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    Three New Books Make the Case for Music as Medicine

    Three new books make the case for music as medicine. In “The Schubert Treatment,” the most lyrical of the trio, a cellist takes us bedside with the sick and the dying.My colleague Dwight Garner is a great connoisseur of the quotation. I find myself stumbling around this week in the dark corners of the misquotation. Music may indeed have charms to “soothe the savage beast,” as is oft-declared, but the line actually ends “a savage breast,” and is attributable not to William Shakespeare, but to William Congreve, from his 1697 play “The Mourning Bride.”Now you know.Music’s soothing and stimulating effect — its use as a kind of medicine — is the subject of at least three books published this year. This is not a new therapy, but a blooming hot spot of research.I’ve been poking around there for a while, curious to figure out why my mother, a retired professional violist and pianist with advancing dementia, retains so much of her memory (including the ability to sight-read) in this particular realm. She still plays weekly string quartets and piano duos and sings in perfect harmony with Alexa’s somewhat middlebrow choices, though an old game of name-the-composer has faded.THE SCHUBERT TREATMENT: A Story of Music and Healing (Greystone, $24.95), by the cellist and art therapist Claire Oppert, is a slim but shimmery account of performing on her “forever instrument” for a series of patients with varied afflictions, including the inevitable final one.Oppert’s father was a beloved company doctor for several theaters in Paris, who himself played the piano, and she has worked with Howard Buten, a professional clown, novelist and psychologist specializing in autism. (This field teems with polymaths.) Though she tangles dutifully with charts, data and analytics, her philosophy is holistic: “trust and gratitude before the splendor of all things: This is life’s foundation, its bedrock.”Or, more bluntly: “Ten minutes of Schubert is the equivalent of five milligrams of oxy,” the chief of the palliative care unit at a Paris hospital tells her. (Maybe this is why Donald J. Trump played “Ave Maria” at that recent rally-turned-swayfest.)We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

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    Lil Durk Is Accused of Conspiring to Kill a Rival. What We Know About the Case.

    The rapper Lil Durk was arrested at the airport in Miami this week after he had been booked on flights to three international destinations, federal prosecutors said.The Grammy-winning rapper Lil Durk was arrested on a federal charge near Miami International Airport on Thursday over accusations that he conspired to kill a rap rival, resulting in the fatal shooting of another person.Lil Durk put out a bounty on the life of another rapper, identified only as T.B. by prosecutors, as retaliation for the 2020 killing of the rapper King Von, a member of the hip-hop collective Only the Family, which Lil Durk founded, according to the federal criminal complaint filed in the U.S. District Court for the Central District of California.An F.B.I. affidavit also says that Lil Durk had been booked on at least three international flights that were leaving on Thursday — to Italy, Switzerland and the United Arab Emirates — in an attempt to flee the United States.Lil Durk, 32, whose legal name is Durk Banks, appeared in the U.S. District Court for the Southern District of Florida on Friday. He remained in federal custody and was expected to be arraigned in Los Angeles in the coming weeks, according to prosecutors. He was charged with conspiracy to use interstate facilities to commit murder for hire resulting in death.The news of his arrest comes weeks before the scheduled release of his new album, “Deep Thoughts,” on Nov. 22. Earlier this year, he won a Grammy Award for Best Melodic Rap Performance for his song “All My Life,” featuring J. Cole.Representatives for Lil Durk had not responded to a request for comment.Here’s what we know about the case so far:Lil Durk is alleged to have co-conspirators.Lil Durk’s arrest comes on the heels of a recently unveiled federal indictment in Los Angeles charging five other men affiliated with Only the Family, or O.T.F., with the murder-for-hire plot, alleging that they conspired to “track, stalk, and attempt to kill” a rapper identified as T.B. We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

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    Sean ‘Diddy’ Combs’s Empire: Winnowed, but Still Weighty

    The music mogul’s business portfolio has shrunk, in part because of multiple sex abuse allegations, but his wealth remains a critical factor as his criminal case unfolds.In arguing to keep Sean Combs in jail until his trial on federal racketeering and sex trafficking charges, prosecutors have portrayed him as a lavishly wealthy, well-connected music mogul who would be well positioned to flee. In court papers, prosecutors cited media reporting that estimated his wealth at close to a billion dollars.But as Mr. Combs’s reputation has unraveled amid a wave of high-profile lawsuits and criminal charges, so has his business portfolio. Once a major brand ambassador and chairman of a media platform, he has been forced to withdraw from those roles. In June, several months before Mr. Combs was indicted, Forbes estimated his net worth at $400 million, down from $740 million in 2019.Mr. Combs’s fortune has been at the forefront of his public persona since the 1990s, when the success of his hip-hop and R&B label, Bad Boy Entertainment, meant he was known as much for his high-flying, champagne-popping lifestyle as the music he produced.One year ago, Mr. Combs, who is known as Diddy, was at the helm of an ever-growing portfolio: He was a record label founder, a liquor promoter, a cable TV and digital media chairman, a philanthropist and a fashion executive with a label called Sean John.Mr. Combs has gained prominence as a record label executive, a liquor promoter and the founder of a cable TV and digital media platform.From left: Theo Wargo/WireImage, via Getty Images; Stan Honda/Agence France-Presse — Getty Images; Dimitrios Kambouris/Getty Images for Revolt TV“He was a larger-than-life marketer,” said Dessie Brown Jr., an entertainment consultant who long viewed Mr. Combs as a model for building a career. “He always talked about being like a ringleader in a circus.”We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

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    A Lesson From John Lennon

    The ecstasy and agony of an original Beatles fan.It started in April 1963, when friends of my parents returned to New Jersey from a trip abroad with a present for me. It was something a record shop clerk in London had recommended as the perfect thing for a 13-year-old girl.I prepared myself to act surprised and grateful, even if I didn’t like it. But when I opened it, I gasped. The four young men on the album cover were the cutest guys I had ever seen.This album, “Please Please Me,” was not available in the United States. And the group, the Beatles, was unknown here. I loved them immediately.My classmates thought my new obsession was weird, except for one girl, Sharon, who was open to new things. In the months before the first stirrings of Beatlemania in America, Sharon and I spent the after-school hours listening to the album and gazing at the cover. We could never decide which Beatle was our favorite, because our opinions changed by the day.One afternoon I noticed a sticker on the inside of the cardboard sleeve with the address for the Beatles Fan Club. I mailed a letter to 13 Monmouth Street, London, and began waiting.That summer I spent eight homesick weeks at a sleep-away camp in Maine. With every letter home, I asked if I had gotten a reply from the Beatles. With every letter back, there was a no.We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

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    Bryan Ferry Enjoys the Kansas City Chiefs’ ‘Outfits’

    As the Roxy Music frontman readies a boxed set of his solo work, he reflects on the cultural inspirations that keep him fueled with glamour and drama.While Bryan Ferry was picking songs for “Retrospective: Selected Recordings 1973-2023,” — a new boxed set recapping his long solo career apart from Roxy Music, the pioneering British art-rock band he led — the singer noticed a recurring theme. “There’s a lot of love songs, a lot of romantic songs,” he said, speaking by video from his London recording studio.Ferry’s love songs, though, tend to be fraught with anxiety and blue with longing. The boy doesn’t get the girl; instead, the boy pines for the girl and can’t get her out of his mind. “But those are always the best love songs, aren’t they?” he asked with a chuckle. “I do like music that’s introspective, and a bit on the sad side.”The set begins with material from “These Foolish Things” (1973), on which Ferry brashly covered a broad array of songs, including one of Bob Dylan’s prolix metaphorical rambles and “It’s My Party,” Lesley Gore’s campy teen heartbreak lament. Ferry had studied at art school with the British Pop Art provocateur Richard Hamilton, who believed there was no hierarchical distinction between high and low culture, an idea the singer has sustained throughout his work.Last month, Ferry turned 79, and he’ll have a new album next year, but indicated that his touring days might be over: “As you get older, the travel is a bit tiring.” The singer grew up working class outside Newcastle — his father tended to horses that worked in local coal mines — but as Roxy Music gained popularity and cultural cachet in the 1970s, he developed appreciations for all things luxe. His list of 10 essential inspirations mixes the urban and the rural, the modern and the old-fashioned, with a consistent eye for glamour and drama. These are edited excerpts from the conversation.1His own recording studioI’ve worked in a lot of studios and it’s great to finally have this place. Prince used this studio for an album he did with a girl band [“Plectrumelectrum,” by Prince and 3rdEyeGirl], and they were really good. I like to think some of it might’ve rubbed off.2His gardenOn weekends, I get out of London and go to the country for fresh air. If you’re a musician, you can be trapped indoors for days on end and it’s nice to have some respite from that. I’ve got a beautiful garden with an apple orchard, and at this time of the year, the fruit is getting ready to pick.We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

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    Phil Lesh’s Life in Pictures

    Phil Lesh, the bassist and a charter member of the Grateful Dead who was 84 when he died on Friday, will be remembered as a versatile musician and a pioneer for his instrument of choice.Lesh co-wrote songs and was an occasional lead vocalist across his 30-year career with the rock band. But his skill at soaring improvisation and his chemistry with the band’s lead guitarist, Jerry Garcia, ensured that Lesh would also be seen as a main character.Here are some snapshots from Lesh’s life and career.Paul Ryan/Michael Ochs Archives, via Getty ImagesPhil Lesh, Bob Weir and Jerry Garcia in 1965 as the Warlocks before they became the Grateful Dead.Ron Rakow/Retro Photo ArchiveLesh on Ashbury Street in 1968.Associated PressThe Grateful Dead with reporters in San Francisco in 1967.Don Paulsen/Michael Ochs Archives, via Getty ImagesFrom left, Bill Kreutzmann on drums, Lesh and Weir at the Cafe Au Go Go in New York in 1967.Leni Sinclair/Getty ImagesFrom left, Garcia, Lesh and Weir in Ann Arbor, Mich., in 1967.Malcolm Lubliner/Michael Ochs Archives, via Getty ImagesSan Francisco, 1968.Chris Walter/WireImage, via Getty ImagesThe Dead in 1970, clockwise from top left: Weir, Lesh, Bill Kreutzmann, Ron McKernan, Mickey Hart and Garcia.Robert Altman/Michael Ochs Archives, via Getty ImagesSan Francisco, 1970.Bettman/Getty ImagesThe Dead in the late ’60s.Ed Perlstein/Redferns, via Getty ImagesFrom left, Garcia, Weir and Lesh in Golden Gate Park, San Francisco, 1975.Ron Rakow/Retro Photo ArchiveLesh at Hollywood Bowl, 1974.Mark Sullivan/Getty ImagesLesh, at right, with David Crosby, left, and Ned Lagin, who both played briefly with the Dead.Ed Perlstein/Redferns, via Getty ImagesSan Francisco, 1978Roger Ressmeyer/Corbis and VCG, via Getty ImagesWeir and Lesh.Roger Ressmeyer/Corbis and VCG, via Getty ImagesWeir and Lesh at a recording studio in San Rafael, Calif.Roger Ressmeyer/Corbis and VCG, via Getty ImagesThe Dead in 1982, from left: Brent Mydland, Lesh, Kruetzmann, Weir, Garcia and Hart.Tim Mosenfelder/Getty ImagesRed Rocks Amphitheatre in Colorado in 1987.Thearon W. Henderson/Getty ImagesHart, Wier and Lesh with the mascot of the San Francisco Giants in 2011.Jason Henry for The New York TimesLesh at Terrapin Crossroads in San Rafael, Calif.Associated PressThe Dead at Soldier Field in Chicago in 2015.Jason Henry for The New York TimesLesh at Terrapin Crossroads in 2015.Astrida Valigorsky/Getty ImagesAt the Great South Bay Music Festival in Patchogue, N.Y., last year. More

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    Phil Lesh Didn’t Hold Songs Down. He Lifted Them Higher.

    Some rock bassists make it their job to hold down the bottom of a song: to hone parts that crisply but unobtrusively stake out a harmonic and rhythmic foundation, that are felt as much as heard. Phil Lesh, a founding member of the Grateful Dead who died on Friday at 84, wasn’t one of them. Instead, Lesh’s playing carried songs aloft.In the telepathic tangle of the Grateful Dead’s arrangements — never played the same way twice — Lesh’s bass lines hopped and bubbled and constantly conversed with the guitars of Jerry Garcia and Bob Weir. His tone was rounded and unassertive while he eased his way into the counterpoint, almost as if he were thinking aloud. Lesh’s playing was essential to the Dead’s particular gravity-defying lilt, sharing a collective mode of rock momentum that was teasing and probing, never bluntly coercive.Jerry Garcia, left, and Phil Lesh rehearse with the Grateful Dead in San Francisco in the 1970s.Ed Perlstein/Redferns, via Getty ImagesLesh wasn’t a rock-and-roller by training or inclination. His 2005 memoir, “Searching for the Sound,” notes that his first instruments were violin and trumpet, that he soaked up classical music and big-band jazz, that he studied music theory and composition and drew life-changing inspirations from John Coltrane and Charles Ives. He and Tom Constanten, the Dead’s early keyboardist, were the band’s avant-garde contingent, a key aspect of the Dead’s ever-evolving improvisational fusion.For all their free-form interludes, the Dead’s songs had clear landmarks and structures — some of them far trickier than the band’s nimble performances would let on. Lesh could stick to a riff, as he dutifully did in the intro to “Touch of Grey,” the Dead’s only Top 10 (and only Top 40) single. But when the verse arrived, he was footloose again: nudging, scurrying, syncopating from below. His bass lines held hints of Bach, jazz, bluegrass, blues, Latin music and far more, as he sought out new interstices each time through a song.Phil Lesh performing with the Dead at Woodstock in 1969. Archive Photos/Getty ImagesWe are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

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    Barbara Dane, Who Fought Injustice Through Song, Dies at 97

    She was highly regarded as a folk, blues and jazz singer. She was also ardently left-wing and prioritized social change over commercial success.Barbara Dane, an acclaimed folk, jazz and blues singer whose communist leanings and fierce civil rights and antiwar activism earned her both critical plaudits and a thick Federal Bureau of Investigation file, died on Sunday at her home in Oakland, Calif. She was 97.Her daughter, Nina Menendez, said that after suffering shortness of breath for several years because of heart failure, Ms. Dane chose to terminate her life under California’s End of Life Option Act.Over the course of her long career, Ms. Dane, with her rich, woody contralto, built a reputation in a variety of musical genres.She established her bona fides as a folky of the first order while still in her teens, performing with Pete Seeger. “I knew I was a singer for life,” she recalled in a 2021 interview with The New York Times, “but where I would aim it didn’t come forward until then. I saw, ‘Oh, you can use your voice to move people.’”Ms. Dane wore her convictions proudly, belting out worker anthems like “I Hate the Capitalist System” and “Solidarity Forever.” She performed at the first Newport Folk Festival in 1959 with Memphis Slim and Willie Dixon. In the 1960s, Bob Dylan would often sit in with her when she was performing at Gerdes Folk City, the Greenwich Village club.We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More