Music

A British Beat poet, he wrote lyrics for the band Cream and, after it broke up, continued to collaborate with Jack Bruce, the group’s lead singer and bassist.Pete Brown, a British Beat poet who wrote the lyrics to songs by the rock supergroup Cream, including the hits “White Room,” “I Feel Free” and “Sunshine of Your Love,” and who after the band’s breakup collaborated for nearly five decades with Jack Bruce, its lead vocalist and bassist, died on Friday at his home in Hastings, on the southeast coast of England. He was 82.His manager, Peter Conway, said the cause was cancer.Mr. Brown entered Cream’s circle at the request of Ginger Baker, the band’s drummer. They knew each other because Mr. Brown performed his poetry backed by jazz musicians and Mr. Baker had gotten his start in jazz combos; Mr. Baker asked Mr. Brown for help on the lyrics to the group’s debut single, “Wrapping Paper,” which preceded the release of “Fresh Cream,” its first album, in 1966.Mr. Brown quickly discovered a career-long writing partner in Mr. Bruce, whose fluid and propulsive playing provided counterpoint to Mr. Baker’s explosive drumming and the guitar pyrotechnics of Cream’s third member, Eric Clapton.In a short documentary about the making of “White Room” seen on Dutch television in 2018, Mr. Brown recalled, “It became evident that Jack and I had a chemistry, and when we wrote ‘I Feel Free,’ which was a big hit, so everyone went, ‘OK, that’s a team, let it roll.’”Mr. Brown did not provide the lyrics to all of Cream’s songs, but he was the group’s primarily lyricist. On its second album, “Disraeli Gears” (1967), he wrote the words to “Sunshine of Your Love,” a collaboration with Mr. Bruce and Mr. Clapton, as well as “Dance the Night Away” and two other songs.“White Room,” one of four songs he wrote with Mr. Bruce on the band’s third album, “Wheels of Fire” (1968), rose to No. 6 on the Billboard Hot 100 in 1968. It was the second-highest ranking a Cream single achieved; “Sunshine” had peaked at No. 5 earlier that year.“White Room” began as a poem Mr. Brown wrote, inspired by his stay some years earlier in an actual white room, in an apartment.“I had been semi-destitute, a semi-bum, living on people’s floors, and eventually I began to earn some money from songwriting, and the white room was the first place I moved into,” he told the culture website Please Kill Me in 2022. In the Dutch documentary he added that he had stopped drinking and taking drugs in the room and decided to be a “songwriter rather than an itinerant poet.”“White Room,” begins with these lines:In the white room with black curtains near the stationBlack roof country, no gold pavements, tired starlingsSilver horses ran down moonbeams in your dark eyesDawn light smiles on you leaving, my contentmentI’ll wait in this place where the sun never shinesWait in this place where the shadows run from themselvesMr. Brown in concert in 1970 in Copenhagen. He found his voice as a singer in the decade after Cream broke up, performing with a number of bands.Jorgen Angel/Redferns, Getty ImagesPeter Ronald Brown was born on Dec. 25, 1940, in Surrey, England, with World War II underway. His parents had moved there after fleeing London during the Blitz. His father, Nathan Brown, whose birth name was Nathan Leibowitz, and his mother, Kitty Cohen, sold shoes.Peter started writing poems as a teenager, fired up by the works of Dylan Thomas, Federico García Lorca and Gerard Manley Hopkins. But he detoured, at least temporarily, to journalism, which he studied for nine months in 1958 at the Polytechnic-Regent Street (now the University of Westminster) in London.He returned to verse and published his first poem in 1961 in Evergreen Review, the boundary-breaking literary magazine based in the United States that filled its pages with work by luminaries like Samuel Beckett, Jean-Paul Sartre, Allen Ginsberg, Henry Miller and William Burroughs.In one early poem, “Few,” composed under the fear of nuclear war, Mr. Brown wrote:Alone and half drunk hopefulI staggered into the bogsat Green Park stationand found 30 written on the wall.Appalled I lurched outInto the windy blaring Piccadilly nightthinking surely,Surely, there must be more of us than that.Over the next few years, he was a working poet. He was part of the First Real Poetry Band, which included the guitarist John McLaughlin, and he had a jazz poetry residency at the Marquee Club in London.In 1965, he and more than a dozen other poets from around the world, including Mr. Ginsberg, Lawrence Ferlinghetti, Gregory Corso, Michael Horovitz and Andrei Voznesensky, read their work at the International Poetry Incarnation, which filled Royal Albert Hall in London. On its website, the venue recalled the event as one “where beatniks met the emerging hippie culture.”The call for help from Mr. Baker jump-started a long songwriting career, first with Cream and then, when Cream split up after two years, with Mr. Bruce on his solo work. He wrote the lyrics to songs on nearly all of Mr. Bruce’s albums, from “Songs for a Tailor” (1969) to “Silver Rails” (2014). One of their collaborations, “Theme for an Imaginary Western,” became a staple in the repertoire of the band Mountain.“I was in awe of Jack,” Mr. Brown told The Guardian in an interview last month. But, he said, “Sometimes we had to have a rest from each other — two very big personalities in the same room sometimes wasn’t good, plus his addictions got in the way.”Mr. Brown, right, with Jack Bruce in 2005. The two began collaborating on songs when Mr. Bruce was the bassist and lead vocalist in Cream, and they continued writing together for nearly five decades.Brian Rasic/Getty ImagesMr. Brown found his own voice, as a singer, in the decade after Cream broke up. He performed with the bands Pete Brown & His Battered Ornaments, Piblokoto!, Back to the Front, Flying Tigers and Bond & Brown, which he formed with the British rock and blues musician Graham Bond. He also began a long songwriting collaboration in the early 1980s with the keyboardist Phil Ryan, a former member of Piblokto!, that produced several albums through 2013.He also helped write most of the songs on “Novum” (2017), Procol Harum’s last studio album. (He replaced Keith Reid, Procol Harum’s longtime lyricist, who died this year.)Mr. Brown’s autobiography, “White Rooms & Imaginary Westerns: On the Road With Ginsberg, Writing for Clapton and Cream — An Anarchic Odyssey” (2010), is being adapted as a documentary by the director Mark Aj Waters but has not yet been finished. Mr. Brown had recently been working on an album, “Shadow Club”; one of his collaborators was Mr. Bruce’s son Malcolm, an electric bassist like his father. (Jack Bruce died in 2014.)“We’ve naturally gravitated to each other,” Mr. Brown told The Guardian, adding that he was planning to write songs with Malcolm Bruce for his next album “as long as I can stay alive for a reasonable amount of time.”Mr. Brown is survived by his wife, Sheridan MacDonald; his daughter, Jessica Walker; his son, Tad MacDonald; and a grandson.Even after he began singing, Mr. Brown said, his admiration for Mr. Bruce initially led him to avoid singing the Cream songs he had helped write.“You know, ‘I’m not good enough,’” he told Dutch television. “Then I suddenly thought, ‘OK, I wrote those songs as well,’ and I thought, ‘It’s kind of about time I started singing some of these songs.’” More

Salvatore Sciarrino’s “Venere e Adone,” his 15th opera, premieres this weekend at the Hamburg State Opera.When the baritone Evan Hughes agreed to sing the part of the wild boar in Salvatore Sciarrino’s “Venere e Adone,” premiering at the Hamburg State Opera on Saturday, he didn’t expect to become the star of the show.In most opera versions of the Venus and Adonis myth, like John Blow’s “Venus and Adonis” (1683) and Hans Werner Henze’s “Venus und Adonis” (1997), the boar is silent or eliminated. But in “Venere e Adone,” with a libretto by Sciarrino and Fabio Casadei Turroni, the boar, or the Monster, is not just a singing role — he is the moral core of the story.In this version of the myth, the Monster, who has five solo scenes, doesn’t mean Adonis harm. The creature has been hit by one of Cupid’s arrows, and instantly falls in love with the boy hunting him.“I said yes to the project before I even really understood that the Monster was a sympathetic character,” Hughes said in an interview. “He only becomes violent because of the outside world.”Salvatore Sciarrino, a composer of stage scores that are intimate, fragile and sparse.Andreas Meichsner for The New York TimesIn an interview at his home in Città di Castello, Italy, Sciarrino, 76, said he considered the Monster to be the most human character in “Venere e Adone.” At the beginning, the Monster sings from a sort of existential limbo, unsure of who he is or what he wants. When he kills Adonis, who is hunting him, the Monster thinks he is caressing and kissing the most beautiful creature he has ever seen. Instead, he is mauling him to death.“What is life for you is death for another,” Sciarrino said. “It is one of the keys to being in the world.”“Venere e Adone” will be led by the Hamburg State Opera’s music director Kent Nagano and staged by it artistic director, Georges Delnon. It is the first Sciarrino production that Nagano has conducted, and although Delnon has known the composer for about 25 years, this is their first collaboration on a new opera.The project began when Turroni, 59, a writer and former tenor, approached Sciarrino with a draft libretto based on a version of the Venus and Adonis myth by the Italian Baroque poet Giambattista Marino.Sciarrino and Turroni began meeting frequently, often at a bar near the train station in Bologna, to shape the text together. (Drunk people can be useful sources of literary inspiration, said Turroni, who also works as a bartender in Bologna.) Over several months, they adapted it to the needs of the music; the final performance libretto was extracted directly from the score.Evan Hughes, left, as the Monster, and Scotting in a rehearsal for the opera.Andreas Meichsner for The New York Times“Venere e Adone” broadly follows the contours of the myth. Venus, the goddess of love, has descended to earth to be with Adonis, enraging her husband, Mars. Adonis wants to prove to Venus that he is not just handsome but also strong, so he makes a plan to go hunting. Venus discourages Adonis; petulantly, he ignores her. In battle, the boar sinks its tusks into Adonis’s groin.In Ovid’s “Metamorphoses,” Adonis is transformed into a flower by Venus as a memorial to his short-lived beauty. In Turroni and Sciarrino’s version, both the beauty and the beast who kills him are transformed into this flower, becoming one with nature and each other.“Venere e Adone” is Sciarrino’s 15th opera. His first, “Amore e Psiche,” also based on a mythical theme, was completed 50 years ago. In these works, Sciarrino has honed an unmistakable theatrical style: intimate, fragile and sparse, with clearly audible text.While some artists go through distinct periods, Sciarrino has spent his career pursuing his peculiar brand of beauty. “I don’t really see a radical departure or sudden burst of experimentation that’s taken place over the years,” Nagano said in a video interview. “Rather, I would say that it’s a deepening and perhaps refining of a language so that it speaks in evermore poetic ways.”From left, the conductor Kent Nagano, the director Georges Delnon and Sciarrino at the Hamburg State Opera.Andreas Meichsner for The New York Times“It is impossible to hear a human voice and remain indifferent,” Sciarrino once told the Brooklyn Rail.He added: “Using the voice means employing simultaneously two forces, words and music. Singing without words is nonsense, like making a car without wheels.”Unlike opera composers whose orchestral music reflects both the conscious and unconscious emotions of the characters, Sciarrino writes instrumental parts that summon their environment. In “Venere e Adone,” there is little accompanying music at all. Furtive echoes, forlorn bird calls and windlike breath sounds evoke a naked earth.“The music of this opera is very dry,” Sciarrino said. “There are not so many sounds in this world, because it is an empty world.”In “Venere e Adone,” the vocal music is also restrained. The singers intone the text quickly while sliding downward with their voices, or hold long, clear notes that blossom into brief melismas.The countertenor Randall Scotting, who plays Adonis, compared “Venere e Adone” to an Emily Dickinson poem. “There’s so much in it,” he said, “but you have to think about it, interpret it, bring your own things to it in order to understand it.”Sciarrino’s vocal style can be challenging for singers. The Canadian mezzo-soprano Layla Claire, in the role of Venus, spent so much time walking around her house while practicing rapid Italian phrases that her two young daughters started repeating fragments of the libretto.Delnon’s production aims for the artificiality of Baroque opera.Andreas Meichsner for The New York Times“Once I started listening to Sciarrino’s music, I realized it was a language I didn’t speak,” said Hughes, the baritone. “As I started to work on it, I felt the same way that I felt at the beginning of studying, singing, learning a language that I really didn’t understand, like trying to sing in Russian.”But Sciarrino’s vocal style isn’t completely unfamiliar. He is fascinated by the art and music of the Italian Renaissance and the Baroque periods. The walls of his home are covered in paintings, including a 17th-century depiction of Adonis and his mother Myrrha by an anonymous Venetian artist.Sciarrino himself almost became a painter. The influence of Renaissance and Baroque art will be palpable at the premiere of “Venere e Adone.” Delnon and his team have hung historical depictions of the Venus and Adonis myth in their rehearsal space at the State Opera, adapting the stylized gestures from the paintings to the stage. The set designer, Varvara Timofeeva, and the costume designer, Marie-Thérèse Jossen, are developing sleek, minimalist interplays of black, white, gray and blood red.Like Baroque opera, “Venere e Adone” uses a chorus, but to ambiguous ends.Andreas Meichsner for The New York TimesDelnon is aiming not for psychological realism, but for the artificiality of Baroque opera in his production. “You stage it in a way that you’re not trying to be the character,” he said, “but just trying to show the character.”“Venere e Adone” also includes music that sounds explicitly Baroque. For Scotting, it is the rare work where his early and contemporary music come together. “There’s this thread of antiquity that ties into it all,” he said.Sciarrino also uses the Baroque trope of a chorus that narrates and comments on the action. But while operas from that era often use the chorus to superimpose a neat moral on the story, Sciarrino deploys the vocal ensemble to more ambiguous ends. “Venere e Adone” concludes with a question: “Who triumphs, love or death?”Here, the Monster is redeemed by those universal forces. “It’s as if Sciarrino is saying that the Monster is almost rewarded,” Delnon said, “and Adonis is punished.”Sciarrino said the question was intentionally absurd and unanswerable. But, he continued with a laugh: “To tell the truth, love always wins. Or what we call love. That is the power of the word.” More

Pavel Kolesnikov took on a test of pianism, the “Goldberg” Variations, and assembled a conceptual program inspired by Joseph Cornell.Few pieces in the piano repertoire are as revealing of a performer as Bach’s “Goldberg” Variations. With few indications of tempo or articulation, they force constant interpretation. It’s hard to think of a better personality test.Except, perhaps, programming. A pianist’s choice of what to play can be more illuminating than the performance itself. A recital might focus on a single composer or group together a few sonatas; but there’s also another route, more conceptual, of compiling something more akin to a playlist.Over two evenings at the Park Avenue Armory in Manhattan this week, the pianist Pavel Kolesnikov shared his artistry with both routes, with one concert devoted to the “Goldbergs” and the other a moodily nocturnal collage inspired by Joseph Cornell’s assemblage “Celestial Navigation.”Kolesnikov, a Russian-born pianist who lives in England, is at 34 already a stalwart of the London music scene. He has recorded the “Goldbergs” and performed them alongside the choreographer-performer Anne Teresa De Keersmaeker. But he has been virtually absent from New York’s stages.He shouldn’t be. His two Armory recitals exhibited pianism of poetic freedom, assured interpretive choices and a D.J.’s ear for subtle musical connections.His Bach was boldly argued — the kind of performance that invites disagreement but is defended so persuasively, even detractors can’t help but appreciate it. His take on the “Goldbergs,” an Aria followed by 30 variations and a return to the original theme, was openly personal, the score more like a coloring-book outline filled in with a palette of Kolesnikov’s creation.In Bach’s mathematical construction, the 32 movements are mirrored in the Aria’s 32 measures, which are split into two 16-bar passages that are both repeated — a structure that recurs throughout. Like most pianists, Kolesnikov approached the first run of each passage straightforwardly, with a clarity that rendered the score’s precise architecture in vivid detail.On the repeat, however, he seemed to put that structure through a stress test. Near-constant pedalwork shaded phrases with anachronistic nuance. One variation might bleed into another, such as the closing G of the Fifth being held into the first measure of the Sixth, which starts with the same note; the Quodlibet variation emerged from a haze of sustained, hammered chords at the end of the 29th.This was a reading of the “Goldbergs” too modern for purists of historically informed performance, yet also far from the slack indulgence of Lang Lang’s divisive recording. I didn’t remember, until I returned to my notes for Kolesnikov’s second recital, that I had described his treatment of the Aria’s return as Chopinesque — which turned out to be just the word to describe his program “Celestial Navigation (After Joseph Cornell).”Cornell’s sculptural assemblage — a muted evocation of how humans have made sense of the night sky, with references to mythology and science — doesn’t exactly lend itself to musical translation in the way that, say, a synesthetic painting by Kandinsky would. But Kolesnikov’s program is cleverly similar in its juxtapositions, unlikely pairings united not in aesthetic or time but in something loftier.It’s always refreshing to see musicians interacting with other mediums, and for Kolesnikov this isn’t even a first: He has also put together a recital inspired by Proust. As a conceptual thinker he resembles the pianist Vikingur Olafsson. But while Olafsson approaches programming like an essayist laying out a constellatory argument, Kolesnikov cultivates a mood. His performance at the Armory was a gathering of congenial poets.At the heart of the evening was a trio of suites that followed a basic construction: a Messiaen piano solo, a Chopin Nocturne and a fragmentary reprise of the Messiaen. Surrounding those were a Pavane by Louis Couperin (not the more famous François); Ravel’s “Une Barque sur l’Océan”; and Thomas Adès’s Dowland-inspired “Darknesse Visible.” Then, in the second half, Kolesnikov closed with Schubert’s D. 935 Impromptus.Covering nearly 350 years of music history, these pieces couldn’t possibly belong to the same sound world. But Kolesnikov nudged them as closely together as possible — again applying modern pedalwork to the Baroque, and using Chopin as a stylistic anchor. The result was often disorienting; Messiaen’s colors shone more brightly, and Schubert leaned with blunter emotions toward the Romantic.Kolesnikov’s blanket dreaminess lent a memory-like remove even to passages of storminess and, in one of the Chopin Nocturnes, a moment of “I could have danced all night” bliss. These were idiosyncratic interpretations in service of a greater whole.As in the “Goldbergs,” some of this could be seen as sacrilege. Maybe. What is inarguable, though, is that given two opportunities to reveal himself to New York, Kolesnikov came out and declared what kind of pianist he is: entirely, confidently, eloquently himself. More

As a child, music was the British comedian’s first obsession. Decades later, his first record tells the story of a toy alligator.The British comedian James Acaster can remember the moment he fell in love with music at 6 years old. At a party held by a member of the congregation of the “hippie-ish” church his parents attended in Kettering, a town in central England, he heard a compilation album featuring songs like Men at Work’s “Down Under” and “Centerfold” by The J. Geils Band.“I just couldn’t believe how good every single song was — it was blowing my mind,” Acaster said in a recent video interview. Music became “a pretty immediate obsession.”By the time he was a teenager, Acaster was playing in several bands. He left school at 17, without taking his final exams, and didn’t go to college, so he could focus on building a career in music.At 22, though, he didn’t have a record deal, and when his experimental jazz group split, Acaster started focusing on comedy instead. He had been dabbling in stand-up as a side project since he was 18, and it felt like a welcome break from the pressures of trying to make it in music.“It was nice to do it and not care about it,” he said. “Whereas every time I was onstage with a band, I really cared and wanted it to go well.”In one special in his Netflix series “James Acaster: Repertoire,” the comedian moves from the idea of him being an undercover cop to talking about a breakup. Silviu Nutu Vegan Joy/NetflixToday, Acaster, 38, is one of Britain’s most popular comedians, and he has finally released a debut album of sorts: “Party Gator Purgatory,” a 10-track experimental record featuring Acaster’s drumming and made with the 40-artist collective he founded called Temps.In comedy, Acaster has had critical and mainstream success. A fixture on British comedy panel shows, in recent years he’s also found success in podcasting with “Off Menu,” a show about dream meals he co-hosts with the comedian Ed Gamble.On the talent-filled British comedy circuit, Acaster has carved out a singular voice: a mixture of whimsy and vulnerability, surrealism and biting commentary, as seen in his stand-up special “Cold Lasagna Hate Myself 1999,” in which he explored a difficult period in his personal life with both candor and his signature frenetic performance style.This balance is what has connected with people, said Matthew Crosby, a British comedian and friend, who praised Acaster’s “genuine authenticity” in a recent phone interview.Acaster looms so large on the British comedy scene that others have begun to emulate him. “Anyone who’s got a really distinctive unique style, whether wittingly or unwittingly, gets aped by the circuit — Eddie Izzard and Harry Hill are the people who immediately spring to mind,” Crosby said. “And you see it now with lots of people doing James.”On the talent-filled British comedy circuit, Acaster has carved out a singular voice.Tom Jamieson for The New York TimesAs comedy, once his low-pressure creative pursuit, transformed into a fully-fledged career, Acaster disengaged from both listening to and making music. Then, in 2017 he had a mental-health crisis precipitated by breakups with his girlfriend and his agent, and he began collecting albums released in the previous year, ultimately purchasing 500 releases from 2016 alone, he said.“When things got a bit rough that was my most recent thing that had brought me a lot of comfort so I carried on doing that,” he said. “I just sort of reacquainted myself or renegotiated my relationship with music as a fan.”He codified the personal project in “Perfect Sound Whatever,” a 2019 book in which he claims that 2016 was the best ever year for music, and explains why.In 2020, he started making music again, and the result is “Party Gator Purgatory,” an experimental, hip-hop inflected and drum-heavy record, which follows the death, purgatory and resurrection of a life-size toy alligator Acaster won at a fair when he was 7.The album’s high concept is typical of Acaster’s creative process, and the way he works his way out from a single idea. “You’re just running with whatever hunch you’ve got that this might be fun,” he said. This approach is clear across Acaster’s books, podcasts and stand-up. On the album, the idea is the travails of a stuffed toy; in one special in his Netflix stand-up series “Repertoire,” Acaster began with the idea of his being an undercover cop, “and by the end you’ve got a show that is about a breakup you’ve had,” he said.“He’s not afraid of being incredibly niche,” Crosby said. “He doesn’t sort of sit down at the start of each day and go, ‘What can I do that’s going to make me a load of money?’ He goes, ‘What am I really interested in?’”This penchant for niche ideas is evident in an album that is dense and genre-defying. “Party Gator” is largely inspired by “What Now?,” a 2016 album from the experimental musician Jon Bap, in which the drums feel deliberately out of sync.“You’re just running with whatever hunch you’ve got that this might be fun,” Acaster said of his approach to the creative process.Tom Jamieson for The New York Times“He’s just a freak and he likes weird music and I think we both like a lot of weird stuff,” said NNAMDÏ, a Chicago-based musician who raps on the album, in a video interview.Making the album was a labor of love, an all-consuming project that stretched over two years. On the album Acaster plays drums, served as a producer and curated a 40-strong roster of collaborators, including the singer-songwriter Xenia Rubinos and the rapper Open Mike Eagle. He would listen to a drum track he’d created, figure out who he wanted on it, and reach out. Acaster had interviewed some of the musicians he wanted to work with for his book, “Perfect Sound,” and around half of them he cold emailed. “I just got very very lucky that people would say yes,” he said.Taking place mostly during Britain’s pandemic lockdowns, the collaborations happened over email and Zoom, through which Acaster was able to foster an environment of experimentation. “For the majority of it, he just told me to do whatever I felt like doing,” NNAMDÏ said. “He kind of took what I did and manipulated it. It is still what I did, but he added his own little textures to it and chopped up some things and kind of freaked it, made it cool.”With an album that may not appeal to mainstream audiences, Acaster is levelheaded about what its reception could look like. “I really hope that it finds its audience, and the people who would like it discover it and get into it,” he said.In many ways, the making of the album is a mark of success for Acaster.“I love it all and I love it as much as any of my stand-up shows, anything I’ve done,” he said. More

Nicholas Britell’s score for the HBO series, which concludes on Sunday, has developed, episode by episode, into a classic theme-and-variations work.There comes a moment near the start of most “Succession” episodes when a faint beat enters the scene, right before some punchline or turn of the screw.Then the show’s theme music kicks in. Over snippets of vintage family videos, a piano fantasia as grainy as the footage unfurls like a sample for swaggering hip-hop alongside courtly, imperious strings.Like any effective theme, it lodges itself in your head immediately. But this music’s composer, Nicholas Britell, isn’t a mere tunesmith, and he doesn’t stop there. Over the four seasons of “Succession,” which ends on Sunday, he has written something unusual in television: a sprawling yet conceptually focused score that has developed, episode by episode, into a classic theme-and-variations work that would be just as fit for the concert hall as for the small screen.This is characteristic of Britell, who doesn’t tend to simply set the emotional tenor of a scene. A screen composer at the forefront of his generation — not a successor to John Williams and his symphonic grandeur but rather a chameleonic, sensitive creator of distinct sound worlds — Britell draws as freely from late Beethoven as he does from DJ Screw, and is as compelling in modes of aching sincerity and high satire alike.Britell is one of the foremost screen composers of his generation, drawing freely from a diverse array of influences including classical music and hip-hop.Clement Pascal for The New York TimesAnd in “Succession,” he evokes a classical music tradition in which a composer doodles at the piano to improvise on a theme, putting it through permutations based on mood and form. This could serve as good parlor entertainment, but also the basis for inventive, kaleidoscopic works; Britell’s soundtrack, in its pairing of piano and orchestra, has an ancestor in Rachmaninoff’s concerto-like “Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini.” He would do well to adapt his score into a similar piece.With his theme and variations, Britell offers a parallel of the show itself: an idée fixe established at the start — a patriarch’s departure from the top of his business empire is more of a when than an if — and a circular (some would say static) plot about the ways in which three of his children maneuver to take over.It is a premise that carries on even after the father’s death early this season; the most recent episode, about his funeral, demonstrates the psychological hold Logan Roy still has over his children and how, united in grief, they nevertheless continue to scheme.The musical seed for all this couldn’t be simpler: not the theme for the main titles, but a lumbering, eight-chord motif that appears within it, and at the start of the “Strings Con Fuoco” cue.From there, variations surface with nods to Classical and Baroque forms: a dancerly minuet or rondo, a concerto grosso of angular strings, a wandering ricercare.Many cues have titles resembling those of a symphony’s movements, tempo indications like “Adagio” and “Andante Con Moto.” Others could blend in with a chamber music program, like Serenade in E flat, or Impromptu No. 1 in C minor, which shares its name with one of Schubert’s most famous piano solos.That can’t be a coincidence. Listening to Mozart’s Fantasia in C minor (K. 475), “Succession” fans might feel transported to the show’s soundtrack.An excerpt from Mozart’s Fantasia in C minor (K. 475)Mitsuko Uchida (Decca)In the first two seasons, Britell followed a fairly confined playbook of the eight-chord motif’s different guises: a beating piano similar to that Mozart fantasia, darkly regal strings and brasses.Generally, each variation was recognizably developed from the same cell. The biggest departures occurred whenever the Roy family left New York. For an episode at Connor’s New Mexico estate, Austerlitz, Britell interjected a guitar variation not heard before or since.Scenes in England took on a stately fanfare. And, at the family’s country house, preparations for a meal were accompanied by a Schubertian violin sextet.Something changed by Season 3. The music, like the story, became more openly emotional; for every cunning rondo, there was a doleful largo. Unsteady ground onscreen translated to surprises in the sound, such as Britell’s first use of a choir at the end of the season finale. Again the score swerved, stylistically, when characters were away from Manhattan. During the climactic episodes, set in Tuscany, he put his theme through an Italian prism for cues like “Serenata — ‘Il Viaggio.’”In the final season, Britell has expanded his palette of variations even further. Logan Roy’s authoritarian monologue on the floor of his news channel ATN is given a coda of chilling dissonance. Suspended chords conjure the in-between state of the children after his death. The irrepressible feelings at the most recent episode’s funeral might as well have a cue title like “Appassionata.”The question is, how will Britell’s theme and variations end? Historically, composers have gone one of two ways: by revisiting the beginning, as in the Aria of Bach’s “Goldberg” Variations, or with the potential for further development, as in Beethoven’s “Diabelli” Variations.You could ask the same of the Roy children, who going into the series finale are behaviorally similar to where they started but also, on a deeper level, are not. Will they achieve resolution? Or will their cycles of intrigue continue? Chances are, the answer will be in Britell’s music.In the final season of “Succession,” Britell has expanded his palette of variations even further.Clement Pascal for The New York Times More

La Barzola, a neighborhood in Seville, Spain, is home to a diverse population of working-class families, many of them immigrants, with the pulse of community and creative resistance running through their veins. The heart of the barrio is the Plaza Manuel Garrido, a public park and social nexus. And within this space is a basketball court that a group of aspiring rappers call their own.

Hip-hop was born 50 years ago from the rubble of urban distress in the Bronx, an act of resistance and self-expression by society’s most vulnerable. Today, the music is everywhere: a multi-billion-dollar ecosystem. But it also remains a deeply personal form of expression, including for the young men in this community.

“Whatever pain, anger or frustrations we harbor from our everyday experiences, music allows us to excavate those things and make something useful out of it,” Zakaria Mourachid, 21, who makes music under the name Zaca 3K, said. “We take our anger out on the music. We turn our tears into rhymes, because it makes us feel free in a world that creates barriers around us everyday.”

Just like the originators of hip-hop, the rappers of this collective ground their material in their personal narratives.

“Overcoming immigration, overcoming having to leave one’s country of origin, overcoming being separated from our families and overcoming the loss of those we meet who may or may not continue the journey with us.” More

Many said her music and her life story were inspirations as she overcame abuse during her marriage to Ike Turner and emerged as a star on her own.Rock and soul singers, civil rights activists and political leaders mourned Tina Turner on Wednesday as a trailblazing artist whose music and life epitomized resilience, determination, heart and the power to not only survive but thrive over five decades in the music industry.“Tina would have so much energy during her performances and was a true entertainer,” Magic Johnson, the former star of the Los Angeles Lakers, wrote on Twitter. “She created the blueprint for other great entertainers like Janet Jackson and Beyoncé and her legacy will continue on through all high-energy performing artists.”As news spread of Ms. Turner’s death, at 83, in Switzerland, many said her life story was an inspiration as she overcame abuse during her marriage to Ike Turner and emerged as a star on her own, with the release of her solo album “Private Dancer” in 1984.“This woman rose like a Phoenix from the ashes of abuse, a derailed career, and no money to a renaissance like I’ve never seen in entertainment,” Sherrilyn Ifill, the former president of the NAACP Legal Defense Fund, said on Twitter. “She became fully herself and showed us all how it’s done.”Mick Jagger of the Rolling Stones, who toured with Ms. Turner in Britain in 1966 and then in the United States in 1969, in a series of concerts that helped introduce her music to white audiences, said that he was “so saddened by the passing of my wonderful friend Tina Turner.”Tina Turner with Mick Jagger at a Live-Aid concert in Philadelphia in 1985.Rusty Kennedy/Associated Press“She was truly an enormously talented performer and singer,” Mr. Jagger wrote on Instagram. “She was inspiring, warm, funny and generous. She helped me so much when I was young and I will never forget her.”Former President Barack Obama said on Twitter that “Tina Turner was raw. She was powerful. She was unstoppable. And she was unapologetically herself — speaking and singing her truth through joy and pain; triumph and tragedy.”“Today,” he added, “we join fans around the world in honoring the Queen of Rock and Roll, and a star whose light will never fade.”The actress Angela Bassett, who was nominated for an Oscar for her portrayal of Ms. Turner in the 1993 film “What’s Love Got to Do With It,” said in a statement: “How do we say farewell to a woman who owned her pain and trauma and used it as a means to help change the world?”“Through her courage in telling her story, her commitment to stay the course in her life, no matter the sacrifice, and her determination to carve out a space in rock and roll for herself and for others who look like her, Tina Turner showed others who lived in fear what a beautiful future filled with love, compassion, and freedom should look like,” Ms. Bassett said. “Her final words to me — for me — were ‘You never mimicked me. Instead, you reached deep into your soul, found your inner Tina, and showed her to the world.’”The R&B and soul singer Aaron Neville recalled when the Neville Brothers toured Europe with Ms. Turner in 1990, selling out shows with more than 70,000 fans in attendance. It was during that tour, he said, when he came up with the idea for his song, “The Roadie Song,” as he watched the crew set up stages all across Europe.“She showed us much love and respect,” Mr. Neville wrote on Twitter. “I know she has a place in the heavenly band.”Ms. Turner’s career began in the late 1950s, when she was in high school in East St. Louis, Ill., and spanned half a century, as she moved from singing R&B and soul into rock and pop. She was inducted into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame with Mr. Turner in 1991 again as a solo artist in 2021.She gave her final public performance in 2009 and then retired.Beyoncé, left, and Tina Turner perform at the 50th Grammy Awards in Los Angeles on Feb. 10, 2008.Robyn Beck/Agence France-Presse — Getty Images“Tina Turner was our voice,” Mayor Eric Adams of New York wrote on Twitter. “She’s an icon who knocked down boundaries, shook our soul and redefined music. She overcame so much to become an icon.”Kelly Rowland, the singer formerly of Destiny’s Child, is part of a younger generation of singers who drew inspiration from Ms. Turner: “Thank you Queen, for giving us your all!” she wrote. “We Love You!!”The R&B singer Ciara wrote: “Heaven has gained an angel. Rest in Paradise Tina Turner. Thank you for the inspiration you gave us all.”And rapper and songwriter Kid Cudi wrote that Ms. Turner was a hero to his mother, and “she was the ultimate superhero to me too.” More

Turner, who died Wednesday at 83, went from R&B shouter to rock queen to pop superstar. Here are some of her greatest musical moments.Like all the greatest pop icons, Tina Turner, who died Wednesday at 83, had more than one life.She started off as an R&B shouter and inexhaustible dancer who, alongside her husband Ike, put on the most exhilarating live show this side of James Brown. Then she was a rock heroine who toured with the Rolling Stones and served as the Who’s Acid Queen. And finally she became the ultimate survivor — the abused woman who left her man in the dust and, without apologies, claimed a crown all her own.Here are some of Tina Turner’s greatest musical moments, on record and on film.Ike & Tina Turner, “A Fool in Love” (1960)Ike and Tina’s early R&B hits are electrifying moments of raw musical power, but in retrospect they are also deeply creepy in their lyrical content. The duo’s first single introduces Tina’s larger-than-life howl and has her sing about a troubled relationship in which her man mistreats her and “got me smilin’ while my heart is in pain,” yet she still promises to “do anything he wants me to.” Those words were written by Ike Turner, who has sole credit as the songwriter.Ike & Tina Turner, “I Idolize You” (1960)More strange and uncomfortable lyrics: Tina professes not love but idolatry, and says that in return, “just a little bit attention you know will see me through.” Tina’s guttural cry atop a walking bass line was the sexiest, most unfiltered sound in music at the time, but it is all but impossible to hear these songs now without wincing at the horror show Tina would later describe about her marriage to Ike.Ike & Tina Turner, “It’s Gonna Work Out Fine” (1961)The biggest hit of Ike & Tina’s early years — it went to No. 2 on Billboard’s R&B chart and was Top 20 pop — is a lighter back-and-forth routine about a couple persevering through their troubles. Again, eww. But at least this time the song was not by Ike. It was written by Rose Marie McCoy along with Joe Seneca and James Lee, and the R&B duo Mickey & Sylvia were involved in the recording.Ike & Tina Turner, “River Deep — Mountain High” (1966)Phil Spector had seen the Ike & Tina Turner Revue — their incredibly high-energy live show, featuring Tina singing and dancing with the backup Ikettes — and recorded this single, written by Spector with Jeff Barry and Ellie Greenwich, for his label, Philles. It tones down Tina’s howls and replaces Ike’s tight band with a somewhat hazy version of Spector’s signature “wall of sound.” The single was a flop, which caused the album of the same title to be delayed by three years in the United States.Ike & Tina Turner, “Proud Mary” (1971)“We never ever do nothin’ nice and easy. We always do it nice and rough.” Thus Tina introduces her biggest hit with Ike, a rollicking Creedence Clearwater Revival remake that went to No. 4. After a stripped-down, “nice and easy” run through the first couple of verses, the full band, with horns and Ikettes, joins in to take it energetically to the finish line.Ike & Tina Turner, “Nutbush City Limits” (1973)Tina, as the sole credited songwriter, tells her own story for once, detailing her upbringing in rural Tennessee, where “you go to the field on weekdays and have a picnic on Labor Day.” It’s played as acid funk, with period-appropriate electric keyboards and a Moog solo. But the song is still a reverie, never imagining a life beyond the small-town simplicities.“The Acid Queen” (1975)For the film version of the Who’s “Tommy,” Tina was cast as the Acid Queen, the “Gypsy” with a wild scream and quivering lips who uses sex and drugs to try to cure the boy. By this point, Tina was a world-famous sex symbol, and her name alone was shorthand for feminine power. It was also not long before she left Ike. But the world would not know her secret for years.“What’s Love Got to Do With It” (1984)By the 1980s, Tina was in her 40s and long past Ike, and her brand was survival. The songs on “Private Dancer,” her breakthrough solo album, were mostly written by men, but they perfectly fit the role of an independent woman who isn’t resigned to being alone. “What’s Love Got to Do With It” is the story of a woman with a broken heart who’s tempted but afraid to try again with love, “a secondhand emotion.”“Better Be Good to Me” (1984)A confident and defiant demand to a man, this was co-written by Holly Knight and was originally released by her band Spider. But it has been Tina’s song ever since, giving her a chance not only to declare “I don’t have no use for what you loosely call the truth,” but also to unleash her raspy roar with “should I?”“We Don’t Need Another Hero (Thunderdome)” (1985)Tina donned a white mane and postapocalyptic tribal garb for “Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome,” in which she starred alongside Mel Gibson. The theme song is squeaky-clean ’80s torch pop, though Tina keeps her costume on for the music video.“The Best” (1989)Originally recorded by Bonnie Tyler, “The Best” is a song of praise to a lover. But if you squint, or sing along as a fan, it could be a paean to Tina herself: “You’re simply the best, better than all the rest.” More