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      Morgan Wallen Returns to No. 1 With ‘One Thing at a Time’

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      The pop-country singer, who was briefly reprimanded by the industry after using a racial slur, has another blockbuster regardless: the 36-song “One Thing at a Time.”Two years after being momentarily shunned by the music industry — but not most listeners — for using racist language, the pop-country singer Morgan Wallen has another blockbuster album on his hands: “One Thing at a Time,” his third LP, debuts at No. 1 this week on the Billboard chart with the largest sales of the year so far.“One Thing at a Time” moved the equivalent of 501,000 units since its release on March 3, including sales, streams and downloads, according to the tracking service Luminate, making it the most successful debut since Taylor Swift’s “Midnights” sold 1.6 million last fall. Wallen’s total included 498 million plays on streaming services across the album’s 36 tracks — enough for fifth ever on the weekly streaming list and the most for an album not by Swift or Drake.The continued commercial dominance for Wallen, 29, a native of eastern Tennessee, comes after the bumpy ride that surrounded the release of his previous album, “Dangerous,” but never adversely affected engagement with his music. Anointed as country’s next mega-headliner and crossover hope, Wallen had an instant smash with “Dangerous” in January 2021, but saw his industry promotion paused after he was caught on video casually using a racial slur amid what he said later was “hour 72 of a 72-hour bender.”Still, “Dangerous” racked up 10 weeks at No. 1 and still sits at No. 6 on the Billboard 200 — its 110th nonconsecutive week in the Top 10. (The only album with more appearances there is the original cast recording of “My Fair Lady” with 173, according to Billboard.)Like “Dangerous,” which featured 30 tracks on its original version, “One Thing at a Time” is notable for its length, coming in at nearly two hours across its 36 vaguely regretful drinking and love songs, giving listeners on streaming services plenty to choose from.A move more commonly associated with rap releases, the seemingly endless album targeted at digital audiences has become a common industry tactic, with only four No. 1 albums in the last 12 months coming in at fewer than 12 songs, Billboard noted. “One Thing at a Time” has more songs than any chart-topper except the “Encanto” soundtrack in that same time frame. Just 24,000 units of the Wallen album’s equivalent sales total were physical copies of its two-disc CD, with more than 75 percent of listener activity coming from streaming.Riding the album-release momentum, Wallen’s single “Last Night” hit No. 1 on the Billboard singles chart on Monday, up from No. 5. This week, songs from “One Thing at a Time” occupy half of the Hot 100’s Top 10, a first for a country singer.On the album chart, SZA’s former No. 1 “SOS” holds at No. 2 with 82,000 units after 10 nonconsecutive weeks on top; Karol G’s “Mañana Será Bonito,” which was No. 1 last week, falls to No. 3 with 60,000 units; Kali Uchis’s “Red Moon in Venus” arrives at No. 4 with 55,000 units; and Swift’s “Midnights” is No. 5 with 48,000. More

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      Spot, Record Producer Who Captured the Fury of 1980s Punk, Dies at 71

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      A lifelong jazz aficionado, he changed course to produce bands like Black Flag and Hüsker Dü for the influential SST label.Glen Lockett, the influential record producer who, working under the name Spot, helped define the jet-turbine sound of American punk rock in the 1980s, recording groundbreaking albums by Black Flag, Hüsker Dü, Minutemen and many others, died on March 4 in Sheboygan, Wis. He was 71.His death, in a nursing home, was announced in a Facebook post by Joe Carducci, a former co-owner of SST Records, the iconoclastic Hermosa Beach, Calif., label where Mr. Lockett made his name. Mr. Lockett had been hoping for a lung transplant in recent years after a long battle with pulmonary fibrosis, and he had spent most of the last three months in a hospital after a stroke.As the in-house producer for SST from 1979 to 1985, Mr. Lockett controlled the mixing board on landmark recordings that helped bring American punk from deafening gigs in garages and basements to the mainstream — the college-radio mainstream, at least.He produced or engineered more than 100 albums for SST, including classics like Black Flag’s “Damaged” (1981), Descendents’ “Milo Goes to College” (1982), Meat Puppets’ first album (1982), Minutemen’s “What Makes a Man Start Fires?” (1982) and Hüsker Dü’s “Zen Arcade” (1984).In part because SST had limited budgets in the early days, but also because of bands’ wishes and Mr. Lockett’s production philosophy, he typically opted to record live in the studio — all members playing at once — with minimal studio effects, instead of the widespread industry practice of recording one instrument at a time and using overdubs and effects like digital delay and outboard reverb.As a result, he was able to translate to vinyl the raw, immediate howl of punk that, in a live setting, sent bodies crashing and elbows flying.“Our first time in the studio with him was for our first Minutemen record, ‘Paranoid Time,’ a seven-song, seven-inch EP, in July of 1980,” Mike Watt, the band’s bassist and co-founder, recalled in an email. “He recorded and mixed us that one night. I think we started at midnight and ended a few hours later.”Mr. Lockett in Hermosa Beach, Calif., in the late 1970s. An avid roller skater, he used to wheel around Los Angeles hanging fliers for gigs by bands he worked with on the SST label.via Pacific Coast Gallery“Spotski,” Mr. Watt added, “always was about trying to capture what was us, like with this record — kind of like a ‘gig in front of the microphones’ trip, where he big-time said he didn’t want to get in the way of us trying to bring what we had that made us what we were.”Mr. Lockett’s sensibility dovetailed with the attitude of SST, which the rock critic Byron Coley once described as “archly xenophobic,” referring to the label’s revulsion for the highly processed sounds being stamped out by the major labels in the hit factories of Los Angeles.“There was a general dismissal of what rock radio had become, so Spot was bent on capturing what the band was putting out, without softening, buffering or tampering with it,” Mr. Carducci said in a phone interview.The label’s storm-the-barricades ethos might not have resulted in chart-topping hits, but SST made waves in the industry, growing from “a cash-strapped, cop-hassled storefront operation to easily the most influential and popular underground indie of the ’80s,” as the music journalist Michael Azerrad wrote a 2001 article for The New York Times.Mr. Lockett with D. Boon of the band Minutemen in the 1980s. In the studio, the band’s Mike Watt said, Mr. Lockett “was about trying to capture what was us.”Naomi PetersenWhile he was committed to the punk cause — an avid roller skater, he used to wheel around Los Angeles hanging fliers for gigs by SST bands — he never let the do-it-yourself minimalism espoused by many in the genre limit his musical scope.He was a skilled guitarist who also played clarinet, banjo, mandolin, drums and even bagpipes; he often joined Minutemen onstage, Mr. Watt said, to play his clarinet during the band’s jams between songs.Before he fell into the nascent Southern California punk-rock scene in the late 1970s, Mr. Lockett had been performing, recording and writing about jazz for a local newspaper in Hermosa Beach, home of the Lighthouse, a nightclub long considered a mecca of West Coast jazz.A musical omnivore, he later developed a fascination for traditional Irish music and started a small label of his own, No Auditions, for which he recorded a number of eclectic, Irish-inflected solo albums after he moved from Los Angeles to Austin, Texas, in 1986. He was also a photographer, and published a book of his work, “Sound of Two Eyes Opening,” in 2014.“It seems that the whole history of punk rock, and especially the stuff that happened in L.A., is based on a lot of myths,” he said in a 2018 interview published on the Red Bull Music Academy website. “There were a lot more influences and ideas about life and culture that most people either don’t have a clue about, or aren’t really all that willing to accept.”Mr. Lockett at a club in Wyoming in 2006.Jan LeonhardtGlenn Michael Lockett, who later dropped an “n” from his first name, was born on July 1, 1951, in Los Angeles, the youngest of two children of Claybourne Lockett (who went by Buddy), a furrier who later worked as a clerk in the post office of the Ambassador Hotel, and Cynthia (Katz) Lockett, an office manager at a local music academy. His father had served in World War II as one of the famed Tuskegee Airmen.He is survived by his sister, Cynthia Cyrus.Growing up in Leimert Park in South Central Los Angeles, Mr. Lockett developed an early love of post-bop jazz.He got his first guitar at 12 and was soon playing along with British Invasion, Motown and surf-rock hits. As his musical vocabulary developed, he eventually became fascinated with the musically ambitious progressive rock of the early 1970s. At one point he also unsuccessfully auditioned for the genre-hopping rock auteur Captain Beefheart.By the mid-’70s, however, Mr. Lockett, like a lot of future punk figures, had grown weary of prog, with its pomposity and self-consciously elaborate compositions and arrangements. After he helped friends build a recording studio called Media Arts in Hermosa Beach, he began recording jazz groups, and was inspired by the direct and unfiltered studio approach of the combos he recorded.Jazz musicians “didn’t want anything fancy,” he said in the Red Bull interview. “They just wanted to get the things down, and they didn’t care if someone played a bad note or not.”That spirit carried over to his next musical chapter, which began when he was working as a waiter at a vegetarian restaurant. It was there that he met Greg Ginn, who would later be a founder of both Black Flag and SST Records.Despite their differing musical influences, Mr. Lockett would occasionally jam with Mr. Ginn and the other members of a band called Panic, which later evolved into Black Flag.When a Black Flag concert at a park in nearby Manhattan Beach erupted into a melee, Mr. Lockett knew he wanted to produce the band. “That show was just so crazy,” he told Red Bull Academy. “I said, ‘I got to record this band before they get killed.’” More

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      Review: The Time for Prokofiev’s ‘War and Peace’ Is Now

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      After Russia’s invasion of Ukraine, this opera adaptation of Tolstoy seemed unperformable. But in Munich, it has become an urgent antiwar cry.MUNICH — Sergei Prokofiev died the same day as Joseph Stalin: March 5, 1953. It’s a coincidence you’re more likely to come across in the composer’s biography than in Stalin’s.Because while Prokofiev barely figures in Stalin’s life, his own was profoundly, inalterably changed by Soviet rule. Among the many documents of that is his “War and Peace,” a work contorted through forced revision into strident propaganda. Rarely performed, it opened this week on the anniversary of their deaths at the Bavarian State Opera here in a darkly urgent and sensitively executed new production haunted by the war in Ukraine.Prokofiev began to adapt Tolstoy’s novel — an expansive portrait of Moscow society around Napoleon’s 1812 invasion of Russia, and a study in the scattered forces that shape history — in the early years of World War II, as the capital was under threat from another Western European dictator. By then, Prokofiev, who had left his homeland after the Russian Revolution, had returned and settled in the Soviet Union.His work was repeatedly inhibited by the state and subject to censorship, though he also took up nationalistic commissions like the score for Sergei Eisenstein’s film “Alexander Nevsky.” And he obliged when ordered to revise “War and Peace” to include, in its martial second half, rallying choruses and a grandly heroic treatment of General Kutuzov as a stand-in for Stalin.The edits made for a clumsily uneven work of vestigial intimacy and blunt, bombastic flag-waving. Yet when “War and Peace,” which premiered in 1946, is staged — always an event because of its sheer immensity, with more than 70 characters — the score is often received uncritically, even praised.The State of the WarRussian Strikes: Moscow fired an array of weapons, including its newest hypersonic missiles, in its biggest aerial attack on Ukraine in weeks, knocking out power in multiple regions.Bakhmut: Even as Ukrainian and Russian leaders predicted that the fall of the city could open the way for a broader Russian offensive, the U.S. intelligence chief said that the Kremlin’s forces were too depleted to wage such a campaign.Nord Stream Pipelines: The sabotage in September of the pipelines has become one of the central mysteries of the war. A Times investigation offers new insight into who might have been behind it.That is, until Russia’s invasion of Ukraine called into question the taste of performing it. The Bavarian State Opera, which had been planning this production for several years, was faced with a dilemma. Moving forward would invite controversy; calling it off would play into President Vladimir V. Putin’s claims of Russian culture being canceled in the West.The show went on, but with a rare public defense by the house’s leader, Serge Dorny, who said, “We must not limit art to the nationality of those that create it,” and with more than 30 minutes of cuts to sand down the score’s more uncomfortably chauvinistic moments. Ultimately, though, the production — staged by Dmitri Tcherniakov and conducted by the State Opera’s music director, Vladimir Jurowski, both Russian-born and sharply critical of the war — would have to speak for itself.And it does. This “War and Peace” will go down as a milestone in Jurowski’s tenure at the State Opera, and in Tcherniakov’s often divisive career. They rise to meet the moment, overcoming the work’s near untenability not only to argue for its place in the canon, but also to use it as a vehicle for a passionate statement against Russian nationalism — and, by extension, Putin himself.Tcherniakov’s staging doesn’t retell the story of “War and Peace” so much as examine Russia’s condition as a perpetual outsider and oppositional force, the cyclical ways in which it has been attracted to and at odds with the West — and the destruction those beliefs have repeatedly brought about, foreshadowed in the production’s epigraph, Tolstoy’s 1904 remarks on the Russo-Japanese War: “Again war. Again sufferings, necessary to nobody, utterly uncalled-for; again fraud, again the universal stupefaction and brutalization of men.”Andrei Zhilikhovsky as Andrei, whose death serves a more political purpose than usual in this staging.Wilfried HöslThe opera is only an impression of the novel. It follows the contrasts of the title, not by juxtaposing the battlefield and the ballroom episodically but rather by dividing them in two. The first part, peace, recounts Natasha’s engagement to and betrayal of Andrei; the second, war, focuses on the occupation and burning of Moscow. Prokofiev and the librettist, Mira Mendelson (his second wife), reduced the plot to a telling parallel between Natasha’s losing her way in her lust for Anatole and the French fashions he represents, and Russia’s falling victim to, then triumphing over, Napoleon’s invasion. Largely lost in translation is Pierre’s meandering search for meaning.In his staging, Tcherniakov brings both strands under the same roof. Literally: He sets the entire opera in the Pillar Hall of the House of the Unions in Moscow, an 18th-century building that survived the fires of 1812 and over the years hosted society balls, the music of Tchaikovsky and the show trials of Stalin; it is also where Soviet leaders, from Lenin to Gorbachev, have lain in state. Here, it is densely populated with people sheltering from some kind of conflict, as Ukrainians have in their landmark buildings.There are cots throughout, and mats for sleeping. People of all classes seem to have come together; some are in jeans or threadbare shirts, while the wealthy Pierre wears shined leather shoes, a Barbour coat, and a wool sweater and hat. Yet no matter their background, they unite to pass the time — first days, then weeks, then months. They throw a New Year’s ball with sashes made from newspaper, toss rings onto toy swords and race in sleeping bags. Private dramas play out publicly. And patriotic pageants that begin innocently turn violently real, feral and ruled by a drunken slob turned warlord.It’s a drive toward self-destruction that was matched in the pit under Jurowski’s baton. He wrangled the eclectic, if erratic, score — a succession of talky set pieces in which arias are more like brief soliloquies — into a coherent, flowing drama. In the first half, he relished dancing rhythms and shifted between Natasha and Andrei’s repeating theme, a quintessentially Prokofiev melody of a long lyrical line leaping upward, and buffo interludes from the likes of Anatole and Dolokhov, with unstoppable momentum. Then, in the second part, he resisted overblowing the choruses and orchestral explosions, making room for intricate, at times disturbingly wicked details, and shaping a long crescendo to the end of the climactic 11th scene of Moscow’s burning and Pierre’s near execution.The cast, Jurowski has said in interviews, is nearly an entire Soviet Union; there are singers from Russia, yes, but also Ukraine, Lithuania, Moldova and other former republics. Onstage, they behave like a true ensemble, with well-rehearsed excellence. There are too many soloists to name — 43 to be exact — but some stand out: Bekhzod Davronov’s bright and belligerent tenor as Anatole, Dmitry Ulyanov’s commanding bass as Kutuzov, Alexandra Yangel’s youthful but determined mezzo-soprano sound as Sonya. As Pierre, Arsen Soghomonyan had a by turns sympathetic and, against the mighty wartime orchestra, surprisingly powerful tenor.From left, Stanislav Kuflyuk, Tómas Tómasson and Kevin Conners as comical depictions of French forces.Wilfried HöslFinest among them were the Ukrainian soprano Olga Kulchynska as Natasha, with a malleable voice that traced her arc from naïve to careworn, and the Moldovan baritone Andrey Zhilikhovsky as an often aching, persuasively acted Andrei. And the chorus, ever-present, was a tireless and frightening force, even if cut back in this production. For the final scene, typically a lightly veiled paean to Stalin, the voices are eliminated entirely, replaced by an onstage brass band.With that change, though, the ending is still troubling. Andrei, who traditionally is wounded in battle and forgives Natasha as he dies, here shoots himself in the chest, mourning the loss of his beloved Russia as he knew it — a self-made victim of the violent nationalism taking hold. His death remains touching; Natasha repeatedly tries to lift him, attempting to dance the waltz that played as they fell in love.But as Andrei’s lifeless body rests at the front of the stage, ignored as the cast erects an ornate podium for Kutuzov to lie in state, Tcherniakov leaves the audience with a hopeless message. And in doing so he depicts a Russia that, despite internal dissidence and generational shifts in politics, is bound to repeat this scene again.War and PeaceThrough March 18, then again in July, at the Bavarian State Opera, Munich; staatsoper.de. Also streaming at staatsoper.tv. More

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      Michael Tilson Thomas Revels in the Present With the New York Phil

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      Thomas, who is fighting brain cancer, conducted two ruminative works, Schubert’s “Great” Symphony and his own “Meditations on Rilke.”The conductor Michael Tilson Thomas has always been a performer who communicates joy when sharing the music he loves. On Thursday, there was also a deep sense of gratitude: Speaking from the stage, he called his appearance with the New York Philharmonic “a lovely, affirming surprise.” Although he made no direct mention of his health, many in the audience understood the context: In the summer of 2021, Thomas, 78, learned that he had glioblastoma, an aggressive and terminal form of brain cancer. For him, every performance now is an opportunity to revel in the present.There are only two works on this program, both of them discursive and ruminative: Thomas’s “Meditations on Rilke,” which had its premiere in San Francisco in 2020, and Schubert’s “Great” Symphony.Thomas has always been a raconteur, and on Thursday he gave a 12-minute spoken introduction to “Meditations” from the podium. His speech may be more halting now, but the storytelling is as fluid as ever. And his quirky piece, which opens with a piano rag and quickly plunges into Mahlerian orchestration and psychic depths, needed at least some of that contextualization.“Meditations” is a song cycle for mezzo-soprano (the luminous Sasha Cooke), bass-baritone (an impassioned, rich-voiced Dashon Burton) and orchestra, with autumnal, meditative texts by the poet Rainer Maria Rilke. It’s also partly an instrumental fantasy based on an episode from the life of Thomas’s father, a scion of Yiddish theater giants who was thrust into a gig as a saloon pianist in an Arizona mining town (hence that opening rag); a zigzagging thesis on the similarities between cowboy songs and Schubert lieder; and a tribute to composers whose work is most deeply imprinted on Thomas, including Berg, Copland, Schubert and Mahler.Schubert’s “Great” Symphony did not need any introduction. It’s a broadly grand piece that was praised by Robert Schumann for its “heavenly length,” though many listeners have found it in need of a rigorous edit. In Thomas’s hands, it had a brilliant moment-to-moment tautness that made you forget the expanse of Schubert’s canvas, in which fine-honed details can sometimes get lost.The orchestra reveled in all those small turns — in each of the first movement’s gentle curves and crisply articulated angles, and in the surprising juxtapositions of the second movement, which shifts from proud march to sweet tenderness. Thomas, communicating with the most economical of arm gestures, made those internal transitions of mood and harmony seamless, their logic unstintingly clear. Many conductors treat the third-movement scherzo as an exercise in dance rhythm; here, the energy was certainly propulsive, but Thomas also coaxed out a riot of colors and textures.The final movement was nothing short of a joyous celebration, and more than a few of the Philharmonic’s players had barely sounded their last notes before erupting in laughter. Whether it was from the sheer pleasure of making music with Thomas or a quiet joke he might have made from the podium didn’t really matter; their delight was palpable — and shared.Michael Tilson Thomas at the New York PhilharmonicThrough Sunday at David Geffen Hall, Manhattan; nyphil.org. More

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      As a Film Revives Elvis’s Legacy, the Presleys Fight Over His Estate

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      After the death of Lisa Marie Presley, Elvis’s ex-wife initiated a legal battle with her granddaughter over control of the family trust.When the camera panned to Priscilla Presley and her daughter, Lisa Marie, they appeared enraptured.Austin Butler had rekindled the good memories of Elvis with his portrayal in a lauded biopic. And for a few magical minutes on that January evening, Butler was there, on the stage at the Golden Globes, conjuring the voice and radiating the charm of the King of Rock ’n’ Roll as he accepted a best actor award.Lisa Marie clasped her hands around her mouth. Priscilla placed her hand on her heart. Mother and daughter had had their run-ins over the years, but they were together again — nestled at a table, like family.“One of the greatest nights of my career,” said Jerry Schilling, a Presley family friend and business associate who escorted Lisa Marie that evening.But days later, the sadness that has long trailed the family had again taken hold. Lisa Marie, only 54, died suddenly. Within weeks, Priscilla, who had long helped administer Elvis’s estate, went to court to challenge the validity of documents that say her granddaughter, the actress Riley Keough, is now the sole trustee.The dispute got underway just as Keough prepared for the release of the new Amazon Prime Video series “Daisy Jones & the Six,” in which she stars. It is unclear what acrimony may arise as the litigation unfolds, but Keough stayed conspicuously quiet when her grandmother urged the public not to view it as a family fight. Keough’s lawyers have yet to file court papers in response.Riley Keough, who stars as Daisy Jones in a new Amazon Prime series, has not responded to her grandmother’s decision to challenge her standing as the sole trustee of the family trust.Lacey Terrell/Amazon Prime VideoReaction has been swift, though, at Graceland, Elvis’s former home in Memphis, where emotions over the Presley family run high. Lisa Marie Bailey, a visitor named after Elvis’s only child, said last weekend that she supported Keough.If the King knew what was happening, she said, standing near where Elvis is buried, “he would be turning over in his grave.”The latest Presley family dust-up echoes the messiness that marked Elvis’s life, which, beyond the hit records and Hollywood films, was filled with its share of public dramas, including divorce, profligate spending and, late in life, a struggle with drug addiction.Despite those troubles, the Elvis brand today continues to take in more than $100 million a year as the licensing juggernaut behind apparel, pink Cadillac plush toys and tickets to tour Graceland. But the family trust receives only a fraction of its proceeds, according to court filings that detail its earnings.In 2005, Lisa Marie and her business manager sold off 85 percent of Elvis Presley Enterprises for roughly $97 million in cash, stock and debt relief, according to court documents — funds that have since been nearly depleted. Still, last year, before her death, Elvis’s daughter drew an income of $1.25 million from the trust, which continues to be worth tens of millions of dollars, according to financial filings. The beneficiaries are now Keough and her two younger half sisters.This weekend, the curious are likely to search for Keough and Priscilla at the Academy Awards in Los Angeles, where Butler is a strong contender for the best actor Oscar.Neither camp would comment on whether the women plan to attend.The family today owns only 15 percent of Elvis Presley Enterprises, which operates Elvis’s former home Graceland, a major draw for fans. Brandon Dill/Associated PressSuccess and excess in the house of ElvisWhen Elvis died unexpectedly in 1977, his estate was worth roughly $5 million. His spending had drained his earnings, which had long been limited by his business arrangement with his longtime manager, Col. Tom Parker. He received as much as half of the King’s income, including roughly half the $5.4 million fee that RCA Records paid in 1973 when Presley gave up future royalty rights from sales of recordings he had made, which included the majority of his hits.The money that remained was left in a trust and, after several family members died, Lisa Marie, emerged as its sole beneficiary. Priscilla, who divorced Elvis four years before his death, became a trustee and eventually engineered an overhaul of the estate, turning it into a moneymaker, in part by opening Graceland to the public in 1982.It was a painful but necessary tactic — “like being robbed,” Priscilla said later of watching strangers enter the home. The Los Angeles Times estimated in 1989 that the value of the estate had climbed to more than $75 million and that Elvis Presley Enterprises was bringing in an estimated $15 million a year in gross income.The assets grew to more than $100 million by 2005, according to court documents. By that time, they had been moved into a new vehicle, the Promenade Trust, established by Lisa Marie in 1993. She was its beneficiary; her mother and Barry Siegel, the family’s business manager, served as trustees.Then began what Lisa Marie’s lawyers have called her “11-year odyssey to financial ruin.”Siegel and Lisa Marie would later trade accusations over who was to blame for her precipitous financial decline. In a 2018 court fight, which was eventually settled, Siegel contended that, though the trust received millions of dollars in annual income, “Lisa’s continuous, excessive spending and reliance on credit” drove it into significant debt.In 2005, as the bills mounted, Lisa Marie and Siegel engineered the sale of 85 percent of Elvis Presley Enterprises to a group led by the investor Robert F.X. Sillerman.The deal paid about $50 million in cash. The trust also received $25 million in stock in Sillerman’s entertainment company, CKX, and $22 million in debt relief, according to court documents. The trust kept the remaining 15 percent of Elvis Presley Enterprises and the main Graceland house, appraised at $5.6 million in 2021.In 2013, Sillerman sold Elvis Presley Enterprises to Authentic Brands Group in partnership with Joel Weinshanker, who now operates Graceland. Three years later, Sillerman’s company declared bankruptcy, rendering Lisa Marie’s CKX stock almost worthless, according to court documents.And by that time, the $50 million in cash that Lisa Marie’s trust had received was also largely gone, spent on things like a $9 million home in England. In her court papers, Lisa Marie blamed Siegel for allowing that purchase and said he had enriched himself with exorbitant fees and failed to alert her to how dire the financial situation had become.By 2016, her lawsuit said, the trust “was left with $14,000 in cash and over $500,000 in credit card debt.”Siegel’s lawyers were blunt in their 2018 cross complaint, which denied their client was responsible for the diminished assets. “Sadly, since inheriting her father’s estate in 1993, Lisa has twice squandered it,” they wrote. “She now has only herself to blame for her financial and personal misfortunes.”Meanwhile, Elvis Presley Enterprises was churning along. Last year, it pulled in $110 million, at least $80 million of which was generated by operations at Graceland. Another $5 million came from the sale of the rights for the Baz Luhrmann biopic, according to Forbes, whose estimates were confirmed by two people with knowledge of the company’s finances.In addition to the $1.25 million she got last year from the trust, Lisa Marie received a monthly salary of roughly $4,300 as an employee of Graceland, according to a financial filing she made last year. It also listed roughly $95,000 in liquid assets, $715,000 in stocks and bonds, and debts that exceeded $3 million.Priscilla and Elvis were married for six years before divorcing in 1973. GETTY‘Family is everything’Though it’s surrounded now by a hotel and other amenities, Graceland is largely the same home Elvis bought in 1957, at 22, and lived in for two decades. The large, once bustling kitchen remains, as does the pool room and the jungle room, with its waterfall and carved wooden furniture.The audio tour offers visitors a glimpse of Presley family life.“Today, Lisa Marie and her family still have dinner around this table when they’re in town,” the audio intones during a stop in the dining room, where Elvis and Priscilla’s wedding china is displayed on a table near a portrait of Priscilla and a young Lisa Marie.The relationship between mother and daughter had become strained in recent years, according to people close to the family who requested anonymity to describe intimate Presley matters. One family confidante said Lisa Marie became particularly upset in 2016 when she filed to divorce her fourth husband, Michael Lockwood, and felt her mother was siding with Lockwood in the dispute.Still, they sat together at the Golden Globes.Schilling, who escorted Lisa Marie that night, declined to discuss Presley family matters. But he said the celebration of the “Elvis” film and the King’s legacy had been something of a salve for Lisa Marie, helping her “come out a little bit” after a difficult period. Her son, Benjamin Keough, died by suicide in 2020.On Jan. 26, two weeks after Lisa Marie’s death, Priscilla filed papers in Superior Court in Los Angeles challenging a 2016 amendment to the trust purportedly authorized by Lisa Marie. That amendment had removed Priscilla and Siegel as trustees. It had also designated Riley Keough and Benjamin, her brother, as co-trustees in the event of Lisa Marie’s death.Siegel had acknowledged receiving notice of his removal as trustee during his 2018 court battle with Lisa Marie. But Priscilla’s lawyers argued that the amendment was invalid, saying that it had never been delivered to her during Lisa Marie’s lifetime as required under the language of the trust. They also argued that the amendment was potentially fraudulent, asserting that Lisa Marie’s signature was “inconsistent” with her usual penmanship. Priscilla asked the court to recognize her as a trustee.Discord in the Presley family appears to have grown since the death of Lisa Marie, left, in January. She is shown with her mother, center, and daughter, Riley, at an event in Los Angeles last year.Jordan Strauss/Invision, via Associated PressA spokeswoman for Priscilla did not respond to requests for comment on her motivations for the court challenge. But Priscilla, in a statement last month, asked the public to “allow us the time we need to work together and sort this out,” imploring fans to “ignore ‘the noise.’”Keough’s representative declined to comment on the estate matters.Weinshanker, the managing partner of Graceland, also declined to comment but has said since Lisa Marie’s death that he believed it was her intention to have Keough and her brother run the trust.“There was never a question in her mind that they would be the stewards,” he told Sirius XM’s Elvis Radio, “that they would look at it the exact same way that she did. And obviously when Ben passed, it really sat with Riley.”In Memphis last weekend, people touring Graceland said they had been closely watching the dispute unfold. Many have been Elvis fans for their entire lives and have grown accustomed to Presley family drama. Still, some worried that the schism might lead to Graceland’s being sold.Kristie Gustafson, 54, said she grew up listening to Elvis’s music with her mother. “I’m a very family-oriented person, so I would say it’s very important to keep it in the family,” she said, beginning to tear up.“Family,” she said, “is everything.”Nicole Sperling contributed reporting from Los Angeles, Jessica Jaglois contributed reporting from Memphis and Ben Sisario contributed reporting from New York. Sheelagh McNeill and Jack Begg contributed research. More

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      Miley Cyrus and Brandi Carlile’s Raw Duet, and 9 More New Songs

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      Hear tracks by Bartees Strange, Nicki Nicole, Caroline Rose and others.Every Friday, pop critics for The New York Times weigh in on the week’s most notable new songs and videos. 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.Miley Cyrus featuring Brandi Carlile, ‘Thousand Miles’From Miley Cyrus’s new album, “Endless Summer Vacation,” comes this rugged, low-to-the-ground duet with the polished roots-rock yowler Brandi Carlile. Both are capable of broad vocal theatrics, but it should be said, Carlile is holding back here, in order to allow Cyrus the space to ruminate in this song about failure: “I’m not always right/but still I ain’t got time for what went wrong.” In her post-Disney career, Cyrus has flirted with various forms of adulthood in terms of performance — sexual defiance, hippie experimentalism and so on. But she’s perhaps at her most appealing when applying restraint. JON CARAMANICANicki Nicole, ‘No Voy a Llorar’Latin R&B enjoys a whiff of hyperpop helium in “No Voy a Llorar” (“I’m Not Going to Cry”), a preemptively defensive breakup song. The 22-year-old Argentine songwriter Nicki Nicole insists she’s fully prepared if things go wrong. “When you leave, I’m not going to suffer,” she predicts. The song’s chord progression could have come from the 1950s, but its production is as contemporary as its brittle attitude. Her pop soprano gets pitched further upward as the track begins; elusive background vocals and synthesizers puff their syncopations around the beat. Even the exposed voice-and-piano coda, the sincere payoff, gets computer-tweaked. JON PARELESBaaba Maal featuring the Very Best, ‘Freak Out’The Senegalese songwriter Baaba Maal, with an extensive catalog behind him, has lately been heard worldwide with vocals on the soundtracks of the Black Panther films. He collaborated with the African-tinged English group the Very Best on “Freak Out,” from his coming album, “Being.” Ignore the song’s psychedelic title. The lyrics draw on an old proverb from Maal’s culture, the Fulani, instructing that someone who has deep knowledge should say neither too little nor too much. Its music merges programmed and hand percussion with a desert drone, an electric-guitar lick and the backup vocals of the Very Best’s Malawian singer, Esau Mwamwaya. It’s both up-to-the-minute and resolutely grounded in traditional wisdom. PARELESEladio Carrión featuring Future, ‘Mbappe’ (Remix)Last year, the Puerto Rican rapper Eladio Carrión had a hit with “Mbappe” a drowsy and delirious Migos-esque boast. Future appears on this remix with a pair of verses that are somehow both utterly rote and also grossly charming, rapping about the place where carnality and expensive jewelry intersect, and the elation of toxic love. CARAMANICANF, ‘Motto’NF has always rapped as if full of anxiety, and on a core level, that hasn’t changed on “Motto,” a clever narrative about unshackling oneself from the stressors of pop music success. But over classicist boom-bap production amplified with a whimsical swing and some of the howling dynamics of rock groups like Imagine Dragons, “Motto” feels somehow lighter. In his early career, NF sounded as if he was internalizing all the pressures of the world, but now he sounds free and calm, dismissing those same pressures with a shrug. CARAMANICABartees Strange, ‘Daily News’“Daily News” was tucked away on the vinyl version of the album Bartees Strange released in 2022, “Farm to Table.” Now it’s streaming, and it sums up and expands the album’s moods and dynamics. Strange sings about alienation, numbness and anxiety — “I can feel the weight/Crashing over me again” — as electric-guitar lines coil and intertwine around him. A bridge finds him even more alone — reduced to nervous, isolated vocals — but someone rescues him. Perhaps it’s a partner; perhaps it’s an audience. “I’ve found you,” he exults, in a full-band onrush of drums, saxophone and tremolo-strummed guitars, and the connection sounds rapturous. PARELESCaroline Rose, ‘Tell Me What You Want’A breakup could hardly be messier or more noisy than the one Caroline Rose depicts in “Tell Me What You Want.” “I am just pretending not to lose my mind,” she explains, in a track that swerves between acoustic-guitar strumming and full grunge blare. She blurts both “I can’t bear to lose you” and “Boy you’re going to hate this song!” She wonders if she should hold on; she wants to smash everything and move along. The video clip, a drunken trek through Austin, Texas, spells out all of her conflicting impulses. PARELESAngel Olsen, ‘Nothing’s Free’The steadfastness of vintage soul carries Angel Olsen through “Nothing’s Free,” as she sings about an unspecific but primal revelation. Slow gospel organ and piano chords, bluesy saxophone and patiently hand-played drumming sustain her amid — and in a long closing instrumental, beyond — something that sounds both life-changing and inevitable, as she sings, “Nothin’s free like breaking free/out of the past.” PARELESNoia, ‘Verano Adentro’Noia is Gisela Fullà-Silvestre, a songwriter from Barcelona who’s now based in Brooklyn. In “Verano Adentro” (“Summer Inside”), she wafts her voice over an amorphous, ever-shifting electronic backdrop. At first it’s tentative — chords and pauses, the clatter of a rainstick — but other, more ominous sounds crowd in: distorted guitar, insistent drums, rumbly low arpeggios. Nothing ruffles her as she basks in bliss: “All I need is an ocean, all I need is time,” she coos. PARELESSarah Pagé, ‘Premiers Pas Au Marécage’“Premiers Pas Au Marécage” translates as “First Steps in the Swamp,” and it’s a meditation on evolution — formlessness into forms — by Sarah Page, a harpist and composer from Montreal. She mingles electronics and plucked strings in this piece, which opens with yawning, amorphous sounds and recordings of Hungarian frogs, then deploys a quintet of Japanese kotos to join her in a measured, echoey waltz and march, a tentative climb toward order. PARELES More

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      Composers Find Transcendence, and Inspiration, at Berghain in Berlin

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      The storied Berlin techno club Berghain has changed the way some composers think about and make music.BERLIN — In 2018, after a visit to Berghain, the storied techno club here, the saxophonist and curator Ryan Muncy called the composer Ash Fure, a friend and collaborator.“God spoke to me in the subwoofers,” Muncy told her. “‘Bring me Ash Fure.’”Soon Fure, at the time a fellow at the American Academy in Rome, boarded a plane to Berlin. She and Muncy went straight to Berghain. “I remember so vividly every single detail,” Fure said in a video interview. She recalled watching as the other club-goers shed their coats and donned futuristic outfits. She explored the labyrinthine architecture, discovering vantage points from which to watch and listen. She got close to the famous Funktion-One sound system, which engulfed her with its volume but never hurt her ears. She stayed for 14 hours.“It all had this wild warping effect,” Fure said.Back in Rome, she felt the experience staying with her. “It felt really spiral,” she said, referring to Berghain. “You keep going around and around, you get deeper and deeper in this place.”Classical musicians are no strangers to clubs. In 2001, the record label Deutsche Grammophon founded a concert series, Yellow Lounge, that included performances in places like Berghain.Separately, classical artists have often attended Berghain’s techno Klubnächte, or club nights — a rave with queer origins that attracts locals and techno pilgrims from around the world, and often lasts from midnight Saturday to late Monday. They emerge with encouragement and inspiration.When Fure first went to Berghain, a performance the year before of “The Force of Things: An Opera for Objects” (2017), which she created with her architect brother, Adam Fure, was fresh in her mind. That work uses subwoofers, aircraft cables, vocalists, instruments and abstract set design and choreography to dramatize the vast scale of climate change.Fure felt at home in this genre, somewhere between abstract contemporary opera and sound art, but like many composers she had to reconcile her interests with the financial pressures of a traditional career. In 2012, Fure had started making what she described as “full-bodied, multisensory work.” But, she said, “then I would go back and try to hustle some more commissions, and I’d ultimately get a prize that gave me access to some resources. That allowed me to make another one of these weird wild things, and then I had to keep doing that cycle.”The experience at Berghain in 2018 encouraged Fure to focus more resolutely on her immersive compositions. “In so many ways, it felt like the actualization of a lot of these more private hungers and more private desires for sound and experience and collectivity,” she said. “It felt confirming that it’s possible.”That confirmation has been a common experience for composers who visit Berghain. In 2015, a friend of Wojtek Blecharz brought him to the club for his birthday. Like Fure, Blecharz, a 41-year-old composer, was interested in the physicality of sound and dissatisfied with the predictability of a typical classical concert. He found his time at Berghain literally hair-raising.“I’m quite hairy,” he said in an interview. “So all the hair on my body was vibrating with this massive energy. I could dive into the sound.”Berghain is famous for, among other things, the lines people wait on to get inside.Kay Nietfeld/picture alliance, via Getty Images“I could almost touch it,” he added. “I could float in it. That was one of the most beautiful experiences in my life as a classically trained musician.”Blecharz channeled the tactility of the techno music at Berghain into “Body Opera,” an opera installation, for up to 100 viewers at a time, that premiered in England at the Huddersfield Contemporary Music Festival in 2016. He provided each audience member with a yoga mat, a blanket and a pillow outfitted with an integrated transducer speaker. Touching the pillow sent sound waves directly into a listener’s body. “I realized,” Blecharz said, describing his visits to Berghain, “that it would be nice to create analogous ways to translate this experience, when you go there for the first time, and you hear this wave of sound that embraces you.”More on N.Y.C. Theater, Music and Dance This SpringMusical Revivals: Why do the worst characters in musicals get the best tunes? In upcoming revivals, world leaders both real and mythical get an image makeover they may not deserve, our critic writes.Rising Stars: These actors turned playwrights all excavate memories and meaning from their lives in creating these four shows, which arrive in New York in the coming months.Gustavo Dudamel: The New York Philharmonic’s new music director, will conduct Mahler’s Ninth Symphony in May. It will be one of the hottest tickets in town.Feeling the Buzz: “Bob Fosse’s Dancin’” is back on Broadway. Its stars? An eclectic cast of dancers who are anything but machines.“Body Opera” includes a nod to the drugs some find essential to raving. Blecharz asked audience members to consume a white, crystal powder from a small resealable bag. It was just Pop Rocks candy, but attendees didn’t know that in advance; they were meant to become sensitized to the sound of the sugar popping, and to perceive the resonating effect of their mouths.The composer Joshua Fineberg had long been interested in the mechanisms that encourage transcendent experiences, which he believed were rare at classical concerts. “You can only really get to that place in the concert world when your deep listening can take you out of yourself, which not everyone is ready to do every night,” he said in a telephone interview.In 2015, Fineberg, 53, went to a snake church outside Birmingham, Ala., in search of an ecstatic experience. With the pastor’s permission, Fineberg observed a ceremony in which a poisonous snake was passed from worshiper to worshiper. But it wasn’t until a year later, after he discovered Berghain, that he found the transcendence he was looking for.“They found this way to kind of industrialize the Gesamtkunstwerk,” or total work of art, Fineberg said. “To make, let’s say, 85 or 90 percent of the feeling of the most amazing night of your life reproducible almost every weekend.”In “take my hand,” a 2017 piece written for Ensemble Dal Niente, Fineberg used blindfolds, smoke machines and strobe lights to evoke disorientation analogous to the winding architecture and gloomy lighting of Berghain. Fineberg’s complex timbres, including a memorable overlay of harp on a bed of rich noise, remain static for long periods, in the same way that a D.J.’s tracks might stay in a limited harmonic and rhythmic world for hours.Partying at Berghain, Fineberg said, creates an “infusion of joy” into his regular life. But it has also encouraged a shift in the drama of his works. “Maybe my music can move more toward catharsis and release than in the past,” he said, “where it would have just been tension and angst.”When the viol player Liam Byrne, 40, began going to Berghain, in 2017, he noticed a surprising parallel between techno dancing and stylized Baroque choreography. The steps of Baroque dance, he said in an interview, are often the most effective ways of moving at a given speed, to a specific groove.At the club, he noticed dancers were adapting their movements to different tempos in a comparable manner. While speaking, Byrne shook his shoulders back and forth on his chair to demonstrate a step suited to the fast techno on Berghain’s main floor. Upstairs at the Panorama Bar, where the tempo is usually a little slower, dancers prefer a two-step, shuffling motion, he said.“That’s exactly like Baroque dance,” Byrne said. “That’s your pas de bourrée, your pas de gavotte.” He added, “These types of movements are perfect expressions or perfect marriages with very specific types of rhythmic feel.”A visitor inside one of Berghain’s cavernous spaces, where the composer Sergej Newski said he has seen many other classical musicians.Felipe Trueba/EPA, via ShutterstockMuch of the Baroque repertoire Byrne plays alludes to dance forms. The techno at Berghain helped him “understand the importance of your responsibility when playing dance music: to make somebody want to move, because it’s a way of giving the listener agency in the music, by inviting them in.”“You create a groove that the listener gets into,” Byrne said. “Then they’re in the piece with you. Then we’ll pay more close attention to exactly the way you’re lingering on that trill.”For other classical musicians, Berghain offers liberation from professional pressures. The violinist Ashot Sarkissjan, 46, is a member of the Arditti Quartet, which is known for its performances of thorny, avant-garde classical music. For Sarkissjan, Berghain is a refuge from the spotlight. Occasionally, he goes to the club right after a concert. “Performing is always a responsibility,” he said in a video interview. “When I’m clubbing, I don’t have it. And yet, at the same time, it’s still a musical event that I’m actively part of. It’s just me in a cocoon.”The composer Sergej Newski, 50, discovered techno music around 1994, when he was a student at the University of the Arts in Berlin. For a few years, the Love Parade, an outdoor techno party, took place on the same day as his annual ear-training finals — right under the classroom window. Since then, he has associated the music with a certain freedom that he rediscovered at Berghain.“Every composer walks alone, in a way,” Newski said in an interview. “Berghain gives him the possibility to feel like part of the crowd.” He added, “I’ve met many, many classical musicians there.”After completing her fellowship in Rome, in July 2018, Fure received a scholarship from the German Academic Exchange Service and moved to Berlin, where she continued visiting Berghain. In January 2020, she integrated her club experiences into a new work, “Hive Rise,” with the artist and choreographer Lilleth. In that installation-like piece, a group of performers created sound with 3D-printed megaphones and moved in abstract patterns around the space, their choreography and their futuristic outfits recalling Berghain clubgoers.“Hive Rise” premiered at Berghain. “It was crazy to be able to give back to that whole architecture that had been so transformative for me and for so many people I love,” Fure said. “It was such an incredible feeling to have my sound move through those speakers.”This October, Fure will premiere a new immersive work, “Training Ground: A Listening Gym,” at the Schwarzman Center at Yale University. She is continuing to explore the pathways Berghain opened for her.“I really think of sound as a social technology and as a somatic technology and a tool of the herd and a tool of the species,” Fure said. “Berghain activates that technology in an extremely potent way that was very formative and very singular in my life.” More

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      Lincoln Center Chooses Hearst Chief as Next Board Chair

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      Steven R. Swartz, president and chief executive of Hearst, will replace Katherine G. Farley, the longtime chair, in June.Lincoln Center faces a series of challenges in the coming years: recovering from the pandemic, reaching new audiences and making its campus more welcoming to the public.Now it will have a new board chair to help tackle those priorities: Steven R. Swartz, president and chief executive of Hearst, whom the center announced on Thursday would replace Katherine G. Farley, the longtime chair, in June.Swartz, who has been a Lincoln Center board member since 2012, said in an interview that he would continue the vision of Farley and Henry Timms, the center’s president and chief executive, who have worked to broaden its appeal beyond classical music and ballet into genres like hip-hop, poetry and songwriting.“We’ve really done an amazing job of making our campus and our programming open and accessible and inclusive,” he said. “We just want to keep it going.”Farley, who took over as board chair in 2010, said in an interview that she thought it was time for a change after the $550 million renovation of David Geffen Hall, the home of the New York Philharmonic, which reopened last fall, a year and a half ahead of schedule.Farley was a major force behind the renovation, a project that had languished for years, working with the leadership of the New York Philharmonic, including its president and chief executive, Deborah Borda, and the chairmen of the Philharmonic’s board, Peter W. May and Oscar L. Tang. She secured a gift of $100 million from Geffen, the entertainment mogul, in 2015 to help kick-start the renovation. (Lincoln Center, the nation’s largest performing arts complex, owns the hall and is the Philharmonic’s landlord.)“The hall is finished, all the money’s been raised, our budget is balanced,” Farley said. “It just seemed like this was the right time to pass the baton.”During her tenure, she worked to bring more racial and gender diversity to Lincoln Center’s executive ranks, helping create a fellowship to build a pipeline of board members for the entire campus.She also faced criticism during her tenure, including during a turbulent time in the mid-2010s when the center endured leadership churn and financial woes.Swartz praised Farley, describing her tenure as an “extraordinary chairmanship.” She will remain on the board’s executive committee.He said that under his leadership the center would try to reach the broadest possible audience.“Now as the city looks to recover from the pandemic,” he said, “I think the arts give us hope and give us inspiration, and they give people across the city, from all walks of life, just much-needed entertainment.” More