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    How Ella Jenkins Revolutionized Children’s Music

    Over seven decades, she brought a world of genres and ideas to songs for the young. On her centennial, what she would really like to do is perform again.When Ella Jenkins began recording young people’s music in the 1950s and ’60s, her albums featured tracks that many of that era’s parents and teachers would probably never have dreamed of playing for children: a love chant from North Africa. A Mexican hand-clapping song. A Maori Indian battle chant. And even “Another Man Done Gone,” an American chain-gang lament whose lyrics she changed, turning it into a freedom cry.“She found this way of introducing children to sometimes very difficult topics and material, but with a kind of gentleness,” said Gayle Wald, a professor of American studies at George Washington University and the author of a forthcoming biography of Jenkins. “She never lied to them. She certainly never talked down to them.”Jenkins’s unorthodox approach became a huge success: She is the best-selling individual artist in the history of Smithsonian Folkways Recordings, surpassing even such stalwarts of the label as Woody Guthrie and her friend Pete Seeger. A champion of diversity long before the term became popular, Jenkins helped revolutionize music for the young, purposefully encouraging Black children.Jenkins at a Grammy ceremony where she received a special honor.R. Diamond/WireImageIn addition to introducing global material, which she often recorded with children’s choruses, she wrote original, interactive compositions like “You’ll Sing a Song and I’ll Sing a Song,” now part of the Library of Congress’s National Recording Registry.“Before Ella, very few people actually composed for children,” Wald said in a video interview.You might think that Jenkins, who will celebrate her 100th birthday on Tuesday, would now want to relax and savor her many accolades, among them lifetime achievement awards from both the Grammys and ASCAP, the music licensing agency, as well as a designation as a National Endowment for the Arts Heritage Fellow. But in a brief telephone conversation from her home in an assisted-living center in Chicago, she seemed unconcerned with plans for her centenary in the city, which include a Tuesday morning celebration with young students from the Old Town School of Folk Music, and a showcase on Wednesday with performances by children from Kids on the Move Summer Camp.We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

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    How a ‘Dirty Gospel’ Minister Spends His Sundays

    The Reverend Vince Anderson, a mainstay of the Brooklyn music scene, fills his day with worship in two languages, the Mets and a full hour of watering his 92 houseplants.When most people picture a minister, Vince Anderson is not who comes to mind.He curses. He wears caftans. He has played a “dirty gospel” residency with his six-member band, The Love Choir, on Monday nights for the past 26 years, a majority of them at the Union Pool bar in Williamsburg, Brooklyn. His signature song is “Get Out of My Way,” a growling, percussive call-and-response anthem he wrote in 2000. (He used to get naked by the end of every show; he stopped in the mid-2000s.)Mr. Anderson, 53, who left seminary after three months in 1994 to pursue music, is the minister of music and community arts at Bushwick Abbey, an Episcopal church in Brooklyn, and plays the piano for Sunday services at Iglesia de la Santa Cruz, a Spanish-speaking congregation in the same building.Known as Reverend Vince, Mr. Anderson said he was ordained in 2003. He has played with all of his band members since at least about that time, and he said they’ve never had a rehearsal. “Once in a while I send the band a crude recording, but most of the time I just play a new song once onstage for the first time on piano, and they kind of get it, and then we go into it,” he said.He was the subject of a 2022 documentary, “The Reverend,” which is now streaming on Amazon Prime Video and the Criterion Channel. He lives in a two-bedroom apartment in the Ridgewood neighborhood of Queens — about a 15-minute walk from his Bushwick congregations — with his wife of five years, Millicent Souris, 50, a cook and a writer, and their 3-month-old rescue kittens, Ace and Sonny.DAILY DEVOTIONS I wake up around 7 a.m. — lately I’ve been trying to keep my phone out of my bedroom, so I just use my Apple Watch for an alarm — and read a book or some psalms. I’m currently reading “Wandering Stars,” Tommy Orange’s new novel. I let the kittens come in and cuddle with me for a minute. Rather than doomscrolling, I’m trying to just be thankful and count my blessings; it’s important to me to be present in the moment to start my day.GETTING CENTERED I started drawing mandalas during my recovery from spinal surgery in January (I had five herniated discs in my spine, all from me playing piano) and I’ve kept it up. I’ll paint or draw something in a circle, which gives me focus. It opens up the spiritual side of me and gets the creative side of me flowing in a different way than music does.We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

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    Who’s Afraid of Being Black? Not Kamala, Beyoncé or Kendrick.

    With her response to Donald Trump’s comments about her background, Kamala Harris showed that Blackness doesn’t need to be explained or defended — an idea underscored by her campaign theme song.Vice President Kamala Harris didn’t take the race bait.A few hours after Donald J. Trump falsely claimed that she suddenly decided to become “a Black person,” Ms. Harris reminded the crowd at a Black sorority convention in Houston that Mr. Trump was resorting to a familiar script. It was the “same old show,” she said, of “divisiveness and disrespect.”She chose not to deflect attention away from her multicultural heritage or to double down on it. That tactic nullified an implication that being Black is something that needs to be authenticated, explained, disavowed or defended. It underscored that Blackness isn’t something that can be turned on or off.Like Ms. Harris, my father is the child of an Indian mother and a Black father. Both he and his parents were born in and emigrated from Trinidad and Tobago. Because of him, I saw up close what Ms. Harris is conveying: that it’s possible to refuse to pit one heritage against the other even as you embrace Blackness as your primary political identity.“My mother understood very well that she was raising two black daughters,” Ms. Harris wrote in “The Truths We Hold: An American Journey,” her 2019 memoir. “She knew her adopted homeland would see Maya and me as black girls, and she was determined to make sure we would grow into confident, proud black women.”Ms. Harris, like my dad, considers her Blackness something to be celebrated and, at times, protected.Beyoncé and Kendrick Lamar perform her song “Freedom,” now used by the Kamala Harris campaign, at the BET Awards in 2016.Matt Sayles/Invision, via Associated PressWe are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

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    Lin-Manuel Miranda’s Next Project: A ‘Warriors’ Album With Eisa Davis

    The recording, inspired by Walter Hill’s 1979 film about a gang making a perilous trek through New York City, will be available on Oct. 18.In the nine years since “Hamilton” opened on Broadway, Lin-Manuel Miranda has acted (in the film “Mary Poppins Returns” and the HBO series “His Dark Materials,” among others), composed (songs for “Encanto” and “Moana,” for example) and even tried his hand at movie directing (“Tick, Tick … Boom!”).Now he’s returning to his roots, sort of. Miranda, who rose to fame as a musical theater savant, has been working with the playwright Eisa Davis on a concept album inspired by a cult 1979 action film, “The Warriors.” And on Thursday, Miranda and Davis announced that Atlantic Records will release the album on Oct. 18.The album’s executive producer is the rapper Nas; the producer is Mike Elizondo. The album will have 26 songs; the names of the singers have not yet been announced.The album has been in the works for three years. It is unclear if it will lead to a stage production, but “Hamilton” was initially conceived as a concept album, and there is a history of concept albums evolving into stage productions, from “Jesus Christ Superstar” to “Hadestown.”“The Warriors,” based on a 1965 novel that in turn was based on an ancient Greek work, tells the story of a street gang facing a variety of challenges as it retreats from the Bronx to its home base on Coney Island. The novel, also called “The Warriors,” was written by Sol Yurick, and the ancient Greek text, “Anabasis,” by Xenophon; the film was directed by Walter Hill.Miranda, 44, is one of the few musical theater composers to become a celebrity based on his stage work. But “Hamilton,” about the nation’s first Treasury secretary, was a rare accomplishment, winning the Pulitzer Prize as well as 11 Tony Awards, including for best musical and Miranda’s book and score.His other best-known musical is “In the Heights,” for which he wrote the score and Quiara Alegría Hudes wrote the book. Since “Hamilton,” he contributed lyrics to the short-lived musical “New York, New York,” but has not written a new stage production.Davis, 53, is a longtime friend of Miranda and has worked as an actress, a playwright, a singer and a screenwriter. She performed on Broadway in “Passing Strange,” and has numerous credits as a performer Off Broadway and on television and film. Among her plays is “Bulrusher.” More

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    Algumas Últimas Notas da ‘Voz de Deus’

    Milton Nascimento, uma divindade musical no Brasil, colabora com a baixista, vocalista e produtora Esperanza Spalding em um álbum que contempla o efeito da idade sobre a arte.Em 1955, Milton Nascimento tinha 13 anos, estava aprendendo a cantar e, para sua tristeza, chegando à puberdade.“Quando eu comecei a ver que a minha voz estava engrossando, eu falei, ‘eu não quero cantar mais, não’”, lembrou Nascimento, uma das figuras musicais mais importantes do Brasil, em entrevista na semana passada. “Porque os homens não têm coração”.Ele disse que chorava quando um canto suave e expressivo entoou na rádio. Era Ray Charles, cantando “Stella by Starlight”. “Depois que eu ouvi isso, eu falei, agora dá para cantar’”.Nas seis décadas seguintes, floresceu uma das grandes vozes da música, uma força etérea que percorria oitavas com emoção e energia, deslizando perfeitamente entre um barítono aveludado e um falsete celestial.A voz singular de Nascimento e sua ascensão às notas mais altas ajudaram a influenciar uma geração de artistas. Em entrevista, Paul Simon descreveu sua voz como uma “mágica sedosa”. Philip Bailey, cantor da Earth, Wind & Fire, comparou-a com “uma bela praia brasileira”. Sting disse que havia “verdade na beleza” dela.No Brasil, onde a voz de Nascimento conduziu desde músicas introspectivas àquelas icônicas, a nação cunhou uma metáfora ainda mais grandiosa: “a voz de Deus”.We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

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    A Dreamlike Collaboration From Milton Nascimento and Esperanza Spalding

    Milton Nascimento, a musical deity in Brazil, collaborates with the bassist, vocalist and producer Esperanza Spalding on an album that contemplates age’s effect on art.In 1955, Milton Nascimento was 13, learning to sing and, devastatingly to him, hitting puberty.“When I began to see my voice deepening, I said, ‘I don’t want to sing anymore,’” Nascimento, one of Brazil’s most important musical figures, recalled last week in an interview. “Because men don’t have heart.”He was crying, he said, when a smooth, soulful croon came from the radio. It was Ray Charles singing “Stella by Starlight.” “After I heard that, I said, ‘Now I can sing.’”Over the next six decades blossomed one of music’s great voices, an ethereal force that spanned octaves with emotion and verve, gliding seamlessly between a velvety baritone and a celestial falsetto.Nascimento’s unique sound and ascent to the highest notes helped influence a generation of artists. In an interview, Paul Simon called his voice “silky magic.” Philip Bailey, a singer in Earth, Wind & Fire, compared it to “a beautiful Brazilian beach.” Sting described it as “truth in beauty.”In Brazil, where Nascimento’s voice led singalong anthems and emotional ballads, the nation settled upon an even grander metaphor: “the voice of God.”Nascimento has long been one of the biggest acts in Brazil, while also influencing musicians around the world.Larissa Zaidan for The New York TimesWe are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

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    Taylor Swift Gets the Museum Treatment

    Costumes and memorabilia from the pop star’s personal archive are now on display at the V&A museum in London.“Disappointed Love,” painted in 1821 by the Irish artist Francis Danby, is a scene of eternal teenage wistfulness, its visual codes as readable now as they were back then. A young girl sits by a river, tearful and heartbroken, her head in her hands, her white dress pooling around her legs. In the water, pages of a torn letter float among the waterlilies. By her side are props of femininity: a straw bonnet, a bright red shawl and a miniature portrait of the man who wronged her.The work hangs in the collection of the Victoria and Albert Museum in London, in a red-walled gallery tightly packed with Georgian and Victorian paintings. As of recently, Danby’s weeping beauty has a new neighbor: a ruffled cream Zimmerman dress worn by Taylor Swift in the music video for “Willow,” from her 2020 album “Evermore.”The gown is one of more than a dozen items from Ms. Swift’s personal archive featured in installations across the V&A galleries. Danby’s painting is “so her vibe,” the curator Kate Bailey said of Ms. Swift, gesturing to the lovesick girl and her assortment of trinkets — “the dress, the scarf.”It was not yet noon on a muggy July day in London, and yet Ms. Bailey, a senior curator in the V&A theater and performance department, had already clocked more than 8,000 steps on her iPhone pedometer as she rushed about the museum overseeing the Taylor Swift installation. The V&A galleries, spread across multiple floors, stretch seven miles. (The exhibition, “Taylor Swift: Songbook Trail,” will be open to the public through Sept. 8.)“Whose idea was it to put a trail around the whole museum?” Ms. Bailey asked as she arrived, cheerful and panting, in the gilded Norfolk House Music Room. The V&A acquired the room in 1938, when Norfolk House was demolished, and reassembled it in its entirety, panel by panel, in 2000.Ms. Swift’s “Speak Now” blasted from speakers, and her iridescent tulle ball gown, worn on the back cover of the album, was encased on a mannequin in a vitrine in the center of the room, like a ballerina in a giant music box.We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

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    Meshell Ndegeocello Could Have Had Stardom but Chose Music Instead

    A good musician’s relationship with the past is tricky. You want to move forward without entirely forsaking what you’ve already done. You don’t want it defining you when so much future defining lies ahead. It’s a dilemma Meshell Ndegeocello was thinking through at her dining room table in Carroll Gardens, Brooklyn, on a recent afternoon.Ndegeocello happens to be much more than merely a good musician. She’s been playing professionally since the early 1990s and, at 55, is about to release her 14th album, a collection of songs that excites her. The past — the repertoire, the old stuff, the hits — can start to feel like “karaoke of myself,” she said, even if that’s never what it’s been like for us folks in the audience. Take her performances earlier this year at the Blue Note, the essential Greenwich Village jazz club.Over the course of a month, she and the six assiduous, deliriously skilled musicians in her band turned a rush-hour subway car of a venue into their hearth. To fuel these shows, Ndegeocello could have reached into three decades of her own music, an eclectic body of work whose spine is funk — she’s all but synonymous with the bass — and guided by her insinuating baritone. Yet on one January night, her ensemble’s layered mantras and lacquered grooves were the fruit of a long-gestating project built around the existential straits of being Black in America that now comprise this new album, “No More Water: The Gospel of James Baldwin.”“No one does anything alone,” she said. “There are artists like Prince and Stevie Wonder who can do that all themselves. I just like band experience.”Andre D. Wagner for The New York TimesThe room swayed and rhythmically nodded as rapt, reverent congregants. More than halfway through: a change-up. A jewel from the Ndegeocello trove, “I’m Diggin’ You (Like an Old Soul Record),” off her 31-year-old debut album, “Plantation Lullabies.” The song had essentially been reconsidered, infused with the solemnity and rumination befitting the rest of the set. But the women at the table inches behind mine flipped out with the gratitude of recognition. They were at a party and had run into an old friend who kicked things up a notch. (“It’s her birthday!” one of the women exclaimed to me, about her pal.)That moment at the Blue Note came back to me watching Ndegeocello and her band rehearse one afternoon last month at her studio in Long Island City, in Queens. They were getting ready for an NPR Tiny Desk concert. Ndegeocello had planned to stock it with selections from “No More Water,” which arrives on Friday. (Its release coincides with Baldwin’s centennial.) Running through the set list, she mentioned “Outside Your Door,” a quiet-storm slow burn from “Plantation Lullabies” that a casual Ndegeocellist might be expecting. Then she reconsidered, wary of NPR’s request that she perform a hit.We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More