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Last fall, indie pop auteur Tei Shi immersed herself in the British Columbia backwoods during a creative retreat — an experience that helped her reclaim artistic control over her decade-long career.

Out Friday, the Canadian Colombian singer shares her most intimate album to date, “Make believe I make believe,” a 10-track record she’s self-releasing through Tei Shi LLC and the Orchard.

“Being back home, reconnecting with family and old friends, and working without any outside voices or pressure — no label, manager, or restrictions — allowed me to fully dive into my mind and emotions,” says Tei Shi in a statement.

The 35-year-old singer-songwriter attended the weeklong retreat in Vancouver Island, Canada, with longtime collaborators Noah Beresin (co-creator of the alternative hip-hop project Chiddy Bang) and Tommy English (the record producer behind many of Børns’ hits).

“The result is a really versatile collection that captures a wide range of feelings and touches on sonics from Canadiana to neo-perreo,” she adds.

Since emerging in the music scene with her breakthrough 2013 debut EP, “Saudade,” and follow-up 2015 EP, “Verde,” Tei Shi — whose real name is Valerie Teicher Barbosa — remains untethered to a genre, ebbing and flowing between dream-pop, indie folk and shoegaze.

Her new, fourth studio album expands on the 2024 LP, “Valerie,” her first independent project, which was released after departing her previous label, Downtown Records (then under Geffen), which left her feeling creatively wounded. With new control of her artistic vision, unfettered by the demands of the mainstream music industry, the move has allowed Tei Shi to release songs in both English and Spanish.

This time around, the artist leans into her multicultural identity, experimenting whimsically with what she has lovingly dubbed Canadianatón — a sonic palette inspired by her upbringing in Vancouver’s mountainous terrain and the melancholic Latin ballads she was raised with.

She digs further into the gritty neo-perreo sound with tantalizing tracks like “222,” featuring Loyal Lobos, and the sticky, synth-laden melody of “Don’t Cry.” In contrast, Tei Shi’s feathery vocals float lightly over a sensual bolero beat in “Aphrodite.”

In the album’s focus track, “Montón,” an upbeat reggaeton track, the artist surrenders herself to the natural motions of love and lust.

“‘Montón’ is a song about falling for someone, crushing hard and giving into it,” says Tei Shi. “I picture it as a late night with your bb, up all night just the two of you in your room, dancing together and tuning out the world.”

It also wouldn’t be a complete Tei Shi album without the thoughtful layering of ethereal beats, most evident in the advance single “Best Be Leaving,” which echoes the essence of legendary dream-pop band Cocteau Twins.

The “Bassically” singer also dropped details on her upcoming U.S. headline tour, which kicks off Sept. 26 in Los Angeles’ Lodge Room. Tei Shi will make a stop in 11 other North American cities, including stops in Washington, D.C., New York, Chicago, Toronto and more.

For full dates and ticket info, visit https://teishi.world/.

It’s been a big year for música Mexicana. Corridos tumbados are still dominating the global charts, with a handful of established stars leading the charge — among them Fuerza Regida, Peso Pluma, Tito Double P, Junior H and genre newcomer Netón Vega.

But amid this flurry of new releases, you might have missed an album or two worthy of recognition. Here are five música Mexicana records you should check out.

Chino Pacas, “Cristian”

Chino Pacas has staked his claim to the spotlight following the release of his sophomore album, “Cristian,” which came out earlier this month. At just 18 years old, he’s amassed over 17 million monthly Spotify listeners, largely due to his uniquely gritty vocals that pair well with the genre’s thunderous instrumentation.

Now with “Cristian,” Chino Pacas looks to stand out among other corridos tumbados stars by exploring a range of sounds, including traditional banda rhythms in “No Es Un Juego” (ft. Banda Otro Pedo) and the hip hop-infused “GTO” (ft. Santa Fe Klan). (The latter’s music video is filmed in some iconic Boyle Heights locations, including Mexican deli Los Cinco Puntos and El Mercado’s Virgin Mary shrine.) Pacas also picks up the pace with his rendition of Tropicalísimo Apache’s 1993 song “Ojitos Mentirosos,” a song currently trending on TikTok; Pacas’ version has risen considerably on Mexico’s Top 50 chart on Spotify.

Armenta, “Portate Bien”

After producing some of Fuerza Regida’s most iconic hits, Armenta seized the opportunity to release his own debut album, “Portate Bien,” in early August. At its core, the project captures the depths of love and heartache across 15 melancholic tracks, carried by the Mexican singer’s crisp and bold vocals.

Sonically, the LP is a blend of corridos tumbados with the occasional touch of reggaeton and harmonious pop, which shines brightest in tracks like “Ansiedad” and “AbrilSinTi” (ft. Alex Garcia). The crooner also plays with traditional bolero rhythms for his last track “Bolerito” (ft. Manuel Medrano). Already a growing hit for the singer-songwriter is the love-struck ballad “Pensando y Pensando,” which deals with ruminating thoughts of love and loss.

Kane Rodriguez, “La Batuta”

Like many before him in the genre, newcomer Kane Rodriguez first debuted his signature raspy vocals on TikTok, where he would upload acoustic covers of popular corridos. Now the Houston native is using the same platform to promote “La Batuta,” his first album of all-original songs, which was released in April.

In a genre obsessed with flashy gimmicks, Rodriguez sticks to the traditional corrido sound across 13 tracks, setting himself apart from the crowd with his raw vocals and prickly guitar style. Like most of his contemporaries, the 22-year-old explores themes of illicit activity, touting a risqué lifestyle in popular numbers like “La Batuta” and “Morro Mañoso.” In the fierce standout track “Se Volvieron Locos,” he lambastes haters for not believing in him.

Clave Especial, “Mija No Te Asustes”

Clave Especial released their highly-anticipated debut studio album, “Mija No Te Asustes,” this past February — and the 16 hard-hitting tracks were well worth the wait. Since forming in 2021, the trio has transformed their tempered banda sound into a more boisterous affair, likely drawing inspiration from other acts on their label, Street Mob Records, led by Fuerza Regida frontman, Jesús Ortiz Paz. The LP remained on the Billboard 200 chart for 11 weeks, peaking at No. 91.

Clave Especial and Fuerza Regida join forces in their brassy mobster-core singles “Como Capo” and “No Pasa Nada.” The possessive love song “Tu Tu Tu,” which features vocalist Edgardo Nuñez, reached the top of the Regional Mexican Airplay chart just this week — marking a first for the band from Salinas, Calif. Clave Especial is set to kick off their first U.S. headlining tour this fall.

Chuy Montana, “No Fue Suerte”

In 2024, the rising corridos bélicos singer Chuy Montana was murdered in Tijuana after singing songs that authorities said “displeased his aggressor.” It’s a tragic fate that has met other legendary Mexican singers, including the narcocorrido trailblazer Chalino Sanchez in 1992. In June, Street Mob Records released Montana’s posthumous debut album, “No Fue Suerte,” after finishing his songs in close collaboration with his family.

Using his rugged vocal delivery, Montana peppers his lyrics with amusing vulgarities. His most popular song, “Qué Bendición,” tells tales of his trials and tribulations, and his mother’s blessing that follows him wherever he goes — although some songs sound haunting now, in light of Montana’s passing. Among those songs is the accordion-riddled track “Perdón Mamá” featuring Juanpa Salazar, in which Montana foreshadows his tragic death and delivers a heartbreaking, preemptive apology to his grieving mother.

A wave of purple and hot pink hair and cartoon K-pop bops is taking over multiplexes.

With summer blockbusters in the rearview mirror and only a few new films out, movie theaters expected a bit of a lull at the box office this weekend.

Then Netflix dropped a bombshell. The streamer would release its hit animated film “KPop Demon Hunters” — already a viral phenomenon on streaming — in theaters Saturday and Sunday for sing-along screenings.

The movie will be shown on more than 1,750 screens in the U.S. and Canada, with 1,150 shows sold out as of Thursday, according to industry sources. It’s an unusually high-profile move by Netflix into cinemas, which is using the big screen experience to capitalize on and promote one of its biggest wins.

Packed houses include the theaters of Dallas-based Look Dine-In Cinemas, which has locations in Glendale, Redlands, Downey and Monrovia.

“This will be the dominant force for the weekend,” said Look Chief Executive Brian Schultz. “We could put it on every screen in our auditorium.”

But is this theatrical release really gonna be golden, to paraphrase one of the musical’s most infectious earworms? We won’t know for sure. Or at least how golden.

Los Gatos-based Netflix will not release box office figures, sticking with the company’s long-standing policy that has long frustrated industry pros. All the same, based on presale numbers, the movie could haul in $16 million to $22 million, according to estimates from analysis site Box Office Theory. That total, if Netflix reported it, would unseat the expected official No. 1 domestic movie, “Weapons.”

The release is a welcome surprise for theater owners — particularly in the doldrums of summer, when even late breakout hits like Warner Bros.’ horror film “Weapons” have been out for weeks. But it also underscores the tricky relationship between exhibitors and Netflix, which has famously eschewed traditional theatrical film releases.

The streamer has briefly put films in theaters for Oscar consideration, as it did with “Roma” and “The Irishman,” and did give director Rian Johnson’s 2022 comedy “Glass Onion: A Knives Out Mystery” a short window in cinemas. (It will also have a three-week exclusive theatrical run for Guillermo del Toro’s “Frankenstein” in October.)

But the streamer has long been adamant that its focus is on growing its subscriber base — not on developing a theatrical business. Earlier this year, Netflix co-CEO Ted Sarandos said the theatrical movie experience was “outdated” for most people. When the company does theatrical releases, it views them as marketing efforts.

That has led to long-standing complaints from theater owners, who argue that streaming has lessened their business and trained audiences to wait until films are available at home.

“Netflix and a sizable share of theatrical exhibition have spent so many years toeing the line as frenemies, if not outright adversaries,” Shawn Robbins, director of movie analytics at ticket seller Fandango and founder of Box Office Theory, said in an email. “This is a weekend that again highlights how they could, and perhaps should, start working together more often to the benefit of both sides.”

The film, produced by Culver City-based Sony Pictures Animation, is the most-watched original animated movie in Netflix’s history, according to the streamer.

It’s also now the second-most-watched film ever on Netflix behind the 2021 action-comedy “Red Notice” starring Dwayne Johnson, Ryan Reynolds and Gal Gadot. The movie’s soundtrack has also been a hit, with the song “Golden” peaking at No. 1 on the Billboard Hot 100 charts and continuing to hold onto a high ranking.

“KPop Demon Hunters” focuses on a popular girl group called Huntr/x that uses its music and dance moves to battle evil, including a demon boy band. The movie has spawned a number of memes, including close-ups of the characters’ expressive faces.

The music, as well as the film’s strong female characters, were a draw for Heather Hollingsworth and her 10-year-old daughter, Kayleigh, who have now watched “KPop Demon Hunters” multiple times and are planning to see a screening this weekend with Kayleigh’s best friend and her mom. “Golden” is Hollingsworth’s favorite song from the film, and the one that gets stuck in her head most.

“The songs are really catchy,” said Hollingsworth, 41, a speech language pathologist who lives in Littleton, Colo. “Also the characters’ vulnerability being their strength — that strong friendship — it’s a very powerful message.”

Though they could continue watching “KPop Demon Hunters” at home on Netflix, Hollingsworth said the appeal of the theatrical screening was the social experience.

“There’s something about having it in a movie theater that is way more fun for the kids, especially,” she said.

The sing-along screenings follow similar showings for “Wicked,” as well as concert films such as Taylor Swift’s “Eras Tour” and Beyonce’s “Renaissance World Tour.” Unlike “KPop Demon Hunters,” those films were exclusively in theaters first, resulting, in the case of “Wicked” and Swift, in hundreds of millions of dollars in ticket sales.

For Look Cinemas, sing-alongs have long been big business and often result in a demand for party bookings, Schultz said. Indeed, tickets for “KPop Demon Hunters” have been selling in large groups.

“It’s going to make for a very fun weekend,” he said.

Times staff writer Kaitlyn Huamani contributed to this report.

Nearly 40 years into Deftones’ career, the Sacramento-bred band are anything but a legacy act. As proved by the visceral allegiance from countless fans half their age thrashing at their feet as they perform on stage, the band continues to be as explosive as they were when they conquered the Warped Tour in the late ‘90s.

The band’s late-era surge in popularity with generations of fans who missed their first (and second) go-round inspires and surprises them.

“It does freak me out when I sit back and, in retrospect, think about it,” Chino Moreno says of Deftones’ longevity. Sitting backstage in a Victoria, Canada, arena during a break from the band’s pre-tour rehearsal, kicking off in Vancouver on Friday, Moreno, 52, is relaxed as he discusses their place in the hard rock landscape.

Since roughly 2022, the singer has noticed that the crowds at some of the band’s meet and greets were younger. In some cases, fans in their teens and early 20s were introducing their parents to the band’s catalog, including their turn-of-the-century classic, “White Pony.”

That stature has only grown as elements of Deftones’ amorphously aggressive sound, which has elements of post-hardcore, trip hop and, most relevant to their revival, shoegaze, have attracted a much younger audience. They’ve broken out from being a cult and critical favorite from the nü-metal scene to being widely appreciated as one of the most important and influential bands of that era.

“I’m not a big social media person,” Moreno says of the medium that’s enabled a new generation to discover Deftones. “There are positive sides to it, like amongst all the noise, you can share music. It is neat that everybody’s much more connected to be able to share it like that.”

Yet, he’s aware that based on the online resurgence, Deftones don’t have to release a new album. Even so, seeing this influx of a younger fan base invigorated the band. It has driven the band to push themselves not just on stage, but in the studio.

Chino Moreno of Deftones performs at the Kia Forum on March 5, 2025.

(Clementine Ruiz)

“Having this whole new generation of eyes on us and more attention now than we’ve had in decades. So why not embrace it?” he says. “I love that I met a lot of parents and children, fathers and daughters, and they’re at the show together as a bonding experience, and to talk about some type of art you both connected over … it’s really cool.”

The band also knew that if they were going to write and record, it had to be for the right reasons.

Recording “can’t be where the label needs [the album], or we need money,” Moreno explains. “We’ve made records under those circumstances before, and it sucks the fun out of the experience. We’re bratty in that way where we only want to do something if it’s something we want to do. The minute someone tells us we have to do it, then we fight it.”

With the band’s members now scattered across the U.S., Deftones couldn’t wait to get back into the studio together, just like they did as teens when they had a space that felt more like a clubhouse. As Moreno puts it, it excited them to be able to “experiment and hang out together. Locking ourselves in a room for six hours a day, five days a week, was fun. It was like going back into the clubhouse again.”

With “Private Music,” Deftones once again joined forces with Nick Raskulinecz, who produced “Diamond Eyes” and 2012’s “Koi No Yokan” (“Dude, we have to finish the trifecta!” Moreno says he told Raskulinecz whenever they’d see each other.) Throughout the last year and a half, the band and Raskulinecz worked together through a variety of sessions before deciding on the 11 songs that constitute the album. Without a definitive timetable to release their 10th studio album, it allowed for a much more relaxed and enjoyable atmosphere than before. That said, the time between 2020’s “Ohms” and “Private Music” was the longest span between Deftones albums.

“We’re in a mind frame where it’s like we don’t have to make a record,” he says. “It gave us a kick in the butt. If people are talking about us holding us to a certain standard and pushing ourselves. So the fact that we’re gonna do it, we might as well make it great.”

A band this far into its career is generally in their victory-lap era. Write, record, release an album, go on tour, play mostly the hits, sprinkle in a new song, repeat. Not Deftones. Throughout this album, which is another significant achievement, the band mixes the moody and melodic to create a genre-bending album full of fire and fury. Look no further than the equally bombastic “My Mind Is a Mountain” and “Locked Club,” the menacing “Ecdysis,” the soaring Moreno-powered “I Think About You All the Time,” and the push-and-pull of the methodical “cxz.” Throughout the sessions, which included three additional songs left in various states, Deftones wrote and recorded batches of songs in different locations, which Moreno says allowed for a respective track to have its own sonic personality as a product of its environment.

“‘I Think About You All the Time’ was written in Malibu at 8 in the morning and was pretty fast,” he says. “We put it aside then, after dinner that night, we made some coffee and went out and finished it. Whereas with ‘Ecdysis,’ it was the last song we wrote, and it was while we were in the studio. We were looking at our collection of songs that we already had and just going, like, ‘OK, where does it fit within this batch of songs?’ We wanted something jagged and also a little weird that was more experimental but with an aggressive approach.”

As their tours have gotten bigger, external factors have given the band a new appreciation for their ongoing success. During the band’s 2024 Coachella appearance, guitarist Stephen Carpenter felt his performance wasn’t up to his standard, telling Zane Lowe of Apple Radio that he was “completely out of it for both shows. I barely had enough energy to stand up. All I could think about during those shows was, ‘Please, just don’t fall over on stage.’” Later, he’d find out that he has Type II diabetes.

A few years before Carpenter learned of his health issues, Moreno got sober. Those changes enabled the bandmates, friends since they were teens, to become even closer, despite any misconceived notion that they’ve been at odds. Though Carpenter doesn’t travel internationally with Deftones due to his condition, when the band was on the road in the States earlier this year, he and Moreno were busmates. They pushed each other to remain on their respective lifestyle-changing tracks.

“I think we’re both very proud of each other,” Moreno says of their changes. “He is so on it. He’s an obsessive person about a lot of things, and now he’s obsessed about his blood sugar and about his health. It’s parallel to my sobriety. So we get on the bus after a show, and we’re all into our diet. With my sobriety, I think he sees me being a better version of myself.”

Deftones perform at Kia Forum.

(Clementine Ruiz)

“Private Music” stands not just as a wonderfully cohesive riff-heavy body of work with a relentless energy that is the next shapeshifting step in the Deftones catalog, but is also a well-balanced album. It’s a logical sonic step for the Deftones universe. The band has also been building its annual Dia de Los Deftones festival. The lineup for the sixth edition, taking place in November in San Diego, includes Virginia Beach, Va., hip-hop heroes Clipse, beloved metal band Deafheaven, Rico Nasty, 2hollis and more. Comparing curating the festival to compiling a mixtape, Deftones is the common thread that ties these diverse artists together, which Moreno calls “a fun experiment.”

Decades later, it’s Deftones’ music and adventurous sonic spirit that keep the crowds coming back, anticipating the group’s next move. It’s allowed them to gradually build on successes without being weighed down by the past. Now, it’s moved so quickly and exponentially that they’ve barely had time to catch their collective breath — with another stretch of arena dates and a pair of co-headlining stadium shows with System of a Down on the docket.

“I’m excited to be busy,” Moreno says. “I’m the type of person who has been lucky enough to have done this for pretty much all of my adult life. We didn’t get to go out and tour ‘Ohms’ after it was released, and this is such a different time. I really love this batch of songs, so I’m eager to go play them and stay busy for the next couple of years.”

The lead singer of the regional Mexican band Enigma Norteño, Ernesto Barajas, was shot and killed on Tuesday in the municipality of Zapopan in the state of Jalisco, Mexico, according to ABC 7.

The singer was killed by two individuals riding a motorcycle, according to authorities. The prosecutor’s office of the state of Jalisco has already opened an investigation into the murder, according to ABC 7.

The band from Sinaloa is known for its “viral drug ballads,” a musical style known to glorify organized crime. Enigma Norteño has dedicated its songs to members of the Jalisco Nueva Generacion and Sinaloa cartels. The genre has been banned by a third of the states in Mexico.

The killing of Barajas comes three months after the dead bodies of five members of the Mexican regional band Fugitivo were found in the northern city of Reynosa.

In July, the Council of the Judiciary of the State of Jalisco agreed to drop the criminal case against the Mexican regional band Los Alegres Del Barranco. The band came under investigation after it displayed a photograph of a leader of the Cártel Jalisco Nueva Generación during a show.

In April, the Mexican government announced a music contest to encourage Mexican artists to create music that does not glorify a violent lifestyle. The competition was created to encourage musicians to write songs about love, heartbreak and peace, according to Billboard.

“While the contest won’t solve this issue overnight, and we’re not neglecting the underlying causes — for that, there’s a whole national security program — we felt it was important to create creative spaces through culture for Mexican and Mexican-American youth who are passionate about music,” Claudia Curiel de Icaza, secretary of culture for Mexico, told Billboard Español.

Authorities from the state of Jalisco did not respond to a request for a comment in time for publication.

Everyone can use an editor, and Shakespeare is no exception. Fortunately, he married one.

Tired of being cooped up with the kids in Stratford-upon-Avon, Anne (Teal Wicks), wife of the great playwright, pops down to London to see the first performance of “Romeo and Juliet.” The new tragic ending that Shakespeare (Corey Mach) proudly previews to the company strikes her as completely wrongheaded.

“What if … Juliet doesn’t kill herself?” she proposes. As strong-willed as her husband, she doesn’t wish to argue the point. She merely wants to put her idea to the test.

Behold the premise of “& Juliet,” the euphoric dance party of a musical that updates Shakespeare with a dose of 21st century female empowerment. The production, which opened Friday at the Ahmanson Theatre under the fizzy direction of Luke Sheppard, reimagines a new post-Romeo life for Juliet while riding a magic carpet of chart-toppers from juggernaut Swedish producer Max Martin, who has spun gold with Katy Perry, Britney Spears and the Backstreet Boys, among other pop titans.

Teal Wicks, left, and Rachel Webb in the North American Tour of “& Juliet.”

(Matthew Murphy)

This good-time jukebox musical relies as much on its wit as on its catalog of pop hits. The show’s music and lyrics are credited to Max Martin and friends — which sounds like a low-key cool table at the Grammy Awards. The clever book by Emmy winner David West Read (“Schitt’s Creek”) creates a world that can contain the show’s musical riches without having to shoehorn in songs in the shameless fashion of “Mamma Mia!”

Take, for instance, one of the early numbers, “I Want It That Way,” a pop ballad made famous by the Backstreet Boys. Anne starts singing the song when Shakespeare initially resists her idea of giving Juliet back her life. She wants him to go along with her suggested changes not because she’s sure she’s right but because she wants him to trust her as an equal partner. The song is redeployed in a way that has little bearing on the lyrics but somehow feels coherent with the original emotion.

Obviously, this is a commercial musical and not a literary masterpiece on par with Shakespeare’s tragedy of ill-starred lovers. “& Juliet” would have trouble withstanding detailed scrutiny of its plot or probing interrogation of Juliet’s character arc. But Read smartly establishes just the right party atmosphere.

Juliet (a vibrant Rachel Webb), having survived the tragedy once scripted for her, travels from Verona to Paris with an entourage to escape her parents, who want to send her to a nunnery for having married Romeo behind their backs. Her clique includes Angélique (Kathryn Allison), her nurse and confidant; May (Nick Drake), her nonbinary bestie; and April, her newbie sidekick out for fun who Anne plays in disguise. Shakespeare casts himself as the carriage driver, allowing him to tag along and keep tabs on the cockeyed direction his play is going.

In Paris, the crew heads directly to the Renaissance Ball, which has the look and feel of a modern-day mega-club. Entry is barred to Juliet, but not because she’s ridiculously underage. Her name isn’t on the exclusive guest list. So through the back door, Juliet and her traveling companions sashay as the production erupts in “Blow,” the Kesha song that encourages everyone to get their drink on and let loose.

Rachel Webb and the North American Tour Company of “& Juliet.”

(Matthew Murphy)

The dance setting — kinetically envisioned by scenic designer Soutra Gilmour, lighting designer Howard Hudson, sound designer Gareth Owen and video and projection designer Andrzej Goulding into a Dionysian video paradise — provides the all-purpose license for Martin’s music. It’s the atmosphere and the energy that matter most. Paloma Young’s extravagant costumes raise the level of decadent hedonism.

In this welcoming new context — imagine “Moulin Rouge! The Musical” suffused with girl power — there’s never anything odd about the characters grinding and wailing like karaoke superstars. The ecstatic motion of Jennifer Weber’s choreography renders dramatic logic irrelevant.

But love is the name of the game, and both Juliet and May fall for François (Mateus Leite Cardoso), a young musician with a geeky sense of humor who’s still figuring out his identity. May doesn’t expect romance to be part of their fate. In the Spears song “I’m Not a Girl, Not Yet a Woman,” they give powerful expression to an inner confusion this musical romance is determined to sort out with an appropriate partner.

Unlike for the original characters, a happy ending is no longer off-limits. Shakespeare and Anne wrestle to get the upper hand of a plot that seems to have a mind of its own. Shakespeare pulls a coup at the end of the first act that I won’t spoil except to say that what’s good for the goose proves dramaturgically viable for the gander.

Teal Wicks, left, Rachel Webb, Nick Drake and Kathryn Allison in the North American Tour of “& Juliet.”

(Matthew Murphy)

This spirited competition stays in the background, but their marital happiness matters to us. Mach’s Shakespeare has the cocky strut of a rapper-producer with a long list of colossal hits. Wicks gives Anne the heartfelt complexity of one of her husband’s bright comic heroines. There’s a quality of intelligent feeling redolent of Rosalind in “As You Like It” in Wicks’ affecting characterization and luscious singing.

But the musical belongs to Juliet, and Webb has the vocal prowess to hijack the stage whenever she’s soaring in song. If Juliet’s character is still a work in progress, Webb endows her with a maturity beyond her years. She makes us grateful that the Capulet daughter is getting another crack at life. When the big musical guns are brought out late in the second act (“Stronger,” “Roar”), she delivers them as emancipatory anthems, fueled by hard-won epiphanies.

Allison’s Angélique is just as much a standout, renewing the bawdy earthiness of Shakespeare’s nurse with contemporary sass and rousing singing. If the supporting cast of men doesn’t make as deep an impression, the festive comic universe is nonetheless boldly brought to life.

“& Juliet” bestows the alternative ending everyone wishes they could script for themselves — a second chance to get it right. This feel-good musical is just what the doctor ordered in these far less carefree times.

Last year, Isabela Merced was living a double life. By day, she was running around the set of “The Last of Us” in Vancouver — dodging Infected, WLF soldiers and Seraphites alongside co-star Bella Ramsey.

Then, after wrapping what was sometimes a 15-hour workday, she’d be on a flight 4,500 miles away to Atlanta — doing costume fittings and fight training to become Hawkgirl in James Gunn’s “Superman.”

“I didn’t know I could do that,” she tells De Los. “I proved to myself that I’m capable of more than I think.”

The Peruvian American actress has the kind of career that any young actor would aspire to: She made her Broadway debut at 10 years old in “Evita,” earned critical acclaim acting opposite Benicio del Toro in “Sicario: Day of the Soldado” at 17 and starred in the live-action film adaptation of the massively successful “Dora the Explorer” franchise when she was just 18.

In the last year alone, she’s grown into a certified action star, making waves in huge franchise entries like “Alien: Romulus,” “The Last of Us” Season 2 and “Superman.” At 24 years old, her filmography of formidable heroines, scrappy spitfires and multifaceted young women in major blockbusters has put her on a path that’s been largely inaccessible to so many of the Latino actors who came before her. It’s why she also has her sights set on producing, hoping to provide more opportunities for her community in front of and behind the camera.

Yet this month, she’s turning her focus away from the screen and toward her other creative calling: music.

In 2020 she released her debut EP, “The Better Half of Me,” which showcased her bilingual prowess through soulful Latin pop tracks, written and produced alongside her brother, Gyovanni Moner, during quarantine. Now, she’s revisiting the project in a collaboration with the Grammy Award-winning Peruvian artist Tony Succar. Their new single “Apocalipsis,” released Friday, transforms Merced’s 2020 song of the same name from a slow jam to a modernized salsa groove fit for a Miami nightclub.

With “Superman” now out on digital platforms, Merced spoke with De Los about donning Hawkgirl’s helmet, working with Succar on “Apocalipsis,” and what’s coming up next.

It seems like everything is kept pretty under wraps for these massive superhero movies. How much did you know going into your “Superman” audition?
Initially, I had no idea who I was auditioning for because everything had secret names. I think mine said “Cyclone” in the script. I didn’t actually find out who I was until the day of the camera test with the [Justice Gang].

Oh, wow. How did they tell you?
They didn’t want to make it obvious that they were about to tell me, so it was all really mysterious. I’d been doing all the fittings, and the fight training, and then I got pulled into James [Gunn’s] trailer with the producers and everyone, and they were like “Do you want to be Hawkgirl?” As soon as I found out, I was really, really excited because I was like “Oh thank God, it’s someone I know.”

What was your connection to Hawkgirl before this?
I grew up watching [the “Justice League” animated series] and the character is canonically Latina, so I loved that. Her history is really complicated, and it gets even crazier when you get into the comics, but I was a huge fan of her in the show, and I drew a lot on my memories of Maria [Canals-Barrera’s] version of her. I mean, they’re two different characters, but they’re still of the same spirit because they share memories of their past lives.

What made you most excited about this version of the character? Did you connect with her at all?
She’s the only young woman in this group of guys, in an industry that’s mostly headed up by men, and in a movie that’s mostly led by men. It was a really cool opportunity to exercise a different way of being in that kind of environment. She’s kind of the unfiltered and disconnected, doesn’t-care-how-she’s-perceived version of me, and that was really cathartic to play.

Isabela listened to punk music to get in the mindset to play Hawkgirl.

(Jason Roman)

Because you also have a music background, I’m curious about whether you use music as a tool to get into character?
Oh, yeah, definitely. Every character I play, I make a playlist of songs that remind me of them, and I’ll play them before I go to film. With Hawkgirl it was a lot of punk music that I was discovering, with all these really strong singers. Then there were songs that Bella [Ramsey] and I really loved by Adrianne Lenker that informed our experience a lot as Dina and Ellie [in “The Last of Us”]. There was some ‘80s music in there too, maybe some early 2000s, but in general, just really soft, sweet, romantic songs.

You’re releasing a salsa remix of your 2020 single, “Apocalipsis,” with Tony Succar. How did that come about?
I mean, “remix” almost feels like an understatement because it feels like a completely different song. That’s thanks to Tony, who’s the first Peruvian to win a Grammy. He came to me with this opportunity four years ago, and we recorded the song, but I was signed to a label and we weren’t able to release it. Now that I’m free and independent, and he won his Grammy, he wanted to put it on his EP, and I was like, “Hell yeah, let’s do it.” He gave me the freedom to do the video for it, and I’m really happy with how it turned out. I got to dance for it, and I learned all the choreography in an hour and a half. It was crazy, but I’m really excited for people to see it.

How would you describe your music taste? And how does it connect to the type of music you want to make?
It’s hard to pin down. If I’m looking at my most recents, it’s Hermanos Gutiérrez. But it’s also Dick Gaughan, Big Thief, Los Mirlos, which is a Peruvian band, and the Andrew Oldham Orchestra. There’s no through line there other than good music. I already have a lot going on with acting, so if music could stay something fun and light for me, and not so disciplined, I think that would be nice.

Is there a musical or an idea for a musical that would get you excited about returning to Broadway?
Have they done a Selena musical? No, I think I would have remembered that. But that would be cool, getting to dance on stage. It would be like a concert-slash-musical theater experience, kind of like what they did with Gloria Estefan’s “On Your Feet!” If it was made by the right people with respect to her life and her legacy, I think that could be dope.

But honestly, if I were to do something on Broadway, I would love for it to be an original composition. I’m currently working on one right now. I’m producing it, and also going to be in it. Things are moving along really well, and it’s another project with friends. I think we have to take more bold chances when it comes to Broadway, because everyone’s trying to reach a younger audience — but I think the most efficient way of doing that is by allowing the younger audience to bring their stories forward and tell them.

You’ve mentioned that you’re getting into producing. What kind of projects do you have in the works right now?
I’m producing one movie that’s shooting in September called “Psyche.” I’m really excited about it. We have Latina director, and also the project I’m supposed to do next after that is going to be directed by a Peruvian woman. So there’s some really, really cool s— that I’ve been trying to do, where I’ll have more creative control and freedom — but also a lower budget, so, you know, roughing [it] compared to what I’ve been doing the last few years. But I’m excited to get to the root of why I love to do this and feel it fully.

Your career is so interesting because it’s just getting started, and yet, it’s not the kind of career that many Latino actors have historically been able to achieve so early on. How do you process that?
I’m in an interesting position because I think Hollywood is really comfortable picking Latino actors who are sort of white-forward or mixed before they’re willing to cast Indigenous people. And look, I’ll take anything I can get, because, girl, I’m just trying to work in this economy. [Laughs]

But I think being aware of that is really important because when I go off and do my own projects, and have the power, I can hire people that look more like the people that I grew up with, or that look like my family. But it doesn’t always happen that way. Financing is hard to get, and when you’re trying to bring people on, they want someone who’s already known, and Hollywood just hasn’t given many of those opportunities to people of certain skin colors.

Because you’ve grown up in this industry, I’m curious what your experience has been like learning to speak up for and advocate for yourself?
Something I’ve learned is that there’s always a power struggle going on, whether that’s on a personal level, or on a bigger level, or even socially. I think we’re constantly fighting for power. And because of that, we can become very defensive. So I think the biggest challenge for me wasn’t necessarily what I went through, but how I reacted to it: by choosing to keep an open heart and still love freely and trust in people because of how I was raised. I think we all have a choice to make when we’re harmed, and that’s to either close up and harm others, or to keep going. It sucks, but I won’t let that dictate the way I move through life.

Universal Music Group Chief Executive Lucian Grainge called Drake’s lawsuit over Kendrick Lamar’s hit diss track “Not Like Us” a “farcical” effort that’s “groundless and indeed ridiculous.”

In a declaration letter filed Thursday night in the Southern District of New York, Grainge said that Drake’s accusation that UMG (the parent label firm to both Drake and Lamar) defamed him and damaged his career “makes no sense due to the fact that the company that I run, Universal Music Group N.V., has invested hundreds of millions of dollars in Drake, including longstanding and critical financial support for his recording career, the purchase and ownership of the bulk of his recording catalog, and the purchase of his music publishing rights.”

Drake signed a new deal with UMG label Republic in 2022 for a reported $400 million, and he’s one of the bestselling artists of the last 20 years. Yet Interscope artist Lamar’s scathing “Not Like Us” famously capped a venomous battle between the two artists, which resulted in a pair of Grammy wins for Lamar, who performed the song at the Super Bowl halftime show.

Drake’s attorneys, in discovery, have recently tried to obtain UMG’s contract with Lamar and information about his personal life (Drake accused Lamar of beating his partner in the song “Family Matters”). Drake has accused UMG of both defamation and running a clandestine campaign to boost “Not Like Us” at the expense of his own reputation and career.

A notably exasperated Grainge wrote to the court that “Given my role, I am accustomed (and unfortunately largely resigned) to personal attacks, and I further recognize that a frequent strategy of UMG’s litigation opponents is to attempt to waste my and UMG’s time and resources with discovery of the sort that Drake is seeking here — either in an attempt to gain media attention or in an effort to force some kind of commercial renegotiation or financial concessions.”

Grainge also denied having any personal involvement in the rollout or marketing for “Not Like Us.”

“Whilst, as part of my role, I certainly have financial oversight of and responsibility for UMG’s global businesses,” he said, “the proposition that I was involved in, much less responsible for, reviewing and approving the content of ‘Not Like Us,’ its cover art or music video, or for determining or directing the promotion of those materials, is groundless and indeed ridiculous.”

In a separate letter to the court, UMG said that “The premise of Drake’s motion — that he could not have lost a rap battle unless it was the product of some imagined secret conspiracy going to the top of UMG’s corporate structure — is absurd.”

Snoopy is the superstar of the “Peanuts” world, but Ben Folds is loyal to Charlie Brown. “I’m going to have to go with Chuck because he’s so emotionally compressed,” the singer-songwriter said when asked for a favorite.

Folds didn’t grow up poring over the Charles M. Schulz comics or memorizing the TV specials — “I can’t think of anything I really was a fan of outside of music” — but he loved Vince Guaraldi’s music for the animated specials.

He started studying Charlie Brown and the gang when he was hired to write the title song for “It’s the Small Things, Charlie Brown,” sung by Charlie’s sister Sally in the 2022 Apple TV special. And he recently dove back into the world of these iconic characters when he returned to write the final three songs for “Snoopy Presents: A Summer Musical.”

“I think it’s good that I came to fully appreciate the world of ‘Peanuts’ as an adult,” says Folds, although he adds that he was still starstruck about writing for Charlie Brown. “It’s a lot of responsibility,” he says. “I was asking the Schulz family, ‘Can I say this?’ and they’d say, ‘Yes, it’s yours.’”

Ben Folds performs in concert during the “Paper Airplane Request Tour” at ACL Live at The Moody Theatre on December 11, 2024 in Austin, Tx.

(Rick Kern / Getty Images)

Folds’ best-known songs, such as “Brick,” “Song for the Dumped,” “Army,” “Rockin’ the Suburbs” and “Zak and Sara,” may seem too sardonic or dark for the sweet world of Snoopy and company. But he sees it differently.

“There’s a lot of deep stuff there. ‘Peanuts,’ like ‘Mister Rogers,’ presents an empathetic and nuanced, not dumbed-down view of the world, and that is rare for kids programming,” he says. “I was able to say stuff in my songs that kids will understand but that will go over the heads of many adults.”

He also knows how to approach the storytelling aspect of musical writing pragmatically.

Within the show’s parameters, Folds is grateful to the creators for giving him his artistic freedom. “They give me carte blanche and don’t push back” Folds says, adding that when he puts in poetic imagery — ”I’m not calling myself f—ing Keats or anything,” he adds as an aside — director Erik Wiese would weave those ideas into the animation. “That’s really cool to see.”

“My ambition is to have them tell me that my lyrics meant they could delete pages of script,” he adds. “That’s what these songs are for.”

Wiese says Folds was the ideal person to “take the mantle” from Guaraldi: “He brings a modern thing and his lyrics are so poetic; on his albums he always touches your heart.”

Writer and executive producer Craig Schulz, who is Charles’ son, was impressed by both Folds’ songwriting and the responsibility the musician felt to the “Peanuts” brand. “He has a unique ability to really get into what each of the gang is thinking and drive the audience in the direction we want to,” says Schulz, adding that there was one day where the writers got on the phone with Folds to explain the emotions they needed a scene to convey “and suddenly he says, ‘I got it, I’m super-excited’ and then he hangs up and runs to the piano and cranks it out.”

The first song Folds wrote for “A Summer Musical” was when Charlie Brown realizes that the camp he holds dear “is going to get mown over in the name of progress. I wanted him to have the wisdom of his 60-year-old self to go back to ‘when we were light as the clouds’ to let him understand the future,” he says. So it’s a poignant song even as he’s writing about Charlie Brown looking through “old pictures of people he met five days ago. That’s the way kids are — they’re taking in a whole world and learning a lot in five days.”

(He did not write the show’s first two songs, though you’ll hear plenty of Folds-esque piano and melody in them because, Wiese says, “We wanted it to sound cohesive.”)

In the final song, Folds’ lyrics celebrate the saving of the camp (yeah, spoiler alert, but it’s “Peanuts,” so you know the ending will be happy), but he laces in the idea that these children are inheriting a lot of bad things from older generations, including climate change. But it’s not cynical, instead adding an understanding that their parents did the best they could (with a “Hello Mother, Hello Father” reference thrown in for the old-timers) and that this new generation will do the best they can and make their own mistakes.

Franklin, Marcie, Peppermint Patty, Charlie Brown, Snoopy, Woodstock and Sally in “Snoopy Presents: A Summer Musical.”

(Apple TV+)

Folds says it’s important for people in the arts and on the left to bring a realistic view but not to become doomsayers.

“I see how bad it could get, but there are two stories you can always tell that might be true — one way to talk about climate change will leave people saying, ‘We’re screwed anyway so I’ll just drink out of plastic bottles and toss them in the garbage,’ but the other way is to motivate people, to tell a story that shows an aspiration towards the future.”

That does not mean, of course, that Folds is blind to the perils of the moment. He stepped down as the National Symphony Orchestra’s artistic advisor at the Kennedy Center to protest Donald Trump’s power play there.

“I couldn’t be a pawn in that,” he says. “Was I supposed to call my homies like Sara Bareilles and say, ‘Hey, do you want to come play here?’” But he’s focusing on the positive, noting that he’s now working with other symphony orchestras with that free time.

Folds has recently also tried countering the turmoil of our current era: Last year he released his first Christmas album, “Sleigher,” and his 2023 album “What Matters Most” opens with “But Wait, There’s More,” which offers political commentary but then talks about believing in the good of humankind, and closes with the uplifting “Moments.”

And obviously, Folds knows that a show that stars a beagle and a small yellow bird that defies classification is not the right place to get bogged down in the issues of the day. Even when the lyrics dip into melancholy waters, they find a positive place to land.

“In this era I don’t want the art that passes through my world to not have some semblance of hope,” he says.

At a time when most of their peers have retired, threatened to call it quits or died, the Beach Boys continue to perform 120 shows per year. Led by original singer Mike Love and longtime multi-instrumentalist Bruce Johnston, this version of the Beach Boys performs the sounds of Southern California to three generations of fans, something which isn’t lost on Love.

“The positivity that our music generates, and the good vibes and good feelings, is a wonderful thing to see,” Love says. “It’s an inspiration to me to see kids with their parents or their grandparents at our shows.”

This weekend, the Beach Boys return to Long Beach for the first time in nearly 15 years to the day, when they performed at Harry Bridges Memorial Park. As Love recalls, the band played one of its first shows in the city at the Long Beach Municipal Auditorium on New Year’s Eve 1961.

“That first concert we were paid for as the Beach Boys at the Long Beach Municipal Auditorium for the Ritchie Valens Memorial Dance,” he recalls. “We played three songs and got $300, but also on that show was Ike Turner and Kings of Rhythm. We got to hear Tina Turner sing this song called ‘I’m Blue.’ It was primordial and blew my mind.”

Thousands of shows later, the Beach Boys continue to have a receptive audience who will gladly see them perform the hits of yesteryear. Love has no issue leaning into the band’s 1960s heyday. In fact, he sees it as his duty to spread “peace and love” through the Beach Boys’ concerts.

Chatting hours before he departed his Lake Tahoe, Calif., home to fly to Southern California for the band’s latest string of shows, Love reflected on nearly 65 years of the Beach Boys, feeling like he finally got his due by being inducted into the Songwriters Hall of Fame, why he’s looking forward to the decidedly un-Beach Boys crowd at Riot Fest, and honoring his late cousin Brian Wilson.

Mike Love

(Udo Spreitzenbarth)

How did it feel to be inducted into the Songwriters Hall of Fame?

Better late than never, but it was a great honor. It meant a lot because I wasn’t recognized for my contribution to so many of the Beach Boys’ hits over the years. So, the recognition is a good thing. There are various reasons I wasn’t recognized for it. My uncle [Beach Boys original manager] Murry [Wilson], didn’t put my contribution of the lyrics. “I Get Around,” “Help Me, Rhonda,” “Be True to Your School,” a lot of great songs that I wasn’t credited for. We fired my uncle as manager to get even for me, and he excluded me when he handled the publishing. We didn’t know what publishing was when we started in 1961. We were unsophisticated regarding the business end of it, and we just loved creating music. We loved harmonizing. That was a family tradition that morphed into a long-lasting profession because my cousin Brian and I got together and wrote some songs that people still love to this day.

What is it about the songs that continue to bring people together at a time when people can hardly agree on anything?

The harmonies and the positivity go a long way towards eliminating the negativity. In “Good Vibrations,” I wrote every word of it. I even came up with (sings) “I’m thinking of good vibrations / She gave me excitations” with the chorus melody as well as all the lyrics. But that was written in 1966. The Vietnam War was percolating, and there were student demonstrations. There were problems with integration, and stuff like that made the news. But I wanted to write “Good Vibrations.” I wanted to write this song. I wrote a poem about a girl who loved nature. She was only into the peace, love and flower power, which was also going on at that time. The juxtaposition of the negative and the positive is pretty amazing. It turns out there’s a psychologist in Sheffield, England, who wanted to find out which songs made people feel the best. And our song “Good Vibrations” came in at No. 1, which is unbelievable. In 1966, when it went to No. 1 in England, we were voted the No. 1 group in Great Britain, with No. 2 being the Beatles. Incredible. That was a pretty amazing achievement.

You’ve been joined on stage by the likes of Mark McGrath and Dexter Holland from the Offspring. What does that say to you about the longevity of what the songs have meant?

Dexter sounded amazing on it! He is a really good singer, obviously, but he wanted to do “Wouldn’t It Be Nice,” and so we rehearsed backstage [at Oceans Calling Festival in Maryland last September], ran through it about once or twice, and came out on stage in front of 40,000 people, and it was pretty amazing! Mark McGrath is just the most positive and fun guy ever. We have the same birthday, so he’s a few years younger than I am (laughs).

And of course, John Stamos, who inducted you into the Songwriters Hall of Fame.

He’s been with us since he was Blackie on “General Hospital.” At this point, he is pretty much an honorary Beach Boy and family.

In the days after Brian’s death, the clip of the band appearing on “Full House” made the rounds on Instagram. What’s it like to remember that when both Brian and Carl were there and you appeared on that show?

John Stamos likes to say that we need this music more than ever now because of so much negativity in the world, and I agree. When I was writing, I accentuated the positive with the harmonies, giving that warm feeling, and the subject matter being fun at times. We’d maybe been a little introspective on “God Only Knows,” maybe “In My Room,” and “The Warmth of the Sun.” The upbeat songs are all fun, positive, and make people feel good. We were just in Spain, and we had standing ovations every night. It was amazing.

What’s wild is seeing the Beach Boys appear on the historically punk festival Riot Fest. Are you familiar with it?

Yeah! We were invited to do it a year ago, but we are doing it this year. Our songs go over well with every demographic and all kinds of people. It doesn’t matter what the format of this is. We’ve done very well with some country festivals, enormously well. It doesn’t matter what the genre of the festival appeals to. We played Stagecoach last year, and there were 70 or 80,000 people at our set. Singing along and dancing around, so we had a great time at that one.

Who are you looking forward to seeing at Riot Fest?

Who is on it other than us?

On your day, it is Weezer performing the Blue Album, Jack White, a reconfigured version of the Sex Pistols, Dropkick Murphys, All Time Low, James …

Weezer! They did “California Girls” on a tribute show that aired on Easter Sunday a few years ago. There’s a lot more guitar in that particular version (laughs). Maybe one of those guys will come and sing with us. What happens at those things is that you’re with a lot of people you don’t ordinarily see, and people like to do unique things.

Do you think the Beach Boys would be considered a punk band, if that was a term, in 1961?

If you listen to some of our songs, like “Surfin’ Safari,” “Catch a Wave” and “Hawaii,” there’s a lot of tempo there. I think those songs appeal to all kinds of genres.

Does returning to Long Beach, near where you all grew up, carry more weight with the loss of Brian?

Well, we have a tribute song called “Brian’s Back” that I wrote many, many years ago. So, back when that was released (in 1976 as part of “15 Big Ones”), we did a video tribute to Brian that we play every night at our concerts, which people love and appreciate. He may have passed on, but he’s always with us every night in the music.

Elton John said that the “Pet Sounds” album would be the one album that would be played forever, which is an amazing accolade,” Love said. “So those songs are pretty much immortal to some degree. So if somebody is capable of replicating them as closely as possible for the record, then great.”

(Udo Spreitzenbarth)

Do you see the Beach Boys continuing to tour in name after you and Bruce are done?

I’m not sure. We haven’t given that a whole lot of thought because we’re very active these days with this configuration. Elton John said that the “Pet Sounds” album would be the one album that would be played forever, which is an amazing accolade. So those songs are pretty much immortal to some degree. So if somebody is capable of replicating them as closely as possible for the record, then great.

But the problem is that mortality is an issue, of course. So, at some point in time, nature will take over and say, “OK, you’re out of here, huh?” But in the meantime, I think we’ve got a good several years to go.

What do people misunderstand about your and Brian’s relationship?

Well, there’s a lot of misinformation given out over this early part of our careers that says I didn’t like the “Pet Sounds” album, which is bull—, because I actually named it and Brian brought it to Capitol Records, who didn’t know what to do with it. If you listen to the tracks of “Pet Sounds,” you say, “How the heck did he ever do that with the greatest musicians in L.A., the Wrecking Crew?” My cousin Brian did some amazing stuff that’ll stand the test of time, if Elton John is right, forever. It’s a true blessing to be able to do what started as a family hobby and became a long-lasting profession.

Is “That’s Why God Made the Radio” the last Beach Boys album, or do you all have one more left in you?

Anything’s possible. We don’t have immediate plans, but I do think of that kind of thing from time to time.

The accordionist commands the stage, his eyes staring off as if in a trance, his fingers trilling out the opening notes of a tune. It’s a long, sinuous riff, one so intoxicating that the audience in front of him can’t help but to two-step across the crowded dance floor.

He and his singing partner unfurl a sad story that seemingly clashes with the rhythms that back it. An undocumented immigrant has arrived in San Antonio from Laredo to marry his girlfriend, Chencha. But the lights on his car aren’t working and he has no driver’s license, so the cops throw him in jail. Upon being released, the song’s protagonist finds a fate worse than deportation: His beloved is now dating the white guy who issues driver’s licenses.

“Those gabachos are abusive,” the singer-accordionist sighs in Spanish in his closing line. “I lost my car, and they took away my Chencha.”

The above scene is from “Chulas Fronteras,” a 1976 documentary about life on the United States-Mexico border and the accordion-driven conjuntos that served as the soundtrack to the region. The song is “Un Mojado Sin Licencia” — “A Wetback Without a License.” The musician is Tex-Mex legend Flaco Jiménez, who died last week at 86.

Born in San Antonio, the son and grandson of accordionists became famous as the face of Tex-Mex music and as a favorite session player whenever rock and country gods needed some borderlands flair. He appeared alongside everyone from the Rolling Stones to Bob Dylan, Buck Owens and Dwight Yoakam on “The Streets of Bakersfield” to Willie Nelson for a rousing version of “Blue Eyes Crying in the Rain.” With Doug Sahm, Augie Meyers and fellow Tejano chingón Freddy Fender, Jiménez formed the Texas Tornadoes, whose oeuvre blasts at every third-rate barbecue joint from the Texas Hill Country to Southern California.

Jiménez was a titan of American music, something his obits understood. One important thing they missed, however, was his politics.

He unleashed his Hohner accordion not just at concerts but for benefits ranging from student scholarships to the successful campaign of L.A. County Superior Court Judge David B. Finkel to Lawyers’ Committee, a nonprofit formed during the civil rights era to combat structural racism in the American legal system. Jiménez and the Texas Tornadoes performed at Bill Clinton’s 1992 inauguration ball; “Chulas Fronteras,” captured Jiménez as the headliner at a fundraiser for John Treviño Jr., who would go on to become Austin’s first Mexican American council member.

It’s a testament to Jiménez’s heart and humor that the song he performed for it was “Un Mojado Sin Licencia,” which remains one of my favorite film concert appearances, an ideal all Latino musicians should aspire to during this long deportation summer.

The title is impolite but reflected the times: Some undocumented immigrants in the 1970s wore mojado not as a slur but a badge of honor (to this day, that’s what my dad proudly calls himself even though he became a U.S. citizen decades ago). Jiménez’s mastery of the squeezebox, his fingers speeding up and down the rows of button notes for each solo like a reporter on deadline, is as complex and gripping as any Clapton or Prince guitar showcase.

What was most thrilling about Jiménez’s performance, however, was how he refused to lose himself to the pathos of illegal immigration, something too many people understandably do. “Un Mojado Sin Licencia,” which Jiménez originally recorded in 1964, is no dirge but rather a rollicking revolt against American xenophobia.

The cameraman captures his gold teeth gleaming as Jiménez grins throughout his thrilling three minutes. He’s happy because he has to be: the American government can rob Mexicans of a better life, “Un Mojado Sin Licencia” implicitly argues, but it’s truly over when they take away our joy.

“Un Mojado Sin Licencia” is in the same jaunty vein as other Mexican classics about illegal immigration such as Vicente Fernández’s “Los Mandados,” “El Corrido de Los Mojados” by Los Alegres de Terán and “El Muro” by rock en español dinosaurs El Tri. There is no pity for undocumented immigrants in any of those tracks, only pride at their resilience and glee in how la migra can never truly defeat them. In “Los Mandados,” Fernández sings of how la migra beats up an immigrant who summarily sues them; “El Corrido de Los Mojados” plainly asks Americans, “If the mojados were to disappear/Who would you depend on?”

Even more defiant is “El Muro,” which starts as an overwrought metal anthem but reveals that its hero not only came into the United States, he used the titular border wall as a toilet (trust me, it sounds far funnier in the Mexico City lingo of gravelly lead singer Alex Lora). These songs tap into the bottomless well that Mexicans have for gallows humor. And their authors knew what satirists from Charlie Chaplin to Stephen Colbert knew: When life throws tyranny at you, you have to scoff and push back.

There are great somber songs about illegal immigration, from La Santa Cecilia’s haunting bossa nova “El Hielo (ICE)” to Woody Guthrie’s “Deportee (Plane Wreck at Los Gatos),” which has been recorded by everyone from the Byrds to Dolly Parton to Jiménez when he was a member of Los Super Seven. But the ones people hum are the funny ones, the ones you can polka or waltz or mosh to, the ones that pep you up. In the face of terror, you need to sway and smile to take a break from the weeping and the gnashing of teeth that’s the rest of the day.

I saw “Chulas Fronteras” as a college student fighting anti-immigrant goons in Orange County and immediately loved the film but especially “Un Mojado Sin Licencia.” Too many of my fellow travelers back then felt that to party even for a song was to betray the revolution. Thankfully, that’s not the thinking among pro-immigrant activists these days, who have incorporated music and dancing into their strategy as much as lawsuits and neighborhood patrols.

The sidewalks outside the Metropolitan Detention Center in downtown L.A., where hundreds of immigrants are detained in conditions better suited for a decrepit dog pound, have transformed into a makeshift concert hall that has hosted classical Arabic musicians and Los Jornaleros del Norte, the house band of the National Day Laborer Organizing Network. Down the 5 Freeway, the OC Rapid Response Network holds regular fundraisers in bars around downtown Santa Ana featuring everything from rockabilly quartets to female DJs spinning cumbias. While some music festivals have been canceled or postponed for fear of migra raids, others have gone on as planned lest ICE win.

Musicians like Pepe Aguilar, who dropped a treacly cover of Calibre 50’s “Corrido de Juanito” a few weeks ago, are rushing to meet the moment with benefit concerts and pledges to support nonprofits. That’s great, but I urge them to keep “Un Mojado Sin Licencia” on a loop as they’re jotting down lyrics or laying down beats. There’s enough sadness in the fight against la migra. Be like Flaco: Make us laugh. Make us dance. Keep us from slipping into the abyss. Give us hope.

What do Dead Kennedys’ Jello Biafra, Thurston Moore of Sonic Youth and Motley Crüe bassist Nikki Sixx have in common? They all dig Frankie and the Witch Fingers, an L.A.-based band whose irresistible garagey-psychedelic rock sometimes even invokes shades of Oingo Boingo and Devo thanks to a staccato freneticism and pointed lyrics. The diversity of FATWF’s peer-fans speak to the quintet’s wide-ranging appeal, and the title of their new 11-song album, “Trash Classic,” is a spot-on descriptor of the LP as a whole.

In their longtime rehearsal-recording room in a legendary Vernon warehouse, the band perch on a couch a few days before leaving for tour. There’s a whiteboard with a set list behind the sofa, and they share some “mood board” phrases written for the creation of “Trash Classic.” On posterboard, the bon mots include “Lord Forgive Us For Our Synths,” “Jello -B.Y.O.F. (Bring Your Own Fork) – Ra” and “Weenus.” Laughter ensues at the memories.

The lineup formed with Dylan Sizemore (lead vocals, rhythm guitar) and Josh Menashe (lead guitar, backing vocals, synthesizer) more than a decade ago, the pair meeting at college in Bloomington, Ind. In different bands, they’d seen each other’s gigs and run into each other at parties.

“I was just bored one day, and was like, ‘I wonder if this guy wants to jam.’ I had all these songs,” recalls Sizemore. “I just kind of showed up to his house, and I knew he was really good at guitar and really good at music in general.”

Josh Menashe, from left, Dylan Sizemore, Nicole “Nikki Pickle” Smith, Jon Modaff and Nick Aguilar, of the Los Angeles psych-rock band Frankie and the Witch Fingers get into character in their rehearsal space in Vernon on July 11, 2025.

(Genaro Molina / Los Angeles Times)

The San Diego-raised Menashe recalls, “I think by the time I met Dylan, I’d already dropped out [of college], though, and there were day jobs — at a screen-printing shop, I worked at a Turkish restaurant; whatever I could do to keep my music addiction going. I never really settled on a major because I just couldn’t think about what I wanted to do. Nothing made as much sense as music.”

Sizemore had been dabbling in music that was “power-pop-y, kind of like Tom Petty worship …”

“… he was in a band called Dead Beach,” Menashe adds, “and I would say it was garage rock, almost like Nirvana meets Tom Petty.”

“And Josh was in a more like surf rock, almost like mathy band. What would you describe [the band] Women as?” Sizemore asks.

“Angular, punky, buncha noise stuff,” affirms Menashe, who also played with acclaimed Bloomington-to-L.A. band Triptides starting in 2010.

In FATWF (the name comes from Sizemore’s cat Frankie) the pair’s experience and influences were varied enough to create something new that, over seven albums since 2013, has morphed into a wildly creative and raucous band with hooks, melodies, smarts, irreverence, loud guitars and wonderfully oddball synth and sounds.

A move to L.A. in 2014 and eventual changes in the rhythm section — Nikki Pickles (Nicole Smith), formerly of Death Valley Girls, joining in 2019; with drummer Nick Aguilar’s 2022 addition solidifying the band further. Jon Modaff, a multi-instrumentalist from Kentucky who played drums on tour with FATWF in 2021, joined on synth in 2024, giving the band an even broader sonic palette to realize their sometimes-oddball audio dreams.

“Trash Classic,” produced by Maryam Qudus (Tune-Yards, Alanis Morissette, Kronos Quartet) follows 2023’s “Data Doom,” which was the first album to feature Aguilar on drums. Songs are by turns epic, edgy, spacey and insistent. Some “Trash Classic” lyrics are topical and pointed: “(While the upper) class is feeding / (On the lower) babies’ food / (Microwaving) TV dinners / (With the porno) graphic news.” “Economy” minces no words: “This has got to be / The best economy / The plasma you sell / (The plasma you sell) / Buys money to eat.”

There was no grand plan or lyrical theme settled ahead of the new album’s creation. “We collectively talk about what’s going on in the world when we’re in rehearsal and stuff, and our feelings about it,” says Sizemore. “I think it’s just at a point now where talking about certain things just feels more — what’s the word? — it feels more part of the zeitgeist. Like ‘Economy,’ I wanted to write about being around abject poverty. But it makes more sense now, it fits into the context of where we are. Things that we talk about in here, about what’s going on, maybe weren’t so omnipresent, and now it feels like it is. Like, you can’t escape poverty. You can’t escape what’s happening to people less fortunate than you. It’s everywhere.”

In writing the lyrics, Sizemore thought about growing up, “seeing people trade in their food stamps to get alcohol because they’re addicted. Messy stuff like that. But it’s relevant now, it’s not just parts of the world. It’s gonna be everywhere if we don’t do something about it.”

Lyrics, while Sizemore-centric, are a collaborative process. Pickle, however, who came to bass in her 20s, says, “I just am happy to be along for the ride, and I’ll contribute where it’s helpful. I like to sit back; I guess I don’t feel qualified as a songwriter.” But, she says, “honestly, I think that that’s a helpful way to be, because if you have too many people with egos on top of each other, like, ‘no, no, no, do it my way.’ I like to listen and then insert where I can. That’s my vibe.”

Differing approaches and backgrounds serve FATWF well. Because of their “cohesive diversity and flexibility in the rock realm,” Aguilar observes, “I feel like we could play with almost anybody. At least a rock band, to any extent.”

While they’re mostly doing headlining tours, they’ve shared stages with Cheap Trick and ZZ Top. So where would FATWF overlap with the two elder statesmen classic rock lineups on the musical spectrum?

“I mean, we were really into the [13th Floor] Elevators, and…” Sizemore says.

“The Velvet Underground…” adds Pickle.

“…Roky Erickson, all that stuff. I think we tried to, like, gear our set more in that direction, just so we weren’t fully playing freaky, noisy funk stuff,” Sizemore continues. “But there’s an overlap, for sure. If we play in Atlanta or something, we’ll get someone saying, ‘Oh, the first time I saw you guys was with ZZ Top’ and that’s always cool.”

“We collectively talk about what’s going on in the world when we’re in rehearsal and stuff, and our feelings about it,” says Sizemore. “I think it’s just at a point now where talking about certain things just feels more — what’s the word? — it feels more part of the zeitgeist.”

(Genaro Molina / Los Angeles Times)

Most of Frankie’s members cite the DIY scenes in their areas as influential: Aguilar is from San Pedro and began drumming at the age of 10. He eventually played with that neighborhood’s most famous musician: bassist Mike Watt, and growing up, “discovered I don’t need to go to the Staples Center or Irvine Meadows to see a band. I could just go, like, 10 blocks away from my home on my bike to house shows,” he says, adding, “if there wasn’t the music scene in San Pedro, I probably wouldn’t be in this band. I’d probably be playing at the Whisky with some s— metal band that nobody cares about.”

An increasing number of people are caring about FATWF; Jello Biafra even joining them on stage. At a gig in Biafra’s hometown of Boulder, Colo., the punk provocateur met the band after their show. The next night, the singer showed up in Fort Collins.

“We have a lot of mutual friends,” explains Aguilar. “I work at Alex’s Bar in Long Beach. So I met him there a long time ago. He said he was gonna come see us at our Halloween show in San Francisco. I was like, ‘How would you feel if we learned some DK songs and you sang with us for Halloween?’”

He answered in the affirmative, so Frankie and the Witch Fingers learned the Dead Kennedys’ “Halloween,” “Police Truck” and “Holiday in Cambodia.” Biafra rehearsed with the band at sound check, and for the holiday show FATWF dressed up as “bloody doctors.” As for Biafra? “He changed his outfit in between every song! He was throwing fake bloody organs at the audience. You could tell half of the audience knew who he was. And half was like, ‘Yo, who the hell is this?’”

“Talking about all this like ancient history makes me feel, ‘Oh yeah, we’ve kind of come a long way,’” Pickles ruminates. Aguilar states his somewhat modest hopes for the band: “I think my realistic goal is the headline the Fonda Theater one day.”

But if larger-scale fame and fortune find Frankie and the Witch Fingers, beware: Menashe claims he’d get a face tattoo if the band sells a million records. His promise is captured by the reporter’s recorder, officially “on the record,” the band teases him. But in true FATWF fashion, Sizemore pushes it one further: “You gotta get a teardrop too!”

For about two months when she was a kid, Jessie Murph wanted to go to Harvard.

“I watched ‘Legally Blonde,’ and I was like, ‘This is lit,’” the 20-year-old singer and songwriter says of the Reese Witherspoon law-school comedy that came out three years before she was born. But wait: Growing up in small-town Alabama, Murph was a talented and dedicated cheerleader. Does Harvard even have cheerleaders?

“They probably do,” she says, tilting her head as she considers the question. “I don’t know if it’s like the main thing, though. It’s true you don’t really hear about it. They have all the expensive sports: lacrosse, polo, horse riding.” She laughs. “Horse riding would be lit too.”

Whatever the case, Murph soon cast aside her Ivy League aspirations — not to mention her devotion to cheer, though that’s come back more recently — and refocused on her first love of music. Now, instead of preparing for sophomore year, she’s just released her second major-label album, “Sex Hysteria,” which includes the top 20 pop hit “Blue Strips” and which — true to the LP’s title — has set off a minor internet controversy with the racy music video for her song “1965.”

An Amy Winehouse-ish retro-soul number with a ringing malt-shop piano lick, “1965” is about longing for romance the way they did it in the old days: “We’d go to diners and movies and such,” Murph sings in her scratchy Southern drawl, “We’d just hold hands and I’d love every touch.” Elsewhere in the song, the nostalgia darkens as Murph acknowledges that “I might get a little slap-slap” from her man and that “I would be 20, and it’d be acceptable for you to be 40.” (“That is f— up, I know,” she adds of the age gap.)

The song’s NSFW video goes even further, with traces of pornography and suggestions of domestic violence that have invited criticism that Murph is advocating (or at least aestheticizing) a kind of tradwife oppression at a precarious moment for women’s rights. Murph addressed the blowback in a video on TikTok, where she has 11 million followers, writing, “This entire song is satire r yall stupid” — proof, perhaps, that her point didn’t quite land as she’d hoped.

Yet this week, “Sex Hysteria” debuted on Billboard’s album chart at No. 8, not long after Lana Del Rey — a key influence on Murph with a long history of online outrage — posted a video of herself pole dancing to “Blue Strips,” whose title refers to the security marking on a $100 bill that might be tossed at an exotic dancer. All the attention has combined to put Murph in the conversation for a best new artist nod at February’s Grammy Awards.

“Writing this album, I was in the studio every day for like six months straight,” she says on a recent afternoon near Venice Beach. “Didn’t go out, didn’t do anything — was just grinding.” We’re talking at the end of a long day of promo for “Sex Hysteria”; she’s wearing jeans and a Hysteric Glamour T-shirt, her inky-black hair hanging loose around her face. “But it’s so cool because you go in there with nothing and you make something out of thin air,” she says. “Then you get to listen to it, and it’s therapeutic for what you’re feeling.”

Though it opens with a track in which she attributes her becoming a songwriter to “my father and the f— up s— he did,” “Sex Hysteria” is a more playful record than last year’s “That Ain’t No Man That’s the Devil,” which Murph says exorcised “a lot of anger and hurt that I needed to get out, even just for myself, before I could move on to the next phase.” (A representative lyric from “Dirty”: “I woke up this morning kind of mad / Flipped the switch, I had the urge to beat your ass.”)

Here, in contrast, she’s singing about her interest in “whips and chains” in the sock-hoppy “Touch Me Like a Gangster” and bragging about the Malibu mansion she just bought in “Blue Strips” — a mansion, she clarifies, she does not actually own.

“Not yet,” she adds. “That line was just the first thing that came out of my mouth when I was writing the song. It feels so glittery, the thought of living in Malibu. It’s always been something I’ve wanted to do.” What shaped her ideas about the storied coastal enclave as a child in the Deep South? “I’m a really big fan of ‘Property Brothers’ — I’m sure I saw it on there.”

Murph moved to L.A. about a year and a half ago from Nashville, where she established a foothold in the music industry with collaborations like “Wild Ones,” a duet with Jelly Roll that has more than 300 million streams on Spotify, and “High Road,” a No. 1 country-radio hit by her and Koe Wetzel that led to a nomination for new female artist of the year at May’s ACM Awards.

“Sex Hysteria” dials down the explicit country trappings in favor of thumping bass lines and woozy trap beats; her guests on the album are Gucci Mane and Lil Baby. Yet the album demonstrates a certain stylistic blurriness that’s comes to define country music no less than any other genre in the streaming era.

“Whether it’s country or pop or whatever, I think Jessie Murph is just Jessie Murph,” says Bailey Zimmerman, the Nashville up-and-comer who teamed with Murph last year for the rootsy “Someone in This Room” and whose own music shares a casually hybridized quality with Murph’s. “It may not sound country, but what she’s talking about usually is.”

Like many in her generation, Murph found her voice posting covers of popular songs online. The oldest video on her YouTube is titled “11 year old sings titanium” and, sure enough, shows a young Murph squinting into the camera as she performs Sia and David Guetta’s 2011 stadium-rave jam. At 16, having built a following on Instagram and TikTok while in high school in Athens, Ala., she signed to Columbia Records and started releasing singles; by 2023 she’d dropped a mixtape called “Drowning” and recorded songs with Diplo and Maren Morris.

Jessie Murph

(Annie Noelker / For The Times)

For “Sex Hysteria,” she drew inspiration from Patsy Cline, Wanda Jackson and both Presleys — Elvis and Priscilla. Murph says her mother told her that when Jessie was 3, she came into the kitchen and announced that she’d been Elvis in a past life. Has Jessie been to Graceland?

“No, but my mom went there when she was pregnant with me,” she says, widening her kohl-rimmed eyes.

She titled the album in reference to the dismissive way women were described as “hysterical” in the 1950s and ’60s — “women who were depressed or anxious or just feeling normal emotions,” she says. Does she think women are more free to express themselves half a century later?

“I definitely feel free if I’m feeling some type of way — obviously I’m saying it in songs and not holding anything back. But I think everyone’s experience is very different. I’m sitting in a different spot than somebody three doors down is, you know? And different countries and different political settings — I’m sure it’s something that’s a problem in places.”

To a degree, the backlash to Murph’s “1965” has overlapped with the criticism Sabrina Carpenter drew when she revealed the cover of her upcoming “Man’s Best Friend” album, which depicts Carpenter kneeling before a man who’s pulling her hair.

“The weirdest part about it is that it’s a lot of women who are hating,” Murph says. “But I think some people are weirded out by my age. A lot of people met me when I was 16 or 17 and a much different person — which, thank God I’m a different person.” She sighs. “I don’t know. When people find you at a certain age, it’s like you need to be frozen in time. Let me live.”

This week, Murph launched a world tour behind “Sex Hysteria” that she previewed with a buzzy performance at April’s Coachella festival in which she brought some of her old cheerleading moves into the choreography she’s emphasizing for the first time. (She’ll circle back to Southern California for a Sept. 27 stop at the Shrine Expo Hall.)

“Certain things come naturally to me and certain things don’t,” she says. “The dance stuff is one of the things I’m grilling myself on.”

Another of her goals this year: spending less time on social media. “That s— is terrible for your mental health,” she says even as she admits that YouTube and TikTok have been crucial to her ascent. “I’m on World War III TikTok right now, where they’re talking about World War III. And I just keep scrolling, because now I’m nervous about World War III.

“I think it’s scary how young kids are getting phones,” she adds. “That YouTube video you brought up — I could have posted something crazy at that age, right? Even being 16 and having TikTok — I look back at some of the things I posted, and I’m like, Why would you post that, bro?”

This year promises to be one of the most exciting editions of the Latin Grammys.

As the Latin Recording Academy prepares to unveil the nominations for the award’s 26th edition on Sept. 17, the eligibility period — from June 1, 2024 to May 31, 2025 — includes a number of high-profile albums that not only contributed to the ongoing Latin music boom on a global level, but also pushed the movement forward with their radical choices and genre-defying sounds.

Now a vital part of the Latin pop DNA, the urbano genre continues to redefine and challenge itself, while the rootsy strains of música Mexicana have deservedly gained a privileged seat on the table like never before. The fields of folk, rock, electronica and tropical are still expanding, and artists such as Bad Bunny, Rauw Alejandro, Becky G, Fuerza Regida and Natalia Lafourcade are vying for awards with some of the most ambitious albums of their careers.

De Los assistant editor Suzy Exposito and contributing writer Ernesto Lechner discuss their predictions on the songs and albums that are most likely to be nominated. The following conversation has been edited for length.

Ernesto Lechner: This seems to be an easy year in terms of the two obvious candidates for Latin Gammy history. Bad Bunny’s “Debí Tirar Más Fotos” is the kind of album that defines not only the year it came out — 2025 — but also the entire decade. And Natalia Lafourcade’s mystically tinged “Cancionera” finds the perennial Grammy favorite at the apex of her craft. Going back to Benito’s masterpiece, its conceptual gravitas is almost grander than the songs themselves.

Suzy Exposito: I’m really gunning for Album of the Year for this one. The amount of thought and intention that he placed on this record. The cultural significance of the songs, not just in terms of the history of Puerto Rico, but the way in which he directly engages with the Caribbean diaspora at large through salsa.

E.L.: I love how lovingly he delves beyond salsa to also include plena. He goes back to Rafael Cortijo — the roots, the very essence of boricua culture. And the album has this Beatles-like quality where it’s incredibly commercial — a No. 1 record, the album that everybody is listening to — but there’s no compromise on the artistic front. It’s an ambitious, fully realized statement.

S.E.: Is any album by Benito just another Bad Bunny album? I don’t think he dabbles in filler the way other artists do.

E.L.: The photo of the plastic chairs on the cover could have been taken in the suburbs of Lima, or San Salvador, or Medellín. Benito makes such an inclusive, pan-Latin statement. Which brings me to nominate the title track, “Debí Tirar Mas Fotos,” as a perfect contender for Song of the Year.

S.E.: When I first heard it, I started to cry. It’s a very sentimental song. I was recently in Puerto Rico and went to a plena jam session. It was happening in the street, and you could see people of all ages playing together, singing traditional songs, drinks in hand. There was something really beautiful and timeless about that communal experience.

E.L.: A similar passion for music permeates Lafourcade’s “Cancionera.” Recorded live on analog tape, it has a pristine, wooden-floor kind of warmth. She embodies this mystical character, the cancionera, and it’s a very mature album. I love “Cocos en la Playa” — a frisky, beautiful tropical song that’s so lovely and authentic. For my money, it’s going to be a battle between those two albums in all the major categories.

S.E.: I feel that Natalia Lafourcade is the conservative choice at the Latin Gammys, and it feels bizarre to say it. This is a woman who was making pop-rock in the 2000s. She is a virtuosa, and a master of her craft, but her nomination is predictable because now she represents the gold standard for the Latin Academy.

E.L.: She’s definitely the safest choice between the two. Besides Benito and Natalia, there are a few albums that could very well appear in the major categories, and one of them is Cazzu’s “Latinaje.”

S.E.: That album is such a statement piece. I loved seeing Cazzu break away from the Latin trap sound that she defined and blending it with other things. She’s a great songwriter, and her transformation is fascinating. I think this is the year when many young people are going back to their roots, and then making something new out of it.

E.L.: I had a conversation with Cazzu a few months ago and told her that “Latinaje” made me feel vindicated. As a fellow Argentine, I’ve always felt that we’re an integral part of Latin America. She proved it with this beautiful love letter to so many essential genres. There’s salsa, merengue, South American folk, and “Dolce,” a gorgeous corrido tumbado about that infamous red dress that went viral. And she did it all so genuinely.

S.E.: It may be hard for her, because she came up as an MC. I wonder if the Latin Academy will know in what categories to place her, since this is such a multi-genre album. I mean, she’s an international girl.

E.L.: And of course, Rubén Blades has a new album out, and it’s beautiful as always. “Fotografías” is another sumptuous, big band salsa session. It combines new compositions with songs that Rubén had given to fellow Fania artists in the ‘70s, and now recorded them himself.

S.E.: That’s a great move on his part. “Hey, remember those songs? Yeah — I wrote them!” It sounds ridiculous to say that Rubén is another safe choice, but I can see him in all the big categories. Which brings me to another artist who made a salsa-influenced album: Rauw Alejandro and “Cosa Nuestra.”

E.L.: I love the Afro-Caribbean vibe on “Cosa Nuestra” and the silky duet with bachata star Romeo Santos on “Khé?” I feel this one has been overshadowed a little by Benito’s “Debí Tirar Más Fotos.” My favorite Rauw Alejandro album remains 2021’s “Vice Versa” with the awesome, ‘80s influenced mega-hit “Todo De Ti.”

S.E.: My favorite song on “Cosa Nuestra” is “Se Fue,” the duet with Laura Pausini, which is also like a moody ‘80s song. Raúl has made it a point to polish up his nostalgia for old forms of music. Michael Jackson is one of his most influential artists.

By the way, we should mention Fuerza Regida and their ninth studio album, “111XPANTIA.” They have never been nominated for a Latin Grammy, so I’m rooting for them because they have experimented in a really bold way. Their lead singer, Jesús Ortiz Paz, has shown a lot of intention behind his creative decisions beyond making the same corridos or mining from the same old ‘90s rappers. Their music is cheeky; sonically, it pushes boundaries.

E.L.: You’re never gonna have a bad time with this new wave of música Mexicana stars, considering the staggering melodic richness of their songs and the immediacy of the lyrics.

S.E.: On that note, I think it’s time for Ivan Cornejo to get a Latin Grammy nod for “Mirada” — the production has this ethereal quality that sounds so mature and progressive for the genre. I also want to applaud DannyLux for his ambitious “Leyenda,” which is a psychedelic take on sierreño music, à la George Harrison.

E.L.: What about Becky G? Last year I was asked to write about “Encuentros,” and I just had to surrender to the elegance of this pristine música Mexicana session. Her voice sounds huge on this record.

S.E.: I really hope they don’t silo her in the música Mexicana categories, because this is a very mature album for her. She grew up singing mariachi music with her family, so it’s a beautiful full circle moment for her.

E.L.: “Encuentros” would be a perfect Album of the Year candidate because it celebrates the music of her grandparents but at the same time transcends it. I love that Becky said she’s never looking back after recording her two traditional albums of rancheras and lush Mexican pop.

This brings me to a more general observation: I believe we’re experiencing an era of absolute splendor, and the Latin Grammys nominations are bound to reflect that. It’s like every single Latin American country has blossomed, wearing its most elegant clothes and throwing some amazing parties. The richness and breadth of the music being recorded throughout the continent is off the charts.

S.E.: I agree. Creatively, the last couple of years have been the most exciting for Latin music in a really long time. I think we’re going to remember the 2020s for the bold decade that it is.

Punk rock is not the first thing one might associate with a children’s puppet show. But on Sunday morning at the Ford Theater, L.A. punk pioneers Juanita y Juan and puppeteers from the Bob Baker Marionette Theater put local kids to the test.

After a morning spent crafting their own paper marionettes in the foyer, children marched towards the stage to revel in the weirdness of Juanita y Juan’s electro-cumbia guitar jams — a musical fusion they call “loud lounge.”

The duo was accompanied by vintage marionettes and their handlers, who played backup dancers in the shapes of jellyfish, cats and aliens. Families bounced and gently moshed along to the drum machine beats as “Juan,” also known as Kid Congo Powers, regaled them with a story about his hair catching on fire while playing a candlelit punk show with the Cramps.

And when a couple of rowdy kids started to climb onstage, bouncers swiftly intervened. “Oh, that’s very punk!” said “Juanita,” better known as Alice Bag.

(Evelina Gabrielle Perez / For De Los)

It was a familiar scenario for Bag and Powers. When the two first crossed paths in the 1970s — one being the front woman of the Bags, the other a guitarist in such bands as the Gun Club, the Cramps and later Pink Monkey Birds — they could hardly surmise how influential their scrappy community would become in its nascent years.

“We were all trying to create some kind of new subculture or protest against the bland music of the day,” said Kid in a Zoom call before the show. “We bonded under the flag of punk rock,” added Bag.

In the storied history of the Los Angeles punk scene, Chicanos were, and remain, permanent fixtures. But after predominantly white bands like Germs, X and the Go-Go’s were commemorated in countless books and documentaries as architects of the genre, Bag and Powers decided to start sharing their own perspectives as Mexican Americans who broke the mold.

First, they committed the stories of their lives to the page. In 2011, Alice Bag published a memoir titled “Violence Girl: East L.A. Rage to Hollywood Stage, a Chicana Punk Story,” and in 2022, Kid Congo Powers followed with “Some New Kind of Kick.”

But it was after collaborating on a song for the 2022 Peacock mystery series “The Resort” that their duo, Juanita y Juan, was born. They spoke to De Los about their salad days, their new album, “Jungle Cruise” and how young Latinos can navigate this time of upheaval in the U.S.

The following interview has been lightly edited for length and clarity.

(Evelina Gabrielle Perez / For De Los)

Tell me about your supergroup, Juanita y Juan. What sparked this idea for you?

Kid Congo Powers: Juanita and Juan are the alter egos of Alice and I. Our reference was Marty & Elayne, who were a cabaret covers act at the Dresden Room [in Los Feliz]. They got a huge following; they were in the movie “Swingers.” And the songs are fun.

We first reconnected as friends after Alice [released] her book, “Violence Girl.” Then we got asked to write a song for a [2022] TV show on Peacock called “The Resort.” Me and Alice are on the same label, In the Red Records, out of L.A. They asked for a song by “a beach lounge act,” and they wanted it to be in Spanish. We are both Mexican Americans, Chicanos, but I thought, “Alice is much more fluent in Spanish.” She was like, “Why don’t we try to do it as a duet?” And they liked that idea.

Alice Bag: With “The Resort,” we had a springboard of this “loud lounge” idea. But it morphed into several different things that were very much our personality, and very much not something we would normally do — exploring different rhythms, like Latin rhythms and tropical rhythms. I spent a month in Tucson, and we actually wrote and recorded songs [that became the album] “Jungle Cruise.”

So how did this puppet show come into play?

K.C.G.: The [Bob Baker] Marionette Theater heard our music and thought it would be appropriate for a kids’ punk thing.

A.B.: I have actually worked with Bob Baker’s Marionette Theater before. We did a video together for a song on my “Sister Dynamite” album, which was released in 2020. Also, I’m a former teacher. I used to take my classes to the old theater, so I have a very warm association with childhood and how enchanted kids are when they see a puppet show.

(Evelina Gabrielle Perez/For De Los)

You both are really inspiring to me as Latinos who helped shape punk in its very early days. Learning about you and other Latin punks like Jeffrey Lee Pierce (The Gun Club) was affirming to me as a young Latina and punk. How did you two connect over your Mexican American experience?

A.B.: There were a lot of Latinos in the early punk scene. Not just Kid and I, but like, Trudie Arguelles, who was the face of L.A. punk.

K.C.P.: Yeah, she was the it girl.

A.B.: And Margot Olavarria, who was the original bassist for the Go-Go’s, was a big shot in the scene. Tito Larriva, who formed the Plugs. Robert Lopez, Hector Penalosa, all the Zeros! There were a lot of Latinos around. But I think one of the things that happened is — I’m Alice Bag, although Bag is not my last name. Our last names got lost, and people just thought of the band names as our family names, like the Ramones! We banded under the flag of punk rock.

Our ethnicity was present, but it wasn’t always the first thing that you noticed about us because of how we dressed. People did not know what punk was. They would make comments like, “Is the circus in town? Are these people in a gang? Are they they gonna beat us up?” So we bonded, and we had to hang out together as self-defense. We were the weirdos.

Alice, in your memoir (“Violence Girl”) you spoke about the tension between the Mexican cultural mores that you grew up with and what you were creating anew with punk.

A.B.: I think people got the wrong idea about me very early on because they knew I was from East L.A. I grew up around gang culture and learned to stick up for myself, so people thought I was scary. Even Kid Congo Powers said I was scary.

Did you think she was scary?

K.C.P.: I thought she was intense. Anything could happen when Alice Bag got on stage. And that was what drew me to her and the band. There was a menace to them, something volatile. This could be a riot, or it could be an orgy.

And Kid knows chaos very well. You held your own in bands like the Cramps. Could you think of a Latin entertainer who helped influence your own performance?

K.C.P.: Iris Chacón.

Wow, I didn’t know you got down like that!

K.C.P.: My mom watched her on TV. That was exciting.

A.B.: That’s where he got his maraca work from.

K.C.P.: And my outfits. But there was Ritchie Valens, of course. I like old rock ‘n’ roll. And then when I met Jeffrey Lee Pierce of the Gun Club in 1978 or ‘79, we bonded on being Chicano. We both grew up in San Gabriel Valley — me in La Puente, Jeffrey in El Monte. We’d reference riffs coming out of a garage in La Puente, some Chicano garage band playing Santana or War. We shared the outsider-ness of being born in America, but we were in Chicano world. And throw in the fact that I knew I was queer from a young age … I didn’t know if I was in or out.

A.B.: My influences were from Spanish-language music. Raphael was a Spanish singer who’s very intense and very dramatic. And I also am a big fan of José Alfredo Jiménez, who wrote all these ranchera songs that were very emotional. I think there’s a connection between ranchera music and punk — it’s for everybody. It’s better when everybody joins in and sings along. Punk and ranchera are the people’s music.

That calls to mind the resurgence of corridos among young people. Some of the songs generate controversy, but it’s interesting to see a similarly rebellious spirit as punk. What do you think?

K.C.P.: People are always saying to me, “Don’t you feel sorry for young people today? They don’t have what you had, this and that.” But I would never in my life underestimate younger people. There’s something going on, and I don’t know about it. You don’t know about it, because it’s not for us to know about.

You both have shown many Latinos how to live authentically to your identity, to your values. What’s a quick bite of encouragement or advice for young, weird Latino kids? Especially now, when it’s hard not to feel demoralized about what’s happening across the country?

K.C.P.: Well, to live authentically is a path that can be lonely. But it’s also very empowering. And I get to be in my 60s and say I’ve done music exactly as I’ve pleased. That is possible. I had no idea how to play guitar until Jeffrey Lee Pierce said, “Here’s a guitar. I think you can do this. And you’re gonna do it.” I thought, “If this one person believes in me, then I’m gonna try it.” You just have to say yes to yourself.

A.B.: I would also say you’re not alone. Every day, there’s a bombardment of things in the world and in the U.S. that you want to resist. It’s very easy to become despondent and overwhelmed. But you don’t have to feel like you’re lifting this whole weight by yourself. It’s important to know that you do have a community that stands with you. We’re all working in different ways. We’re all a band. We’re going to make it through this together.

There’s a lot of schadenfreude on the right, and even more lamentation on the left, about the cancellation of “The Late Show With Stephen Colbert.”

Donald Trump leads the schadenfreude caucus. “I absolutely love that Colbert got fired. His talent was even less than his ratings,” Trump crowed on social media. “I hear Jimmy Kimmel is next. Has even less talent than Colbert!” (It is remarkable that a president who campaigned with a vow to end “cancel culture” is so uninhibited in his celebration of cancel culture when it’s on his terms.)

The lamentations from the left are just as exuberant, from the other direction. They hail Colbert as a heroic martyr for free expression and speaking truth to power. “Not really an overstatement to say that the test of a free society is whether or not comedians can make fun of the country’s leader on TV without repercussions,” MSNBC’s Chris Hayes declared.

In a sense, both sides essentially agree that Colbert was canceled because of his politics. The argument from the left is that this was unfair and even illegitimate. The illegitimate claim rests on the fact that CBS’s parent company Paramount has been trying to curry favor with the administration to gain approval for the sale of the network to Skydance Media. Shari Redstone, Paramount’s owner, approved a settlement of Trump’s dubious lawsuit against “60 Minutes” (which Colbert had criticized days earlier as a “big fat bribe”). Colbert’s scalp was a sweetener, critics claim.

I think that theory is plausible, given the timing of the decision and the way it was announced. If this was the plan all along, why not announce the decision at the 2025 upfronts and sell ads in tandem with the wind-down? That’s the way this sort of thing has been done in the past.

But Colbert’s critics on the right have an equally plausible point. Colbert made the show very political and partisan, indulging his Trump “resistance” schtick to the point where he basically cut the potential national audience in half. He leaned heavily on conventionally liberal politicians (tellingly, on the night he announced the news of his cancellation, his first guest was California Sen. Adam Schiff — a man who couldn’t get a laugh if you hit him in the face with a pie).

But both the left-wing and right-wing interpretations have some holes. The theory that this was purely a political move overlooks the fact that CBS didn’t merely fire Colbert, it’s terminating the iconic “Late Show” entirely and giving the airtime back to local affiliates. If they solely wanted to curry favor with Trump, they could have given the show to more Trump-friendly (funnier and popular with the young’ns) comedians such as Shane Gillis or Andrew Schulz. The show was reportedly losing some $40 million a year. Even if they hired someone for a quarter of Colbert’s $15- million salary, it would still be losing money.

On the right, many — Trump included — have pointed to the fact that Greg Gutfeld’s not-quite-late-night Fox show has better ratings than his competitors on the three legacy networks. That’s true, but it’s hardly as if Gutfeld is any less partisan than Colbert, Kimmel or Jimmy Fallon.

It’s also true that the titans of previous eras — Steve Allen, Jack Paar, Johnny Carson, Jay Leno, Conan O’Brien — tended to avoid strident partisanship. But the nostalgia-fueled idea that a more mainstream, apolitical host would garner similar audiences again gets the causality backward.

Those hosts were products of a different era, when huge numbers of Americans from across the political spectrum consumed the same cultural products. The hosts, much like news networks and newspapers, had a powerful business incentive to play it down the middle and avoid alienating large swaths of their audiences and advertisers. That era is over, forever.

Now media platforms look to garner small “sticky” audiences they can monetize by giving them exactly what they want. There’s an audience for Colbert, and for Gutfeld, but what makes the roughly 2 million to 3 million nightly viewers who love that stuff tune in makes the other 330 million potential viewers tune in to something else. The “Late Show” model — and budget — simply doesn’t work with those numbers.

Cable news, led by Fox, ushered in political polarization in news consumption, but cable itself fueled the balkanization of popular culture. Streaming and podcast platforms, led by YouTube, are turbocharging that trend to the point where media consumption is now a la carte (artificial intelligence may soon make it nigh upon bespoke).

The late-night model was built around a culture in which there was little else to watch. That culture is never coming back.

X:@JonahDispatch

Attending a BTS member’s solo show is probably the best way to understand the power of the group beyond Western conceptions of boy bands and the limitations of the K-pop idol system.

Jin, the eldest member of the group, has become the third bandmate to solo headline a world tour with his #RUNSEOKJIN_EP. Tour, which brought him to Anaheim’s Honda Center on Thursday and Friday night.

At the outset of the septet’s 2022 break, Jin was on a time crunch. South Korea had raised the mandatory age of military enlistment from 28 to 30 years old (with legislation nicknamed the BTS law), and it was his time to go.

Without time for a bigger project before heading off, he debuted the soaring single “The Astronaut,” co-written by his favorite band, Coldplay, and paired with a nostalgia-tinged sci-fi music video.

Jin plays piano during his two-night run at Honda Center

(Bright Music)

After he was discharged from the military in June of last year, he got straight to work releasing the upbeat pop-rock EP “Happy,” followed six months later by his latest release, “Echo,” which veered in a more indie direction. Much of the songs on the tour’s 18-song set list come from both of these releases, sprinkled with a few of his earlier stand-alone singles.

On Thursday’s show, the over-18,000-capacity arena appeared nearly sold out, so far proving the group’s famous fandom will show up for each member.

Jin’s particular brand of quirky, humorous and suave energy was on full display at both shows, drawing out an element of the group’s alchemy that helps explain its broad appeal and devoted fans, while also showing how the group is a world unto itself.

Perhaps more than any other BTS member, Jin seems to want to deliver to existing fans rather than reaching for more. The tour is designed as an exclusive love letter to the fandom with nearly every element of its design.

Jin is especially skilled at merging elements of his personality and interests into an integrated intellectual property that transcends visuals, merchandising and format while remaining firmly in on the joke, as well as sincere and engaging.

The name of the tour references his solo variety show called “Run Seokjin,” which itself is an iteration of the group’s variety show, “Run BTS.” (Seok-jin is his birth name.) It provides a framework for the structure of the concert, as classic Korean variety-show elements are employed during the nearly two-hour-long set list.

Preshow, concertgoers could be found in either official or fan-made merch with a dizzying array of references to either the artist’s music, aspects of his personality or both.

A cute alien figure, the character created for the space-themed “The Astronaut,” graced headbands, while tuna hats and various fishing-related outfits nodded to the viral “Super Tuna,” an EDM-meets-trot love anthem to a tuna fish and his love for fishing in general. There are even a few ramen-themed outfits, as he is now the face of a famous Korean ramen brand that coincidentally shares his name.

A known gamer (some fans could also be seen in “Super Mario” costumes), he began the show sauntering onstage in silence only to slam on a game-show buzzer that launched both a blast of confetti and the first strains of “Running Wild,” the all-English-language pop-rock lead track off of “Happy.”

Jin changes into a country-western look during the song “Rope It” at the Honda Center

Within BTS’ vocal line, Jin’s ability to hit clear, clean high notes added to the group’s reputation for songs in a high register, with the lower tenor work picked up by bandmates V and Jungkook.

“Running Wild,” however, begins with a beautifully low resonant tone that Jin has been able to explore more on his solo efforts.

Throughout the show, he was anchored by guitarist Park Shin-won, bass player Yoo Hyun-wook, drummer Kim Dong-hyun, and keytar/keyboardist Kim Chang-hyun, all veteran players in the Korean music industry. But for the first half of the show, the band remained obscured by screens as the focus was on Jin, who cuts an almost young Elvis-like figure with his famously swoon-worthy good looks.

In a later rock segment of the set, the band took on more visible prominence but remained as supportive figures. Clad in a glittery Gucci jean suit (he is a brand ambassador), Jin then exuberantly launched “I’ll Be There for You,” an uptempo rockabilly-tinged pop song with a sing-a-long chorus, a style that seems to be his rock ’n’ roll safe space.

The orchestrated madcap structure takes hold when backed by a running instrumental. Relatively early in the show, he announced that a short break was in order. A giant clock appeared, counting down the minute and a half onstage while he sipped water, vibed with his band and exchanged “woofs” with the crowd.

Jin sporting his baseball jersey merch onstage at Honda Center

(Bright Music)

He transitioned into the lushly melancholy “With the Clouds” off of “Echo” — an interesting track with a cool “backpedal” transition that highlights his softer midrange tone. But before the audience members got too deep in their feelings, at its conclusion, he offered them his best Zoolander stare and blew kisses — which they loudly ate up.

“Every show is a challenge,” he said in English, referring to the game-show format, “And you and I have to do it together,” making it clear participation was expected going forward.

He was not joking. He read out the rules for what was essentially an arena-scale game of charades between him and the audience, in which his number of wins determined which costume he donned for the next act. “I have nine seconds to change my clothes, so be good and talk to the person next to you,” he quipped, leaving the stage with a countdown clock, popping up dutifully on time in a large fishing hat and boots.

After the insanely campy “Super Tuna,” he spun a “Price Is Right”-style wheel to determine what song the audience will karaoke to as he changes again. The audience chose “Anpanman,” a punchy BTS classic that played with lyrics as hilarious Y2K low-fi graphics of him singing bumps on the screen.

Upon his return, clad in black, he accompanied himself on the longing ballad “I Will Return to You” and transitions into “Abyss.” Credited as a songwriter on almost all of his solo songs, “Abyss,” a single released in 2020, delves into especially early feelings of self-doubt that are jarringly in contrast with his later confident demeanor. Both songs were not accompanied by subtitles, allowing the listener to focus on the particular beauty and comfort he embodies while singing in Korean and further underlining a focus on the fandom.

After the fan chants of “Kim Seokjin” died down, he switched back to rock mode with the gorgeous “The Background.” Whether or not he has experienced real-life heartbreak is unknown — BTS members keep their lives private — but he makes you believe he has: “Even if I call you / It echoes back and hurts me again / Even waiting / I try to convince myself it’s love.”

The massive Army crowd gathers for Jin at Honda Center

The campiness wasn’t completely over as he thrilled fans again with “Rope It,” a quirky, pop-country ditty where he gamely hip-swiveled and hat-tilted, channeling his inner Clint Black. A medley of BTS hits including “Dynamite” and “Butter” followed, where he danced a bit. Sexy frontman, variety-show host, rock star, comedian, he was everything for every fan.

With all of its wacky charm and big confetti budget, the show remained remarkably minimalist; no fancy choreography or set pieces. Jin is comfortable onstage and at his most charming when going off script and speaking freely to the audience in Korean through a translator.

It will be interesting to see where he takes his incredible vocal prowess as a solo performer in years to come — it’s exciting to think of the possibilities of even a harder-edged sound or a full country album.

But as the show slowly wound down, and after one last talk with the crowd, amid his trio of encore songs, perhaps lies the most compelling version of him. “Epiphany,” off the 2018 BTS album “Love Yourself: Answer,” offers both a sonic and mental self-actualization that has as he has transitioned from his 20s into his 30s: “The real myself inside the smiling mask / I reveal it entirely / I’m the one I should love in this world / shining me, precious soul of mine.”

JOHN Torode directed the N-word at staff member as well as singing it in a Kanye West song, claimed a source.

We reported yesterday how the MasterChef star, 59, repeated lyrics from Gold Digger, which contain the racial slur, at an after-work ­gathering six or seven years ago.

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Torode is said to have used the word again while ­chatting to a pal on the BBC show’s production team – who did not take offence.

Torode, who vehemently denies ever using the N-word, is “utterly devastated” by the accusations and has “absolutely no recollection”.

He was sacked this week after an investigation by the Beeb and production company Banijay – which also saw former co-host Gregg Wallace axed for inappropriate behaviour.

However, the BBC has how revealed the second incident was not the one reported and led to a complaint.

The allegation was actually in reference to an incident that unfolded a year before.

An insider claimed Torode used the “extremely offensive racist term” on set after filming a MasterChef episode.

It was allegedly directed towards a member of staff.

And, there were eight further complaints lodged against Torode, which ranged from alleged racist comments, sexual remarks and abusive language towards junior production employees.

But, they were not upheld due to lack of evidence.

The report has also highlighted a complaint against a third unnamed person for swearing.

According to the BBC, this is in reference to a senior exec on the show.

The company also lifted the lid on Torode and Wallace’s partnership and how the on-screen pals were “never friends” behind the scenes.

An ex-staffer claimed: “Clearly they had a good chemistry when the cameras were rolling. But you rarely saw them interact when the cameras were off.

“And when Gregg was saying inappropriate things like that, John held his counsel. I never saw him step in.”

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Torode himself admitted “we’ve never been friends. We’ve not been to each other’s houses”, in 2017.

He even confessed to the Mirror there had been “a couple of standoffs” which left Torode walking away from his co-star.

When allegations about Wallace came to light last year, Torode’s lack of support was glaringly obvious.

In his brief statement, he said the “thought of anyone who has appeared on our show not having a brilliant experience is awful to hear”.

It was enough to reportedly make Wallace “furious” and led to the chef unfollowing him and his co-host’s wife Lisa Faulkner.

This comes after a source told The Sun Torode is in “a pretty bad way — he’s feeling very fragile” since being sacked this week.

Melbourne-born John moved to the UK in 1991 and started working in London restaurants including Quaglino’s.

It was there he met greengrocer Wallace, who provided their veg.

He started cooking on This Morning in 1996 before he and Wallace began hosting the revamped MasterChef in 2005.

But the host was only spoken to by a representative from legal firm Lewis Silkin at the end of June as part of the inquiry into his ­MasterChef co-host Gregg Wallace.

A source added: “One of the allegations is that he said the N-word while repeating Kanye’s Gold Digger song during a gathering with his colleagues when filming had ended. John is adamant he would never have used the N-word and only knows the radio version of the song which says, ‘Now I ain’t sayin’ she a gold digger, but she ain’t messin’ with no broke, broke’. The clean version of the song is the only one he knows.

“The person who raised the complaint didn’t say anything at the time. So John only found out a few weeks ago that this issue had been raised.

“This has hit him like a ton of bricks as he does not recall it.

“He insists he would never have repeated the N-word in those lyrics because he only knows the radio edit of that song.”

Those close to Torode have criticised the BBC’s handling of his departure, with his representatives only being made aware his contract wasn’t being renewed after the BBC press office released a statement.

A source added: “John is devastated by all of this. He is being supported by his wife Lisa and friends. They’re keeping him close because he has really been struggling.

“John abhors this kind of language and does not recall ever reciting a racist slur in a lyric, or directing one to someone he considered a friend at work.

“He adored MasterChef. It was a huge part of his life. To have it all ending like this is awful.”

Wallace, 60, was also officially sacked this week by the BBC and Banijay after an independent investigation was carried out into allegations of bad behaviour on the show between 2005 and 2024.

A total of 45 out of 83 allegations were upheld.

The majority were inappropriate sexual language.

One related to unwanted touching.

BBC boss Tim Davie has since broke his silence on the future of MasterChef following the scandal.

He said: “I absolutely think it does, I think a great programme that’s loved by audiences is much bigger than individuals.

“It absolutely can survive and prosper, but we’ve got to make sure we’re in the right place in terms of the culture of the show.”

The Sun revealed that the final MasterChef series, with Wallace and Torode as hosts, will air “once the dust has settled”.

Meanwhile, Torode’s wife Lisa Faulkner has revealed “I don’t read anything about us” as she opened up about her six-year marriage.

Alan Bergman, the decorated lyricist who over the course of seven decades penned songs including “The Windmills of Your Mind,” “The Way We Were,” and “You Don’t Bring Me Flowers” with wife Marilyn Bergman, has died. He was 99.

Bergman died late Thursday evening in his home in Los Angeles, family spokesperson Ken Sunshine confirmed in a statement to The Times on Friday. The songwriter “suffered from respiratory issues” in recent months but remained steadfast in his songwriting “till the very end.”

A Brooklyn native, Bergman was best known for his collaborations with his wife, Marilyn, which spanned music, television and film. The husband and wife, after meeting through composer Lew Spence, married in 1958. Together, they penned music for a variety of high-profile acts including Frank Sinatra, Ray Charles, Quincy Jones, John Williams and Barbra Streisand, with the last eventually becoming the couple’s muse.

The Bergmans were three-time Oscar winners. The couple won their first Oscar in 1969 for the moody “Windmills of Your Mind,” featured in “The Thomas Crown Affair,” shared with French composer Michel Legrand. Their second and third Oscar wins stemmed from works with Streisand: the title song from “The Way We Were” in 1974 (shared with Marvin Hamlisch) and in 1984 for the score of “Yentl,” shared with Legrand.

The composers and their work were consistent contenders at the Oscars, with their contributions to films “The Happy Ending,” “Tootsie,” “Yes, Giorgio” and the 1995 remake of Billy Wilder‘s “Sabrina” also receiving nominations from the academy. On the small screen, the Bergmans left their personal touch on numerous TV series from the 1970s to the 1990s, providing the theme music for shows including “Good Times,” “Alice,” “In the Heat of the Night” and Norman Lear’s “Maude.”

In addition to Oscars, the Bergmans also won four Emmys, two Golden Globes and two Grammys, including the song of the year award for “The Way We Were.”

Oscar-winning songwriters Alan and Marilyn Bergman at their home in 2008.

(Lawrence K. Ho / Los Angeles Times)

Alan Bergman, born Sept. 11, 1925 in Brooklyn, was a son of a salesman and knew from an early age that songwriting was his passion. He graduated from the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill and pursued his graduate studies in music at UCLA. He briefly worked as a television director for Philadelphia station WCAU-TV but returned to Los Angeles to fully pursue songwriting, at the behest of mentor Johnny Mercer.

Alan and Marilyn Bergman are members of the Songwriters Hall of Fame, which awarded the duo its Johnny Mercer Award in 1997. They also received the Grammy Trustee Award for lifetime achievement, the National Academy of Songwriters Lifetime Achievement Award, the National Music Publishers Assn. Lifetime Achievement Award and honorary doctorates from Berklee College of Music and the University of Massachusetts. In 2011, University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill honored Bergman with a distinguished alumnus award.

Marilyn Bergman died in January 2022 of respiratory failure at 93. After her death, Alan continued working, most recently collaborating with jazz guitarist Pat Metheny, who will record his nine songs co-written with Bergman later this year for an upcoming album.

Alan Bergman is survived by his daughter Julie Bergman and granddaughter Emily Sender. He will be laid to rest at a private graveside burial. Ruth Price’s Jazz Bakery announced earlier this month it would celebrate Bergman’s 100th birthday with a tribute concert at Santa Monica’s Broad Stage in September. The performance will go on as planned, The Times has learned.

The family ask that donations be made in Bergman’s name to the ASCAP Foundation Alan and Marilyn Bergman Lyric Award and the Johnny Mercer Foundation.

Times pop music critic Mikael Wood contributed to this report.