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      Mark Stewart, Fiery British Rocker, Is Dead at 62

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      His band, the Pop Group, was anything but pop, blending anti-authoritarian fury with a ferocious mix of punk, funk and experimental jazz.Mark Stewart, the incendiary frontman of the British post-punk band the Pop Group, whose explosive mix of funk, noise rock, free jazz experimentalism and anti-authoritarian rage made a mockery of the group’s sunny name, died on April 21. He was 62.His death was announced in a statement by his London-based recoding label, Mute. It provided no other details.The Pop Group emerged in Bristol, England, in 1977, as punk rock was shaking the foundations of the British music scene. Mr. Stewart found inspiration in punk’s iconoclastic fury. “There is the arrogance of power,” he once said, “and what we got from punk was the power of arrogance.”Onstage, the band created a cyclone force that put many punk bands to shame. Gyrating manically and barking rebellious lyrics through his pouty, Jagger-esque lips, Mr. Stewart whipped audiences into a frenzy with songs like “We Are All Prostitutes,” the band’s best known single, from 1979, which reached No. 8 on the British indie charts. The lyrics include these lines:We are all prostitutesEveryone has their priceEveryoneAnd you too will have to learn to live the lieLive performances by the Pop Group hit with “such indomitable force and such sudden visceral rage that I could barely breathe,” the musician and writer Nick Cave wrote in a tribute on his website, The Red Hand Files, after Mr. Stewart’s death.Righteous fury was as intrinsic to Mr. Stewart’s personality as it was to his music. “Mark taught me many things about life,” Mr. Cave added, including the idea that “sleeping was a bourgeois indulgence, and that the world was one giant corporate conspiracy, and that one way to win an argument was to just never, ever stop shouting.”The band scarcely made a dent commercially, but that made sense, given its contempt for all things capitalist. As Mr. Stewart put it in a 2015 interview with The Arts Desk, a culture site, “The Pop Group were really that Situationist idea of an explosion at the heart of the commodity.”Mr. Stewart performing onstage in 2012 in Leeds, England. After the Pop Group broke up, he remained prolific, collaborating with Trent Reznor of Nine Inch Nails, Tricky and Massive Attack, and releasing a string of eclectic solo albums.Andrew Benge/Redferns, via Getty ImagesMark Stewart was born in Bristol, in South West England, on Aug. 10, 1960, one of two sons of an engineer father and a mother who worked with children with learning disabilities.Bristol in the 1970s was a rough town, Mr. Stewart once said, and his towering stature — he was already 6 feet 6 inches tall as a preteen — made him a tempting potential recruit for local boot-boy gangs. But the thug’s life was not for him; music was his passion — even though he and his friends considered themselves musical misfits, scouring junk shops for obscure jazz and funk records, wearing mohair sweaters inspired by the Sex Pistols and staging punk shows at a local youth center.“The local gangs really, really had it in for me,” he said in the Arts Desk interview. “They wanted me to join their gangs but didn’t realize I was only 12. They thought I was about 20. So they’d smash all the youth club windows. I had to climb out of toilet windows.”Music was a way out. “If there’s not too much going on in the town you’re in, you dream,” he said in 2014 interview with Vice.Mr. Stewart formed the Pop Group in 1976 along with the band’s original members: John Waddington (guitar), Simon Underwood (bass), Gareth Sager (guitar and saxophone) and Bruce Smith (drums).The band’s name came from Mr. Stewart’s mother. “I think she said, ‘Oh, Mark’s forming a pop group,’” he told Vice. And at the outset, he said, “we thought we were.”The band’s first album, “Y,” which was released in 1979 and produced by the British dub master Dennis Bovell, made little commercial impact.“These heavyweight journalists thought we were being deliberately obtuse,” Mr. Stewart told Vice, although NME, the taste-making British music publication, called the debut “a brave failure. Exciting but exasperating.”The Pop Group did anything but mellow on its second album, “For How Much Longer Do We Tolerate Mass Murder?,” released the next year; it crackled with angry denunciations of Thatcher-era England. Though some dismissed it as “self-righteous soapbox agitprop,” the critic Simon Reynolds wrote in “U.K. Post-Punk,” a 2012 collection of his essays, the album, like “Y,” came to be a considered a classic by many.In a look back at the album upon its rerelease in 2016, the site Punknews.org observed: “This is the noise of a collapsing society caught on tape, running through the gamut of paranoia and death. Dig it.”The band broke up not long after the second album’s release, but Mr. Stewart remained prolific, collaborating with Trent Reznor of Nine Inch Nails, Tricky and Massive Attack, and releasing a string of eclectic solo albums over the years that, characteristically, were as subtle as a bazooka.The first, “Learning to Cope With Cowardice,” from 1983, was rereleased in 2006. It inspired the music site Pitchfork to note the single-minded intensity of this “possible madman and authority-critiquing refusenik that was marginalized in his own time, only to later be viewed as a seer.”Little is publicly known about Mr. Stewart’s personal life, and information about his survivors was not available.In 2010, he reunited with the Pop Group and released two more albums, “Citizen Zombie” (2015) and “Honeymoon on Mars” (2016). Both its albums and live performances showed that the band, and Mr. Stewart, had not lost a flicker of their fire.“It was good to be reminded of how singular and beautifully abrasive the Pop Group could be,” Ben Beaumont-Thomas of The Guardian wrote in a review of a 2010 London performance, “and how dreadfully conservative most rock music since sounds in comparison.” More

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      The Enduring Appeal of Magical Mystery Musicians

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      As the elusive British singer and producer Jai Paul makes his live debut, hear songs by Sault, Burial and others.Jai Paul onstage in New York this week.Nina Westervelt for The New York TimesDear listeners,On Wednesday night, I witnessed something that I never expected to see: a live performance by the mysterious British vocalist and producer Jai Paul.Paul’s music — full of glitches, strangely compressed sounds and spliced-together samples — is unmistakably a product of the digital age, yet his artistic persona could not be further from the era of social-media oversharing and streaming-service savvy. He has given one known interview, in 2011. His only full-length release was leaked, unfinished, in 2013; although it was rapturously received, the intrusion led him to suffer what he later described in a statement as “a breakdown of sorts.” After that, he retreated even further from the public eye, and didn’t officially release his album, “Leak 04-13 (Bait Ones)” — on which most tracks were still labeled “unfinished” — for six more years.What is it that enthralls us about a musical enigma? Paul’s story reminds me of other artists who have eschewed the spotlight to toil in anonymity (like the reclusive yet wildly prolific folk musician Jandek), as well as those who have chosen, much to the consternation of a rabid fan base, never to follow up a beloved record (like Neutral Milk Hotel, the band behind the adored 1998 indie-rock landmark “In the Aeroplane Over the Sea” — and then not really anything else).The faster culture moves, the more we seem to revere these artists who have opted out of the musical rat race. We are bombarded each day with such a glut of information — so many songs imploring to be heard; so many links baiting us to click — that there is a relief in encountering a finite discography or an artist who forgoes the traditional promotional routines in favor of letting the art stand on its own.That was certainly apparent at the Jai Paul concert, which was only his fourth live show ever. His return was subdued in every sense — he didn’t tease the concerts with any new material, and there was an endearing awkwardness to his stage presence — but the audience respected that. In a way, we were all there to thank him for his reticence, his increasingly rare refusenik stance, and, of course, the enduring mystery of his music.Today’s playlist is a tribute to artists like Paul: an appropriately fleeting, gently melancholy collections of tracks from artists who have cultivated a certain mystique. In addition to Paul and Neutral Milk Hotel, it features the long-lost (and finally found, thanks to the Oscar-winning documentary “Searching for Sugarman”) singer-songwriter Rodriguez; the shadowy, shape-shifting R&B collective Sault; and the eventually unmasked but still cryptic British electronic musician Burial. It does not include Jandek, because it is possible to be so elusive that your albums are not on any streaming services.Listen along here on Spotify as you read.1. Jai Paul: “Str8 Outta Mumbai”The first proper song on Paul’s only album is a kinetic explosion of textures centered around an exhilarating sample of Vani Jairam’s “Bala Main Bairagan Hoongi,” which she wrote with Ravi Shankar. He closed his live show on Wednesday with it, and it was the unquestionable highlight of the set. (Listen on YouTube)2. Neutral Milk Hotel: “Holland, 1945”A crashing, calamitous tear-jerker from the underground hero Jeff Mangum’s 1998 opus, “Holland, 1945” had a brief moment in the mainstream in 2014 when Stephen Colbert chose it, in tribute to his late family members, as the final song played on “The Colbert Report.” (Listen on YouTube)3. Rodriguez: “Crucify Your Mind”For decades, a macabre rumor swirled that the Detroit-born folk singer Sixto Rodriguez had died onstage. In Malik Bendjelloul’s remarkable 2012 documentary, “Searching for Sugarman,” he discovered that Rodriguez was not only still alive, but that he was huge in South Africa. Better late than never, the film inspired a much-deserved Rodriguez revival. (Listen on YouTube)4. Sault: “Wildfires”The prolific R&B collective Sault lets its music speak for itself: no interviews, no press photos, no music videos. It’s not entirely clear who is in Sault. What is clear is that it makes passionate, purposeful and hypnotic tunes that give voice to collective struggle, like “Wildfires,” a soulful meditation on police brutality that appears on its harrowing 2020 album “Untitled (Black Is).” (Listen on YouTube)5. Burial: “Street Halo”“I’m a low-key person and I just want to make some tunes, nothing else,” Will Bevan wrote on Myspace in 2008, when he “came out” as the anonymous but influential producer Burial. (He broke a certain corner of the internet six years later, when he posted a selfie.) From his closely guarded realm of privacy, though, the London artist has released a steady stream of moody, brooding electronic music, including this rain-streaked title track from the 2011 EP “Street Halo.” (Listen on YouTube)6. Jai Paul: “Jasmine (Demo)”The stuttering production and hiccuping vocals of “Jasmine (Demo),” Paul’s second single, convey an introversion suffused with incredible longing. Like a lot of Paul’s best music, there’s a sonic shyness about it, but also a deep undercurrent of tenderness. (Listen on YouTube)I was born for the purpose that crucifies your mind,LindsayThe Amplifier PlaylistListen on Spotify. We update this playlist with each new newsletter.“Magical Mystery Musicians” track listTrack 1: Jai Paul, “Str8 Outta Mumbai”Track 2: Neutral Milk Hotel, “Holland, 1945”Track 3: Rodriguez, “Crucify Your Mind”Track 4: Sault, “Wildfires”Track 5: Burial, “Street Halo”Track 6: Jai Paul, “Jasmine (Demo)”Bonus tracksNew newsletter alert! Madison Malone Kircher, whose story about Taylor Swift merch I linked to in last week’s Amplifier, has just introduced a weekly missive about all things internet called It Happened Online. The first installment is out today, and it is outrageously fun. Subscribe here.I went back and forth on which Rodriguez song to include, and at the last minute, I went with “Crucify Your Mind.” But you should also listen to the one I almost chose, the poetic and heartbreaking “Cause.”“Tuesday night at Knockdown Center in Queens, nearly 2,000 people were handed something fragile and entrusted — implicitly implored — not to break it.” On Tuesday night, my colleague Jon Caramanica went to the first of Jai Paul’s two New York shows and wrote an excellent review. I also enjoyed Jia Tolentino’s report for The New Yorker, in which she wrote, astutely, “Paul’s overall vibe was that of a time traveler. He had been ahead of the past decade of music, and now he was playing a 10-year-anniversary nostalgia show that was also his debut.”And if you’re looking for even more music recommendations, this week’s Playlist has new tracks from Jack Harlow, Jessie Ware, Four Tet and more. More

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      Jack Harlow Goes Deep on Race and Rap, and 8 More New Songs

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      Hear tracks by Jessie Ware, Joy Oladokun, Miguel and others.Every Friday, pop critics for The New York Times weigh in on the week’s most notable new tracks. Just want the music? Listen to the Playlist on Spotify here (or find our profile: nytimes). Like what you hear? Let us know at theplaylist@nytimes.com and sign up for our Louder newsletter, a once-a-week blast of our pop music coverage, and The Amplifier, a twice-weekly guide to new and old songs.Jack Harlow, ‘Common Ground’On his third major label album, “Jackman,” Jack Harlow leans away from the lithe boasts that shaped “Come Home the Kids Miss You,” his 2022 breakthrough LP. Instead, he pivots to issues — specifically, on the opening track “Common Ground,” the issue of whiteness. It’s a fleet, acute look at the ways white participants in hip-hop cloak themselves, to be present but not quite seen (or maybe vice versa): “Reciting rap lyrics about murder and cash profit/Get to feel like a thug but don’t have to act on it.” White rappers rapping about the condition of whiteness in hip-hop isn’t new, and Harlow has addressed these themes on earlier releases; he raps about these topics with self-awareness and skepticism (though not quite self-indictment). But as he is beginning to become a bigger mainstream rap star, he’s not shrugging off the conversation as if it doesn’t apply to him anymore. JON CARAMANICAJessie Ware, ‘Freak Me Now’The British pop singer Jessie Ware pivoted to disco on her excellent 2020 album “What’s Your Pleasure?,” but she shifts n into a higher gear on its ecstatic follow-up, “That! Feels Good!,” out on Friday. The kinetic, house-inflected dance-floor anthem “Freak Me Now” is a highlight, and its vampy attitude and attention to sonic detail finds Ware in complete control of her vision. “That sparkle in my eye, you are a jewel, baby,” she purrs on the verse, as if an entire glittering, sweaty congregation of partygoers is orbiting around her confident stillness. LINDSAY ZOLADZFour Tet, ‘Three Drums’Fresh off a raucous, last-minute gig headlining Coachella with his pals Skrillex and Fred again.., Kieran Hebden has released “Three Drums,” a slow-burning, eight-minute reverie that’s much more subdued than what he played for the festival crowd. But such is the duality of Four Tet. “Three Drums” contrasts the textures of live percussion and otherworldly synth gradients, resulting in a hypnotic composition that ebbs and flows like an ocean. ZOLADZMiguel, ‘Give It to Me’Miguel returns to one of his favorite modes — the flirt — in “Give It to Me,” which is blunt: “I like what you got,” he repeats. He has plenty of blandishments, among them “I’ll be your doctor, let me operate.” But he surrounds them with a production, credited to Scoop DeVille, that keeps melting down and reshaping itself around him: with synthesizers and handclaps, with hard-rock guitars, with echoey backup voices. It’s as if he wants to try every possible seduction strategy, all at once. JON PARELESJoy Oladokun, ‘Somebody Like Me’“I’ve watched even my best intentions turn into disaster/Everything goes backwards,” Joy Oladokun sings in “Somebody Like Me” from a new album, “Proof of Life.” It’s a plea for consolation and support from friends and from God; it’s a confession and a rallying cry. “I’ve never been as honest as I want to be/when I need help through,” she adds. The syncopated beat is steady, yet she knows the sentiment is widely shared. PARELESBebe Rexha & Dolly Parton, ‘Seasons’Aging, loneliness and despair aren’t the usual makings of Bebe Rexha’s songs, so the folky “Seasons” is unexpected — even more so with the appearance of Rexha’s duet partner, Dolly Parton. They sing in close harmony through the song, and Rexha adapts her voice to share Parton’s feathery vibrato, but Parton is upfront in the bridge. “How come nobody warns us about what’s coming for us?” she sings. “That you live and die alone.” PARELESThe 3 Clubmen, ‘Aviatrix’Andy Partridge, the often elusive co-founder of XTC, has re-emerged with two longtime collaborators, Jen Olive and Stu Rowe, as the 3 Clubmen. “Aviatrix” is a warped, meter-shifting, proudly eccentric pop extravaganza. The lyrics touch on historical and modern aviation, from “made like a bird out of canvas and sticks” to “your seat is a flotation device,” while the music just keeps piling things on — percussion, flute, saxophones, vocal harmonies, lead guitar — all wrapped around a bouncy acoustic guitar lick that loops all the way through. PARELESBill Orcutt, ‘The Life of Jesus’The guitarist Bill Orcutt has recorded in all sorts of configurations, from raucous punk to acoustic ruminations to tautly composed minimalistic electric ensembles. His new album, “Jump on It,” returns to solo acoustic guitar, a format in which he can be pristinely meditative or wildly eruptive at any moment. “The Life of Jesus” promises stability at first, steadily tolling a major chord. But midway through, breakneck dissonant lines burst out; when consonance returns, it seems far more fragile. PARELESRob Moose featuring Brittany Howard, ‘I Bend But Never Break’The violinist Rob Moose, a founder of the chamber group yMusic, has been a ubiquitous studio musician and string arranger for — among hundreds of credits — Miley Cyrus, Sufjan Stevens, Bon Iver, Arcade Fire, John Legend, Phoebe Bridgers and Alabama Shakes. Brittany Howard, Alabama Shakes’ leader, returns the favor with her song “I Bend But Never Break,” which will appear on Moose’s EP due in August, “Inflorescence.” Howard sings about seeking, and claiming, the strength to rise above obstacles and tribulation: “I am not fearless but fear will stop me,” she vows. She’s backed by a lush, cello-rich, harmonically convoluted string ensemble, as her solo testimony gives way to a choral affirmation. PARELES More

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      U2’s Music Shaped My Life. Then It Helped Save It.

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      While I was undergoing treatment to eradicate a tumor, listening to songs from the band’s long career became its own vital form of medicine.The radiation oncology department in the basement of Mount Sinai Hospital in New York does not seem like a regular home for rock ’n’ roll. But every business day for almost seven weeks this year, U2 blared over the speakers at my request.I became a fan in the late 1980s and have attended nine of the band’s concerts, though I probably fall short of superfandom. I remember listening to songs from “The Joshua Tree” album as a preteen on my staticky clock radio, struck by U2’s carefully crafted music that builds into anthems, and lyrics exploring weighty but personal themes, like love and religion. In the 1990s, I watched its mesmerizing Zoo TV tour in the pouring rain from the nosebleed seats of the old Giants Stadium in New Jersey. My wife, Amy, and I danced to “In a Little While” at our wedding. In many ways, the group has provided the soundtrack to my life.That importance gained new dimension in the summer of 2022, when I was diagnosed with a benign tumor the size of a lime near my pituitary gland. I had surgery to remove it, only to develop a rare bleeding complication that left me in intensive care for about a week. I required emergency transport and five units of blood to survive.While my complication (thankfully) is on track to heal, a small bit of the tumor remains. In March, I finished a 30-session radiation cycle to keep the mass from growing again. All of my medical drama led to dozens of trips to Mount Sinai. And it brought many chances to request U2.Patients undergoing recurring care like radiation sometimes get their choice of music, which makes it easier to relax and keep still. Meditative or classical music are popular choices, according to the radiation technicians at Mount Sinai. My choice was slightly different.U2 served two purposes. One part, of course, was escape. At every treatment, for weeks upon weeks, I changed into a gown, laid on a table and had a suffocating mesh plastic mask installed on my head to ensure that I would not move or twitch. The M.R.I.s required absolute stillness for up to 35 minutes or more.Hearing U2 helped, especially in the latter parts of the radiation treatment, when the routine became harder to bear. Bono’s philosophical words, Adam Clayton’s steady bass, Larry Mullen Jr.’s crisp drums and the Edge’s ringing guitars — that was my focus. U2’s songs often surfaced memories that took me far from the treatment room: a high school trip (“I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For”), a college breakup (“One”), time spent in another city (“Beautiful Day”).The music also served a utilitarian purpose. U2’s songs routinely clock in at about four minutes long. That knowledge allowed me to estimate how much of the treatment remained. Radiation typically took me about 20 minutes, or four to five U2 songs. M.R.I.s lasted about eight songs.At the initial M.R.I. that kicked off my medical journey, I had no idea that music was even an option. Holding still in silence, the M.R.I. seemed to take eons to complete as the machine heated up and emitted ominous loud beeps and crackles. At my second scan, I asked about the possibility of audiobooks or music. Yes, they had Spotify, a technician said. My U2 treatment plan was born.During my many trips to Mount Sinai, I have heard music from the band’s five-decade catalog in random order. Sometimes, I reframed the songs in light of my circumstances. “Stories for Boys” (1980) made me think of my 6-year-old son and how I hoped to raise him longer. “Ultraviolet (Light My Way)” (1991) and “Kite” (2000) brought about thoughts of my 11-year-old daughter. “Every Breaking Wave” (2014) took me to a sunny beach. “With or Without You” (1987) popped up most often, sparking a feeling one might get if a best friend just walked into the room.Every once in a while, Spotify sent out a song that I had not heard before, often a B-side or an obscure dance version of a track (How many times did the band rearrange “Mysterious Ways”?). For my fifth M.R.I., the technicians mistakenly put on a karaoke version of a U2 album with no words. Luckily, the songs were a close-enough facsimile of — though definitely not even better than — the real thing.The song that induced the most catharsis during treatment? “Where the Streets Have No Name.” With its ethereal organ and guitar and racing beat, the song conjures images of speeding down an empty desert highway. Basically, the opposite of lying in a hospital bed.Life’s saving graces come in all sizes, with the small ones often accumulating and surprising us with their bigness when we least expect it. I think about the village of people that has helped me during this health crisis. Doctors, nurses, support staff, family, friends, colleagues. My wife, Amy, especially. Count U2 among them.Theodore Kim is Director of Career Programs for The New York Times. More

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      Putting the Brutality of a Prize Fight on the Met Opera Stage

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      Terence Blanchard’s “Champion,” about the fighter Emile Griffith, is the rare opera to engage with sports. A boxing consultant helped keep it gritty.Emile Griffith fought Benny Paret on March 24, 1962, in a highly anticipated welterweight championship bout at Madison Square Garden.In the 12th round, Griffith knocked Paret into the ropes and pounded him with more than a dozen unanswered blows. As The New York Times put it the next day, “The only reason Paret still was on his feet was that Griffith’s pile-driving fists were keeping him there, pinned against the post.”Paret never regained consciousness and died 10 days later. The fight and its terrible aftermath were high drama. One might even call the story operatic.There has been little overlap between the high drama of sports and the high drama of opera, beyond the bullfighting in “Carmen” or perhaps that odd singing competition in “Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg.” But in telling Griffith’s story, Terence Blanchard and Michael Cristofer’s 2013 opera “Champion,” which opened earlier this month at the Metropolitan Opera and streams live in movie theaters on Saturday, brings together the brutality of boxing with the soaring passions of opera.It helps that “Champion” is not just a tale of boxing, but also of Griffith’s life as a closeted gay man, an immigrant with a tough childhood and complicated relationship with his mother, and later an old age troubled by dementia and regret.But boxing is the catalyst for the story. The 1962 bout was the third between Griffith and Paret, who had split their first two fights. (Those earlier contests are omitted from the opera, keeping the focus on the fateful third.)Ryan Speedo Green, center, as Griffith after winning the fight against Paret (Eric Greene) in “Champion.”Sara Krulwich/The New York TimesIt was a time when big boxing matches were big news. Pre-fight hype was everywhere, with all aspects of the fighters’ preparations scrutinized. The Times marveled at Griffith’s “$130 a day suite with two television sets and a closet the size of a Y.M.C.A. room” in Monticello, N.Y., as well as the “turtleneck sweaters, seal coats and Ottoman club chairs” that surrounded the ring as he sparred.The terrible aftermath of the fight brought even more intense coverage. News of Paret’s serious condition made the front page of The Times, days after the fight, with the headline “Paret, Hurt in Ring, Given Little Chance.”At the time, the biggest controversy was the referee’s delay in stopping the contest. “Many in the crowd of 7,500 were begging” the referee to intervene, The Times reported. The referee, Ruby Goldstein, was later exonerated by the State Athletic Commission.But there was more to the story. Though Griffith said he was “sorry it happened,” he added, “You know, he called me bad names during the weigh-in” and during the fight, “He did it again, and I was burning mad.”“Bad names” was how Griffith, The Times and other newspapers described Paret’s taunts. The true nature of those words was not widely known at the time. But in the mid-2000s Griffith revealed the full story. Paret had called Griffith “maricón,” a Spanish slur for a gay man. Griffith was secretly bisexual.The opera’s second act deals with the fallout from the fatal punches, and Griffith’s later life, including a brutal beating he received outside a gay bar. Griffith died in 2013 at 75.The Met worked hard to get the details and the atmosphere of a prize fight right: the ring announcer (who acts here as a Greek chorus of sorts), the sound of the bell, the trophies and championship belts, a “ring girl” signaling the changing of the rounds and the macho posturing of the weigh-in. (The conductor Yannick Nézet-Séguin emerges in the pit for the second act in a boxer’s hooded robe.)Helping to make it look accurate was Michael Bentt, a former professional world champion who served as the opera’s boxing consultant. “I’m not an expert on opera,” he said. “But I’m an expert on rhythm. And boxing is rhythm.”Bentt told the production team that there should be no stool in the ring before the first round, only between later rounds. And he thought that the boxing mitts, used by a trainer to block a fighter’s punches, looked too clean. “I said: ‘Make them look gritty. Rub them on the concrete to get them nasty looking.’ There’s nothing clean about the world of boxing.”The Met’s fight director, Chris Dumont, is used to working out sword fights. But for “Champion,” he had to choreograph fisticuffs and make them look convincing without anyone getting hurt.Champion. Griffith after winning the middleweight title in 1966.Larry Morris/The New York Times“For the body shots, they might make some contact with each other,” he said. “But you don’t want someone to get hit in the face. Even if it’s light, it won’t feel too good.”There are several ways to depict boxing: One is to simulate it as closely as possible, as some boxing movies do, by showing powerful punching and splattering blood. A more apt choice for the stage is stylization.“Since they have to sing, actually boxing through those scenes would wind them,” Dumont said of Ryan Speedo Green, who portrays the younger Griffith, and Eric Greene, who plays Paret. Most of the time, when a blow lands, the singers freeze, as if in a snapshot. Some parts are performed in slow motion.The show reaches its sporting peak with the re-creation of the 1962 fight, which ends the first act. The tension and anticipation operagoers may feel as the ring appears onstage is not all that different from the mood among fight fans or sportswriters in the moments before a big bout. All sports have some atmosphere of pregame expectation. But when the sport involves two combatants trying to hurt each other with repeated blows to the head, there is an added frisson of fear, or even dread.In “Champion,” Griffith goes down in the sixth round, and the shouts of a boisterous onstage crowd add to the tension. Then comes the fatal moment.Although the boxers’ blows onstage do not land, that does little to temper the grim moment when a flurry of unanswered shots floor Paret. “I watched the actual fight and tried to keep it as real as possible,” Dumont said. “The 17 blows are fairly close to what it was, in real time. We are not actually landing blows, but moving fast enough so the audience is tricked. It moves back to slow motion as he is falling to the mat.”And in the orchestra pit, the snare drummer looks up at the stage. Each time a blow falls, he raps a synced snare shot.A night at the opera can bring murder or war or bloodshed. But the historically and sportingly accurate depiction of a prize fight that ended with a man’s death has an unsettling quality all its own. As Goldstein, the referee, testified: “It’s the type of sport it is. Death is a tragedy that occasionally will happen.” Or, as Bentt said of “Champion,” “We can’t tiptoe around that it’s violence.” More

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      ‘Harmony,’ a Manilow Musical Set Under Nazis, Is Broadway-Bound

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      The show about the Comedian Harmonists, a real-life sextet that ran afoul of the Nazi regime, was first staged in 1997.“Harmony,” a musical about a German singing group upended by the rise of Nazism, will finally open on Broadway this fall with songs by Barry Manilow and his longtime collaborator, Bruce Sussman.The show, which Manilow and Sussman have been developing for more than 25 years, tells the true story of a sextet that ran afoul of the Nazi regime because the group featured both Jewish and non-Jewish members. The ensemble was called the Comedian Harmonists.“They represent everything I love — they’re a combination of The Manhattan Transfer and the Marx Brothers, with complicated harmonies — and funny as hell,” said Manilow, who wrote the show’s music. “When we dug into it, it just killed me: Why don’t we know about them?”Sussman, who wrote the book and lyrics, said the show was “about the quest for harmony in what turned out to be the most discordant chapter in human history.”Musicals often take a long time to reach Broadway, but “Harmony” has had a particularly protracted journey. The show was first staged in 1997, at La Jolla Playhouse in San Diego, and since then has had productions, with varying creative teams and casts: in 2013 at the Alliance Theater in Atlanta, in 2014 at the Center Theater Group in Los Angeles, and last year at the Museum of Jewish Heritage — A Living Memorial to the Holocaust in New York. There have been previous efforts to bring the show to Broadway, including a planned 2004 production that fell apart over a lack of funds.“We’re not letting go of this,” Manilow said. “We knew we had something that was special, even though we kept hitting brick walls.”The show is arriving at a time when antisemitism has become, once again, a growing concern in the United States and beyond; the issue is currently explored on Broadway in the play “Leopoldstadt” and the musical “Parade.” “It is sadly more resonant,” Sussman said, “with the rise of not only antisemitism but of autocrats around the world.”The Comedian Harmonists have been explored by other storytellers in the past: There was a 1997 movie, “The Harmonists,” and an unsuccessful 1999 musical, “Band in Berlin.” This latest musical is based in part on a historical archive compiled by Peter Czada.The Broadway production will be directed and choreographed by Warren Carlyle, who won a Tony Award for choreographing “After Midnight,” and who also helmed last year’s “Harmony” production with the National Yiddish Theater Folksbiene at the Museum of Jewish Heritage. The Broadway cast has not yet been announced.The production is scheduled to start previews on Oct. 18 and to open on Nov. 13 at the Ethel Barrymore Theater. The lead producers are Ken Davenport, Sandi Moran and Garry Kief. More

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      The Maestro Wore Blue: Bringing Pizazz to the Pit at the Met

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      Yannick Nézet-Séguin, the Metropolitan Opera’s music director, dressed in a blazing sapphire jacket and trim black pants, stood before a mirror backstage on a recent afternoon and smiled.“Oh my God, it’s so good,” he said, waving his baton. “I love it so much.”There were three days until the opening of Puccini’s “La Bohème,” and Nézet-Séguin, surrounded by a small team of tailors, designers and assistants, was offering feedback on his attire, which had been designed by the Met’s costume shop.His outfit was modeled on one worn onstage by a band leader in Franco Zeffirelli’s classic production. Could the golden braid that dangled from his right shoulder be fastened, so it did not create a distraction in the pit? Was the jacket comfortable enough to accommodate the sweeping gestures that the music demanded? And should there be more red, or maybe gold?The Met’s costume shop has designed outfits for Nézet-Séguin for eight productions, including this jacket for “Bohème.”“The more unusual elements,” he said, “the more fun for the audience.”Since the Met returned from the long pandemic shutdown, in the fall of 2021, Nézet-Séguin has been on a mission to challenge sartorial conventions, wearing eye-catching outfits designed by the Met’s costume shop in eight productions. There is limited space to make a statement; the designers focus on his back, since that is what most audience members will see.“We want to get some attention but not be too distracting,” said Robert Bulla, the Met’s assistant head costumer. “Nothing too obnoxious, but something that occasionally catches the light.”A conductor’s look book: clockwise from top left, “Champion,” “Fire Shut Up in My Bones,” “The Hours” and “Lohengrin.”Nézet-Séguin sports a black-and-white hooded jacket modeled on a vintage Everlast boxing robe for Terence Blanchard’s “Champion,” an opera about the boxer Emile Griffith that had its Met premiere this month. (At the start of the second act, he enters the pit wearing the hood and boxing gloves, but removing both to conduct.)For “Fire Shut Up in My Bones,” which opened the season in 2021, Nézet-Séguin wanted to wear something special. The opera’s costume designer, Paul Tazewell, suggested this fireworks pattern.Rose Callahan/Metropolitan OperaHe wore a stained-glass pattern on his jacket for a 2021 revival of Puccini’s “Tosca,” which opens in the Church of Sant’Andrea della Valle in Rome. And he switched from green to red to white shirts in Wagner’s “Lohengrin” this season, mimicking the look of the choristers, whose robes changed colors throughout the show.Nézet-Séguin said his outfits helped strengthen the bond between the pit and the stage.“You don’t want to ignore the orchestra,” he said. “If the conductor is there and seen, I think that helps the connection. It’s much more integrated.”At work in the costume shop. The jacket being constructed echoes one worn by a band leader onstage in the production.The costumes are also part of his efforts to make opera, which has long had a reputation for conservatism, more exciting and accessible.“We have to be more modern and approachable,” he said. “We want to welcome everybody.”While earlier music directors at the Met, all men, favored white tie and tails, Nézet-Séguin, who has held the post since 2018, has long had a more eclectic style, both in his clothes and appearance. He has bleached-blond hair and wears a diamond earring and several gold rings. He is fond of performing in clothes by designers like the Canadian Marie Saint Pierre and can be seen onstage in red-soled Christian Louboutin shoes.“The more unusual elements,” Nézet-Séguin said, “the more fun for the audience.”As the Met prepared to reopen its doors to the public after the pandemic shutdown in 2021, Nézet-Séguin felt it was time for a change.The Met was preparing to open the season with Blanchard’s “Fire Shut Up in My Bones,” the first work by a Black composer in the company’s history. Nézet-Séguin wanted to wear something to reflect the importance of the moment. The costume designer for “Fire,” Paul Tazewell, suggested a fireworks pattern, with flashes of red, indigo, teal and orange.“To be plain dressed — it just felt wrong to me,” Nézet-Séguin said.Beyond white tie and tails. “We want to get some attention but not be too distracting,” Robert Bulla, an assistant head costumer at the Met, said.Landon Nordeman for The New York TimesThe designs often riff on an opera’s central themes. For Kevin Puts’s “The Hours,” based on the 1998 novel and the 2002 film it inspired, he wore a floral pattern, a nod to the work’s many references to flowers.Comfort is a priority — the designers want to ensure that he feels unhindered, and they use lightweight and stretchable fabric for flexibility and to absorb sweat. The costume shop often produces several of each jacket so he can change into a fresh one between acts.Some operas are more challenging than others. The team struggled to come up with an idea for “Bohème” before recalling that the production includes a scene in which a band leader guides a procession of soldiers across the stage.Nézet-Séguin, who painted his nails fuchsia for “Champion,” sometimes adds his own touches.“It’s good to be breaking this mold of what everyone thinks classical music and opera is,” Bulla said. “Some people say it’s taken a long time to start this evolution process. But at least it’s evolving.”Nézet-Séguin sometimes adds his own touches. He painted his nails fuchsia for “Champion,” to match the purple robe worn onstage by Ryan Speedo Green, who plays Griffith. And he said he was eager for a day when the Met orchestra musicians would be allowed to dress with more variety. (The dress code demands tuxedos or long, flowing black clothes for evening performances.)“It’s baby steps,” he said. “When I make statements like this, mentalities can evolve. We have to think more creatively and ergonomically. This is only the beginning.” More

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      Les Arts Florissants Returns to New York, Endangered

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      William Christie’s early-music ensemble, once a staple at Lincoln Center and the Brooklyn Academy of Music, finds a new home in Carnegie Hall.The pair of concerts that William Christie and his ensemble, Les Arts Florissants, offered at Carnegie Hall this week made me a little sad.Not the concerts themselves: They were excellent, occasionally exquisite. What depressed me was the question of whether there’s a future in New York for this pathbreaking early-music group, founded in France four decades ago by Christie, an American.Its longtime bases when on tour in the city, Lincoln Center and the Brooklyn Academy of Music, have jolted away from the kind of music programming that was until recently a core part of their identities — and the kind that Les Arts Florissants embodies. But this ensemble gives the lie to the suggestion, made by certain administrators, that presenting music of the past necessarily means sleepy renditions of the standards.Sure, Christie and Les Arts Florissants don’t do contemporary pieces. Their repertoire, with its founding specialty in the French Baroque of Lully, Rameau and Charpentier, doesn’t check fashionable boxes of diversity, equity and inclusion.But that doesn’t mean they are reactionary, dull, irrelevant or unworthy of being presented alongside the best of the present day. For decades, they have been fulfilling the task of any truly important cultural institution: opening up new worlds of beauty and excitement, both emotional and intellectual. Not merely rehashing what’s known, but introducing modern audiences to works and composers overlooked for centuries.Les Arts Florissants opera productions, in particular, have been deep and poignant — and very vibrant — excavations. But the organizations with the spaces and resources to put them on in America’s cultural capital no longer seem to think that’s a meaningful endeavor. That’s a loss for New York.So gratitude is due to Carnegie, one of the city’s few remaining major presenters of early music, for offering the ensemble a place to land — at least for the moment and in spare numbers. On Tuesday, Christie and the young violinist Théotime Langlois de Swarte appeared upstairs, at Weill Recital Hall. And on Wednesday, Christie led slightly (but not much) beefier forces downstairs, at Zankel Hall.Christie and Langlois de Swarte gave a version of the violin-harpsichord program they recorded a few years ago, featuring sonatas from the early 18th century that demonstrate the influence that passionate, tumblingly virtuosic Italian music had on the austere, even severe dances of 17th-century France.The revelation of that album — and the best part of Tuesday’s recital — was the work of Jean Baptiste Senaillé, a favorite of the aristocracy in his day but now an obscurity. He was particularly adept at inflaming restrained French elegance with Italian intensity, as in the inexorably winding violin line of a G minor sonata’s prelude, exploding in arpeggios that lead to a fiery yet stylish gavotte.Langlois de Swarte, his tone clear but with an appealing hint of wiry bite, played with vivacity and wit. And the Adagio harpsichord introduction to a sonata in C minor showed off Christie’s magic touch, his phrasing noble yet gentle.Both this and Wednesday’s program were canny: short enough to do without an intermission, yet focused enough to feel immersive. So many programs these days valorize variety, but to spend a bit over an hour in a single sound world can be a profound experience.Better to be left wanting more. But I ever so slighted rued that, since it consisted mostly of selections of movements, Tuesday’s recital included only one full Senaillé sonata. (The recording boasted four, alongside two by his slightly younger contemporary, Jean-Marie Leclair.)On Wednesday, Christie led from the organ an ensemble of, at its most robust, nine male singers and seven players in a set of sacred works by Charpentier, whose opera “Les Arts Florissants” gave the group its name.This was, a little belatedly, music for the Lenten period, beginning with Charpentier’s beautiful, sober yet luscious set of 10 “Meditations for Lent” — a kind of proto-Passion that charts the story of the Stations of the Cross. Soloists sing some of the lines of biblical dialogue, with the narration given a hypnotic setting for groups of voices.In these meditations and three “lessons,” traditionally sung as part of evening services during Holy Week, the instrumentalists were superbly restrained. And, if none of the individual voices were particularly impressive, the choir achieved remarkable, moving effects of hovering gauziness and almost whispered sweetness; the sound was sometimes mellow, sometimes thrillingly emphatic. Precision of attack let even this modest-size group take on fearsome grandeur when singing of the ripping of the temple’s curtain as Jesus was crucified.The almost excruciating impact of tightly shifting harmonies matched the accounts of pain and torture in the texts. The hall lights were dimmed almost to darkness; the mood, unbroken by applause until the end, was rapt.It, like Tuesday’s recital, was a performance to be celebrated. But it was hard not to feel like these bite-size concerts were whetting the appetite for a full meal that may never come this way again. More