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    Sid Mark, Disc Jockey Devoted to Sinatra for Six Decades, Dies at 88

    He hosted four radio shows that focused on the singer, who at one concert singled him out in the audience and said, “I love him.”Sid Mark, a longtime disc jockey in Philadelphia who made Frank Sinatra’s songs the center of his musical universe for more than six decades, died on April 18 in Bryn Mawr, Pa. He was 88.His daughter, Stacey Mark, confirmed the death, in a hospital, but did not cite the cause.Mr. Mark brought a warm, conversational style to his broadcasts. Between selections from his trove of vinyl albums and CDs, he offered bits of his aficionado’s knowledge, told stories about hanging out with Sinatra and played snippets of interviews with him.He hosted three shows on various Philadelphia radio stations: “Friday With Frank,” “Sunday With Sinatra” and the syndicated “The Sounds of Sinatra,” which has run for 43 years and at its height was heard on 100 stations. He also hosted a fourth, “Saturday With Sinatra,” on stations in New York.In 1966, Sinatra’s office invited Mr. Mark to Las Vegas to see him perform as a reward for helping to stoke sales in Philadelphia of the singer’s newly released live album, “Sinatra at the Sands,” by playing it nonstop for a week.While there, he dined with Sinatra and a group of other stars, including Jack Benny, Lucille Ball and Milton Berle. Afterward, Mr. Mark recalled, Sinatra told him, “I’ll see you at the show,” but Mr. Mark said that he and his wife, Loretta, did not have tickets.“He thought that was pretty funny, as did everyone at the table,” Mr. Mark told Vice.com in 2009, “and he gave me a little pinch on the cheek and said, ‘No, you’re sitting at our table.’ I walked in with all these celebrities and everyone knew who everyone was, but they had no idea who we were. Like ‘Who’s that with the pope?’”It was the start of a friendship that lasted until Sinatra’s death in 1998. Mr. Mark attended many of Sinatra’s performances and would sometimes visit him at his suite at the Waldorf Towers in Manhattan. At times, during a concert, Sinatra would single him out from the audience.“I love him, and I say that publicly, I love him,” Sinatra said in 1991 at the Spectrum in Philadelphia. “He’s one of the best friends I’ve ever had in my life.”Mr. Mark in a recent photo hosting “Sunday With Sinatra,” which was on the air for more than 40 years.Family photoSidney Mark Fliegelman was born on May 30, 1933, in Camden, N.J. His father, Aaron, and his mother, Sylvia (Pfeffer) Fliegelman, owned a variety store in Camden. The family lived above the store, where Sid got his first taste of Sinatra’s music by listening to his sister Norma’s records. He hoped to one day get a job in radio.He entered the Army in 1953 and served at Camp Polk (now Fort Polk) in Louisiana. His admiration for Sinatra’s music swelled when he listened to his records on the radio at night in the barracks. “Somehow his voice got to me and I realized he knew exactly what he was singing about,” he told Vice. “If he was singing about lonely, he knew what lonely was. If he was singing about love, he knew what love was about.”Mr. Mark stopped using his surname early in his career but never changed it legally.After his discharge in 1955, Mr. Mark got a job at the Red Hill Inn, a jazz club in Pennsauken, N.J., as a talent coordinator. His responsibilities included driving artists like Count Basie and Duke Ellington to and from their hotels. They would often talk about Sinatra, further stoking Mr. Mark’s interest in his music. More important, he was hired around that time as a disc jockey at WHAT-AM, a jazz station in Philadelphia. He hosted a one-hour show called “Sounds in the Night.”One night in 1955, when the station’s overnight D.J. did not show up, Mr. Mark was asked to fill in.“It was a show called ‘Rock and Roll Kingdom,’ and I wasn’t going to do that,” he told The New Yorker in 2021. He asked his audience what they wanted to hear, and one fan suggested playing an hour of Sinatra’s music. “The all-night guy got fired for not coming in, and they kept me on.” Several months later, in 1956, the show formally began its run as “Friday With Frank.”By the early 1960s, Mr. Mark’s popularity in Philadelphia was growing. He was hosting “Friday With Frank” and a daily six-hour jazz show, “Mark of Jazz,” which would run for nearly two decades, on WHAT. He also had a weekly jazz program on local public television.Mr. Mark hosted “Friday With Frank” for 54 years, “Saturday With Sinatra” for about 17 and “Sunday With Sinatra” for more than 40. “The Sounds of Sinatra” will remain on the air and present archival shows, said his son Brian Mark, the executive producer.In addition to his daughter and his son Brian, Mr. Mark is survived by his wife, Judy (Avery) Mark; two other sons, Eric and Andy Fliegelman; and two grandchildren. His marriage to Loretta Katz ended in divorce.The playlists of Mr. Mark’s Sinatra shows did not consist entirely of solo recordings by Sinatra. He also played duets Sinatra recorded with singers like Liza Minnelli, Lena Horne and Sammy Davis Jr., as well as records by Dean Martin, Tony Bennett and Davis.There have been other Sinatra devotees on the radio over the years. William B. Williams emphasized Sinatra’s music on his “Make Believe Ballroom” on WNEW-AM in New York (and gave him his nickname Chairman of the Board). Jonathan Schwartz was known for his loyalty to Sinatra on several New York stations. But with four Sinatra shows, Mr. Mark was probably singular in his commitment.“D.J.s can often be disappointing in person, which was not the case with Sid,” James Kaplan, the author of a two-volume biography of Sinatra — “Frank: The Voice” (2010) and “Sinatra: The Chairman” (2015) — said in a phone interview. “He was physically impressive, a tall, striking-looking guy who had a real warmth. He didn’t have a phony atom in his body, and he had a true love of Sinatra and everything about Sinatra. His enthusiasm was real.” More

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    DJ Kay Slay, Fiery Radio Star and Rap Mixtape Innovator, Dies at 55

    The onetime graffiti artist and New York D.J. for Hot 97 was known for breaking artists and stoking beefs that gave fuel to the careers of Nas, Jay-Z, 50 Cent and more.DJ Kay Slay, who served as a crucial bridge between hip-hop generations, developing from a teenage B-boy and graffiti writer into an innovative New York radio personality known for his pugnacious mixtapes that stoked rap beefs, broke artists and helped change the music business, died on Sunday in New York. He was 55.Slay had faced “a four-month battle with Covid-19,” his family said in a statement confirming his death.Few figures in hip-hop could trace their continued presence from the genre’s earliest days to the digital present like he could. In late-1970s New York, Slay was a young street artist known as Dez, plastering his spray-painted tag on building walls and subway cars, as chronicled in the cult documentaries “Wild Style” and “Style Wars.”Then he was the Drama King, a.k.a. Slap Your Favorite DJ, hosting the late-night “Drama Hour” on the influential radio station Hot 97 (WQHT 97.1 FM) for more than two decades before his illness took him off the air.“Cats know it’s no holds barred with me,” Slay told The New York Times in 2003, when the paper dubbed him “Hip-Hop’s One-Man Ministry of Insults.” In addition to providing a ring and roaring encouragement for battles between Jay-Z and Nas, 50 Cent and Ja Rule, Slay gave an early platform to local artists and crews like the Diplomats, G-Unit, Terror Squad and the rapper Papoose, both on his show and on the mixtapes that made his name as much as theirs.As mixtapes evolved from homemade D.J. blends on actual cassettes to a semiofficial promotional tool and underground economy of CDs sold on street corners, in flea markets, record stores, bodegas and barber shops, Slay advanced with the times, eventually releasing his own compilation albums on Columbia Records. Once illicit and unsanctioned, mixtapes now represent a vital piece of the music streaming economy, with artists and major labels releasing their own album-like official showcases that top the Billboard charts.“You were really the first to bring the personality to the mixtape,” Funkmaster Flex, a fellow Hot 97 D.J., once said to Slay during a radio interview. “That was very unusual. We were just used to the music and the exclusives.”Slay, who became immersed in drugs and spent time behind bars before making it in music, responded, “I had to find an angle and run with it.”He was born Keith Grayson in New York on Aug. 14, 1966, and raised in East Harlem. As a child, he was drawn to disco, dancing the Hustle; when early hip-hop D.J.s began turning breakbeats from those songs into proto-rap music, he traveled to the Bronx to observe and participate in the rising culture.“I had to see what was going on and bring it back to my borough,” he told Spin magazine in 2003. “So I used to hop on the 6 train and go up to the Bronx River Center [projects] to see Afrika Bambaataa and the Zulu Nation rock.”He soon took up the affiliated art forms of breakdancing and graffiti, even casually rapping with his friends. “Every element of the game, I participated in,” Slay told Flex. But street art became his chief passion, first under the tag Spade 429 and later Dez TFA, which he shortened to Dez.“I wanted a nice small name that I could get up everywhere and do it quick without getting grabbed,” he said at the time. “You’re telling the world something — like, I am somebody. I’m an artist.”Amid the city’s crackdown on graffiti, Dez took on the name Kay Slay (“After a while you get tired of writing the same name,” he said of his street-art days) and developed a fascination with turntables. “Boy, you better turntable those books,” he recalled his disappointed parents saying. But in need of money and with little interest in school, he soon turned to drugs and stickups.Kay Slay at MTV Studios in 2007. “The game was boring until I came around,” he said. Brian Ach/WireImageIn 1989, Slay was arrested and served a year in jail for drug possession with intent to sell. On getting out, he told Spin, “I started noticing Brucie B, Kid Capri, Ron G. They were doing mixtapes, doing parties and getting paid lovely.” He sold T-shirts, socks and jeans to buy D.J. equipment and worked at a Bronx facility that assisted people with H.I.V. and AIDS.“I can’t count the number of people I saw die,” he told The Times of that period. “Working there really made me begin to appreciate life.”In the mid-1990s, Slay found the professional music business still unwelcoming, and he began to call out, in colorful language on his releases, those label executives he thought of as useless. “I told myself I would be so big that one day the same people I was begging for records would be begging me to play their records,” he said.It was that irascible spirit that helped endear him to rappers who had their own scores to settle. In 2001, Slay had a breakthrough when he premiered “Ether,” the blistering Nas dis of Jay-Z that revitalized headline hip-hop beef following the murders of Tupac Shakur and the Notorious B.I.G. His radio slots and mixtapes became a proving ground, and he later started a magazine called Straight Stuntin’.“He’s like the Jerry Springer of rap,” one D.J. told The Times. “All the fights happen on his show.”Slay’s gruff manner and mid-song shouts would go on to influence his contemporaries, like DJ Clue, a onetime rival, and those who followed, like DJ Whoo Kid and DJ Drama. Alberto Martinez, the Harlem drug dealer known as Alpo, who was killed last year while in witness protection, even hosted a Slay tape from prison.“The game was boring until I came around,” Slay said.He is survived by his mother, Sheila Grayson, along with his best friend and business manager Jarrod Whitaker.In Slay’s on-air conversation with Funkmaster Flex, the other D.J. marveled at the creativity of Slay’s boasts and threats — “If you stop the bank, then I’m gonna rob the bank!” — and asked his colleague if he ever regretted the shocking things he’d bellowed.“I said some foul things, man, on some mixtapes when I was not in full touch with myself,” Slay replied. “But I’m not angry at myself for doing it, because the boy that I was made the man I am today.” More

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    Remembering Avicii by Stepping Into His Bewildering World

    The Avicii Experience offers a taste of the pressures that led up to the D.J.’s death. It’s the latest immersive exhibition trying to find the line between emotional engagement and entertainment.STOCKHOLM — Visitors filed one by one into a dark, 6 foot by 12 foot room at the Space exhibition center here last Friday, where they were greeted by a mix of ringing and muddled noises: camera clicks, audience cheers, plane engine roars. Strobe lights bounced off a ceiling-high screen showing the interiors of cars, paparazzi flashes and the reaching arms of a festival crowd in quick succession. Jagged mirrors in the ceiling reflected the chaos below.The effect was meant to reproduce the bewildering experience of being the wildly successful, globe-trotting D.J. Avicii. For some visitors, it made a big impact. “I think I would go crazy if I had to live like that,” said Magdalena Grundström, a 51-year-old classical musician.Had entrants turned right, they would have encountered a very different space. Through a beaded curtain, pan pipe music was playing in the neighboring room. On one of its sea-green walls, a text on hanging fabric explained how Buddhism can help with anxiety.These contrasting rooms are part of the Avicii Experience, a new immersive exhibition dedicated to the life of the Swedish electronic dance music producer that opened in Stockholm in late February. The temporary museum is designed to give visitors an insight into both the musical talents that brought him global fame as an in-demand D.J., and the pressures that led up to his suicide.It also grapples with how to memorialize a short life shaped by extraordinary public interest in a way that feels both entertaining and thoughtful.The museum, which was opened in late February, was curated with the support of Avicii’s family.Felix Odell for The New York TimesAvicii, born Tim Bergling, died while on vacation in Muscat, Oman, in April 2018. Two years earlier, he had retired from touring, citing the overwhelming schedule of an internationally famous D.J. He also struggled with alcohol and prescription painkillers.Avicii was only 22 years old when “Levels,” a hooky dance track featuring an Etta James sample, propelled him to stardom. Over the subsequent six years, his music took electronic dance music, or E.D.M., in new directions, blending beats with folk vocals on tracks like “Wake Me Up” from his 2013 debut, “True.” He was nominated for two Grammys, and his songs have been streamed more than a billion times on Spotify.After Avicii’s death, his family visited Abba the Museum, an interactive, immersive space dedicated to the Swedish pop group, also in Stockholm. They thought something similar could work as a tribute to Avicii, Lisa Halling-Aadland, the content producer of the Avicii Experience, said in a video interview.“It’s obviously two very different emotions tied to each of these,” Halling-Aadland said, “but we said yes, we can do something. Not the same, but something.”Halling-Aadland and her mother, Ingmarie Halling, the exhibition’s creative director, sought approval from the Bergling family throughout the planning process. “We just had to consistently turn to them. We had an idea that’s good for us, and then we said, does this seem right to you guys?” Halling-Aadland said.The Avicii Experience, which will run for several years, is designed to emphasize the contrast between Tim Bergling, an introverted person whose passion was composing music, and Avicii, a global E.D.M. brand.“The normal impression was perhaps, a very successful, rich guy: Why did he end his life the way he did?” Klas Bergling, the musician’s father, said in a phone interview. “I don’t mean that we have an answer. Not at all. But you get another perspective.”In a replica of Avicii’s childhood bedroom, the computer screen shows a scene from World of Warcraft.Felix Odell for The New York TimesAnother space recreates the studio in Avicii’s home on Blue Jay Way in Los Angeles.Felix Odell for The New York TimesThe exhibition includes a replica of Avicii’s childhood bedroom, complete with a discarded pizza box and a computer screen showing his World of Warcraft character. Nearby visitors can don a virtual reality headset, enter a replica of his recording studio and sing the vocals on one of his tracks.The last 10 years have seen a boom in immersive experiences. Globally there are currently at least five immersive Van Gogh exhibitions — Instagram-friendly shows that have attracted visitors beyond the usual audience for art galleries. In London, there have recently been immersive shows dedicated to the work of David Bowie, Pink Floyd and the Rolling Stones, and the theater company Punchdrunk has been exploring immersive, interactive productions for the last decade.It’s not surprising that as immersive experiences become more widespread, the subjects they try to tackle will broaden too, said Sarah Elger, the C.E.O. of an immersive experiences company called Pseudonym Productions.But that doesn’t mean it’s easy to get it right. “Designing an immersive experience in and of itself is an art form,” she said in a recent video interview. For immersive memorial spaces, Elger stressed the importance of a curator having a “personal connection” with the subject. “Challenges will arise if this becomes a mainstay of how we want to memorialize people,” she added.A virtual reality headset takes visitors into a a music studio where they can meet Sandro Cavazza, Aloe Blacc and Carl Falk, Avicii’s co-producers and musicians.Felix Odell for The New York TimesIn 2020, plans for an interactive, immersive Holocaust memorial experience in Kyiv, Ukraine, ignited a firestorm of criticism, including a rebuke from a curator who said it would be “Holocaust Disney.”The Avicii Experience is billed as a “tribute” to the musician, and includes spaces that feel funereal. The final room in the show is small and churchlike, with white stone-effect walls and flickering electric candles in alcoves. A slide show of Avicii photographs is projected on one wall, while a solemn orchestral version of his hit “The Nights” plays. In a section called “Unanswered Questions,” a text explains that nobody close to Avicii saw his suicide coming: “How could a human being be in the middle of such a creative flow and suddenly be gone?”Priya Khanchandani, the curator of an exhibition about Amy Winehouse at London’s Design Museum that includes immersive experiences, said that the line between emotional engagement and entertainment is a tricky one.“It’s about sensitivity, and the immersive elements have to be part of the storytelling rather than being a kind of gimmicky vehicle for sensory experience in themselves,” she said. “The danger, of course, with these kinds of experiences is they become too consumer focused. The museum becomes a theme park, or akin to a sort of retail experience.”In one area, visitors can make their own audio mixes.Felix Odell for The New York TimesThe room depicting the pressures of fame gives visitors a fully immersive experience.Felix Odell for The New York TimesOutside the Avicii Experience, a shop sold Avicii branded caps for 449 Swedish kronor, around $45. Part of the profits from the Experience go to the Tim Bergling Foundation, a mental health charity set up by Bergling’s family.For Avicii fans, visiting the exhibition means moving between the roles of consumer and mourner. Ayesha Simmons, 20, traveled from London to see the show. “That room with the jagged mirrors felt so important to me, because it gave us even the tiniest idea of what it must have felt like for him,” she said in a Facebook message.The immersive elements did not impact everyone, though. “I just thought I was in an amusement park,” Daniel Täng, 20, said after walking around the exhibition. “I didn’t really think about it.” More

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    Kelli Hand, Detroit D.J. and Music Industry Trailblazer, Dies at 56

    In 2017, the Detroit City Council honored Ms. Hand as the “first lady of Detroit” for her contributions to the techno music scene.Kelli Hand, a longtime disc jockey known as K-Hand who was named the “first lady of Detroit” for her musical accomplishments, was found dead on Aug. 3 at her home in Detroit. She was 56.Her death was confirmed by a spokesman for the Wayne County medical examiner, who said that the cause was related to arteriosclerotic cardiovascular disease.Paramount Artists, which represented Ms. Hand, paid tribute to her on social media.“Kelli was undoubtedly the first lady of Detroit, and a trailblazer for women in the music industry,” the company said on Instagram.Ms. Hand was one of the first female D.J.s in Detroit’s music scene and became known for her catalog of albums and extended plays of house and techno with the start of her own label, Acacia Records, in 1990.In 2017, the Detroit City Council honored Ms. Hand with a resolution that called her the “first lady of Detroit” for being a pioneer in the city’s techno music scene and for being “an international legend” who toured clubs and electronic music festivals.The certificate highlighted some of her accomplishments in the male-dominated industry of electronic music in the 1990s, including being the first woman to release house and techno music.“Such an Honor and exciting,” Ms. Hand wrote on Instagram at the time.YouTube videos captured Ms. Hand wearing a headset and smiling and dancing in place as she entertained crowds with her mixes of bouncy beats at nightclubs and events while touring the world.Ms. Hand, whose legal given name was Kelley, was born on Sept. 15, 1964, and raised in Detroit, where her childhood revolved around music, particularly the drums, according to her website.Her passion for rhythm led her to study music theory in college in New York. She also enhanced her music education in the 1980s by frequenting the Paradise Garage nightclub, where, her site says, she soaked up the sounds of the emergent genre of music that would become known as house.In a 2015 interview with The Detroit Metro Times, she reflected on her interest in spinning records after visiting the club in New York City and others in Chicago.“After frequenting Paradise Garage so many times I wanted to buy the records because I loved the music,” she told The Metro Times. “So the next step was, I got to play these records in order to hear them! That led to purchasing a couple turntables, which also led me to D.J.ing in my own bedroom,” she said, adding that doing so led her to do a residence at Zipper’s Nightclub in Detroit.Ms. Hand also talked about how the D.J. scene was dominated by men when she was starting out and how that played a role in using the gender-neutral name K-Hand for her own music.“I wanted to come out with something that was kind of catchy,” she recalled. “At the same time, I didn’t want people to know that I was a girl, because I was just minding the music business. I’m like, OK, what’s going to happen if my name comes out, and I’m a girl, because mostly it’s a lot of guys? This was back in the day. So the label suggested ‘K-HAND.’”On her website, she said that music was not about how someone looks or about the D.J.’s skills but about “being ‘true’ to yourself, and having the ability to express yourself creatively through your own self-confidence that is within you.”Some of her better-known songs include “Think About It,” “Flash Back” and her 1994 breakout single, “Global Warning,” on the British label Warp Records. Billboard said those songs “put her in league” with Detroit’s other top disc jockeys.In a 2000 review in The New York Times about female disc jockeys and rappers taking part in a music festival, Ms. Hand talked about independent record production. When she took over the dance floor, the writer said, “a sense of freedom was thick in the air.”Complete information on survivors was not immediately available.Neil Vigdor More

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    U-Roy, Whose ‘Toasting’ Transformed Jamaican Music, Dies at 78

    AdvertisementContinue reading the main storySupported byContinue reading the main storyU-Roy, Whose ‘Toasting’ Transformed Jamaican Music, Dies at 78He popularized the genre in which the D.J. adds a vocal and verbal layer to a recorded track, a precursor of rap.U-Roy performing in 1984 in Montego Bay, Jamaica. “I think we can call him the ‘Godfather of Rap,’” an authority on reggae music said. Credit…David Corio/Redferns, via Getty ImagesFeb. 19, 2021Updated 6:54 p.m. ETU-Roy, who helped transform Jamaican music by expanding the role of D.J. into someone who didn’t just introduce records but added a layer of vocal and verbal improvisation to them, a performance that was known as toasting and that anticipated rap, died on Wednesday in Kingston, Jamaica. He was 78.His label, Trojan Records, posted news of his death, in a hospital, but did not give a cause.U-Roy, whose real name was Ewart Beckford, wasn’t the first toaster, but he expanded the possibilities of the form with his lyricism and sense of rhythm. Just as important, he took it from the open-air street parties, where it was born, into the recording studio.“I’m the first man who put D.J. rap on wax, you know,” he told The Daily Yomiuri of Tokyo in 2006, when he toured Japan.In 1970, his singles “Wake the Town,” “Rule the Nation” and “Wear You to the Ball” held the top three positions on the Jamaican charts. Those songs and his subsequent debut album, “Version Galore,” made him a star not only in Jamaica but also internationally.His “inspired, lyrical, goofy and always swinging toasts” (as Billboard once put it) made him the king of the form, earning him the nicknames Daddy U-Roy and the Originator (although he acknowledged that D.J.s like King Stitt and Count Machuki worked the territory before him).“He elevated talking and street talk to a new popular art form,” Steve Barrow, author of several books on reggae history, told The Daily Yamiuri in 2006. “So I think we can call him the ‘Godfather of Rap,’ because he did that on record before anyone was rapping on record in America.”In 2010 U-Roy recalled his breakthrough with humility.“Is jus’ a talk me have,” he told The Gleaner of Jamaica. “Is like the Father say, ‘Open up your mouth and I will fill it with words.’”Ewart Beckford was born on Sept. 21, 1942, in the Jones Town section of Kingston. In his youth the music of Jamaica began to be disseminated by “sound systems,” groups of D.J.s and engineers with portable equipment who would set up for street dances and parties. A D.J. would introduce the tracks and fill transitions with patter.U-Roy never made it through high school; he was D.J.-ing at 14. He made his professional debut at 19, working with the sound systems of Dickie Wong and others. Later in the 1960s he teamed up with King Tubby, who had one of Jamaica’s more famous sound systems and was developing the genre known as dub — bass-heavy remixes of existing hits that played down the vocal tracks and that left U-Roy plenty of space to toast.“That’s when things started picking up for me,” he told The Los Angeles Times in 1994.Duke Reid, a leading producer, heard him at a dance and brought him into the studio for his breakthrough recordings. He quickly stole the spotlight from the singers on the tracks, earning top billing and becoming a star in his own right.In the late 1970s, U-Roy had his own sound system, in part to foster new toasting talent.“That was the biggest fun in my life when I started doing this,” he told the magazine United Reggae in 2012.His influence was profound. U-Roy and fellow Jamaican toasters provided a foundation for hip-hop in the early 1970s. D.J.s at parties in New York City, notably the Jamaican-American DJ Kool Herc in the Bronx, picked up the idea of Jamaican toasting and adapted it to rapping over disco and funk instrumentals.In 2007, U-Roy was awarded the Jamaican Order of Distinction.He released numerous singles and albums across a half century. His recent albums included “Pray Fi Di People” (2012) and “Talking Roots” (2018).Information on his survivors was not immediately available.U-Roy collaborated with numerous artists over the years, including some from Africa. In 2010, he still seemed surprised at the stir he had caused when he visited Ivory Coast on a tour.“In the airport is like every customs officer, every man who work on the line, want to take a picture with me,” he told The Gleaner.“If me come out of the hotel me have to have security,” he added. “Is a mob.”AdvertisementContinue reading the main story More

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    Rita Houston, WFUV D.J. Who Lifted Music Careers, Dies at 59

    AdvertisementContinue reading the main storySupported byContinue reading the main storyRita Houston, WFUV D.J. Who Lifted Music Careers, Dies at 59From a studio in the Bronx, she introduced listeners to artists from a wide range of genres. She was also a mentor to the stars, and a sometime-confidante.Rita Houston in 1996 at WFUV’s studio at Fordham University in the Bronx. She was one of the station’s best-known personalities. Credit…Linda RosierDec. 30, 2020Updated 6:30 p.m. ETRita Houston, a big-hearted disc jockey with an intoxicating voice who championed artists like Brandi Carlile, Mumford & Sons, Adele, the Indigo Girls and Gomez at the widely followed WFUV-FM in the Bronx, died on Dec. 15 at her home in Valley Cottage, N.Y. She was 59.Laura Fedele, her wife, said the cause was ovarian cancer.Since 2012, Ms. Houston had been program director at WFUV, a listener-supported station licensed to Fordham University. She was also perhaps its best-known personality, hosting a popular Friday night show, “The Whole Wide World,” which was her vehicle for updating the station’s sound, balancing a new mix of indie rock, world music, hip-hop and electronica with the more familiar one of folk, rock and blues.“Rita could pull together all those things and make you feel, ‘Wow what a big world of music there is here,’” Chuck Singleton, WFUV’s general manager, said in a phone interview.“In her music she contained multitudes,” he added.Ms. Houston was also the impresario of in-studio performances — by Tom Jones, Adele and Emmylou Harris, among many others — and musical events in Manhattan at venues like the Bottom Line and the Beacon Theater as well as on the High Line, the elevated park.“I’m a singer girl, I’m a vocal girl, I don’t like when people don’t sing,” she told the musician-artist Joseph Arthur in March on his podcast, “Come to Where I’m From.” “I don’t want everything to sound like Ella Fitzgerald, but I just love a good voice.”One of those was Ms. Carlile’s, the folk and Americana singer-songwriter who credits Ms. Houston with giving her music its first airplay as well as the confidence to talk publicly about being a lesbian.In a remembrance on Facebook, Ms. Carlile wrote, “‘Is that your plus one?’ Rita Houston said to 22-year-old me as a picture of my girlfriend accidentally popped up on my cellphone screen.”Ms. Houston, sensing Ms. Carlile’s uneasiness at confiding to people in the music industry that she was gay, had persuaded her to open up.“I don’t know what it’s like where you’re from, but this is N.Y.C.,” Ms. Carlile recalled Ms. Houston telling her. “We’re going lesbian karaoke singing right now. Do a shot of tequila and get your coat.”Ms. Carlile cast Ms. Houston in the music video for “The Joke,” which won Grammy Awards in 2019 for best American roots song and best American roots performance.Ms. Houston’s recognition of the Indigo Girls had a significant impact on their career as well.“You knew you were doing something right if she played your songs,” Amy Ray, a member of that folk duo, said in an interview. “And she was one of those people we weren’t afraid to be ourselves and be queer with. We could be who we were. She gave us a lot of bravery.”Since earlier this year, Ms. Houston had guided a station initiative, called EQFM, to put more female artists on the air.“WFUV is on the right side of this issue, but we acknowledge there was more work we can do,” she told AllAccess.com, a radio industry news website. “For example, our music mix is 35 percent female-coded. That is higher than most but needs to be at 50 percent for true parity.”She added: “Good songs come from everywhere, across race, age and gender. Good radio should celebrate that, without bias.”Ms. Houston with Paul Simon in 2003. She balanced the station’s offerings between a mix of indie rock, world music, hip-hop and electronica and the more familiar format of folk, rock and blues.Credit…WFUVRita Ann Houston was born on Sept. 28, 1961, in White Plains, N.Y., and grew up in nearby Mount Vernon. Her father, William, was a home heating oil company executive. Her mother, Rita (Paone) Houston, was a waitress.Ms. Houston majored in urban studies at Hobart and William Smith Colleges, in Geneva, N.Y., but was expelled for tripping fire alarms and tipping over vending machines. “I went out big,” she told Mr. Arthur on his podcast. “I was in the wrong place.”She worked as a waitress before finding work as a D.J. at Westchester Community College’s radio station, then at another station in Mount Kisco, N.Y., for $7 an hour. She left for a job at ABC Radio as an engineer, and worked with the sports journalist Howard Cosell and the talk show host Sally Jessy Raphael. The pay was far better than her low-wage radio jobs, but she missed being on the air. In 1989 she was back behind a microphone at WZFM in White Plains.“Someone said to me, ‘I want to introduce you to the voice of God,’” said Paul Cavalconte, who, as the WZFM program director, hired Ms. Houston. “She was so engaging and charismatic, which worked on the radio and in personal appearances.” (WZFM is now WXPK.)When WZFM’s format shifted from adult album alternative to modern rock in 1993, Ms. Houston was told that she had to adopt on-air name with an X in it. She became Harley Foxx. But, seeking more diversity in the format, she sought refuge a year later at WFUV, of which she had been a fan for some time.“I just called the station and was, like, ‘Hey, can I work here, please?’” she told Mr. Arthur.She started hosting the midday show in 1994, then stepped away from it after a few years to become the full-time music director. She returned to the air in 2001 to host “The Whole Wide World.”In addition to her wife, she is survived by her sister, Debra Baglio, and her brothers, Richard and Robert. Another brother, William Jr., died in October.Ms. Houston recorded her final show from home on Dec. 5, with Mr. Cavalconte, also a D.J. at WFUV, as the co-host. It was broadcast three days after she died.“She was short of breath and aware that her voice was not strong,” said Ms. Fedele, who is the station’s new media director. “I nagged her for a couple of days, I wanted her to think about the playlist. Finally, she asked me to get a pen, and she just reeled off 30 songs.”Her playlist was a distillation of the genres that she had brought to her show and the station. She opened with James Brown (“Night Train”), moved on to artists like Deee-Lite (“Groove is in the Heart”), Emmylou Harris (“Red Dirt Girl”), Los Amigos Invisibles (“Cuchi Cuchi”), LCD Soundsystem (“New York I Love You, But You’re Bringing Me Down”) and David Bowie (“Station to Station”).The finale was the Waterboys’ “In My Time on Earth,” which the group performed last year at a WFUV event at Rockwood Music Hall in Manhattan.Given the time she had left, the song resonated with her.“In my time on earth,” it goes, “I will speak the secret / In my time on earth / I will tell what is true.”AdvertisementContinue reading the main story More