo,
Gallup, New Mexico,
Flagstaff, Arizona.
Don’t forget Winona,
Kingman, Barstow, San Bernardino.
Won’t you get hip to this timely tip
When you make that California trip
Get your kicks on Route 66.
In April, Capitol Records released “(Get Your Kicks on) Route 66” and the tune quickly rose to #11 on the Billboard chart of top-selling singles. Before 1946 was out, it had been recorded again, this time by Bing Crosby with the Andrews Sisters. That version went to #14.
Musicians Nat “King” Cole, left, and Bing Crosby, circa 1945.
(NBC / NBCU Photo Bank / NBCUniversal via Getty Images via Getty Images)
Coming just as postwar America was rediscovering leisure travel, the song was a big hit — and for many, a painful irony. Even with guidance from the Green Book used by many African American travelers in those days, it would have been deeply risky — and illegal in some places — for any Black man, Nat King Cole included, to eat and sleep on Route 66. This was a year before Jackie Robinson integrated baseball’s major leagues, two years before the U.S. Army was integrated.
As Candacy Taylor puts it in her 2020 book “Overground Railroad: The Green Book and the Roots of Black Travel in America,” “the open road wasn’t open to all.” Into the 1950s, Taylor writes, “about 35% of the counties on Route 66 didn’t allow Black motorists after 6 p.m.” and six of the eight states on the route still had segregation laws. Cole may have helped sell Route 66, Taylor writes, but “the carefree adventure he was promoting was not meant for him.”
Documentary photographer Candacy Taylor at the New Aster Motel in Los Angeles in 2016. In her book “Overground Railroad,” she writes about the discrimination Black travelers faced while driving on Route 66.
(Brian van der Brug / Los Angeles Times)
Two years after recording the song, when the increasingly wealthy Cole and his family bought a Hancock Park mansion and became the neighborhood’s first Black homeowners, many neighbors tried to keep him out, poisoned the family dog and burned racist insults into his lawn.
The Coles stayed put. The family was still in that home on South Muirfield Road in 1956, when Cole became the first African American to host a network television show, and in 1965, when Cole died of cancer at 45.
Troup, who later was divorced from Cynthia and married singer/actor Julie London, went on to record more than a dozen albums and had other songs recorded by Little Richard and Miles Davis. As an actor, Troup filled many guest-star roles on television, played Dr. Joe Early on the 1970s TV show “Emergency!” and had a small part in Robert Altman’s 1970 film “MASH.”
Meanwhile, the song kept rolling. As years passed, Perry Como, Sammy Davis Jr., Chuck Berry, the Rolling Stones, the Manhattan Transfer, Michael Martin Murphey, Asleep at the Wheel, Buckwheat Zydeco, Depeche Mode, Glenn Frey, the Brian Setzer Orchestra and John Mayer recorded versions. At different points in the 2006 movie “Cars,” you hear Berry’s and Mayer’s versions. Troup, who died in 1999, never forgot the difference the song made, both in his life and the way people think about the road.
“On the basis of that song, I was able to go out and buy a house and stay in California,” Troup told Wallis. “I never realized when I was putting it together that I was writing about the most famous highway in the world. I just thought I was writing about a road — not a legend.”
The Rolling Stones are among the countless musicians who have recorded versions of “Route 66.”
Two-thousand, four-hundred and forty-eight miles. That was the span of Route 66 when highway officials stitched it together to link Chicago, Los Angeles and countless cities and towns in between. But as an enduring American symbol, this highway reaches much further than that, inspiring books, songs, movies and countless road trips.
It turns 100 this year, so with summer coming, we drove it all.
Across eight states, we scouted out vintage motels, new businesses, neon signs, friendly Muffler Men, road food, vivid characters and 20th century ruins. We also kept our eyes open for hints of the road’s evolution, from the Dust Bowl years, segregation and the postwar boom to the freeway-era slump and the reemergence of Route 66 as a long, winding and living historic landmark.
Now we’re taking you along for the ride. If you’ve ever daydreamed about covering some part of the famous roadway, hop on in and let’s get our kicks, shall we?
Maya Hawke sits at a picnic table in Griffith Park with an iced tea and a small notebook and happily reports that she still likes her new record.
“Every other album cycle I’ve done, by the time I got to the point where the album came out, I hated it,” says the 27-year-old singer and actor. “I was just exhausted by the internet and by being public, and I wouldn’t want to post about it. So I kind of tried to build this rollout where it could be enjoyable. And it seems to be working.”
On this recent morning, she’s about a week and a half from releasing “Maitreya Corso,” a set of deep-thinking folk-pop songs about love and art and how the two intersect; to help drum up interest in the LP, Hawke’s fourth, she’s on tour playing intimate live gigs like the one she did last night at the Troubadour, where she was accompanied by Christian Lee Hutson, with whom she made the record.
Hutson, who’s known for his work with Phoebe Bridgers, is also Hawke’s husband: After collaborating on her 2022 album “Moss” and 2024’s “Chaos Angel,” the two were married this past Valentine’s Day in Hawke’s hometown of New York. (You may have seen the pictures in People magazine of the couple on the street with Hawke’s parents, Ethan Hawke and Uma Thurman, and her castmates from “Stranger Things.”)
As we talk, Hawke wears the same vintage Beastie Boys T-shirt she had on at the Troubadour; when we’re finished, she’s got a flight to catch to Denver for her and Hutson’s next show.
I was struck last night by the intense eye contact between you and your husband. I’ve never played guitar before onstage, and so I think a lot of that is me being nervous and wanting to keep rhythm. I’m looking at his eyes but also at his hands. His chordal shapes are different than mine but I’m following the rhythm to make sure I’m staying in the pocket.
Why didn’t you play guitar before? I’ve been playing since I was 11, but I reached a point where I was getting better a lot slower than my brother was or than other people in my life. You pick up the guitar to play and then a bunch of guys sit down next to you and they’re like, “Oh, can we jam?” And you’re like, “I don’t know if I can jam. I was trying to write a song and now you’re noodling all over me. You know what? I’ll just put it down.” Later, when I started making music professionally, I met all these extraordinary musicians, and I thought: Why would I play guitar when I’m not as good as you are? Then I really hated doing shows.
Because of that? I’m not a dancer — I don’t want to be a pop star and do dance moves. I don’t have a big Adele voice. And standing up there and just singing — I was like, I should be at a poetry reading. So I made myself a promise that if I made another record I would have to play guitar and write songs that I can play.
It’s funny: You were both super locked-in during the songs, but then between them your banter was extremely loose. I wanted to build a show that was a concert I would want to go see. I’m weird — I don’t love concerts, but I do I like it when people talk. I can hear the record at home — what I don’t get at home is a sense of the person.
Who would you say are some of music’s great between-song talkers? Hmm.
I think Adele might be the best I’ve seen. She’s really good. I saw her once when I was younger — I had a year where my dad took me to see all the biggest women of that year. I remember thinking: When I leave the theater, I’m filled only with joy and no jealousy because I could never do what she’s doing. That’s a gift from God, and I’m not in competition with that gift.
But after she hits you with that, she’ll just freestyle for three or four minutes. That’s what I want too — I want to see some humanity, especially these days when everybody is being force-fed so much perfection and so much unattainable grace.
There are a tremendous number of words on this record. It’s very verbose.
Why? I love words — lyrics are my favorite part of songs. One of the first songs that got written for this record was “Devil You Know,” which was like an experiment where I wrote this poem in free verse. I’ve been in a fight with my husband about free verse versus poetic form. He’s pro-free-verse, I’m anti-free-verse.
What’s your beef? My beef is: Free verse is great — I wish you could have spent a little more time making it rhythmically sound.
To you it feels like — Like a first draft. The confines of a structure make your brain work in a different way: How do I get this idea across in a sonnet or a villanelle? But I tried writing this free verse thing, and I really liked it and wanted to write more things like that. Normally, I love the arrow of a Willie Nelson lyric, which is: What’s the simplest way I can say the most complicated thing? And I have some of that on this record, like in “Bring Home My Man.” But I also was like, What’s the most complicated way I can say the simplest thing?
OK, speaking of that: I read the essay you had this philosopher Justin Smith-Ruiu write about the album. I understood probably 11% of it. I’m obsessed with him. I read his Substack religiously — it’s called the Hinternet. He’s just a brilliant genius, and I was like, I don’t know what he’s gonna say, and I don’t know if it’ll make sense to anyone, but it’ll make sense to me.
Honestly, some of the songs might also have gone over my head. How important is it to you that the listener grasps everything that’s going on in your music? Zero percent important. I want people to take from it what they take from it. One of the coolest things in my life has been putting out songs and having people form crazy personal attachments — sometimes communal attachments, where all the people think it’s about the same thing and they’re all wrong. That’s so much more interesting to me than if they just thought it was exactly what I thought it was.
How do you listen to the songs you love? Are you trying to figure out where they came from? Yes, but I don’t care if I’m right. I’ve had many a debate about what [Elliott Smith’s] “Say Yes” is about — gone through the lyrics with friends and been like, “Wouldn’t you say that this supports my theory?” But it doesn’t matter to me what it is. It’s just fun to try to connect all the dots.
Maya Hawke and Christian Lee Hutson in New York in March.
(Ilya S. Savenok / Getty Images for Tibet House US)
Break down the chronology of your and Christian’s relationship. You made this record not as married people but — As engaged people.
How did that compare to the previous album? When we made “Chaos Angel” we were maybe in a slightly uncanny valley of being friends who were in love but not together at all. But our working dynamic has always been pretty amazing, even from when we met doing “Moss.” Christian was really the person who made me want to play guitar and write music. He was like, “What do you mean your music isn’t good enough? Why, because you didn’t go to jazz school? I didn’t go to jazz school.” That kind of belief really shaped my journey from “Moss” until this record.
Are you the type of person who needs a facilitator? I really enjoy support and encouragement, and I often need permission.
I wonder why. Just a couple of weeks ago, I was talking to someone, and I was like, I want to spend less time with this person, but I want them to want to spend less time with me. I don’t want to be the one to draw the boundary — I need their permission to draw a boundary between us. My therapist was like, “We can work on that.”
Is this classic child-actor people-pleasing stuff? I wasn’t a child actor.
When did you start? I did my first audition at 15 but I didn’t get the part. Then I didn’t end up working until I was 18.
I’d argue that at 18 the world still sees you — As a young person, yeah.
But I take your point. I don’t know what it has to do with. It’s not exactly people-pleasing. There’s definitely an oldest-sibling thing I have a bit. I’m very interested in sibling-order theory. I think it’s extremely influential to who people are — better than astrology, for sure.
You’re older? I’m oldest of five. Generally, when I meet eldest siblings, there’s a kind of interesting energy of someone who both needs to be in charge and needs a lot of permission.
Has anything changed about the way you and Christian collaborate since you got married? We’re really happy, and we’ve been really happy. It’s awesome that we were friends for a long time first. When I got into relationships in the past, I would kind of pick the person that liked me the least. I didn’t like myself very much, and I thought that someone who didn’t like me must be a genius and that I could overcome my inherent ineptitude by getting them to like me. And in order to get them to like me, I would transform myself into becoming a person that they would like. Then we’d have a very happy couple of months until I got bored of not being myself. What being friends with someone first did was that it made it very hard to trick them.
Some of these new songs seem very clearly to be about the two of you. Totally. A lot of this record is about how much I learned about what love really is — what it could be and how to be good to another person. My ideas about those things really transformed in the last couple of years.
As a child of divorce, were you ambivalent about marriage? I think if anything it was the reverse. I wanted to get married twice in my life. Once was when I was 18 years old, and it was definitely mental illness: I want the nuclear family that I didn’t have, and I want it now. Then I was kind of neutral on whether or not I would get married. Then I met Christian, and I was like, “I don’t know if I’m ready to be in this kind of relationship, but you’re my person.” And we stayed in each other’s lives until it ended up being the right time.
Plenty of people find their person without wanting to have a wedding. Are you a romantic?
I’m not sure I know. When I was younger, I imagined myself in a sort of French marriage where we both cheated on each other but didn’t talk about it and had a lot of mutual respect. But I didn’t find a French marriage — I found my best friend. You know what a piece of s— I am and you still love me? I wake up every morning still happy to see you? That’s a miracle — we gotta have a party.
Last thing: Did finishing “Stranger Things,” which had defined the structure of your life for so long — did that change the way you think about making music? It’s changed the way I think about everything. Basically, from about four months before the show wrapped until a year after that, I was pretty freaked out.
Because you knew a big change was coming? Because I didn’t know how I would be reborn out of it. Even when I was resentful of being like, “I’m booked, and I can’t do this other thing that I want to do,” the show was so grounding. I was really lost without it. I’m not freaked out about it anymore, but I’m in a renegotiation of the structure of what I want my life to look like.
Do you feel some kinship with your former castmates on that? Everyone freaked out in different amounts and at different times and to different degrees of wanting to talk about it. But we all collectively had a very, very intense time moving through the last season.
You’ve got upcoming acting projects — I didn’t actually die like I thought I was going to.
But did the end of that job create space for music to play a bigger role in your life? In some ways, it could become smaller. I had an ensemble part in a show that takes a year to film, which creates a tremendous amount of waiting-around time. I think that’s why so many “Stranger Things” actors have musical projects: You can’t film anything else but you can sit in your house with your keyboard. What I’ve really been feeling since the show ended was an invigorated desire to double down on acting. I’ll never not make music, but the music industry is difficult for me. I don’t know if it’s just that I was raised in the acting industry and I understand the things that are f— up about it better.
The music biz feels more opaque to you? I struggle with some of the things that one should do in that industry to grow their project. When you’re promoting a movie, you’re on a team promoting an external item. When you promote a record, you’re doing self-promotion: “Buy my stuff. Do my thing. Put me on your chest.” It feels a little too “Look at me,” which isn’t my comfort zone.
Better start making those TikToks. Yeah, I can’t. I really can’t.
EUROVISION 2026 is shaping up to be one of the most controversial editions of the contest in its 70-year history.
Five countries have confirmed they are not sending entries to Vienna, and some won’t even be airing the show on national TV.
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A number of nations are boycotting the Eurovision Song Contest 2026Credit: ReutersNoam Bettan is representing Israel with his song MichelleCredit: @EurovisionSongContest / Youtube
Why is the Eurovision 2026 boycott happening?
The Eurovision walkouts followed the European Broadcasting Union’s (EBU) general assembly in Geneva on December 4, 2025.
EBU members voted on new rules to tighten voting and promotion guidelines, but did not put Israel’s participation itself to a separate vote – meaning Israeli broadcaster KAN was cleared to compete.
The boycotters have cited the war in Gaza and concerns over the integrity of recent contests.
Which countries are boycotting Eurovision 2026?
Spain was the first of the contest’s Big Five broadcasters – the five biggest financial contributors – to officially confirm it was boycotting Eurovision.
Secretary general of Spanish national broadcaster RTVE, Alfonso Morales, said: “We would like to express our serious doubts about the participation of Israeli broadcaster KAN in Eurovision 2026.
“The situation in Gaza, despite the ceasefire and the approval of the peace process, and Israel’s use of the contest for political purposes, make it increasingly difficult to maintain Eurovision as a neutral cultural event.”
A statement from Ireland’s national broadcaster RTÉ added: “RTÉ feels that Ireland’s participation remains unconscionable given the appalling loss of lives in Gaza and the humanitarian crisis there, which continues to put the lives of so many civilians at risk.”
Dutch broadcaster AVROTROS, in a statement from director general Taco Zimmerman, said: “Culture connects, but not at any cost. What has happened over the past year touches on our boundaries.
“Universal values such as humanity and freedom of the press have been seriously violated and are non-negotiable for us.”
Slovenian broadcaster RTVSLO’s chair Natalija Gorščak said: “For the third year in a row, the public has demanded that we say no to the participation of any country that attacks another country.
“We must follow European standards for peace and understanding.”
Iceland’s RÚV became the fifth country to confirm a boycott, with the broadcaster saying in a press release: “Given the public debate in this country and the reactions to the decision of the EBU that was taken last week, it is clear that neither joy nor peace will prevail regarding the participation of RÚV in Eurovision.”
What has Israel said about the boycott?
Israeli broadcaster KAN has defended its right to participate.
Addressing EBU members during the general assembly in Geneva, KAN CEO Golan Yochpaz said: “The attempt to remove KAN from the contest can only be understood as a cultural boycott.
“A boycott may begin today with Israel, but no one knows where it will end or who else it may harm.
“Are EBU members willing to be part of a step that harms freedom of creation and freedom of expression?”
Israeli President Isaac Herzog welcomed the EBU’s decision in a post on X, writing: “Israel deserves to be represented on every stage around the world, a cause to which I am fully and actively committed.
“I am pleased that Israel will once again participate in the Eurovision Song Contest, and I hope that the competition will remain one that champions culture, music, friendship between nations, and cross-border cultural understanding.
“Thank you to all our friends who stood up for Israel’s right to continue to contribute and compete at Eurovision.
“This decision demonstrates solidarity, fellowship, and cooperation, and reinforces the spirit of affinity between nations through culture and music.”
Israel is being represented at Eurovision 2026 by Noam Bettan with the song Michelle.
The Eurovision 2026 semi-finals are scheduled for Tuesday, May 12 and Thursday, May 14, while the Grand Final is set to take place on Saturday, May 16.
LAS VEGAS — “You know, I was thinking,” Gwen Stefani said, looking out at the crowd before her on Wednesday night at Sphere. The singer was maybe an hour and a half into the first show of No Doubt’s monthlong residency at the dome-shaped venue just off the Las Vegas Strip, and now the moment had come for the hit that changed everything for this once-scrappy ska-punk band from Orange County.
“I was thinking about this next song, and I was thinking about Anaheim,” she continued. “Do you know where Anaheim is?”
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The song, of course, was “Just a Girl,” which Stefani said she wrote “out of pure innocence in a time where I was just becoming aware of myself and my surroundings.” She added that she’d always assumed she’d outgrow the song — that someday it would feel disconnected from the life of a woman who went on to become a pop star with a clothing line and a gig on TV. Here she was, though, about to do “Just a Girl” for 20,000 or so fans eager to sing along.
“You tell me if you think it’s still relevant,” she said.
In a built-to-please town where old hits are welcome on any stage — not least Sphere’s, which these days also hosts the Eagles and the Backstreet Boys — the crowd’s verdict was no surprise. Yet this was a more committed look back than might have been expected, with a loose narrative arc tracing No Doubt’s ascent (rather than its peak) and a set list filled with deep cuts well beyond the catchy singles that once blanketed KROQ and MTV.
Beneath a massive wraparound screen that flickered with vintage camcorder-style footage from the early 1990s, the group played “Excuse Me Mr.” and “New” and “Total Hate ’95”; Stefani and her bandmates — guitarist Tom Dumont, bassist Tony Kanal and drummer Adrian Young — did “Trapped in a Box,” “End It on This” and “The Climb,” which No Doubt heads on the internet say they hadn’t performed live in nearly three decades.
Then again, for one of those decades, No Doubt wasn’t performing at all. The band made its ballyhooed comeback in 2024 at Coachella, where it delivered a punchy, compact set of hits and brought out Olivia Rodrigo for a guest spot that demonstrated Stefani’s influence — musical, attitudinal, sartorial — on the generation of female pop stars that came after her. (At Sphere, Stefani’s taste in plaids and animal prints was clearly still casting a spell among her admirers.)
No Doubt’s Sphere residency is scheduled to run through mid-June.
(John Shearer)
The takeaway from Coachella was that the band had worked itself back into fighting shape; Stefani, in particular, seemed eager to prove that her years doling out niceties on “The Voice” and dabbling in country music with her husband, Blake Shelton, hadn’t dulled her edge. Here, the band went further, using Sphere’s state-of-the-art environs to imagine itself back in a dingy club or student union.
There were big visual moments, including a simulated trip through a crumbling amusement park — the “Tragic Kingdom” of the group’s breakout 1995 LP — and a bit with a stories-tall cartoon Stefani towering over the room in her fishnets and combat boots. And even with all of the obscurities, it’s not as though No Doubt skipped its best-known songs: “Bathwater” and “Spiderwebs” were bouncy yet propulsive, while “Underneath It All” and “Hella Good” showcased the players’ nimble rhythmic interplay. Stefani’s voice was at its pleading best in “Don’t Speak,” one of the great pop ballads of the last 30 years, and “Simple Kind of Life,” which was accompanied by a video starring Stefani and Kanal acting out some episode from their ancient romance.
Before “Ex-Girlfriend,” which Stefani wrote amid her doomed marriage to Gavin Rossdale of Bush, the singer said, “It gives me — what is it? The PTSD. But because I absolutely adore you guys, I’m gonna suffer.”
Yet this was the chapter of No Doubt’s story — basically the apex of its popularity — that the band seemed least interested in exploring on Wednesday. The impression you got was that Stefani and her pals hadn’t come to Vegas to cruise or to gloat or even to soak up the easy adulation that’s always on offer here; weirdly, they’d come to remember the struggle.
Like most of his música mexicana contemporaries, Diego Millán, better known artistically as Calle 24, sang about the excesses of living the rock star life — the money, the cars, the booze and the women.
Since signing with Street Mob Records — the independent label founded by Fuerza Regida frontman Jesús “JOP” Ortiz Paz — in 2020, the singer-songwriter has been responsible for hits like “Que Onda, ” which featured labelmates Chino Pacas and Fuerza Regida. The trombone-laced earworm about a deboucherous tryst was a breakthrough for Millán, reaching No. 61 on the Billboard Hot 100 after it debuted in August 2023.
These days, the 23-year-old Chihuahua-born artist is dialing down the glitz, opting for songs that aren’t about living the luxurious life.
“Money brings more problems,” Millán tells me inside an Italian restaurant at the Americana at Brand, Glendale’s monument to opulent consumerism. “Because the more money you have, the more things you have to support.”
In April, Millán released “Eterno,” his fourth studio album. The 15-track LP largely forgoes the boisterous brass section that’s become a staple in the genre in favor of stripped-down tracks about being disillusioned with newfound wealth (“10 de mayo”), his mental health (the gritty “Si Me Ven”) and romantic heartbreak and anguish (“Solo”). He also touches on a topic that might be too taboo to discuss: Mexico’s widespread systemic relationship of organized crime (“El Sentrita”).
Millán says this is the most authentic he’s ever been in his music, something he attributes to moving back to Mexico, a country he believes is deeply misunderstood and has profoundlyshaped his personality.
“[Mexico] is filled with deep values, strong ethics and a profound sense of social understanding,” he said.
While música mexicana artists might feel compelled to move to the states in search of fame and fortune, Millán now finds freedom in his native country — and through “Eterno.”
“Now, I can be myself,” he said.
The follwing interview was conducted in Spanish, and has been condensed and edited for clarity.
In “Solo” you talk about romantic loneliness. Why was that vulnerability important to include in this album?
I prefer to approach those themes from a more grounded perspective. With that song, I wanted to really open myself up to that feeling and express regret, that sense of loneliness that comes with saying “I screwed things up.” I feel that’s how you establish a deeper connection with your audience. After all, so many people out there don’t have luxuries or material things like that so how do you get to them? With emotion. A feeling that expresses regret, including with the phrase: “I know I’m a piece of s—, but you know that I love you.”
It reminds me of Joan Sebastian’s “Un Idiota,” in which the singer admits he still loves the person he wronged, and that he knows he messed up.
That’s what I wanted to do too, talk about the human experience and what it is. I wanted people to listen to it as they’re drinking, and all of a sudden that wave of feelings just hits you like a slap to the face.
The song “Si Me Ven” talks about burnout and the idea that money isn’t as fulfilling as one might think. Did you base it out of your own personal experiences?
This song fits like a ring on my finger. They say that money won’t make you happy and it’s true. In my case, I spent five years without seeing my family and missed many things.
On Instagram, you told fans: “I feel like I am more human than artist, I hope you all can understand. Sometimes I wake up wanting to do nothing, or sometimes asking myself what am I doing? Where am I going?” Do you feel drained by this career?
Of course [being a successful musician] is my dream, but I didn’t know all that it would entail. To this day, it has been draining, and there’s some days where I don’t feel like doing anything because I’m more of a person than an artist. There are some colleagues that do live life as if it were a movie, but I’m more of a homebody.
How do you make sense of the industry where part of the allure is tied to wealth, fancy cars and material goods?
I obviously love cars. Any normal person would love those types of things. And when you work hard, of course you fill the gaps you had when you were younger. But I don’t like putting it in people’s faces.
You say this, but your “Eterno” album cover shows you with a stack of money.
[Laughs] But there’s something curious about that cover. I was feeling down that day, there was just a lot of sadness around that time. Yet there I am, surrounded by all that stuff and that’s where the clash lies, you know? That contrast is what gives my album cover its depth.
Let’s talk about “El Sentrita.” The song contextualizes organized crime as a systemic issue. What prompted you to write about this topic?
I wanted to frame it as social commentary, addressing what has been going on in Mexico for decades, as well as the obstacles we face as artists who aren’t allowed to express ourselves or certain themes through music. Just as we were discussing right now, rap used to be how artists delivered social commentary through the medium of music. I would like to do that as well.
I figured if the government tells me I can’t sing a corrido, then I’ll use a corrido to offer them some criticism instead. You have to pay close attention to follow the character’s storyline as it unfolds. At the end of the song, it hits you, none of this would have happened if someone would have given him a chance. The goal was to raise awareness, to show that there are so many dreams within [Mexico] but they need to be given the opportunity to pursue them so that they don’t end up on the wrong path.
The music video for “El Sentrita” shows how one young boy gets roped into organized crime. It feels less of a choice and more a result of the system. Tell me more about this decision to give dimension to the character.
That’s the question: Who is the victim in this system? The way I saw it was that he was a good person who fell in with bad people and ended up becoming a bad person himself. If we look at it from a different angle, one where you don’t judge whether a person is good or bad, he was simply someone operating in that world out of necessity.
That’s when you have to question yourself and ask: how can we call someone a bad person when society leaves them with no other choice. I also wanted to do this to show young people that life in that world isn’t easy. Society right now is deeply damaged. This new generation of youth needs a lot of attention.
There is a phrase at the end of the song where you say, “You don’t sing about what you do, you sing about what you see.” What did you mean by that?
Because it’s not like we’re out there doing those things, you know? We aren’t engaging in any kind of criminal activity whatsoever. We simply sing, literally, about what we see, about what goes down in [Mexico] every single day. Because it’s not just some isolated incident; it’s something that happens constantly — day in, day out, without fail.
If you were to go by “Saturday Night Live” hosting performance alone, you might think that the best way to ensure a memorable, well rounded and surprisingly funny show is to book a female pop star — preferably one with some child-acting experience.
With apologies to Harry Styles, it’s been pop stars including Ariana Grande, Sabrina Carpenter, Dua Lipa and now Olivia Rodrigo who’ve shown themselves to be naturals at adapting their on-stage talents to the Studio 8H stage for “SNL.”
And while she might not have crushed it to the degree of Grande (something about the Bowen Yang era of the show and Grande seemed in perfect lockstep with each other), Rodrigo was a very good host. Whatever she lacked in sketch comedy chops, she more than made up for as musical guest, world-premiering a new song called “begged,” and singing in several sketches, including a memorable one about a girl in a zoo on a planet of bug people (we’ll get to that).
After a charming monologue in which she also sang, Rodrigo played a scheming woman in a “Dynasty”-like nighttime soap opera from the 1980s, “Edge of Destiny,” where people kept falling down the stairs. The mix of physical comedy, distant cue cards and having to keep from breaking character as cast members flopped down a set of fake stairs seemed almost too much for the guest host. But she recovered nicely in another solid (and hilariously gross) “Shop TV” sketch about a baker (Rodrigo) who makes lava cakes that look a lot like anuses.
She also played a woman competing with her ex-boyfriend (Ben Marshall) at a birthday party by pretending to have a date (he does the same with a wacky Ashley Padilla). She also played a cheating romantic partner in a musical sketch about getting busted, a rideshare passenger whose driver (Andrew Dismukes) discovers he has a talent for Jamaican dancehall rapping, and a TikToker employed by a home security company to take viral videos of burglars.
Rodrigo’s songs were tremendous, especially “begged,” but it was hard for any of the sketches to top Aziz Ansari’s appearance as FBI Director Kash Patel, which drew the biggest non-musical audience reaction of the show when he appeared in the cold open.
As musical guest, Rodrigo performed her latest single “drop dead,” introduced by Debbie Harry, and a new song, “begged,” introduced by recent host and “Heated Rivalry” star Connor Storrie.
It was the rare cold open without a rambling James Austin Johnson performance as President Trump. Instead, after a clever opening title card (“You’re watching A-Span. Of your life disappear. Watching C-SPAN.”), White House press secretary Karoline Leavitt (Padilla) talked about her upcoming maternity leave before introducing “The man, the myth, the liability,” Secretary of Defense Pete Hegseth (Colin Jost). Hegseth talked about the war in Iran with its “sick air raids. This war has been a movie … specifically ‘The Neverending Story.’ ” Hegseth fielded a few questions, belittling reporters as he’s done before, answering the question of when the war will end: “That’s like asking when is sex gonna be over,” he replied, “Answer: when the man is done.” Hegseth introduced Patel (Ansari), who fast-talked his way through a defense of his alleged drinking and spending. From low hanging fruit (“We dotted every T and bulged every I”) to a much sharper takedown of Patel (“I’m the first Indian person to suck at their job”), Ansari brought his Tom Haverford from “Parks and Recreation” energy, particularly when describing jumping on the couch at a night club screaming, “Who wants the nuclear codes? J/K, I ain’t got ‘em!”
Rodrigo’s monologue began by acknowledging how young the 23-year-old pop star really is: they say your favorite “SNL” cast is the one you saw when you were a teenager and hers, she said, was the current cast. After teasing her new album out next month, she showed a clip of a commercial she did for Old Navy and mentioned working with Jake Paul on the Disney Channel show “Bizaardvark.” Paul, she said, once told her, “I really want to beat up old guys on Netflix!” and they both achieved their dreams. Rodrigo then played at a piano a take of her first hit single “drivers license,” focused on getting a Real ID at the DMV and all that it requires. “Passport, W2, first-born son / Gas bill, body count, bra size, how long will this be? I’ll just use my old fake ID,” she sang.
Best sketch of the night: They even have Olivia-shaped popsicles!
Unsurprisingly, the best of the night was one of Rodrigo’s musical performances, this time a pre-taped music video about a girl who loves her perfect bedroom. It’s got a purple corded phone, a lava lamp, a beanbag chair … and it happens to be a habitat at a zoo on a planet of bug people. The wistful, lovely song is accompanied by weird visuals of the aliens, who look like praying mantises, admiring the human specimen through the room’s windows, applauding when she goes to the bathroom and taking pictures. There are enough bizarre touches, such as a VHS version of “A League of Their Own” with aliens in human skin suits, a bug protester and an unsuccessful male mate (Johnson), that quite a bit of world building happens in the short span of the very catchy tune. Can we get this song on Apple Music and Spotify, please?
Also good: Cute — cake frosting on the nose. Sexy — mashed potatoes all over the face.
Former “SNL” cast member Kristen Wiig had a talent for introducing characters whose one bizarre trait, expertly performed, could drive a whole sketch. These days, it’s Ashley Padilla (maddeningly, she’s still billed as a “Featured Player”) who is able to elevate a potentially annoying character with a collection of hilarious tics and a lot of boundary overstepping. In a sketch about a broken-up couple (Rodrigo and Marshall) who try to make each other jealous by glomming on to fake new dates, Padilla laughs too loudly, smears mashed potatoes all over Marshall’s face, gives an unhinged speech that includes, “We are to be married at midnight! Now let us pray.” It seems like every episode of late has had one sketch reserved for Padilla to show her way with these types of self-unaware characters, and this was another great showcase for her.
‘Weekend Update’ winner: Podcasters are at war and it’s hard to understand why
If you don’t know why “Call Her Daddy” podcaster Alex Cooper (Chloe Fineman) and TikToker and “Hot Mess” podcaster Alix Earle (Veronika Slowikowska) are feuding, trust us, you are not alone. Their apparent beef, which has been speculated about by very online people and, weirdly, business reporters, is now “Weekend Update” fodder, with the women comparing their fight to a “literal Chernobyl for white women.” Perhaps the best part was Michael Che’s complete bafflement as to who these women are and why they’re mad at each other. Elsewhere, Kam Patterson continued his streak of clunky “Update” segments, this time vying for a date with Megan Thee Stallion after her breakup with NBA player Klay Thompson. In describing himself, Patterson said, “Some say he’s finding his voice more every week.” Unfortunately for Patterson, there’s only two episodes left in the season.
After back-to-back appearances at both weekends of Coachella, David Lee Roth popped out Saturday at Stagecoach to sing Van Halen’s “Jump” with Teddy Swims for the third (and final?) time. To discuss what he called his “three-peat,” I caught up later with the 71-year-old singer, who wore a bedazzled jacket and a leather vest.
Have you bought property in Indio? Do you just live here now? No, I’ve bought property in the American musical fabric that extends beyond time frame, that extends beyond shoes and haircuts. It includes cowboy hats and yarmulkes.
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Next weekend this place is gonna be barren. Will you be back to sing “Jump” with nobody? There’ll be plenty of people here for the Diamond Dave Big Rig Trucking School and Day Care Center.
You’re on your own tour right now. How are those shows going? They go exquisitely because if you enjoy what you saw onstage [tonight], it’s that times 22 songs.
Twenty-two songs in the set. Oh yeah. I wrote every word that I sing, I wrote every note that I sing — all the melodies — and I stacked all the harmonies. Ed [Van Halen], of course, contributed all the great guitar parts. And we wrote all of those parts literally sitting in a tiny little alcove room where you put a washer and a dryer. We would sit knee-to-knee the room was so small, and he’d play the electric guitar. His mom wouldn’t let him plug in because it would be too loud, so I had to lean over. Every song that you know of Van Halen, I heard from an unplugged-in electric guitar from four inches away, going, “Too long.”
Tighten it up. Cut it short. All great musicians finish long after the ending.
Last time we talked, you said you were wearing Artemis II. What’s the outfit tonight? This is classic Nudie’s western wear from Lankershim. This is from the ’50s. This has been all over the world. This is made by Nudie’s of Hollywood, who made all of Roy Rogers’ and Jean Autry’s [clothes] and all of “Bonanza,” “Gunsmoke,” “Rawhide’s” wear. Look up Nudie of Hollywood, OK? This baby’s worth more than my shoes, and they’re custom-made. This jacket’s worth more than my teeth — same thing.
Lyle Lovett performed Friday evening in Stagecoach’s Palomino tent with the group of killers he calls his Large Band. After the show, I sat with the singer and actor in the front seats of what I’ll call his Large SUV. “It’s a rental,” he said.
We’re in here because you want to protect your voice? You know, I don’t smoke marijuana.
Anymore, or period? Period. I have no moral judgment for other people, but I don’t think it’s good for me. When I smell it, I get concerned that it’s going into my body, and so I just try to stay away from it. In the artist tent, there were plumes everywhere. In fact, at our set, two songs in, I called over our assistant tour manager and I said, “Can you put some fans blowing back out into the audience?”
To send the weed back from whence it came. Well, I don’t want people to waste it either — they paid good money for it. Jackson Browne asked me once in the parking lot of Conway [Recording Studios] — we were doing “The Road to Ensenada,” and he said, “Is it true you’re not cool with weed?” I said, “You know, I’m not.”
Where do you live these days? In a couple of places, but in Austin, mainly.
People from Texas have strong opinions about the hierarchy of its cities. What’s the best city in Texas? I can’t answer that.
You wouldn’t deign to. It’s your thought, not my thought. The cities in Texas are distinct — wildly different from one another. Houston is one of the most international cities in the world. Austin is the most liberal city in Texas but it’s also being transformed by tech money. What’s going on there is analogous to what the oil business did in Houston and Dallas. San Antonio is the gateway to South Texas — it’s like 85% Hispanic. You feel the difference in culture there, and that’s wonderful. That’s my answer.
Did you ever have a move-to-L.A. moment? I leased houses three different times. The first album I made in Los Angeles was “Joshua Judges Ruth,” in 1991, and the house belonged to a college professor who took a job at New Mexico State. It was on a street called Multiview, one switchback down from Mulholland — between Laurel and Nichols Canyon on the Valley side. I had a beautiful view of Universal City and the 101 as it came in. I remember this professor, when he was showing me the house, he called it “the river of lights.” So I lived there and then later rented the same house two different times, years apart, on a street called Torreyson, right below the Lautner [Chemosphere].
You’re set to get a star this year on the Hollywood Walk of Fame. I don’t know if that’s true. I think I’m eligible.
It’s true — I checked. We’ll see.
Let’s say it happens, which it will. How’s that strike you? I think it’s always an honor to be recognized by any official organization. But that sort of stuff seems completely separate from the work I’m concerned with. What’s important is the work and how you get to do it.
Which of your albums would you say is your best? It’s impossible to say. I’m proud of the Nashville records — the budgets were smaller and I had to record those records more quickly. But when I went to Los Angeles and spent too much money recording “Joshua Judges Ruth,” that was one of the most expansive creative experiences I ever had.
Define “too much,” right? It was too much. Instead of recording three or four songs a day, we recorded two songs. Two weeks later, you didn’t love the take, let’s record it again. There was time to search for ideas, not just document ideas — that was the biggest difference for me. The natural way of doing things — just knocking it out — is absolutely valid. But from my point of view, I was more comfortable spending more money [laughs].
Where’d you like to eat when you were working in L.A.? When we worked at Conway, we’d have lunch every day at Lucy’s El Adobe to the point that I gave them a credit on the albums.
After a brief reprieve following the end of Coachella, we find ourselves in the desert again for Stagecoach — hot, dusty and eager to be amused. The first day of the weekend offered plenty of top-tier country performances including Cody Johnson, Ella Langley, and Bailey Zimmerman along with a dose of nostalgia courtesy of ‘90s stars Counting Crows and Emo Nite featuring Ashlee Simpson. Let’s also not forget that Stagecoach is a place to catch celebrity cameos—we’re looking at you, Sydney Sweeney. Here’s our recap of all the fun we experienced on Day 1 of the festival.
Jessie Erickson, of Anchorage, Alaska, sings “more than my home town” by Morgan Wallen at the SYRN Saloon during the Stagecoach Country Music Festival at Empire Polo Club, in Indio, CA on April 24, 2026.
(Allen J. Schaben/Los Angeles Times)
I found a karaoke bar at Stagecoach — but it was Sydney Sweeney’s lingerie pop-up
En route to the press tent this sunny Friday, I saw a spot with saloon doors boasting karaoke. It didn’t click that the air-conditioned pop-up was a bar connected to Sydney Sweeney’s Syrn brand until I was inside and saw the lingerie hanging from the bar.
It was early in the day, so not much karaoke was happening, but you could scan a QR code and sign up via a Karafun link. I contemplated doing “A Long December” from the Counting Crows since they’re playing the Mustang Stage this evening, but thought it would No.1 bring down the mood and No.2, not really fit in with the Coyote Ugly vibes.
However, I saw dartboards on the wall and a sign to ask the “brand ambassador” about darts and I immediately thought — the hard drinkin’ Stagecoach crowd should probably not have sharp objects. They don’t. I found a “brand ambassador” and he showed off the darts, which were magnetic. It still might not be the best idea to let people throw projectiles as the night goes on, though. (Vanessa Franko)
Emo nite featuring Ashlee Simpson performs at Diplo’s Honkytonk during the Stagecoach Country Music Festival at Empire Polo Club, in Indio, CA on April 24, 2026.
(Allen J. Schaben/Los Angeles Times)
Emo Nite with Ashlee Simpson and 3OH!3 made Stagecoach dance with their feelings
How is the giant country festival channeling the SoCal-born traveling punk festival, you ask? The popular Emo Nite DJ set was booked at Diplo’s Honky Tonk. (Emo Nite is no stranger to the Goldenvoice desert fests, by the way. They played the Sahara Tent at Coachella a few years back, too.)
Emo Nite’s Morgan Reed and T.J. Petracca opened up with Fall Out Boy’s “Sugar We’re Goin Down” to set the sing-a-long tone before blistering through a set of remixes to songs by beloved emo and pop-punk artists such as Panic! At the Disco, Paramore, All-American Rejects and My Chemical Romance. They also played some emo-adjacent and not-so-emo-adjacent tracks, such as the Killers’ “Mr. Brightside,” System of a Down’s “Chop Suey” and Justin Bieber’s “Baby.” (Bieberchella lives even at Stagecoach!)
Actress Sydney Sweeney takes photos with fans during the Stagecoach.
(Evan Schaben/For The Times)
Sydney Sweeney takes pictures with fans at Stagecoach
Actress Sydney Sweeney snapped photos with fans during BigXThaPlug’s set at the Mustang Stage Friday at Stagecoach. Sweeney also has a pop-up bar promoting her lingerie line Syrn at the festival. (Evan Schaben)
Ella Langley performs on the Mane Stage during the Stagecoach Country Music Festival at Empire Polo Club, in Indio, CA on April 24, 2026.
(Evan Schaben/For The Times)
Ella Langley takes a victory lap
“I’m gonna go ahead and burst your bubble,” Ella Langley said about halfway through her main-stage set Friday night. She’d just teed up her brand-new single, “I Can’t Love You Anymore,” a shimmering roots-soul duet with country’s biggest star, Morgan Wallen. “Morgan is not here,” she continued. “He’s on dad duty this weekend. Can’t blame a man for being a good dad.”
And you can’t blame Langley for managing expectations. But she didn’t need Wallen (or anybody else) to show why she’s the biggest thing in country music right now: This was an effortlessly cool performance by a deeply vibey singer and songwriter who’s absorbed more than Stevie Nicks’ predilection for lightweight shawls. (“Broken” was extremely Fleetwood Mac-coded.)
Langley did bring out a special guest: the podcaster Theo Von, who did Riley Green’s part in “You Look Like You Love Me” for some reason. (Big podcaster energy is what I’ll say.) She played “Choosin’ Texas” — her dreamy pop-country smash that’s currently at No. 1 on Billboard’s Hot 100 — not last but next to last, leaving “Weren’t for the Wind” as her closer. Baller move. (Mikael Wood)
Counting Crows will perform on Sept. 3 at the Rady Shell at Jacobs Park.
(Courtesy of the San Diego Symphony)
Counting Crows and the perfect Stagecoach sunset
I am very into the ‘90s alt acts playing Stagecoach 2026 (I see you, Third Eye Blind) and Counting Crows got things off to a sublime start as the sun set Friday.
While the band played its breakout hit, “Mr. Jones,” early in the set, singer Adam Duritz let the crowd take the lead and almost did some spoken word in the second verse.
“How was your first day at country Coachella? They only call it Stagecoach because Count-chella doesn’t sound good,” the singer asked the crowd before the band launched into the “Shrek 2” ditty “Accidentally in Love.”
The hits kept coming, including “Round Here” and “Rain King.”
But the perfect moment under cotton candy skies happened during the band’s penultimate song, “A Long December” off 1996’s “Recovering the Satellites.” With the crowd singing along, the sun setting behind the mountains and good feelings all around, it was nothing if not a vibe. (VF)
Bailey Zimmerman performs on the Mane Stage during the Stagecoach Country Music Festival at Empire Polo Club, in Indio, CA on April 24, 2026.
(Evan Schaben/For The Times)
Bailey Zimmerman with an encouraging word
Bailey Zimmerman brought his puppy-ish energy — and an encouraging self-help message — to Stagecoach’s main stage Friday night ahead of Cody Johnson’s headlining set. “I grew up with nothing, and I worked my ass off to be where I am,” he bellowed before ripping off his shirt to punctuate the point. (MW)
Cody Johnson performs on the Mane Stage during the Stagecoach Country Music Festival at Empire Polo Club, in Indio, CA on April 24, 2026.
(Allen J. Schaben/Los Angeles Times)
Cody Johnson closes Night 1 with Boyz II Men
Cody Johnson opened his headlining set Friday night by promising to “bring a little Texas to California if that’s all right with y’all.” Yet the most surprising moment of his 90-minute show actually brought a bit of Philadelphia to Stagecoach when Boyz II Men dropped in to join Johnson for a rendition of the veteran R&B crew’s “On Bended Knee.”
If we’re being honest, the vocal mix was … not the evening’s finest. But the selection was appealingly unexpected from a down-the-middle country star like Johnson, who spent much of the rest of his set recounting his long music-industry come-up and urging folks to see past their differences in the name of unity.
He also lamented the three months he had to take off the road after busting his eardrum last year — “I was depressed about it,” he said — before acknowledging that the unanticipated break meant he got to be home for the birth of his youngest child. (MW)
