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      Grime Transformed British Music. A New Exhibition Traces How.

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      “Grime Stories: From the Corner to the Mainstream” at the Museum of London highlights the 20-year-old history and far-reaching impact of the British rap genre.LONDON — On a wall-mounted screen at the Museum of London, a low-resolution video showed young people rapping quickly and hungrily over syncopated beats. Every so often, a decidedly 2000s graphic flashed on the screen, reading “Risky Roadz 2.”The video is an early work from Roony “RiskyRoadz” Keefe, who documented the early days of grime, the muscular British rap genre. Keefe first picked up a camera to chronicle the nascent scene in 2004, and made DVDs of the freestyles he recorded.“I’d hear an M.C. and think, ‘You’re good, put them on,’” Keefe said in a telephone interview. The DVD helped propel the rapper in the scene, like he was an A&R talent scout, he added.Almost two decades later, Keefe, 37, is a co-curator of “Grime Stories: From the Corner to the Mainstream,” a small but heartfelt exhibition currently on view at the Museum of London until December that looks back at the early days of grime, and the context from which it emerged.“It’s a big thing, you know,” Keefe said. “You never think you’re going to end up in a museum.”Initially a tight-knit scene formed by young people in East London, grime now occupies a prized position in mainstream British music and culture. The genre’s selling power is so significant, Ikea featured D Double E, an East London M.C., in its 2019 Christmas advertisement. In politics, the 2017 campaign #Grime4Corbyn harnessed rappers’ clout, encouraging young people to back the then-leader of the Labour Party, Jeremy Corbyn.At the 2015 Brit Awards — Britain’s version of the Grammys — Kanye West performed with a host of grime artists. Drake has long embraced the genre, featuring the rappers Skepta and Giggs on his “More Life” mixtape in 2017, getting a tattoo of Skepta’s Boy Better Know crew, and helping to revive the cult TV show “Top Boy,” which stars the grime artist Kano and is set in East London.“Grime Stories” was designed as a “venue to speak about the real lived experience of East Londoners,” said Dhelia Snoussi, a curator at the Museum of London. A way to “tell some of the important stories that are lesser heard.”When it emerged in the early 2000s, grime was an urgent affirmation of identity. It developed as an evolution from and reaction to garage, a popular Black British dance genre that had moved in flashy, pop directions. Other British forms of rap had become overly Americanized, some felt, with slang borrowed from across the Atlantic. The creators of grime wanted instead to speak to life in their corner of London.Jammer’s basement was a key space in grime’s evolution, memorialized by the layers of artists’ tags covering the walls.John Chase/Museum of LondonThe exhibition was built around Keefe, who, as well as running a production company and directing, is a London black cabdriver. His knowledge of the city’s streets was a way to tell the story of the community surrounding the genre, but the curators “immediately realized that a lot of the places we wanted to take the cab to were no longer there,” Snoussi said, and gentrification became a focal point for the exhibition.The show includes short documentaries and memorabilia like Keefe’s first camcorder and a bag from Rhythm Division record shop, a hub in grime’s early days. (It is now a coffee shop.)Particularly for purists, grime is a genre with strict technical parameters, including a tempo of 140 beats per minute. But it’s also a way of thinking about community and identity. “It’s not a BPM, it’s not a sound, it’s everything,” says a video in the exhibition.The scene developed around public housing in East London, and its specificity of place is evident in the exhibition’s partial reconstruction of a basement belonging to the family of Jammer, one of the genre’s pioneering figures. Jammer’s basement hosted early collaborations, freestyles and recordings, memorialized by the layers of artists’ tags covering the walls.DJ Target, who now hosts a show on the BBC’s Radio 1Xtra station, was part of those early days. Grime soon became a culture, which influenced “how people dressed, how they would speak, how they looked, the haircut they would get, the slang words they were using,” he said. “And all of it just felt like it was ours.”That desire to see real experiences reflected in music was also a reaction to the young rappers’ environment. Despite growing up in London with parents who also may have grown up in Britain, early grime artists “were still trying to negotiate and find that sense of belonging,” said Joy White, an academic who has studied the genre since 2007.Success was initially localized, but then came 2003, a year that Dan Hancox, a music journalist, described as a “critical, explosive moment” for grime — similar to what 1977 was for punk. In 2003, the 19-year-old rapper Dizzee Rascal released his debut album, “Boy In Da Corner,” which went on to win Britain’s top music accolade, the Mercury Prize.“That was a seminal moment for everybody to look and see that this is actually possible to do on a much bigger scale,” Target said.In the subsequent near-decade, more artists emerged from the grime scene to become influential figures in British music, despite record labels signing many rappers and then letting them languish.In the 2010s, many grime rappers embraced a more mainstream-friendly sound. Wiley had chart success with dance-focused tracks like “Wearing My Rolex” in 2008 and “Heatwave” in 2012. Artists like Tinchy Stryder, Skepta and Tinie Tempah also started climbing the British charts.The exhibition includes a gray Trinity Korg keyboard owned by Jammer and borrowed by Skepta to produce “That’s Not Me,” a 2014 track that announced a return to grime authenticity.That same year, a young M.C. from south London called Stormzy released his debut EP. Today, Stormzy is grime’s most successful breakout. “Without a brand-new star with the extraordinary, unique charisma and talent that Stormzy has,” Hancox said, “you wouldn’t have grime landing itself in the popular consciousness in the way it has.”Stormzy, now 28 and a household name in Britain, represents both grime’s far-reaching influence and how the genre has changed, with tracks on his albums swinging from more traditional grime to more recent genre innovations in Black British music.The influence of grime is built into the D.N.A. of many of those genres, including Afroswing, U.K. drill and road rap. The inspiration has moved in the other direction, too, and grime has evolved to encompass more fluidity and diversity in the beats and styles M.C.s choose to rap over.Jammer embraces these changes. “What people tend to say is, we want it to sound like the old days,” he said. “It’s not the old days.”“I’m here for the new, I’m here for the exciting,” he added. More

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      The 1975’s Chamber-Pop Confessions, and 8 More New Songs

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      Hear new tracks from Alvvays, Tyshawn Sorey, Killer Mike 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.The 1975, ‘Part of the Band’Matty Healy, the proudly enigmatic singer-songwriter of the 1975, leads his group into chamber-pop with “Part of the Band,” the first song from an album due in October, “Being Funny in a Foreign Language.” He sings about “cringes and heroin binges,” about a “vaccinista tote-bag chic barista” and about literary-minded gay liaisons — “I was Rimbaud and he was Paul Verlaine.” He also queries, “Am I ironically woke?” The production wanders from chugging string ensemble to fingerpicked folk-rock to saxophone choir, with all of them mingling near the end. It’s pandemic confusion, self-questioning and ennui, with melodies to spare. JON PARELESAlvvays, ‘Pharmacist’A plain-spoken, everyday admission — “I know you’re back, I saw your sister at the pharmacy” — kick-starts the latest single from the Canadian dream-pop band Alvvays; as soon as the vocalist Molly Rankin sings that line, the song suddenly transforms into a fantasia of melancholic melody and squalling guitars. Hints of My Bloody Valentine and Japanese Breakfast hang in the hazy atmosphere, but Rankin’s bittersweet delivery gives “Pharmacist,” the opening track from the upcoming album “Blue Rev,” a distinct emotional undertow, like a stirring dream that ends a little too soon. LINDSAY ZOLADZJulien Baker, ‘Guthrie’“Guthrie” is a quietly harrowing postscript to Julien Baker’s 2021 album “Little Oblivions” from a collection, “B-Sides,” being released later this month. Like “Little Oblivions,” the song confronts what it’s like to be an addict: “Whatever I get, I always need a little more,” she sings. But while Baker overdubbed herself into a rock band on “Little Oblivions,” in “Guthrie” she’s solo, picking a soothing waltz on her guitar as she tears into her own failings. The song is a crisis of conscience and of faith, with a voice humbled by self-knowledge. “Wanted so bad to be good,” she offers, “but there’s no such thing.” PARELESKing Princess, ‘Change the Locks’“A year without no separation just might have broke us, baby,” King Princess sings in “Change the Locks,” a song about how pandemic proximity — and friction — could destroy a relationship. It’s three-chord folk-rock that explodes into hard rock when King Princess (the Brooklyn songwriter Mikaela Strauss) realizes how bad things have gotten. She wants to hold on; she knows she can’t. PARELESFlo, ‘Immature’English R&B lags American innovations by years or sometimes decades. The vocal trio Flo is catching up with what American acts like Destiny’s Child accomplished in the 1990s: calling out male assumptions while mastering recording techniques and harnessing voices, instruments and machines to sharpen their message of self-determination. The way Flo juggles individual voices and two or three-part harmonies, flirtation and fury, harks back to Destiny’s Child, but unerringly: “Why you gotta be so immature,” they sing, adding “Tell me how can I relate/If you don’t communicate?” Even before a crying-baby sample slips into the mix, it’s easy to know who’s in the wrong. PARELESGhetto Kumbé, ‘Pila Pila (Trooko Remix)’Ghetto Kumbé is a group from Bogotá that fortifies Afro-Colombian drumming and socially conscious lyrics with electronics; it released a potent self-titled debut album in 2020 and has opened for Radiohead. The group handed over tracks from its album to various producers for “Ghetto Kumbé Clubbing Remixes,” an album due in November. “Pila Pila,” a brawny tribute to the power of drums, got reworked by the Grammy-winning Honduran producer Trooko (who worked on “Residente” and “The Hamilton Mixtape”). He revved it up even further, switching the meter from 6/4 to 4/4, moving its incantatory lead vocal to the start of the song and bringing in a hopping salsa bass line, electronic hoots, jazzy piano and twitchy drum machines, constantly hurtling ahead. PARELESKiller Mike featuring Young Thug, ‘Run’A verse from a still-jailed Young Thug only adds to the urgency of “Run,” Killer Mike’s first new track as a solo artist since his vital 2012 album “R.A.P. Music.” Across four fruitful albums with Run the Jewels, it’s become commonplace to hear Mike rapping over El-P’s kinetic, collagelike beats, but it’s refreshing here to hear him link up once again with the veteran No I.D., whose understated production allows Killer Mike to tap into a smoother flow. “The race to freedom ain’t won,” he raps on the chorus, providing some welcome counterprogramming to your standard Independence Day jingoism. ZOLADZDomi & JD Beck (featuring Anderson .Paak), ‘Take a Chance’Jazz might be one of the only spaces left where the term “internet star” still means anything. Domi & JD Beck are Exhibit A, a duo of virtuosic post-jazz Zoomers who seem to have leaped out of a cartoon, and whose wow factor is suited to the small screen: A blond keyboardist rips solos while a diminutive drummer taps out hyper-contained, hyperactive beats. References to jazz history are funneled into the aesthetics of a sped-up TV jingle. Domi and Beck have found a champion in Anderson .Paak, and their debut album, “Not Tight,” is being jointly released by his new label and Blue Note Records. Redolent of lounge, ’70s fusion, trip-hop and breakbeat, this LP offers the nonstop dopamine drip of a doom-scroll, and it’s heavy on star features: Thundercat, Snoop Dogg and Mac DeMarco all pull up. “Take a Chance” is their moment with Paak, and if his earnest, rapped pledges of devotion don’t exactly square with the song’s feel-good vibes and the geometrically sound pop hook that Domi and Beck sing, you’re hard-pressed to hold it against them. GIOVANNI RUSSONELLOTyshawn Sorey Trio, ‘Enchantment’A multi-instrumentalist, composer, University of Pennsylvania professor and MacArthur “genius” grantee, Tyshawn Sorey is likely to be found writing suite-length experimental works, or serving as composer in residence with an opera company, or conjuring up new systems for group improvisation. It’s been a long time since anyone really thought of him as “just” a jazz drummer. So, for Sorey, recording an album of standards with a piano trio qualifies as a curve ball. Of course, he has a big fondness for throwing curves. Sorey recently joined up with the pianist Aaron Diehl, one of jazz’s standard-bearing traditionalists, and the versatile bassist Matt Brewer to record “Mesmerism,” an album of jazz classics and lesser-known pieces from the canon. Horace Silver’s “Enchantment” is usually played as a tautly rhythmic samba, but the trio retrofits it, with Diehl putting the lush precision of his harmonies to work over a loose-limbed, shuffling beat from Sorey. RUSSONELLO More

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      War Ruins Ivan Dorn’s Effort to Reconcile Russia and Ukraine

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      Ivan Dorn, who was born in Russia and grew up in Ukraine, promoted friendship between the countries for years. Now, he is focused on supporting Ukraine.Ivan Dorn, a Ukrainian musician, had mostly finished his first album in five years by February.“Dorndom” was recorded in a village in northern Ukraine, and is a more conceptual project than his trademark genre-crossing pop. On the LP, Dorn, 33, who was born in Russia, sings in Russian, as he does on most of the hits that have propelled him to stardom in both Ukraine and Russia.He settled on a release date at the end of May, and his team worked to put together a global tour that included dates across both countries. Then Russia invaded Ukraine.Against the backdrop of missiles raining down on Ukrainian cities, devastating hospitals, theaters and apartment buildings, releasing Russian-language music that did not reflect on these events felt wrong.“People are just too sensitive about language at the moment,” Dorn said in a recent interview after a sold-out concert in Tbilisi, Georgia.Instead of performing and promoting “Dorndom” — which Dorn still hopes to release one day; its name is a combination of his own and the Russian word for house — the musician is now playing older hits across Europe and the United States to raise money to help Ukrainians in peril.“I am trying to understand the extent to which this album would work today,” Dorn said.For Ukrainian artists like Dorn, whose country’s culture as well as its politics have long been intertwined with Russia’s, such concerns have become familiar: Is it right to perform in a country whose leader claims your nation as part of his own? Should artists switch to writing and singing in Ukrainian, which could mean potentially losing access to a much larger audience, and market, in Russia?After Russia annexed Crimea in 2014, many Ukrainian artists, including Okean Elzy, the country’s most popular rock band, and Monatik, a widely celebrated pop singer, stopped performing in Russia.Dorn — who was born in Russia, but grew up in Ukraine — took a different approach: He continued touring in Russia in an effort to build “a cultural bridge” between the neighboring countries, he said.“My idea was this: I capture as many people as possible with my music so that they would never attack my own country,” he said. “I was confident that people who came to my concerts would not fight in a war against Ukraine.”At a 2016 concert in Moscow, Dorn said from stage, “There is nothing between us, nothing but friendship,” and asked the crowd to exclaim, “Hello, Kyiv!” People raised their hands and screamed ecstatically.Although he sings in Russian, Dorn says he has always tried to emphasize his Ukrainian identity. Over the years, his catchy tunes encompassing hip-hop, house and experimental music have earned him a reputation that is similar to Pharrell Williams; recently, Russian critics voted his debut album from 2012 the best record of the past three decades.But Dorn’s efforts to preach friendship between the two countries had provoked anger among some Ukrainians, including repeated criticism from nationalists, according to Ukrainian news reports.Dorn performed at a concert in Long Island City this month to raise money to help Ukrainians who are in peril.Sasha Maslov for The New York TimesToday — with Ukraine’s president, Volodymyr Zelensky, saying last month that Russia occupied a fifth of his country, and was edging to capture more — Dorn said his mission of friendship might be seen as a failure. But he does not regret it.“The Russian propaganda machine was just too powerful,” he said. “I am sure that if we would spend a week in front of Russian television, we would ourselves start to believe that we are Nazis and fascists,” he said, referring to false charges that the Kremlin uses to justify the invasion.Dorn has now cut ties with Russia and is focusing on supporting Ukraine in the war, turning his label’s headquarters into a volunteer center and removing his music from Russian streaming services. He has also canceled contracts with Russian brands and artists.In the decades after the fall of the Soviet Union, dozens of Ukrainian pop stars performed and appeared on television in Russia. Many of them relocated to Moscow permanently, creating a cultural scene blending influences from both countries.Svetlana Loboda, a popular Ukrainian singer, moved to Moscow in 2017, where she could find a much bigger and established pop industry than in Kyiv, the Ukrainian capital.In the early days of the war in Ukraine, Loboda said her hometown was largely turned to rubble. She posted a video to her 13 million followers on Instagram, most of them from Russia, saying in tears that the war had “been the worst thing that has happened in my life.” She then released a song in Ukrainian and announced that she had moved elsewhere in Europe.As war erupted between the two countries, Russian artists have faced a stark choice, too: stay in Russia and support President Vladimir V. Putin’s war, or protest, stop performing and flee.Even in Ukraine, the music industry has not been united in the face of Russia’s invasion.This month, Yuri Bardash — one of Ukraine’s most successful producers — called for Ukraine to capitulate and accused Ukrainian artists like Dorn of “advertising the war by touring in Europe” in order to “legitimize it.”However much Dorn may hope for peace between the two countries, when Russia invaded, his support for Ukraine was never in question. He was born in Chelyabinsk, Russia, but moved to Slavutych, Ukraine, two years later when his father, a physicist, was sent to work on the aftermath of the Chernobyl nuclear disaster.How the Ukraine War Is Affecting the Cultural WorldCard 1 of 6Gavriel Heine. More

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      What’s Next for Jack Harlow?

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      Subscribe to Popcast!Apple Podcasts | Spotify | StitcherThe rise of Jack Harlow has been one of hip-hop’s most curious narratives over the past two years. So far in 2022 he’s had a huge pop hit, “First Class,” and released his second major label album, “Come Home the Kids Miss You,” which debuted at No. 3. He is one of hip-hop’s biggest emerging stars, and one whose aims are purely centrist.He is also white, and this is, necessarily, fraught territory; Harlow’s album rollout has not been without hiccups. But more interesting are his aims — not to be a crossover pop star who bypasses the hip-hop mainstream, but to make a version of hip-hop much different than his Black peers, and be accepted for it.On this week’s Popcast, a conversation about Harlow’s musical decisions, the touch-and-go aspects of his album rollout, and the long history of white rappers and the varying degrees of embrace they’ve achieved.Guests:Hunter Harris, author of the Hung Up newsletterLarisha Paul, who writes about music for Billboard, The Fader and othersPeter Rosenberg, a host on New York’s Hot 97 (WQHT-FM) and a host of the “Juan Ep Is Life” podcastConnect With Popcast. Become a part of the Popcast community: Join the show’s Facebook group and Discord channel. We want to hear from you! Tune in, and tell us what you think at popcast@nytimes.com. Follow our host, Jon Caramanica, on Twitter: @joncaramanica. More

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      Burna Boy Faces Success and Second Thoughts on ‘Love, Damini’

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      On his sixth album, the Nigerian superstar admits some regrets.“Fame puts you there where things are hollow,” David Bowie sang back in 1975, and plenty of performers, before and after, have discovered the same thing. Their songs declare outsized ambitions and make premature boasts as careers begin. But then success, if it happens, brings as many pressures and perks — and, sometimes, a new willingness to confront misgivings.Burna Boy — the Nigerian songwriter Damini Ebunoluwa Ogulu — has ascended steadily to international stardom over a decade of recording. In April, as part of his latest world tour, he became the first Nigerian act to headline the Madison Square Garden arena, featuring a cameo appearance — an elder-generation endorsement — from Senegal’s longtime musical ambassador, Youssou N’Dour.Burna Boy’s sixth studio album, “Love, Damini,” is a trove of material: 19 full-fledged songs. He summoned an international roster of collaborators including blockbuster hitmakers — J Balvin and Ed Sheeran — along with Khalid, Kehlani, Ladysmith Black Mambazo, the Jamaican singer Popcaan and the British rapper J Hus. And like Burna Boy’s previous album, the Grammy-winning 2020 “Twice as Tall,” his new one both parades his accomplishments and admits to the doubts and regrets of an obsessive achiever.Burna Boy calls his music Afrofusion. Its core is the elegantly minimal percussion — hand-played and electronic — of Nigerian Afrobeats, which uses impacts and silences to imply three-against-two syncopations. Abetted by some of Africa’s most inventive producers, Burna Boy connects Afrobeats to its worldwide kin: R&B, Jamaican dancehall, reggaeton, Congolese rumba, hip-hop and more. His voice, a velvety baritone, has a suave composure that can hint at easy assurance or a melancholy reticence, and while his melodies don’t immediately seem sharp-edged, he places each note to add yet another layer of polyrhythm.The music draws pleasure from every strategic detail: from the weave of sampled and echoing backup vocals in “Different Size,” from the percussive syllables that break up the title and refrain of “Kilometre,” from reversed guitar tones and distant reggae horns in “Jagele,” from the saxophone curlicues that answer his voice in “Common Person.” The surfaces are glossy and reassuring; the inner workings are slyly playful. But Burna Boy broods more than he celebrates.In “Glory,” the album’s opening song, Burna Boy promises “This is my story”; it begins with the sober South African harmonies of Ladysmith Black Mambazo, before piano chords chime in and Burna Boy sings that he’s been “having nightmares of the day I fall off.”His guests often join him as fellow strivers. Khalid croons in the hymnlike “Wild Dreams,” as Burna Boy urges listeners to dream big but ends with a warning: “Remember Martin Luther King had a dream, and then he got shot.” J Balvin trades verses with him in “Rollercoaster,” a bilingual Afrobeats-dembow blend, with Burna Boy expressing gratitude, renouncing “the fast life” to be “pure of heart,” and resigning himself to ups and downs. And with Ed Sheeran, he shares “For My Hand,” a wedding-song-worthy vow of mutual devotion through rough times, singing, “Whenever I’m broken, you make me feel whole.”Work-life imbalance destroys a romance in “Last Last,” the album’s most agitated song; over nervously strummed minor chords and a vocal phrase sampled from Toni Braxton’s “He Wasn’t Man Enough,” Burna Boy sings, “I put my life into my job/And I know I’m in trouble.” In “It’s Plenty,” he notes, “Don’t wanna waste my days/I want to spend them on enjoyment,” but the production keeps the bouncy track at a distance, and soon Burna Boy is apologizing — “Don’t know how to show you my love” — and feeling numb and compulsive: “No matter what I do, it’s not enough.” In “How Bad Could It Be,” amid crystalline guitar picking and ghostly women’s voices, he’s more convincing as he details depression, alienation and anxiety than he is with the song’s halfhearted advice: “When you feel as sad as you can feel/Say, ‘How bad could it be?’”He has other concerns, like the smog in Lagos, Nigeria’s capital and Burna Boy’s current residence. “Because of oil and gas, my city’s so dark/Pollution make the air turn black,” he sings in “Whiskey,” a midtempo track punctuated by vintage-sounding horn-section samples and furtive guitar runs. And even when he’s promising carnal delights — in “Dirty Secrets,” “Science” and “Toni-Ann Singh”— they’re mixed with minor chords and ominous undercurrents.On “Love, Damini,” Burna Boy could easily have congratulated himself and strutted through new conquests instead of looking inward. But even now, he’s not self-satisfied enough to party — not this time.Burna Boy“Love, Damini”(Atlantic) More

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      Girls Are Outnumbered in Jazz. At This Summer Camp, They Run the Show.

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      Jazz Camp for Girls, a four-day program in Denmark, has expanded to Finland, Poland and Sweden this year, giving young musicians a space to play music and build friendships.COPENHAGEN — On a morning in late June, 16 girls arrived at an urban courtyard for the timeless summer ritual of camp drop-off. Some came clutching their parents’ hands; others raced ahead to greet old friends. One young teenager with strawberry-blond curls, who had come because her working parents told her she couldn’t sit home alone all day, stood nervously waiting for things to get underway. But it wasn’t long before the 13-year-old happily joined an ice-breaking game. “Hi, my name is Anna,” she chanted, as she clapped out a rhythm that the others repeated back to her: “Ba-BAH-ba-ba-BAH.”The campers, who ranged in age from 9 to 15, had just gotten their first lesson in jazz. Over the next four days, they would learn about the genre’s distinctive rhythms and melodies, and try their hands at improvising on a number of different instruments. But perhaps the most important lesson for the students at Jazz Camp for Girls is that there is a place for them in jazz at all.Plenty of art forms have a gender imbalance, but in jazz, where men heavily dominate the industry’s production, consumption and education, the inequality is especially pronounced. From 2007 to 2018, women musicians led or shared the lead on less than 20 percent or so of the 50 best albums in the NPR Jazz Critics Poll. One recent study found that just 4 percent of notable jazz musicians in the United Kingdom are women. And even in supposedly egalitarian Denmark, the proportions have been thoroughly uneven; a 2012 report found that women made up only 20 percent of the rhythmic music industry there.From left: Sarah Lilja Buch Callisen, Flora Aaris-Hoeg and Anna Kirkhoff Eriksen at jazz camp in Copenhagen. This year’s camp was held in 11 cities across Denmark.Betina Garcia for The New York Times“It was a shock,” said Agnete Seerup, deputy director of JazzDanmark, an organization that co-founded the girls’ camp in 2014 in response to that damning study, and today oversees the program alone. “So we created the project to encourage more girls to play rhythmic instruments. And hopefully change the gender balance down the road.”The jazz musician Johanna Sulkunen was thinking of the effects of that imbalance when she enrolled her daughter in the Copenhagen camp. “You’re not taken seriously,” she explained. “You don’t get solos. You’re not seen as a musician.” Saying goodbye to Alma, who is so small that she has to rest the bottom of her saxophone on a stool when she plays, Sulkunen said she hoped things would be easier for the 9-year-old. “I really hope that for her, it can just be about the joy of making music.”This year’s camp was held in 11 cities across Denmark from June 27 to 30. Grouped into eight-person bands, the girls were taught by instructors who are also working musicians. The four days culminated with a concert for family and friends.On the first day of the Copenhagen camp, held at the Rytmisk Center music school, the girls gravitated to instruments they knew — Lola Engell, a 10-year-old in a Rolling Stones T-shirt, tapped out a beat on drums while Flora Aaris-Hoeg, 11, strapped on an electric bass. Jazz Camp focuses on rhythmic instruments to counteract the historical relegation of women in jazz to singing, which was often cast as “entertainment” rather than the serious art practiced by men. And it makes a point of moving the girls through a number of them.Over the camp’s four days, the students are encouraged to rotate from instrument to instrument.Betina Garcia for The New York Times“Rotation is a big part of what we do,” said Cecilie Strange, an instructor and saxophonist. “We’ve had girls who have never sat behind a drum set, and when you ask them to play it, some of them will be like, ‘I don’t think so.’ But it’s really important to get everyone to try everything. And sometimes you see really fast that a girl has a knack for an instrument she had never tried before.”The emphasis on rotation is also intended to help the girls overcome the self-consciousness that sometimes limits them. “Girls naturally have almost the same interest in the instruments as boys,” Strange said. “But they need more control: they worry about how they look and don’t want to make mistakes. That can be a barrier.”Flora, the 11-year-old whose first instrument is bass, said she liked not having boys around: “It just makes you more comfortable.”Encouraging the girls to improvise — there is no sheet music at the camp — builds confidence while also introducing an important aspect of jazz performance. Strange taught the girls to play a few classics from the jazz repertoire, like Sonny Rollins’s “Sonnymoon for Two,” but the camp’s other instructor, the saxophonist and composer Carolyn Goodwin, took the girls in a more experimental direction. “I want these girls to feel like even if they don’t identify with the traditional approach, that they can still find themselves in the music in another way,” she said.On the camp’s second day, Goodwin got the girls started on their own improvisation by playing a selection from “Zodiac Suite,” and asking if anyone knew the composer. When none of the campers raised her hand, Goodwin told them that women composers were part of jazz’s story even if they weren’t well known. “This one is by Mary Lou Williams,” she said. “Can you say her name?”Viola Sisseck Rabenhoj, 10, had a knack for composition; even before camp, she and her fellow camper Alma had written a piece about Alma’s pet hamster, Vinny. Now, Goodwin took a melody that Viola had created, and asked the girls to follow Williams’s example and riff around a Zodiac sign both by playing and by writing a short text. They later put the elements together into a song with spoken-word lyrics. Practicing it on the final day of camp, Aya Knudsen Rein worked a flourish into her drum solo, then smiled proudly.Carolyn Goodwin, an instructor at the camp, helping Ella Hargreave with a guitar. Betina Garcia for The New York TimesYears after participating in the 2014 and 2015 Jazz Camps, Kathrine Stagsted Lund, now 23, remains grateful for the experience. “It most certainly had an impact on me,” she said. “I got introduced to the double bass, which I continue to play. I volunteer at a jazz club and always seek out the jazz concerts in Copenhagen.” More than anything, though, the experience helped her navigate playing in rhythmic ensembles: “As a young female instrumentalist always outnumbered, it gave me a sense of confidence and courage.”For the first time this year, Jazz Camp for Girls will also be held in Finland, Poland and Sweden. But for all their anecdotal success, the programs still have some ways to go before their impact is measurable. Last year, JazzDanmark studied why the needle hadn’t moved much on the 80/20 gender distribution. “We found out that private networks really matter in jazz,” Seerup said. “Many jobs in the music industry are given out one night at a bar, and if you’re not part of that private network, you’re less likely to get one. What we’re focusing on now is creating strong relations between girls now, so they might become networks later.”On the final day of Jazz Camp, those networks seemed to be off to a good start. Anna Kirkhoff Eriksen, the strawberry-blond drummer who hadn’t known anyone when she arrived at camp, had become fast friends with Sarah, who played keyboards, and Liva, who thrilled the audience at the final concert with her trumpet solo. And Flora, who was comfortable on the bass but had been nervous to be performing her first drum solo, was delighted with how it had all gone.“That was great!” she gushed, as she exchanged phone numbers with her new friends, Aya and Lola. “We should form a band!” More

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      Man Who Shot the Rapper Nipsey Hussle Is Convicted of Murder

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      A jury found Eric R. Holder Jr. guilty of first-degree murder for the 2019 killing of Hussle, an artist who devoted his adult life to championing his South Los Angeles neighborhood.Eric R. Holder Jr. was found guilty of first-degree murder more than three years after fatally shooting the Los Angeles rapper Nipsey Hussle.Pool photo by Frederick M. BrownLOS ANGELES — More than three years after the fatal shooting of the rapper Nipsey Hussle, whose 2019 killing in front of the local clothing store he owned scarred the South Los Angeles neighborhood he had devoted his adult life to championing, a jury on Wednesday found Eric R. Holder Jr. guilty of first-degree murder in the case. The verdict closes a painful chapter in recent hip-hop history.At trial, prosecutors described the gunman as an embittered acquaintance who had belonged to the same street gang as Hussle but felt disrespected by him during a brief parking-lot run-in.That Mr. Holder pulled the trigger was not in dispute in court. His own public defender and multiple witnesses identified him as the assailant who fired toward Hussle with two handguns, hitting the rapper at least 10 times before kicking him in the head.But Mr. Holder’s legal team had argued that the case was overcharged. Aaron Jansen, the public defender representing Mr. Holder, said that the killing was not premeditated and instead occurred in the “heat of passion,” about nine minutes after a conversation in which Hussle invoked neighborhood rumors that Mr. Holder had cooperated with law enforcement, or snitched, a serious offense in the gang world, and urged him to clear things up.Mr. Holder should have been charged with voluntary manslaughter, his lawyer said.After meeting for less than an hour on a second day of deliberations, the jury members indicated they agreed with Los Angeles county prosecutors that Mr. Holder had made the decision to kill Hussle as he returned to a car after the two spoke, loaded a gun, took a few bites of French fries and then marched back through the parking lot to confront the rapper.Mr. Holder, 32, was also found guilty of two counts of attempted voluntary manslaughter, stemming from the two bystanders who were wounded in the shooting, lesser charges than the attempted murder counts that prosecutors had brought.Mr. Holder’s lawyer argued that his client had no specific intention of harming either of the wounded men, both of whom were strangers to him, when he attacked Hussle outside of the Marathon Clothing shop in the Crenshaw neighborhood where the rapper and his assailant grew up.In addition, Mr. Holder was found guilty of possessing a firearm as a felon and two counts of assault with a deadly weapon. He could face life in prison, and was scheduled to be sentenced on Sept. 15. Mr. Jansen said that in sentencing, he will ask the judge to consider Mr. Holder’s mental health history, including a years-old schizophrenia diagnosis.In court, Mr. Holder stared forward, unflinching. He wore a dark navy suit and white sneakers. There was no sound in the courtroom as the verdict was announced — no reaction from the half-full gallery.Hussle, whose real name was Ermias Joseph Asghedom, was mourned widely after his death at 33 as a principled artist and entrepreneur who transcended his early years as a member of the local Rollin’ 60s Crips, emerging as a hard-boiled, motivational lyricist and community ambassador. His public memorial in April 2019, at what was then known as the Staples Center in downtown Los Angeles, drew some 20,000 admirers, including Stevie Wonder and Snoop Dogg.Though not a commercial hitmaker for most of his career, Hussle was known for his extensive industry connections and independent business sense, having sold music on his own terms for 15 years before releasing his major label debut, “Victory Lap,” in 2018. A Grammy nomination for best rap album and a management partnership with Jay-Z’s Roc Nation near the end of his life had the rapper poised for a move deeper into the mainstream.Along the way, Hussle had also preached Black empowerment through business and education, investing his winnings as a musician in the neighborhood where he was raised. With a group of backers, Hussle bought the strip mall at the corner of Crenshaw Boulevard and Slauson Avenue that housed his Marathon store, while also helping to open a nearby co-working space dedicated to increasing diversity in science and technology.Following the verdict, John McKinney, the Los Angeles County deputy district attorney prosecuting the case, said he hoped that it would bring “some resounding peace” to friends and fans of the rapper.“This verdict and the story of his life will be talked about for sure at Crenshaw and Slauson,” Mr. McKinney said, “but the meaning of it will carry far beyond those streets.”On the Sunday that Hussle was killed, he had stopped by the shopping plaza for an unannounced visit, as he often did, according to court testimony. While catching up with friends and employees in the parking lot, Hussle spent about half an hour signing autographs and posing for photos with fans.At that time, Bryannita Nicholson, a woman Mr. Holder had been casually dating, was driving him around the area, Ms. Nicholson testified. A key witness for the prosecution who said that she had transported Mr. Holder to and from the scene of the shooting, Ms. Nicholson was granted immunity from prosecution for her appearance in court.When Ms. Nicholson pulled into the plaza so that Mr. Holder could get something to eat, she spotted Hussle in the parking lot and remarked in passing that he looked handsome, she said on the stand. Mr. Holder, a fellow member of the Rollin’ 60s Crips, approached Hussle for a brief conversation while Ms. Nicholson waited in the car, she said.The encounter between the two men was casual and low-key, according to testimony. But prosecutors said Hussle told Mr. Holder that there were rumors going around the neighborhood that he had snitched. Hussle encouraged Mr. Holder to “get the paperwork” showing he had not, said Mr. McKinney.“It just seemed like a regular conversation,” Mr. McKinney told the jury. “But obviously it wasn’t.” He called the pair “two men whose arcs in life were bending in different directions.”As the men finished speaking, Ms. Nicholson said she overheard talk of snitching as she approached Hussle for a selfie, which she posted to Facebook. It would be the last photograph of the rapper. Asked in court if she sensed that a fight was about to occur, Ms. Nicholson said, “No, I wasn’t afraid at all.”As Ms. Nicholson pulled into another nearby parking lot so Mr. Holder could eat, she testified, he pulled out a handgun and began loading it. He walked back toward Hussle’s store; a short time later, Ms. Nicholson heard gunshots.According to witnesses, Mr. Holder had confronted the rapper outside and said, “You’re through” as he opened fire.“You got me,” Hussle said, according to the prosecutor. Two men who were standing with Hussle, Kerry Lathan and Shermi Villanueva, were wounded by the shots.In his opening statement, Mr. McKinney, the prosecutor, portrayed Ms. Nicholson as a kind of unwitting accomplice. “I think you’ll find in her a naïveté, a simplicity,” he said. Mr. Holder mostly avoided her eyes or looked at her dispassionately as she testified.In that testimony, Ms. Nicholson said that when Mr. Holder got back into her car, he told her to drive or he would slap her. That evening, she learned of Hussle’s death. But Ms. Nicholson said it wasn’t until more than a day after the shooting, when her mother recognized her white Chevy Cruze on the news, that she realized that Mr. Holder may have been involved.Mr. McKinney emphasized that Ms. Nicholson quickly agreed to cooperate with the police, allowing the authorities access to data from her phone and submitting to hours of interviews. “I was thinking, ‘Oh my God, this is my reputation, too,’” she testified.In addition to being the agreed-upon motive in the shooting, the concept of snitching — and its outsize importance in gang culture — loomed over the trial. While Mr. Holder was repeatedly identified as the gunman, lawyers on both sides cited some witnesses’ reluctance to testify in detail, or even show up to court, for fear of retribution.“I don’t know nothing, don’t see nothing,” Mr. Lathan, who was wounded in the incident, said during his turn on the witness stand.“You don’t want to testify about what happened?” the prosecutor asked.“That’s right,” Mr. Lathan said.Mr. Jansen, the defense lawyer, had argued that it was precisely that anti-snitching culture that transformed a conversation between Hussle and Mr. Holder into a provocation.“Even people who are shot don’t want to come in and testify against Rollin’ 60s gang members,” Mr. Jansen said in an interview after the verdict. “I thought those facts supported what we were saying: Eric Holder didn’t want to be labeled as a snitch either, out of fear of retribution.”Mr. Jansen added: “I just wanted people to remember that Eric Holder Jr. is a human being. He did a terrible thing and he will have to face justice for that.”Last Tuesday, Mr. Holder was attacked while in custody, briefly delaying the final days of the trial. His lawyer said that his client had been punched in the face and “sliced with some kind of razor.”Because of the high-profile nature of the case, and because it hinged on questions about consequences for snitching, Mr. Jansen said his client should have been in protective custody.In court, prosecutors did rely in part on the testimony of Herman Douglas, known as Cowboy, a onetime Rollin’ 60s member who worked at Hussle’s Marathon store. Mr. Douglas testified that while he was no longer involved in gang life, he still vigilantly watched every car and person that crossed his path for signs they might be dangerous. At no point in Hussle’s conversation with Mr. Holder, he said, did he sense that the rapper was at risk. “I would’ve snatched him up out of there,” Mr. Douglas said.When the defense questioned Mr. Douglas about whether there could be consequences as dire as “getting beat up or even killed” for snitching, Mr. Douglas said that was unlikely. He noted that his participation in the trial could be considered snitching by some. But things had changed since he was coming up in the neighborhood.“I ain’t worried,” he said. “Maybe in the ’80s, yeah, but this is 2022.”Following the guilty verdict, Mr. Douglas sat outside the courtroom and cried into his hand, his shoulders shaking. Later, he told reporters he did not know if he would ever feel closure after his friend’s death. But he said that he hoped his participation in the trial would show others that sometimes it was worth speaking up.“Just do what’s right,” he said. “No matter what people say.” More

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      Lesley Gore’s Archive Arrives at the New York Public Library

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      The collection, which includes family photos, scrapbook pages and annotated music, traces the singer’s arc from releasing bubble gum hits to creating a powerful feminist statement.As a teenage singer in the 1960s who fit the all-American girl mold, Lesley Gore may have seemed like an unlikely figure to carve out a lasting legacy of feminist resilience and independence. The New York Public Library for the Performing Arts has now made the musician’s archive available for anyone interested in her artistic evolution, giving fans a chance to browse through notated music sheets and an unfinished memoir.Lois Sasson, Gore’s partner for more than 30 years, began working with the library in February 2016, sifting through storage boxes and cataloging each object with help from the singer’s family and friends. Sasson emphasized that the collection should remain free to the public and housed in New York, where Gore lived, said Jessica Wood, the assistant curator of music and recorded sound at the Library for the Performing Arts. Gore died of lung cancer in 2015. Sasson, a fierce defender of women’s and gay rights, died of Covid-19 in 2020.The archive, which contains scrapbooks, newspaper clippings, fan club files, music theory books, a birthday invitation, family photographs and album covers, was first made available on May 31, and all printed and written works can be examined on request. The library is still working to digitize the audio and movie image recordings that document Gore’s rehearsals, performances and television appearances, as well as visual works like a 1968 Robert F. Kennedy ad campaign.“By studying her archive, it elevates all of the women performers who sang other people’s materials but really brought a lot of genius to the way they animated those songs,” Wood said.Gore, known for bubble gum classics like “It’s My Party,” the No. 1 hit from 1963 recorded by Quincy Jones, and “Judy’s Turn to Cry,” focused largely on love and heartbreak until the 1963 release of “You Don’t Own Me.” The song, written by John Madara and David White, became an early feminist anthem, rebuking the idea that the singer should bend to the whims of a man. “I’m free and I love to be free,” Gore sang, “to live my life the way I want/To say and do whatever I please.” All three songs were recorded before she turned 18.Brad Schreiber, an author who chronicles social change through music, said that while Gore lacked power as a young female recording artist, “You Don’t Own Me” echoed a strong statement about reclaiming respect and dignity.“She didn’t have to dedicate her entire career to do socially conscious music,” Schreiber said. “She did one very important song that has had a far-reaching effect.”The archive includes music scores of “You Don’t Own Me” that were used for performances to promote Gore’s 2005 “Ever Since” LP (her 11th and final studio album), along with musical arrangements of the release by Claus Ogerman, Joe Glandro and Mariano Longo.Susan Kahaner, Sasson’s sister, said Gore admired the activism of the pioneering feminist Betty Friedan and was particularly drawn to the civil rights advocate and politician Bella Abzug, who chanted, “This woman’s place is in the House, the House of Representatives!” as she ran and won a seat in the House in 1970.“Bella and that whole group of feminists opened up Lesley’s eyes to what is possible,” Kahaner said.Gore was devoted to her education, majoring in English and American literature at Sarah Lawrence College during the peak of her pop career. Kahaner said that as an avid reader of fiction and nonfiction as well as a lover of jazz and pop music, Gore would be proud to share her work with researchers and students at the library:“We couldn’t be happier that this is the home that will keep Lesley’s legacy alive.” More