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    Review: Martin Short Kills in ‘Only Murders in the Building’

    Short, Steve Martin and Selena Gomez star in a Hulu comedy about homicide, podcasts and the peculiarities of life in a New York luxury prewar building.Martin Short gives a master class in “Only Murders in the Building,” the 10-episode Hulu series in which he stars with Selena Gomez and Steve Martin. (The first three episodes premiere Tuesday.) It’s not a class in acting or comedy so much as it is a seminar in agelessness and professionalism, and in Short’s unmatched ability to turn self-absorption into a virtue.Martin, who conceived of the show, created it with John Hoffman and stars in it — Martin’s first continuing role on television — is the elephant in the spacious rooms of the Upper West Side prewar apartment building where “Only Murders” is set. (The exteriors and the courtyard are those of the grand Belnord at Broadway and 86th Street.)But it is Short, his frequent collaborator, who gives the show some comic spark and humanity, making Martin and Gomez his foils, in the most charming way possible. He steals every scene, not through grandstanding but with the steady skill of an old pro. He slays with filler dialogue (“You’re kidding me!” when his character isn’t allowed to return to his apartment) and throwaway gags (“Oh, you’re not Scott Bakula?” aimed at the always graciously self-deprecating Martin). You wish he were onscreen every moment.He’s onscreen enough to carry you through “Only Murders,” an otherwise benign grab bag of familiar elements. It’s a lampoon of New York eccentricity, an ever so slightly mawkish tale of golden-agers getting their mojo back, and a cozy mystery of the closed-room variety, though in this case the room is a hulking co-op apartment building.The one original ingredient in this blend is showbiz comedy: the three lead characters are all obsessed with true-crime podcasts, and when a fellow resident of their building is murdered in his apartment, they whip up their own broadcast titled “Only Murders in the Building.” (The series has some vanity-project vibes, and the inscrutability of the title doesn’t help dispel them. It refers to one character’s insistence that their podcast remain strictly local; imagine Martin saying, “Only murders IN THE BUILDING.”)The central trio, pulled together by the murder, represent different shades of New York narcissism. Charles (Martin), a once-famous TV actor, is smug and misanthropic; Oliver (Short), a once-successful Broadway director, is gabby and theatrical; the much younger Mabel (Gomez), about whom little is known, is laconic and disdainful.The central trio bonds over a shared obsession with true-crime podcasts.Craig Blankenhorn/HuluAs they bond over their shared grisliness and get excited about both solving a mystery and creating a podcast, there’s fun to be had from Oliver and Charles’s bickering, and the amateur detective work, while pretty routine, passes by painlessly. The depiction of co-op life will be amusing at least to those familiar with the real thing, and it’s fleshed out by a great supporting cast drawn from New York theater: Nathan Lane as a deli king and sometime Broadway angel, Amy Ryan as a possible love interest for Charles, Jayne Houdyshell as the foul-mouthed board president, Vanessa Aspillaga as the super. Da’Vine Joy Randolph shows up as a real detective who despises true-crime podcasts, and Tina Fey and Sting (as himself) drop in for entertaining cameos.All of those seasoned performers provide moments of pleasure, and the various narrative threads play out with polished proficiency. But “Only Murders” doesn’t gel into something beyond the ordinary. Part of the problem is the time devoted to the show’s sentimental side, in which the podcast’s success might repair Oliver’s relationship with his son, return Charles’s self-esteem and solve the riddles of Mabel’s troubled past, breaking all of them out of their lonely New York shells.That material takes some of the life out of what’s otherwise a slight but charming comedy, and it doesn’t do any favors to Martin, whose performance is a little dour and closed off, or to Gomez, who looks uncomfortable and occasionally terrified. (With all the veteran talent on the set, you would think that someone could have helped her relax and find something natural to play.)It never slows down Short, however; he can turn on a dime and make Oliver’s desperation touching, then sail right back into high comic mode. He’s the real killer in the building. More

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    John Coltrane’s Unearthed Live ‘A Love Supreme,’ and 12 More New Songs

    Hear tracks by SZA, Fantastic Negrito, Mary Lattimore 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.John Coltrane, ‘A Love Supreme, Pt. IV — Psalm (Live in Seattle)’When John Coltrane recorded his masterpiece, “A Love Supreme,” in late 1964, he was demanding an escape from the confines of modern jazz. He was improvising on the level of sound, as much as notes, and he’d already started bringing in new, more freewheeling collaborators to join his quartet. Partly because of that shift, and partly because of how intimate the piece felt to him, he barely played “A Love Supreme” live. But this week, Impulse! Records revealed the existence a 56-year-old tape of him performing the suite in Seattle, in fall 1965, with an expanded version of the quartet. It’s the only known recording of Coltrane playing it for a club audience, and it will be out as a full album on Oct. 8. “Psalm,” the suite’s serene finale and the only publicly released track so far, is the most personal part: Coltrane had set “Psalm’s” melody to the cadence of a praise poem he wrote, and in Seattle he played it without either of the two other saxophonists in that evening’s band. More than an hour in, with the energy of the set suffusing the stage, he turns pieces of the melody into little incantations, coaxing a deep-bellied cry from his horn. GIOVANNI RUSSONELLOSZA, ‘Nightbird’SZA released a trio of intimate songs on SoundCloud this week, perhaps as a place holder before her next album. On “Nightbird,” the mood is toxic and the singing is limber. SZA has a way of frankly and unflashily relating profoundly complex emotional experiences, building on the melodic structures of 1990s R&B, but also adding some of the sonic distance that’s been built into the genre over the last decade. “Nightbird,” both offhand and devastating, is among her best. JON CARAMANICAFantastic Negrito featuring Miko Marks, ‘Rolling Through California’“Rolling Through California” has a twangy, country-soul groove that harks back to the late-1960s San Francisco of Creedence Clearwater Revival and the Grateful Dead, all affable and gleaming. But Fantastic Negrito, with Miko Marks harmonizing above his bluesy cackle, sings about how the old California dream has given way to wildfires and pandemic; the foot-stomping chorus goes, “Can you hear the sound/It’s burning to the ground.” JON PARELESThe Felice Brothers, ‘To-Do List’This “To-Do List” starts with everyday chores — “Go to the bank and deposit checks” — but escalates quickly, casually and magnificently to greater goals: “Defy all natural laws,” “Proclaim a lasting peace,” “Discover a miracle drug.” True to the band’s upstate New York location, the Felice Brothers hark back to the Band, with hand-played instruments and a chugging beat; it’s romping honky-tonk existentialism. PARELESRandy Travis, ‘Ain’t No Use’Listen to the mechanical beat of the drums and the ultraprecise mesh of the twin guitars in “Ain’t No Use,” an unrequited love song complaining, “It ain’t no use to talk to you about love.” It’s a track that was shelved from Randy Travis’s 1986 album “Storms of Life,” and even with Travis’s conversational vocal, it’s also a harbinger of the computerized country to come. PARELESDeerhoof, ‘Plant Thief’“Someone’s cooking with my spices!” Satomi Matsuzaki complains in “Plant Thief”: just one reason for the song’s pummeling drums and bass and guitar that wrangle in stereo with staggered, constantly shifting jabs. The song starts out frenetic and builds from there, assembling and discarding dissonant patterns, switching meters and coming to a fiercely open-ended conclusion: “They never weren’t!” she sings. PARELESTerence Blanchard, ‘Diana’No influence looms larger over the Grammy-winning pen of Terence Blanchard — an esteemed jazz trumpeter known for his Spike Lee film scores — than the saxophonist Wayne Shorter, with his terse yet seemingly horizon-less compositions. On “Absence,” a new album paying homage to Shorter, the trumpeter visits with a few rarely covered Shorter gems. Blanchard’s version of the cloud-dwelling ballad “Diana” opens with the strings of the Turtle Island Quartet (featured throughout “Absence”), entering one by one; eventually his quintet, the E-Collective, takes over. Swaddled in synthesizers and trumpet effects, avoiding a firm tempo, Blanchard savors each unorthodox harmonic payoff, feeling no need to take a solo. RUSSONELLOSelena Gomez and Camilo, ‘999’In “999,” Selena Gomez vies with Camilo for who can whisper-sing more quietly. Their voices, harmonizing and dialoguing, share a duet about infatuation, distance and anticipation: “I don’t have photos with you, but I have a space on the wall.” It’s set to a skulking bass line and percussion that wouldn’t wake the neighbors, enjoying the tease, the buildup and a nearly vanished 21st-century experience: privacy. PARELESIcewear Vezzo featuring Lil Baby, ‘Know The Difference’For Lil Baby, it’s new day, new flow on this collaboration with the Detroit favorite Icewear Vezzo. Rapping first, Lil Baby leans in on terse bars, tightening his flow until it’s taut: “I wasn’t ’posed to make it out/I stay by the governor house/I done found another route.” When Icewear Vezzo arrives, the fog lifts ever so slightly — his subject matter is the same, but his flow dances and shimmies. CARAMANICA​​Umu Obiligbo, ‘Zambololo’A duo of brothers from Nigeria, Umu Obiligbo shares close harmonies over their band’s dizzying six-beat, two-chord electroacoustic groove — Nigerian highlife — with constantly evolving tandem guitars and choral harmonies teasing and extending each other. Most of the lyrics are in the Nigerian language Igbo, but the glimpses of English are sharp: “What a man can do, a woman can do it better.” PARELESEsperanza Spalding: ‘Formwela 10’The bassist, singer and songwriter Esperanza Spalding convened not just musicians but also experts — in neuroscience and psychology, among other fields — as she wrote the therapeutic-minded songs for her album “Songwrights Apothecary Lab,” due Sept. 24. That that didn’t impair the virtuosic playfulness of her music. “Formwela 10” is an apology for mistreating a lover: “I put you through a living hell/This is a way to make the damages clear so I won’t do another that way”; it’s also a leaping, twisting, syncopated melody, a chromatic ramble, and a meter-shifting arrangement that dissolves and realigns around her as she makes peace with her regrets. PARELESMary Lattimore, ‘We Wave From Our Boats’Mary Lattimore’s music holds potent simplicity. The delicate plucks of a harp and the hum of a synth are all she employs on “We Wave from Our Boats,” a four-minute meditation with an arrangement that reflects the aquatic quality of its title: ripples of plucked strings stream over each other, like waves lapping on the shore. But there is also a kind of congenial intimacy to the song. Underneath its marine textures is the glow of closeness: maybe an after-dinner drink shared among friends, a tender embrace, a laugh that fills the belly with warmth. ISABELIA HERRERANite Jewel, ‘Anymore’There are breakup songs that express the profound heartache of a relationship’s end. And then there are songs that probe at the trickier feelings of its denouement, like Nite Jewel’s “Anymore,” from her new album, “No Sun.” Its bright synths and divine harmonies belie the song’s true content: “I can’t describe anything that I want,” sings the producer and vocalist Ramona Gonzalez. “I can’t rely on my desire anymore.” This is a song about the uncertainty and estrangement of a separation: the feeling of no longer recognizing yourself, of no longer trusting your own desires to find a way forward. HERRERA More