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    Willie Winfield, Angelic-Voiced Doo-Wop Singer, Is Dead at 91

    For more than 60 years, he sang with various incarnations of the Harptones. “His voice was unique,” one concert producer said, “and it lasted his whole life.”Willie Winfield, whose silken lead vocals with the Harptones in the 1950s made him a favorite of doo-wop connoisseurs, even though the group never achieved wide mainstream commercial success, died on July 27 in a hospital in Brooklyn. He was 91.The cause was cardiac arrest, his daughter Tina Winfield said.Mr. Winfield’s angelic voice was first heard in the early days of rock ’n’ roll, and he continued to sing when doo-wop groups turned into nostalgia acts in the 1970s. He toured with various incarnations of the Harptones until he retired in 2019, when he was 89.“He had one of the best voices around,” Dick Fox, a producer who booked the Harptones dozens of times on his live oldies shows, said in a phone interview. “His voice was unique, and it lasted his whole life. He never lost the higher register.”During the 1950s, Mr. Winfield and the Harptones performed at the Apollo Theater and at shows promoted by the influential disc jockeys Alan Freed (at the Brooklyn Paramount) and Murray the K (at Palisades Amusement Park in New Jersey). They were seen in the 1956 musical revue film “Rockin’ the Blues.”Among the group’s best-known songs were “A Sunday Kind of Love,” “Since I Fell for You” and “My Memories of You.”“Singing the songs for me feels fresh every time,” Mr. Winfield told the critic David Hinckley in a 1985 interview for The Daily News. “It’s the way people respond. All of a sudden, I forget my age. I lose all sense of everything except the song. I go back to the first time we recorded, when we had no idea what would happen.”Robert Palmer, the chief pop music critic of The New York Times, wrote in 1982 that Mr. Winfield’s voice had “immaculate pitch and an insinuating way with a phrase.” But despite Mr. Winfield’s memorable voice, the Harptones’ exquisite harmonies and the jazz-inspired arrangements of Raoul Cita, their pianist, they never reached the same level of commercial success that contemporaries like the Drifters, the Cadillacs and the Flamingos did.Willie Lee Elijah Winfield was born on Aug. 24, 1929, in Surry, Va. His father, also named Willie, was a merchant seaman. His mother, Christine (Cooke) Winfield, was a homemaker.Mr. Winfield sang in a church group in Norfolk and with his brothers Clyde and Jimmy. After he moved to New York in 1950, he and his brothers sang on street corners with two other men and practiced under the Manhattan Bridge.In 1953, some members of another doo-wop act, the Skylarks, merged with some from the Winfield brothers’ group, forming a new group, which they first called the Harps and, soon after, the Harptones. In addition to Mr. Winfield and Mr. Cita, the lineup consisted of William Galloway, Billy Brown, Nicky Clark and William Dempsey. Mr. Dempsey is the only member of the original group who is still alive.The Harptones “demand consideration in any serious discussion of the truly immortal acts of the doo-wop era,” Jason Ankeny wrote on the website AllMusic. But success proved elusive.Charlie Horner, who runs the Classic Urban Harmony website, said in an interview that the Harptones were popular in New York and other cities in the Northeast, as well as in Chicago, but that their local successes did not add up to any national hits.However, he said, if Billboard’s rhythm-and-blues chart had a Top 100 (instead of a Top 10 or 20) during the Harptones’ most productive years, in the mid-1950s, they might have had as many as 10 hits. Their only chart hit, “What Will I Tell My Heart,” peaked at No. 96 on the Billboard Hot 100 in 1961.The fact that the Harptones recorded for a succession of small labels with limited distribution did not help their cause.Mr. Winfield received a lifetime achievement award at the East Coast Music Hall of Fame Awards ceremony in Wildwood, N.J., in 2019. He gave his final performance that same year.George Napolitano/Media Punch, via Alamy Live News“At one time we decided to try to promote our own records,” Mr. Winfield said in the 1985 Daily News interview, which Mr. Hinckley repurposed last week on the website Medium. “It was like, give the D.J. $75 to play the record. Our producers should have been taking care of that.”In the mid-1960s, Mr. Winfield began delivering prayer cards to funeral homes; he retired from that job in 1995. He continued to perform part time with versions of the Harptones, notably as background vocalists on “René and Georgette Magritte With Their Dog After the War,” a tender song on Paul Simon’s album “Hearts and Bones” (1983) that recalls the doo-wop music that Mr. Simon grew up listening to.In addition to his daughter Tina, Mr. Winfield is survived by another daughter, Stephanie Winfield; his sons, Vincent, Timothy and DeWayne; two sisters, Serita Alexander and Goldie Bronson; two brothers, Clyde and Abraham; 44 grandchildren; and 22 great-grandchildren. His wife, Alice (Battle) Winfield, died in 2011.At Mr. Winfield’s final performance, at a doo-wop weekend in April 2019 at Half Hollow Hills East High School in Dix Hills, N.Y., he wrapped up his career with another signature ballad, “Life Is But a Dream.”He sat on a stool until the end of the song and, after the group sang “Will you take part in,” he rose, steadying himself on his cane, and finished the line and the song in his familiar tenor — “my life … my love? That is my dream.”And he hit the high notes. More

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    Jay Pickett, Veteran Soap Opera Actor, Dies at 60

    His credits included “General Hospital,” “Days of Our Lives” and “Port Charles.” He died while filming a western in Idaho, where he was raised.Jay Pickett, an actor known for his roles in TV soap operas like “General Hospital” and “Days of Our Lives,” died on Friday while filming a movie in Idaho. He was 60.Travis Mills, the director of “Treasure Valley,” which was set to star Mr. Pickett, said on Sunday that Mr. Pickett fell ill while preparing to shoot a scene near Oreana, Idaho. There was no official explanation for the cause of death, he said.Jim Heffel, a co-star on “Treasure Valley,” said in a Facebook post that Mr. Pickett “died sitting on a horse ready to rope a steer in the movie.”Mr. Mills said Mr. Pickett suddenly slumped over. “We were getting ready to film this scene, and he was just sitting there on horseback,” Mr. Mills said, adding that people on the set did CPR until paramedics arrived a few minutes later by helicopter. He was declared dead at the scene, Mr. Mills said.“Treasure Valley,” a western about a man who rebuilds his life after a fire destroys his family, was being filmed where Mr. Pickett grew up and had many connections, Mr. Mills said. During car rides through the valley to find places to film, Mr. Mills recalled, Mr. Pickett would make comments such as “That’s where my brother lived” and “That’s where I went to elementary school.”Jan Larison, Mr. Pickett’s younger sister, said, “His passion was to come back and make films about the lives he was raised around.”Jay Harris Pickett, the fourth of five children, was born on Feb. 10, 1961, in Spokane, Wash., to E. Richard Pickett, a cattle broker, and Virginia Pickett, who worked in agriculture for the federal government.The Pickett family moved about 400 miles south, to Caldwell, Idaho, where Jay was raised, Ms. Larison said. He graduated from Vallivue High School in 1980 and attended Treasure Valley Community College, where he played football and met the woman he would marry, Elena Bates.After community college, he attended Boise State University, where he continued to play football, eventually earning a bachelor’s degree in theater arts, his sister said. Then, he went to the University of California, Los Angeles, where he earned a master’s degree, also in theater.While studying theater, Mr. Pickett played quarterback for his college football team and participated in rodeos, his sister said. His skills on the stage, on the field and in the saddle did not go unnoticed, particularly among some of Ms. Larison’s friends. “They all just wanted to come over and meet him,” she recalled.In his 20s, Mr. Pickett began his acting career with small roles in the TV series “Rags to Riches,” “China Beach” and “Mr. Belvedere,” which all began airing in the 1980s.Jay Pickett and Julie Pinson in “Port Charles” in 1997.Tom Queally/Walt Disney Television, via Getty ImagesIn 1991, he played Dr. Chip Lakin in “Days of Our Lives,” an NBC soap opera that featured Mr. Pickett in 34 episodes. In “Port Charles,” a spinoff of “General Hospital” about the lives of medical interns and doctors at the fictitious Port Charles General Hospital, Mr. Pickett played Frank Scanlon, a dedicated paramedic and substitute teacher. The show ran from 1997 to 2003 on ABC.Mr. Pickett’s budding fame was observable, sometimes in unexpected places. While accompanying him in Las Vegas, Ms. Larison overheard a conversation about her brother that took place in a restroom: “Oh my goodness, did you see — that was Jay Pickett out there!” she recalled one woman as saying.Mr. Pickett portrayed Detective David Harper on ABC’s “General Hospital” from 2007 to 2008, and in 2012 he wrote, acted in and produced “Soda Springs,” a western film that also starred Tom Skerritt and Michael Bowen.“The sudden passing of my pal Jay Pickett is very sad,” Kin Shriner, who worked alongside Mr. Pickett on “General Hospital,” said on Twitter. “He loved acting and Westerns, and when we got together we laughed a lot.”Mr. Pickett went on to appear in numerous shows and TV movies, including “NCIS: Los Angeles” in 2015, the TV series “Queen Sugar” in 2017 and “Soldier’s Revenge,” a movie released in 2020.Apart from “Treasure Valley,” Mr. Pickett had roles in four films that were in postproduction as of Sunday, according to the Internet Movie Database.In addition to his sister, Mr. Pickett is survived by his wife, Elena, whom he married in 1985; their three children: Maegan, 35, Michaela, 29, and Tyler, 15; and three other siblings, Dee Pickett, Ginna Maggard and Rich Harris Pickett. Mr. Pickett’s father died in 2005, and his mother died in 2013.Mr. Pickett died on the seventh day of what was supposed to be a 20-day film shoot for “Treasure Valley,” according to Mr. Mills. “I truly believe it is some of the best work he did in his career, if not the best,” he said.Mr. Mills said he might seek to publish the script of the film, which Mr. Pickett wrote, and turn the footage into a short film or video tribute to the actor. More

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    Chuck E. Weiss, Musician Who, in Love, Inspired a Hit Song, Dies at 76

    He and Tom Waits and Rickie Lee Jones were inseparable in the late ’70s, and when Mr. Weiss’s romantic life took a turn, Ms. Jones memorialized it in “Chuck E.’s in Love.”Chuck E. Weiss, blues musician, club owner and outsize Los Angeles character immortalized in Rickie Lee Jones’s breakout hit song, “Chuck E.’s in Love,” died on July 20 at Cedars-Sinai Hospital in Los Angeles. He was 76.His brother, Byron, said the cause was kidney failure.Mr. Weiss was a voracious musicologist, an encyclopedia of obscure jazz and early R&B artists, a drummer, a songwriter and a widely acknowledged rascal who in the mid-1970s landed in Los Angeles from his native Denver with his friend the singer-songwriter Tom Waits.At the Troubadour, the venerable West Hollywood folk club, where Mr. Weiss worked for a time as a dishwasher, they met another young singer-songwriter, a former runaway named Rickie Lee Jones. Mr. Waits and Ms. Jones became an item and the three of them became inseparable as they caroused through Hollywood, stealing lawn ornaments and pranking people at music industry parties (like shaking hands with dip smeared on their palms).Ms. Jones’s song about Mr. Weiss, “Chuck E’s in Love,” was the opening track of her debut album, in 1979. “It seems sometimes like we’re real romantic dreamers who got stuck in the wrong time zone,” Ms. Jones told Rolling Stone in 1979, describing Mr. Weiss and Mr. Waits as her family at the time.They lived at the Tropicana Motel, a seedy 1940s-era bohemia on Santa Monica Boulevard. “It was a regular DMZ,” Mr. Weiss told LA Weekly in 1981, “except everyone had a tan and looked nice.”In the fall of 1977, on a trip home to Denver, Mr. Weiss called his buddies back in Los Angeles, and when Mr. Waits put down the phone, he announced to Ms. Jones, “Chuck E.’s in love!”Two years later, Ms. Jones’s fanciful riff on that declaration — “What’s her name?/Is that her there?/Oh, Christ, I think he’s even combed his hair” — had made her a star. (Though the last line of the song suggests otherwise, it was not Ms. Jones whom Mr. Weiss had fallen for; it was a distant cousin of his.)The song was a hit single, the opening track of Ms. Jones’s debut album, “Rickie Lee Jones,” and a 1980 Grammy Award nominee for song of the year. (“What a Fool Believes,” performed by the Doobie Brothers, took the honor.)Mr. Weiss in an undated photo. “He was a thrilling guy, and a disaster for a time, as thrilling people often are,” Ms. Jones said. Michael Ochs Archives/Getty ImagesIn an essay in The Los Angeles Times on July 21, Ms. Jones wrote that when she first met Mr. Waits and Mr. Weiss, she couldn’t tell them apart. “They were two of the most charismatic characters Hollywood had seen in decades, and without them I think the entire street of Santa Monica Boulevard would have collapsed.”In a phone interview since then, she said of Mr. Weiss: “There was mischief in him, he was our trickster. He was a thrilling guy, and a disaster for a time, as thrilling people often are.”Charles Edward Weiss was born in Denver on March 18, 1945. His father, Leo, was in the salvage business; his mother, Jeannette (Rollnick) Weiss, owned a hat store, Hollywood Millinery. Chuck graduated from East High School and attended Mesa Junior College, now Colorado Mesa, in Grand Junction.His brother is his only immediate survivor.In his early 20s, Mr. Weiss met Chuck Morris, now a music promoter, when Mr. Morris was a co-owner of Tulagi, a music club in Boulder, Colo. When blues performers like Lightnin’ Hopkins and John Lee Hooker came through, they often traveled alone, and it was up to Mr. Morris to find them a local band. He would ask Mr. Weiss to fill in as drummer.In 1973 Mr. Morris opened a Denver nightclub called Ebbets Field (he was born in Brooklyn), which drew performers like Willie Nelson, Lynyrd Skynyrd and Mr. Waits. Mr. Weiss filled in there too.Mr. Weiss performing in 1999 at the South by Southwest Music Festival in Austin, Texas. Gravel-voiced, shaggy-haired and long on patter, he was a bluesman with a Borcht Belt sense of humor.Ebet RobertsAt the time, as Mr. Weiss recalled in 2014, he was trying to record his own music and in the habit of asking performers to play with him. That’s how he met Mr. Waits. “And I think what happened was I saw Waits do some finger-poppin’ stuff at Ebbets Fields one night,” he said, “and I went up to him after the show. I was wearing some platform shoes and a chinchilla coat, and I was slipping on the ice on the street outside because I was so high, and asked if he wanted to do some recording with me. He looked at me like I was from outer space, man.”Nonetheless, he said, they became fast friends.Mr. Waits, interviewed by The Philadelphia Inquirer in 1999, described Mr. Weiss as “a mensch, a liar, a monkey and a pathological vaudevillian.”Mr. Waits and Mr. Weiss ended up collaborating on a number of things, in one instance co-writing the lyrics to “Spare Parts (A Nocturnal Emission),” a barroom dirge on Mr. Waits’s album “Nighthawks at the Diner,” released in 1975. Mr. Waits produced two albums for Mr. Weiss; the first, “Extremely Cool,” in 1999, was described in one review as “a goofy, eclectic mix of loosely-played blues and boogie-woogie.”Though his songwriting was singular — “Anthem for Lost Souls” was told from the point of view of a neighbor’s cat — Mr. Weiss was best known for his live performances. Gravel-voiced, shaggy-haired and long on patter, he was a bluesman with a Borcht Belt sense of humor.Mr. Weiss in 2002 in Los Angeles.Damian Dovarganes/Associated PressFor much of the 1980s Mr. Weiss played at a Los Angeles club called the Central, accompanied by his band, The Goddamn Liars. He later encouraged his friend Johnny Depp to buy the place with him and others. They turned it into the Viper Room, the celebrity-flecked ’90s-era nightclub.He was often asked how he felt about his star turn in Ms. Jones’s hit. “Yeah, I was flabbergasted,” he told The Associated Press in 2007. “Little did we know that, all in all, we would both be known for that for the rest of our lives.”But the rest of their lives would no longer be intertwined.“When ‘Chuck E.’s in Love’ passed from the heavens and faded into the ‘I hate that song’ desert, from which it still has not really recovered, he and I became estranged, and everyone fell away from everyone,” Ms. Jones wrote of Mr. Weiss in her Los Angeles Times essay. “Waits left, the brief Camelot of our street corner jive ended. I had made fiction of us, made heroes of very unheroic people. But I’m glad I did.”Later, on the phone, she said, “Two of the three of us became very successful musicians, but not Chuck, and he knew a lot of people.” She added: “We think being the famous one is winning, but I’m not sure. Chuck did all right.” More

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    Ron Popeil, Inventor and Ubiquitous Infomercial Pitchman, Dies at 86

    Mr. Popeil became a well-known presence on TV, hawking products that people didn’t know they needed, including the Veg-O-Matic and the Inside-the-Shell Egg Scrambler.Ron Popeil, a made-for-TV inventor and salesman whose infomercial stardom persuaded millions of Americans to buy the Veg-O-Matic, Pocket Fisherman and dozens of other products they had no idea they needed, died on Wednesday at a hospital in Los Angeles. He was 86.The cause was a brain hemorrhage, his sister Lisa Popeil said.Mr. Popeil’s mastery of television marketing, dating to the 1950s but spanning several decades, made him nearly as recognizable onscreen as the TV and movie stars of his era. Several of his catchphrases — especially “But wait! There’s more” and “set it and forget it” — have endured beyond his retirement.And many American homes still have, or once had, the products he hawked, some schlocky gizmos that were quickly discarded and others long-running fixtures: the Showtime Rotisserie & BBQ, the Ronco Electric Food Dehydrator, Popeil’s Pasta & Sausage Maker, Mr. Microphone, the Bagel Cutter and the Inside-the-Shell Egg Scrambler, among them.The products chopped, charred, shined, sharpened, cleaned, massaged, folded a fishing rod into a pocket and covered bald spots with a spray can. He sold them all without shouting, a folksy, calming presence that made half-hour infomercials their own form of entertainment as he demonstrated the product and set up testimonials from the audience.“Ron literally invented the business of direct-response TV sales,” Steve Bryant, a one-time QVC host, said in 1994. “Ron paints in very definable brushstrokes, and every doubt in the customer’s mind is wiped away.”Mr. Popeil (pronounced poh-PEEL) was born in New York on May 3, 1935. His parents divorced when he was young and he lived with grandparents in Chicago. He said he missed out on having a true childhood; “I never had a birthday party,” he once said.His father, Samuel Popeil, was the inventor of the Chop-O-Matic and several other well-known items, and as a teenager Ron began selling his father’s inventions at a Walgreen’s store in Chicago.He described his relationship with his father, who died in 1984, as all business. In 1974, Samuel’s second wife, Eloise, was convicted of attempting to hire two men to murder him. After serving 19 months of her sentence, the couple later remarried.After getting his start selling his father’s products, Mr. Popeil created his own company, Ronco, which he sold in 2005 for about $56 million. The company’s sales dropped 35 percent in the year that followed, and the company went bankrupt within two years before being revived in 2008.“The Popeil-Ronco story goes back to the old pitch traditions of when somebody used to stand up at a county fair or on a boardwalk and, through nuances of word, voice, gestures, could get somebody to stop in their tracks and buy something they would never consider buying,” Tim Samuelson, author of “But Wait! There’s More!,” a book about the Popeil family, said in 2008.After the company’s creditors forced it to be liquidated in 1984, Mr. Popeil bought its trademarks and inventory back for about $2 million. A few years later, he spent $33,000 to make a one-hour infomercial for a food dehydrator, and nearly $60 million over the years to broadcast it on local stations and cable channels. It resulted in more than $90 million in sales, he said.His ubiquitous placement on stations across the country helped make him a household figure. His gadgets were lampooned by Dan Aykroyd on “Saturday Night Live” and in a Weird Al Yankovic song called “Mr. Popeil.”“I’ve gone by many titles: King of Hair, King of Pasta, King of Dehydration, or to use a more colloquial phrase, a pitchman or a hawker,” Mr. Popeil said in 1995. “I don’t like those phrases, but I am what I am. Pick a product, any product on your desk. Introduce the product. Tell all the problems relating to the product. Tell how the product solves all those problems. Tell the customer where he or she can buy it and how much it costs. Do this in one minute. Try it. You know what it sounds like? It comes out like this: Brrrrrrrrrrr.”In addition to his sister Lisa, Mr. Popeil is survived by his wife, Robin; daughters Kathryn Gantman, Lauren Popeil, Contessa Popeil and Valentina Popeil; another sister, Pamela Popeil; and four grandchildren. Alex Traub contributed reporting. More

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    Dusty Hill, Long-Bearded Bassist for ZZ Top, Dies at 72

    The band, known for its hard-charging, blues-inflected rock, was one of the biggest acts of the 1980s, selling more than 50 million albums.Dusty Hill, the quiet, bearded bass player who made up one third of ZZ Top, among the best-selling rock bands of the 1980s, has died at his home in Houston. He was 72.His bandmates Frank Beard and Billy Gibbons announced the death on Wednesday through Facebook and Instagram. They did not provide a cause or say when he died.Starting in the early 1970s, ZZ Top racked up dozens of hit records and packed hundreds of arenas a year with their powerful blend of boogie, Southern rock and blues. But the band really took off in the 1980s, when Mr. Gibbons, the lead singer and guitarist, and Mr. Hill grew their signature 20-inch beards and the band released a series of albums that added New Wave synthesizers — often played by Mr. Hill — to their hard-driving guitars, producing MTV-friendly hits like “Legs” and “Sharp-Dressed Man.”The band paired their grungy sound and innuendo-filled lyrics with a knowing, sometimes comic stage act — Mr. Hill and Mr. Gibbons, in matching sunglasses and Stetson hats, would swing their hips in unison, spinning their instruments on mounts attached to their belts. (Despite his name, Mr. Beard, the drummer, sports just a mustache.) Their stage sets might include crushed cars and even livestock.Though in public Mr. Hill and Mr. Gibbons were often mistaken as twins, their musical styles differed — Mr. Gibbons a showy virtuoso, Mr. Hill a grinding, precise musical mechanic.Mr. Hill rarely gave interviews, preferring to let Mr. Gibbons speak for the band. And he gladly accepted his supporting role for his bandmate’s masterful lead guitar playing.“Sometimes you don’t even notice the bass,” he said in a 2016 interview. “I hate that in a way, but I love that in a way. That’s a compliment. That means you’ve filled in everything and it’s right for the song, and you’re not standing out where you don’t need to be.”Joseph Michael Hill was born in Dallas on May 19, 1949. He started his musical career singing and playing cello, but he switched instruments at 13, when his brother, Rocky, who played guitar, said his band needed a bassist. One day Dusty came home to find a bass on his bed; that night, he joined Rocky onstage at a Dallas beer joint.“I started playing that night by putting my finger on the fret, and when the time came to change, my brother would hit me on the shoulder,” he said in a 2012 interview.In 1969, Dusty was living in Houston and working with the blues singer Lightnin’ Hopkins when Mr. Beard, a friend from high school, suggested that he audition for an open spot in a trio, called ZZ Top, recently founded by Mr. Gibbons. They played their first show together in February 1970.Mr. Hill, left, and Mr. Gibbons performing in 1973. The band was successful throughout the ’70s but really took off in the ’80s.Tom Hill/WireImage, via Getty ImagesThe band’s humor was evident from the start: They named their first album “ZZ Top’s First Album.” Real success came in 1973 with their third release, “Tres Hombres,” which cracked the Billboard top 10. That same year they opened for the Rolling Stones in Hawaii.Many of their early songs leaned heavily on sexual innuendo, though sometimes they set the innuendo aside completely. “La Grange,” their big hit on “Tres Hombres,” was about a bordello.In 1976, after a string of hit albums and nearly seven years of constant touring, the band took a three-year hiatus. Mr. Hill returned to Dallas, where he worked at the airport and tried to avoid being identified by fans.“I had a short beard, regular length, and if you take off the hat and shades and wear work clothes and put ‘Joe’ on my work shirt, people are not expecting to see you,” he said in a 2019 interview. “Now, a couple of times, a couple of people did ask me, and I just lied, and I said: ‘No! Do you think I’d be sitting here?’”The band reunited in 1979 to release “Degüello,” their first album to go platinum, and the first time Mr. Gibbons and Mr. Hill grew out their beards. It was also the first sign that they were going beyond their Texas roots by adding a New Wave flavor to their sound, with Mr. Hill also playing keyboard.They achieved superstar status in 1983 with “Eliminator,” which included hit singles like “Legs,” “Sharp Dressed Man” and “Give Me All Your Lovin.’” It sold 10 million copies and stayed on the Billboard charts for 183 weeks.In 1984, Mr. Hill made headlines when he accidentally shot himself in the stomach. As a girlfriend was taking off his boot, a .38 Derringer slipped out, hit the floor and went off.Mr. Hill in a concert in 2015. Walter Bieri/EPA, via ShutterstockThe band’s success continued through the 1980s, and while later albums — in which they returned to their Texan blues roots — didn’t climb the charts, the trio still packed stadiums. And despite their raunchy stylings, they began to draw grudging respect from critics, who often singled out Mr. Hill’s subtly masterful bass playing.“My sound is big, heavy and a bit distorted because it has to overlap the guitar,” he said in a 2000 interview. “Someone once asked me to describe my tone, and I said it was like farting in a trash can. What I meant is it’s raw, but you’ve got to have the tone in there.”ZZ Top was inducted into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame in 2004.Mr. Hill married his longtime girlfriend, Charleen McCrory, an actress, in 2002. He also had a daughter. Information on survivors was not immediately available.In 2014 he injured his hip after a fall on his tour bus. He required surgery, and part of the tour had to be canceled. On July 23, he left their latest tour, citing problems with his hip. It is unclear whether that had any connection to his death.Contrary to their image — and the hard partying that their music seemed to encourage — Mr. Hill and his bandmates kept a low, relatively sober profile. And they remained close friends, even after 50 years of near-constant touring.“People ask how we’ve stayed together so long,” he told The Charlotte Observer in 2015. “I say separate tour buses. We got separate tour buses early on, when we probably couldn’t afford them. That way we were always glad to see each other when we got to the next city.”Alex Traub contributed reporting. More

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    Joey Jordison, Slipknot Drummer, Dies at 46

    Mr. Jordison’s explosive, virtuosic playing and elaborate solos, sometimes performed atop a hydraulic riser, made him a fan favorite.Joey Jordison, the founding drummer for the ghoulishly theatrical metal band Slipknot, who helped write many of the group’s best-known songs and often performed wearing a crown of thorns and a silver mask streaked with black paint, died on Monday. He was 46.His family confirmed the death in a statement, which did not say where he died or specify a cause.In a tribute in New Musical Express, the culture and music magazine, the writer James McMahon called Mr. Jordison one of the greatest heavy metal players of all time.Mr. McMahon recalled that Slipknot’s self-titled debut was greeted in one of two ways when it was released in 1999.“One was a guttural disgust,” he wrote. “This was a band that huffed the fumes of dead crows before stage time, who punched each other in the face onstage.“The other was adoration: If you felt different, strange or unique at the dawn of the millennium, few bands offered you sanctuary like the nine-piece did.”“They were Slipknot, and you were a Maggot,” he added, referring to the nickname that the band’s fans embraced for themselves.Mr. Jordison founded Slipknot in 1995 with the percussionist Shawn Crahan and the bassist Paul Gray. By the time the band issued its debut album, its membership had expanded to nine members.Their first album was certified platinum within a year. “I was a night manager at a Sinclair gas station from ’95 to ’97,” Mr. Jordison told Rolling Stone in 2001. “That’s where most of ‘Slipknot’ was conceived.”The group helped to reinvent hard rock in the early 2000s, incorporating elements of alternative metal, shock rock and hip-hop into its sound and developing a stage show that leaned heavily on theatrics. Its members performed in matching jumpsuits and sinister masks, emphasizing their anonymity by using the numbers zero through eight as stage aliases.In 2005, Slipknot won a Grammy for best metal performance for the song “Before I Forget.” Slipknot had three Top 10 singles on the Billboard 200 during Mr. Jordison’s time with the band, Billboard reported, reaching No. 1 in 2008 with “All Hope Is Gone,” which Mr. Jordison wrote with his bandmates.Mr. Jordison’s explosive, virtuosic playing and elaborate solos, sometimes performed atop a hydraulic riser, made him a fan favorite. He remained with Slipknot until 2013 when, he said in an interview with Metal Hammer magazine, he was unceremoniously dismissed from the band by email in a “hurtful” misunderstanding about his health.In 2016, as he accepted a Metal Hammer Golden Gods award, he said in a speech that he had been booted from Slipknot after he learned that he had transverse myelitis, which is characterized by inflammation of the spinal cord that can cause sensory problems and limb weakness.Although some people recover with minor or no problems, the process can take years.“I got really, really sick,” he said. “I couldn’t play anymore. It was a form of multiple sclerosis, which I don’t wish on my worst enemy.” He said he “got myself back up, and I got myself in the gym,” and beat the disorder with therapy.“It is the hardest thing I have ever done in my life,” he said.Nathan Jordison was born on April 26, 1975, in Des Moines and grew up about 20 miles west, in Waukee, Iowa, Rolling Stone reported. The oldest of three children, he discovered Kiss and Black Sabbath in the early 1980s. He began playing music with a friend, starting with the guitar and switching to drums because the friend could not play them well, according to Rolling Stone.His parents nurtured his interest in music, surprising him with his own drum kit when he was in the fifth grade.Information on survivors was not immediately available.Monte Conner, who signed Slipknot to Roadrunner Records in 1998, said in a statement on Wednesday that Mr. Jordison’s “manic playing style and innovative drumming were truly unique in every way.”Mr. Jordison “was an equally great songwriter who understood what went into writing songs with choruses and hooks that connected with and spoke to an entire generation of heavy metal fans,” Mr. Conner said. “Joey lived and breathed the music and was a total scholar in all things heavy metal. He used that knowledge to take everything he loved about the various genres of metal and combine it all into a melting pot of sounds that had never before been heard.”In his Golden Gods Award speech, Mr. Jordison said he had no ill feelings toward the members of Slipknot over his dismissal from the band. He asked the audience to “give them praise,” and fondly recalled his time “in the basements of Des Moines, Iowa,” with Mr. Crahan and Mr. Gray, who died in 2010.Despite his illness, Mr. Jordison rededicated himself to music, playing guitar for the bands Murderdolls and Sinsaenum, and playing drums for the metal band Vimic.In May 2000, Slipknot featured prominently in a New York Times article about what some at the time were calling new metal or heavy alternative music. Slipknot, then at the vanguard of that movement, had been rejected by 10 labels before landing on Roadrunner Records.“A guy at Sony told us, ‘If this is the future of music, I don’t want to be alive,’” Mr. Jordison recalled. “I just thought, If that’s what he thinks, then we are doing something right.”Isabella Grullón Paz More

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    Elliot Lawrence, Award-Winning Conductor, Dies at 96

    He led a big band, conducted on Broadway, collected Emmys and for nearly 50 years led the orchestra on the annual Tony Awards broadcast.Elliot Lawrence, who after leading a big band in the 1940s and ’50s won a Tony Award for his conducting on Broadway and spent nearly a half-century in charge of the orchestra that plays on the Tonys’ annual broadcast, died on July 2 in Manhattan. He was 96.His son Jamie confirmed the death, at New York-Presbyterian Hospital.A pianist by training, Mr. Lawrence was a leader from a young age, forming one youth ensemble, the Band Busters, at age 12. In his 20s he started Elliot Lawrence and His Orchestra, which was voted the most promising new big band in Billboard’s college polls in 1947 and 1948.His later work as conductor of the Tony Awards orchestra — a job he got because of his success on Broadway and in television — earned him two Emmy Awards.“He was happiest in front of an orchestra,” said Jamie Lawrence, who is also a musician and conductor.The big-band era was waning after World War II, but Mr. Lawrence’s orchestra found success playing colleges, proms and concerts. In 1949 alone, it traveled 65,000 miles.The band’s members variously included the saxophonist Gerry Mulligan, who wrote some of its arrangements, and the trumpeter Red Rodney. It performed at the Paramount Theater in Manhattan and at the Hollywood Palladium in Los Angeles.“He knew how to rehearse, and he had great ears,” Joe Soldo, who played saxophone for Mr. Lawrence’s band from 1949 to 1951, said by phone. “He had instrumentation, like a separate oboe and a French horn. He brought classical input to his arrangements.”But Mr. Lawrence decided to stop touring in 1954 after a trombone player in his band, Ollie Wilson, had given him bad news about some of the other musicians.“He came to me one night on the road and said, ‘El, I’m sorry to tell you this, but out of the 16 guys in the band, 14 of them were junkies.’ Only Ollie and I were clean,” Mr. Lawrence recalled in 2009 in an interview with the alumni magazine of his alma mater, the University of Pennsylvania.He occasionally reassembled the band in various configurations to record albums, including “Elliot Lawrence Plays Gerry Mulligan Arrangements” (1955), “Swinging at the Steel Pier” (1956) and “Jazz Goes Broadway” (1957).By then he had begun to find work in television. In 1959, he conducted a 42-piece orchestra that the television host Ed Sullivan took to the Soviet Union.While there, one of the many performers on the trip, the choreographer Gower Champion, asked Mr. Lawrence to be the musical director of “Bye Bye Birdie,” which Mr. Champion was directing and which was to open on Broadway the next year.Mr. Lawrence was conducting the “Bye Bye Birdie” orchestra — on his way to a Tony nomination — when the composer Frank Loesser hired him for the same job on his new musical, “How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying,” which opened in October 1961.Their collaboration proved fruitful. Mr. Lawrence won a Tony, one of seven that the show received, including best musical and best actor (Robert Morse).Mr. Lawrence, at the piano, in 1946. He found success leading several bands, including Elliot Lawrence and His Orchestra.CBS RadioElliot Lawrence Broza was born on Feb. 14, 1925, in Philadelphia. His father, Stan Lee Broza, was a founder and executive of the local radio station WCAU. He and Elliot’s mother, Esther (Malis) Broza, produced the long-running variety show “The Horn and Hardart Children’s Hour” on radio and later on television.Elliot began taking piano lessons at age 3. In 1930 he contracted polio, which affected his fingers and neck, but he recovered and began playing again, and at 10 he was accompanying his mother when she sang tunes from the Great American Songbook at parties in their home.He went on to perform with the Band Busters on his parents’ “Children’s Hour.” At 16 he entered the University of Pennsylvania on a music scholarship and became student director of the marching band, writing, he recalled, jazz arrangements for the school’s fight songs when the football team faced Army in a sold-out game at Franklin Field in Philadelphia.After graduating in 1944 with a bachelor’s degree in music, Mr. Lawrence took over WCAU’s house band, which played live on the air. He formed his big band a year later. Around that time he changed his surname to Lawrence and made Broza his middle name.In 1949, as a veteran bandleader of 24, he was focused on the music as well as the business of overseeing a touring group of 17 members, including two singers, that was grossing $300,000 a year but losing money nevertheless because of salaries, transportation, uniforms, booking agency fees and other costs.“You can see it isn’t a way to get rich quick,” Mr. Lawrence told The Kansas City Star, adding: “My father is my business manager. I don’t have to worry about my money being stolen.”The big-band work yielded to conducting on Broadway, where, after “How to Succeed,” he was the musical director of eight more shows, including “1776,” which opened in 1969. By then he was a year into his run as conductor of the Tony Awards orchestra, a gig that would last until 2013.In addition to the Emmys he won for his work on the Tonys, Mr. Lawrence also won Emmys for his musical direction of the television specials “’S Wonderful, ’S Marvelous, ’S Gershwin,” a tribute to George and Ira Gershwin in 1972, and “Night of 100 Stars” (1982), an all-star variety show celebrating the centennial of the Actors’ Fund of America.His television credits include writing music for soap operas like “The Edge of Night,” for which he won two Daytime Emmys, and two ABC Afterschool Specials, which earned him two more Daytime Emmys.He also wrote music for the opening sequence of “The French Connection” (1971) and for “Network” (1976). But most of his “Network” score was cut, Jamie Lawrence said.“Paddy Chayefsky came into the edit room and said, ‘I don’t want to hear music,’” Mr. Lawrence said, referring to the film’s screenwriter. “He only wanted dialogue.”“My dad,” he added, “was very proud of that score.”In addition to his son Jamie, Mr. Lawrence is survived by his daughters, Alexandra and Mia Lawrence; another son, Danny; and five grandchildren. His wife, Amy (Bunim) Lawrence, died in 2017.Ricky Kirschner, the executive producer of the Tonys broadcast, recalled Mr. Lawrence as a gentlemanly leader of the orchestra until he was nearly 90.“Think about it,” he said by phone. “It’s a three-hour show, with 15 performances, and you have to arrange and rehearse music for every possible winner. And when they say who the winner is, you have to be fast enough to play it while the director is in your ear, telling you to cut after 20 or 30 seconds”He added, “Think of doing that when you’re 88.” More

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    Vladimir Menshov, Surprise Russian Oscar Winner, Dies at 81

    His “Moscow Does Not Believe in Tears” was named best foreign-language film in 1980, beating Truffaut and Kurosawa. U.S. critics demurred.Vladimir Menshov, a prolific Soviet actor and director whose film “Moscow Does Not Believe in Tears” won the Academy Award in 1980 for best foreign-language film, surprising the many American critics who had panned it, died on July 5 in a hospital in Moscow. He was 81.Mosfilm, the Russian film studio and production company, said the cause was complications of Covid-19.“Moscow Does Not Believe in Tears,” a soapy, melodramatic crowd-pleaser, attracted some 90 million moviegoers in the Soviet Union even after it had been broadcast on television, not long after it was released theatrically in 1980. Its theme song, “Alexandra,” written by Sergey Nikitin and Tatyana Nikitina, became one of the country’s most beloved pieces of movie music.Even so, when “Moscow,” only the second film Mr. Menshov had directed, won the Oscar, many moviegoers and critics were taken aback, given the competition that year. It was chosen over François Truffaut’s “The Last Metro” and Akira Kurosawa’s “The Shadow Warrior” as well as the Spanish director Jaime de Armiñán’s “The Nest” and the Hungarian director Istvan Szabo’s “Confidence.”“There was more condescending good will than aesthetic discrimination behind the Oscar voted to ‘Moscow,’” Gary Arnold of The Washington Post wrote when he reviewed the film, which was released in the United States after its Oscar victory.The film follows three girls quartered at a Moscow hotel for young women in the late 1950s as they hunt for male companionship, and then revisits them 20 years later. It starred Vera Alentova, the director’s wife and the mother of their daughter, Yuliya Menshova, a television personality. They both survive him, along with two grandchildren.From left, Aleksey Batalov, Vera Alentova and Natalya Vavilova in “Moscow Does Not Believe in Tears.”SputnikMr. Arnold noted that Mr. Menshov’s movie “revives a genre Hollywood has failed to sustain, reliable as it would seem: the chronicle of provincial girls, usually a trio, in pursuit of careers and/or mates in the big city” — a genre that ranged chronologically at the time from “Stage Door” (1938) to “Valley of the Dolls” (1967).Vincent Canby of The New York Times conceded that the film was “decently acted” but wrote that at two and a half hours, it “seems endless.”“There are suggestions of social satire from time to time,” Mr. Canby wrote, “but they are so mild they could surprise and interest only an extremely prudish, unreconstructed Stalinist.”While he considered it understandable that “Moscow” was one of the Soviet Union’s most successful films, Mr. Canby concluded, “One can also believe that portion of Mr. Menshov’s biography (contained in the program) that reports he failed his first three years at the Cinema Institute in Moscow and wasn’t much more successful as an acting student with the Moscow Art Theater.”He added tartly, “I assume we are told these things to underscore the lack of meaning in these early failures, which, however, appear to be summed up in his Oscar winner.”Vladimir Valentinovich Menshov was born on Sept. 17, 1939, to a Russian family in Baku (now in Azerbaijan). His father, Valentin, was an officer with the secret police. His mother, Antonina Aleksandrovna (Dubovskaya) Menshov, was a homemaker.As a teenager, Vladimir held blue-collar jobs as a machinist, a miner and a sailor before being admitted to the Moscow Art Theater School. After graduating from the school in 1965 and from the Gerasimov Institute of Cinematography in 1970, he worked for the Mosfilm, Lenfilm and Odessa Film studios.He had more than 100 credits as an actor, including in the hit “Night Watch” (2004), and was also a screenwriter. He made his debut as a director in 1976 with the film “Practical Joke.” More