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      Can One of Opera’s Greatest Singers Get Her Voice Back?

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      Anita Rachvelishvili was pregnant when she began to lose her voice.It was the middle of 2021. She and her husband had tried for years to conceive, and it seemed like a child would be the storybook ending to being forced to slow down during the pandemic. Rachvelishvili, the Georgian mezzo-soprano, had spent the previous decade crisscrossing the world, blazing through some of the most difficult parts in opera.She made her name with a potent combination of capacious sound and interpretive subtlety. In 2018, Riccardo Muti, the pre-eminent Verdi conductor, called her “without doubt the best Verdi mezzo-soprano today on the planet.” Peter Gelb, the Metropolitan Opera’s general manager, recently said: “She was the greatest dramatic mezzo-soprano singing. It seemed there was no big, meaty role she couldn’t tackle.”Rachvelishvili sang Carmen, the role of her 2009 breakthrough, hundreds of times, and was scheduled to ring in 2024 as Bizet’s classic antiheroine in the splashy premiere of a new production at the Met.Instead, the show will go on without her. Rachvelishvili, 39, will spend New Year’s Eve at home in Tbilisi, where she was born, as she tries to reconstruct the fundamentals of the voice that brought her stardom and then abandoned her.“It is a nightmare, a total nightmare,” she said over dinner in September at a rustic restaurant nestled in the woods outside the city. “I’ve had two years of nightmare at this point.”Transforming the body and causing sweeping hormonal changes, pregnancy is rarely easy for opera singers, who rely on a carefully calibrated physical apparatus to dependably produce huge waves of unamplified sound. Rachvelishvili had not quite felt herself in the handful of performances she did while she was carrying the baby — her voice, she said, came out “scratchy and strange” — but she assumed things would return to normal after the birth.Lioness: Rachvelishvili at the Tbilisi State Conservatory, where she studied after auditioning with a Whitney Houston song.Daro Sulakauri for The New York TimesShe delivered her daughter, Lileana, in late November 2021, and something still felt different, though the lower part of her voice was, if anything, bigger than before. She figured she could handle the low-lying role of Marfa in Mussorgsky’s “Khovanshchina,” which she was to rehearse in Paris just a month later — months sooner than many singers return after giving birth.“It was the worst decision of my life,” she said, sitting alongside Otari Maisuradze, her husband — who became her vocal coach, too, after a rift with her teacher early in her crisis.Over a week of conversations, meals, walks and drives in and around Tbilisi, Rachvelishvili described how rushing back to the stage had helped set off an agonizing dance of one step forward, two steps back. Seeming improvement would be countered by dispiriting nights, and the increased size of her low notes was offset by the sudden disappearance of her high ones. Her once-steady confidence and smooth column of sound were both fractured.“You start having big panic attacks, then you lose control completely,” she said. “Of breath, of body. Everything.”Her husband spoke softly. “She was my lioness,” he said. “I am very proud I have very strong women in my family. But these two years, with this trouble, she became like a little cat.”A VOICE IS A MYSTERIOUS, largely invisible amalgam of body and psyche — of tiny, vibrating vocal cords; muscles that provide support for the breath; cavities through which sound resonates; and the self-belief to fearlessly deploy it all. Problems are inevitable, though the path to overcoming them is uncertain, since medical interventions can be chancy. And talking about them is still stigmatized within the industry, perhaps in part because responses to artists are already so subjective that illness or injury can cloud later evaluation even if the difficulty has been “fixed.”“Every singer, at some point, will have some kind of vocal issue,” said the soprano Sondra Radvanovsky, who made an arduous recovery from surgery on her cords earlier in her career. “It’s like football players: Every quarterback has some shoulder issue at some point.”Rachvelishvili warming up with her husband, who has become her vocal coach.Daro Sulakauri for The New York TimesMaria Callas couldn’t undo her instrument’s unraveling. In an essay about her, the conductor and critic Will Crutchfield once wrote, “There is no example of an important operatic singer encountering serious vocal problems and returning to form.”That is true, to a point. The tenor Jonas Kaufmann has been open about vocal issues, yet has managed to keep singing challenging parts at a high level. But Rolando Villazón, another 21st-century star tenor, never recovered from his troubles.“Every singer goes through that fear of the high notes, or feeling not really comfortable with your voice,” Rachvelishvili said. “I just need to have this battle with myself, by myself. Nobody else can help me. I need to remember how I was, and how Anita did it.”THOUGH SHE CAME TO OPERA LATE — she sang a Whitney Houston song when she auditioned for conservatory — Rachvelishvili was not merely an intuitive natural talent but also a smart, dedicated musician. She slowly built on a firm technique and stuck to her relatively low signature role as she waited and worked.“I sang Carmen for so many years because I didn’t have easy high notes,” she said. “I took time to learn how to do those notes so that the body knew what it was doing.”Those notes grew stronger without her pushing, and she practiced diligently to incorporate the nuances, colors and seductive soft singing that set her apart from many who shared her repertoire. She sang the wild Azucena in Verdi’s “Il Trovatore” with startling refinement in 2018 at the Met, where her triumphs culminated in a scorching run as the Princesse de Bouillon in Cilea’s “Adriana Lecouvreur” early in 2019.Rachvelishvili and Otari Maisuradze with their daughter, Lileana, who was born in November 2021. Rachvelishvili’s vocal problems began when she was pregnant.Daro Sulakauri for The New York TimesHer future seemed limitless. In addition to Azucena and Verdi’s Eboli and Amneris, major roles in “Les Troyens,” “Werther,” “La Favorite” and “La Gioconda” were on the horizon. With her powerful high notes, sumptuous tone and onstage intensity, it seemed that Wagner’s Ortrud, Fricka, Kundry and even Isolde — the province of big-voiced sopranos — might be possible.Then came the pandemic. Rachvelishvili had struggled to get pregnant in the past, but she said that the drastic reduction in travel and stress in 2020, as well as the hormones prescribed by her doctor, helped it happen.Fearful of losing the baby, she was cautious in the early days of the pregnancy, but she sang some performances in mid-2021. Muti said of their concert “Aida” in Italy that summer, “She was able in the past to hold long phrases without any problem, and now going in the high register she had some difficulty.”Still, he added, “you could feel, here and there, the great singer.”When she sang “Khovanshchina” in Paris so soon after giving birth, it was possible, because of the role’s low center of vocal gravity, to believe she was back in her old shape — even if a short excerpt posted by the opera company suggests that her tone had grown more fragile, her vibrato wider, even beyond her high notes.“It was like a completely different body,” Rachvelishvili said, “with a completely different voice.”“It was like a completely different body,” Rachvelishvili said of performing after giving birth, “with a completely different voice.”Daro Sulakauri for The New York TimesIn the past, her muscular support had originated down by her pelvis, but that was disrupted by the pregnancy and birth. While she searched for a new approach, her next engagement, “Adriana Lecouvreur” at the Teatro alla Scala in Milan in early 2022, was disastrous. The Princesse’s high notes, once easy for her, refused to come. At the premiere, Rachvelishvili fled the theater in despair before her curtain call, something she had never done.“It was the most horrible experience of my life, not being able to sing the way I wanted,” she said. “I couldn’t go out after a performance like that. It’s not the old Anita they’re used to, or I’m used to. I’m not going out; it’s insulting to them, to La Scala.”She canceled the rest of the run, then moved on to Munich, where she had a long rehearsal period before she was supposed to sing her first Didon in Berlioz’s “Les Troyens.” A doctor saw inflammation on her vocal cords; it could have been allergies, acid reflux, a hormonal imbalance or laryngitis, or some combination of those factors.Unable to produce high notes or offer the elegant control of volume and texture for which she was admired, she left before the premiere. She began to lose faith in herself, which set off a vicious cycle with her physical problems.“I said to my therapist that I’d kill myself if it wasn’t for the baby,” she recalled. “I have a baby to take care of.”She was also her family’s breadwinner. Maisuradze had long ago devoted himself to supporting her career, and even star singers are freelancers.“The responsibility is huge, because everybody depends on me working,” she said. “I have my parents to take care of, and my family, and the baby. People said that if I couldn’t sing, I should just stop. And I said, ‘Will you feed my family if I stop?’ I have to at least try and try and try. I need to bring some money to the table.”But in summer 2022, she had to drop “Cavalleria Rusticana” in London and “Aida” in Salzburg before they opened. Leaving the “Aida,” Rachvelishvili released a statement citing back pain after the birth of her daughter and asking “all haters and even some colleagues” to “please stop inventing stories about me losing my voice or nonsense like this.”She retreated to Tbilisi to work. And early in fall 2022, she was able to creditably sing the generally low Dalila in Saint-Saëns’s “Samson et Dalila” in Naples, though her high notes were still problematic.“I said to my therapist that I’d kill myself if it wasn’t for the baby,” Rachvelishvili recalled. “I have a baby to take care of.”Daro Sulakauri for The New York TimesThe tenor Brian Jagde, her co-star in that “Samson” and several other productions during this period, sometimes went so far as to anchor her during scenes with a hand at her waist, to lend the lower muscular support that she no longer felt internally.“There’s nothing harder to watch than a person onstage with you that you believe in so much, and she’s struggling,” he said. “There were clear signs the top wasn’t working like she wanted it to, and she was working desperately to make it work. Sometimes it did, sometimes it didn’t.”She canceled a fall run of Verdi’s “Don Carlo” at the Met, but arrived there to sing “Aida” in December. Rachvelishvili thought the first performance went passably, but the company’s administration disagreed.“It was obvious that she was not the same singer — at least temporarily not the same singer — who had conquered our stage so brilliantly up to that point,” Gelb said, and he decided to remove her from the coming “Carmen” and a solo recital that was to have taken place earlier this month.“I had a painful discussion with her in my office, because I wanted her to hear it from me,” he said. “I said that we needed to wait until she was back singing well again, and then we’d be happy to have her return. She had a hard time accepting that.”EARLY THIS YEAR, RACHVELISHVILI was able to get through another “Samson,” in Berlin, and a new role, Charlotte in Massenet’s “Werther,” in Athens, with her body feeling more dependable. But when she returned to Munich in the spring for “Aida,” she began having terrifying panic attacks onstage, paralyzed by fear of the high notes, and left after four of eight performances.“She’s such a tough character, but she’s human,” Jagde said. “That was what I saw progress for her in a negative way: less belief in herself because of what was happening. The physical affected the mental for her.”“On 50 seconds, we are working two or three days,” Maisuradze said of Rachvelishvili’s practice routine. “They must be beautiful, the voice and colors, and stylistically true.”Daro Sulakauri for The New York TimesDropping out of all her engagements after early June, she had minor surgeries for stomach problems and to lessen the effects of acid reflux, and another procedure to remove what she said was a small polyp on her vocal cords. Since then, she has been at home in Tbilisi with her husband and daughter. Lileana, she said, is “worth everything. She’s even worth never singing again.”But she still hopes she can have both. Rachvelishvili and Maisuradze have been painstakingly reviewing her instrument and technique, going through scores phrase by phrase and restitching together her different registers, returning to the basics.“On 50 seconds, we are working two or three days,” Maisuradze said. “They must be beautiful, the voice and colors, and stylistically true.”Of her high register, Rachvelishvili said this month: “It’s not as perfect as I want, or as I had it a few years ago, honestly. But it’s much easier; it’s there; it’s not difficult anymore to take them.”The clock is ticking: A new role, Laura in Ponchielli’s “La Gioconda,” is scheduled for April in Naples, before a revival of “Aida” in Munich. Noting her voice’s solid technical foundation, Muti was optimistic.“She is young,” he said, “so she will come back. We are waiting with great enthusiasm.”Rachvelishvili has fought her panic with therapy, antidepressants and meditation, but it still lurks. “All the physical problems, the vocal problems, are gone,” she said. “Right now, I’m just battling with myself and my head to make sure that when I go onstage soon, I will feel calm inside. The joy of being back is so big that it overtakes me sometimes.”She described a recent video call with her manager. “I was doing a high note in Dalila’s second aria,” she said, “and he stopped me: ‘I see the fear in your eyes. Don’t be afraid, just go for it. You can do it without fear in you.’ And I did it, and it was perfect.” More

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      Trinity Church’s ‘Messiah’ Is Still the Gold Standard

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      The church’s urgent and eloquent version of Handel’s classic oratorio remains an inspired communal rite.The holidays are a time for traditions — and for doubting them. Is Grandma’s ham drier than you thought when you were young? Is the movie the whole family watches every year maybe a little offensive?For me, the question on Wednesday was whether Trinity Wall Street’s version of Handel’s “Messiah” would be as good — as bracing, as riveting, as disturbing and consoling — as I remembered.Seeing Trinity’s “Messiah” for the first time, in 2011, showed me the galvanic possibilities of this classic work more than any recording or live outing I’d ever heard. This wasn’t the usual, quaintly sleepy Christmas routine, but a seething, electrically direct and dramatic enactment of an oratorio that both describes and calls for transformation: “And we shall be changed,” its crucial line promises.It had been a good few years since I’d heard the church’s Handel. But when people would ask me for a “Messiah” recommendation among the many options that pop up in New York each December, I always replied with a single word: Trinity.This “Messiah” long achieved its exhilarating quality because of an exceptional in-house choir and period-instrument orchestra — and because of Julian Wachner, Trinity’s director of music and the arts, who led the church’s medieval-to-modern music program with energy and ambition.Early last year, Wachner was fired by Trinity before the church completed an investigation into an allegation of sexual misconduct against him, but after it found he had “otherwise conducted himself in a manner that is inconsistent with our expectations of anyone who occupies a leadership position.” (He has denied the allegations.)His departure left one of the jewels of the city’s artistic and spiritual scenes leaderless until early this month, when the church announced that Melissa Attebury would be its next director of music. For almost two years, Trinity has depended on staff and guest conductors, including, for this year’s Handel, Ryan James Brandau.And what a relief to find that Trinity’s “Messiah” is still burning and gladdening, vivid in both darkness and light. If Brandau’s account lacked some of Wachner’s charged, even savage intensity, that wasn’t entirely a bad thing. The performance on Wednesday added some elegance to the urgent, heartfelt directness, the emphasis on communication, that has been Trinity’s standard in this piece.The soaringly resonant acoustics of Trinity Church smoothed some of the choir’s bite into airy creaminess, but the passion was still palpable. And while the orchestral sound was sleeker than I recalled, it had the same stirring commitment and bristling responsiveness to the vocalists, as well as a glistening, pastoral dawn quality to the shepherds.These forces are truly an ensemble, aided by my favorite aspect of the church’s version. Most “Messiah” presentations bring in a quartet of opera singers for the solos. Trinity’s soloists — almost 20 of them — come forward from the choir, giving the oratorio the feeling of an intimate, alternately sober and joyous communal rite, modest yet monumental.This practice also allows the ensemble to show off the strengths of its roster — no soprano is ideally suited to all the work’s soprano arias — and to experiment. In 2017, Wachner switched the traditional genders of all the solos, a change thrillingly recalled this year by having Jonathan Woody, a bass-baritone, blaze through “He was despised,” instead of the standard female alto.There was more sense than there usually is of the range of emotion within numbers, not just between them. The tenor Stephen Sands was calm, then pressing in the beginning of the work, and the soprano Madeline Apple Healey was sprightly, then tender in “Rejoice greatly.”Brandau guided the score so that “Hallelujah” seemed to emerge from the preceding numbers, which gradually rose in fieriness. And he, choir and orchestra built patiently to the work’s true climax — “The trumpet shall sound,” sung with annunciatory power by the bass-baritone Edmund Milly and accompanied with eloquence, on a difficult-to-control, valveless natural trumpet, by Caleb Hudson — before the shining waves of the final “Amen.”Though pleasant enough, a pared-down New York Philharmonic’s “Messiah,” heard on Tuesday, paled in comparison. Conducted by Fabio Biondi, the founder of the distinguished period-instrument group Europa Galante, in his debut with the orchestra, this Handel was a little stolid in the first part, though with more crispness and color in the second and third.Fabio Biondi made his debut with the New York Philharmonic conducting Handel’s “Messiah.”Chris LeeThe quartet of young vocal soloists made little impact in tone or interpretive zest; the star here was the venerable Handel and Haydn Society Chorus, from Boston. A few dozen strong, it sounded rich yet lucid, with metronomic clarity in the burbling 16th notes of “And He shall purify” and with evocative gauziness in “His yoke is easy.” Biondi led a lithe, brisk “Hallelujah,” seemingly designed to make this omnipresent number a bit more unassuming than the norm.Beyond the start of “Messiah” season, this was a banner week for early music in New York. On Saturday, the Miller Theater hosted the Tallis Scholars at the Church of St. Mary the Virgin in Manhattan, part of the ensemble’s 50th-anniversary tour. And yet more Handel: On Sunday, Harry Bicket and the English Concert continued their annual series of concert performances of his operas and oratorios at Carnegie Hall with “Rodelinda.”“Messiah” is Christmas music, but not entirely, since Jesus’ birth occupies only a few minutes of this long meditation on his life and example. The Tallis Scholars, though, offered a real Christmas program of largely Renaissance works focused on the shepherds who receive the news of the Nativity.Under their founder and director, Peter Phillips, these 10 singers displayed the floating silkiness, light without seeming insubstantial, that has been Tallis’s trademark over its remarkable career.With the parts of Clemens’s “Missa Pastores quidnam vidistis” interwoven with other pieces, the concert was notable for its exploration of different composers’ treatments of the same texts. Pedro de Cristo’s straightforwardly lyrical, almost folk-inflected “Quaeramus cum pastoribus” preceded Giovanni Croce’s grander version. And Jacob Obrecht’s plainchant-and-elaboration “Salve regina” came before Peter Philip’s later, more declamatory one.At Carnegie, the English Concert brought its characteristic spirited polish — moderate yet exciting — to “Rodelinda,” a work that Bicket has helped make a sterling recent addition to the Metropolitan Opera’s standard repertory. The cast of six was individually impressive and, even better, well matched. The soprano Lucy Crowe’s voice warmed in the title role as the afternoon went on, and her portrayal was gripping from the start. The countertenor Iestyn Davies, as her believed-to-be-dead husband, Bertarido, had, as usual, special time-stopping persuasiveness in slow music.It was refined work. But the performance over the past week that has lingered with me most is clear. If someone asks for a recommendation — for the holidays, or for music in New York in general — my answer is the same as it’s been for years: Trinity’s “Messiah.” More

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      A Wedding That’s Also a Rave? More Couples Say ‘I Do.’

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      As the popularity of electronic music at weddings grows, it’s out with the hotel ballrooms and in with the raves — grandparents included.When Stephen Le Duc posted on a Reddit forum proposing a meet-up at a music festival, he had no idea he would meet his future wife.In 2019, Mr. Le Duc, a mechanical engineer, was headed solo to the Electric Daisy Carnival in Las Vegas, an annual dance music festival. He met up with Olivia Le Duc, then Olivia Brents, who had responded to his post, and soon realized they shared not only a love of raves, but also swing dancing and retro culture. At the festival, they fell in love.Two years later, at that same festival, Mr. Le Duc, now 38, traded “kandi” — beaded bracelets typically exchanged at a rave — with Ms. Le Duc, a 28-year-old e-commerce merchandiser. The beads spelled out “marry me.”The couple, who live in Long Beach, Calif., knew from the start that they wanted an unconventional celebration; their families did not. When his wife’s grandmother suggested a church wedding, “I was like, ‘Oh, no, that can’t happen,’” Mr. Le Duc said, with a laugh.In recent years, many couples have swapped out more traditional receptions for raves and all night dance parties, prioritizing the music over (almost) all else. Celebrations can range from rave-themed after parties to million dollar, multiday productions that rival a music festival. On The Knot, a wedding planning site and vendor marketplace, searches for electronic dance music genre D.J.s jumped 156 percent in the first nine months of this year from the same period a year ago.“I think couples are really feeling empowered to reimagine tradition,” said Hannah Nowack, the senior weddings editor at the Knot. “Weddings aren’t one size fits all.” Décor like disco balls, neon lights and LED dance floors — things that make dancing “a focal point” — are popular, she said.At the Le Ducs’ wedding this March at the Ace Hotel in Palm Springs, Calif., a piano rendition of their favorite EDM song sound tracked the bride’s walk down the aisle. In addition to rings, they traded aquamarine- and garnet-studded kandi bracelets during the ceremony, which included a mention of “PLUR,” a mantra popular in the rave community that stands for “Peace, Love, Unity, Respect.”In addition to rings, the Le Ducs traded “kandi,” or beaded bracelets, that spelled out “PLUR,” a mantra popular in the rave community that stands for “Peace, Love, Unity, Respect.”Jeff ThatcherFor a certain demographic, a massive festival-like wedding has long been popular. “The average wedding I do has a $3 million budget,” said Vikas Sapra, a D.J. who works with 4AM, a management company for D.J.s and producers, in New York. “They are well-traveled, so they’re hitting all the international party spots: Ibiza, Mykonos, St Barts, St Tropez — that whole ecosystem. And obviously Burning Man, Coachella.”Many couples he has worked with host their weddings at estates in Mexico, Israel and Morocco where there are fewer limitations — often in deserts where they can “basically build structures from scratch to hold all the speakers and the lighting and the sound,” Mr. Sapras said. One wedding with more than 400 guests in Mexico that he D.J.’d went until 9:30 a.m. and involved pyrotechnics, a drone show and a replica of the Colosseum. “There’s also generally a lot of substances at some of these weddings — to go until 9 in the morning, to make it like a 15-hour day, it requires a little help,” Mr. Sapra said. “These days, psychedelics are much bigger.”In the United States, cities like Palm Springs are popular for more alternative outdoor weddings. Trish Jones, a wedding planner in Palm Springs, has organized parties with CO2 guns, cold sparklers and many neon lights. “I have friends that are planners in L.A. and Pasadena and Orange County and their weddings are all really basic,” she said. “They’re a lot of times in hotels, ballrooms — you can’t really modify those very much. You’re kind of working with the template. Out here, we have a lot more freedom.”For Michelle Phu, a wedding planner in Dallas with a primarily Asian American clientele, couples have requested EDM music for their receptions for years. “But lately it’s been like, hey, let’s just forget about the father-daughter dance, forget about all this stuff — it’s just a full-time rager from the beginning to the end,” she said.“I’m Asian myself, and I feel like we value our parents’ opinions a lot,” Ms. Phu said. “With that, you just want to make sure your parents are happy with it, listening to their guidance on how to plan your wedding. Lately, a lot of my clients are like, let’s just do what’s best for us versus what’s best for our parents — that’s the biggest shift I think so far.”“If you put on Pitbull, your laptop is being thrown into the Hudson,” said Alison Kalinowski.Rachel Rosenstein“For at least a few minutes,” she wanted her wedding to William Arendt, in suspenders, “to feel like a nightclub in Berlin,” she said.Rachel RosensteinAlison Kalinowski, 29, bought her first Tiësto CD when she was 10 — her brother and Polish parents exposed her to dance music early on. So when it was time for Ms. Kalinowski, who works in health tech, to plan her wedding to William Arendt, a 29-year-old engineer, music was the priority. She knew what she didn’t want: “If you put on Pitbull, your laptop is being thrown into the Hudson.”Ms. Kalinowski, however, acknowledged that “if I did four hours of straight rave music, no one will have fun except me.” So, for their April 15 wedding at Maritime Parc in Jersey City, N.J., she told the D.J. that “for at least a few minutes, I want my wedding to feel like a nightclub in Berlin.”Some couples go straight to the source by simply getting married at a dance music festival. Adrian Rudow, a 29-year-old accountant, and her husband, Adam Rudow, a 30-year-old games programmer, have attended E.D.C. in Las Vegas nine times together. In May, the couple, who also live in Long Beach, married at a chapel on the festival grounds in a ceremony that took 15 minutes.Ms. Rudow wore a custom sparkling outfit with platform heels and fluffy earrings, while her husband wore a white sequin suit. Her two younger sisters, who acted as her maids of honor, were each clad in rainbow print. “I feel like there’s no rule book anymore,” she said. When they held a larger reception in October, the music turned to “everything that we really like — trance, progressive house,” Ms. Rudow said. “Seeing my grandma dance to that was the funniest thing.”Adam and Adrian Rudow have attended the Electric Daisy Festival in Las Vegas nine times together. In May, they married on the festival grounds. “I feel like there’s no rule book anymore,” Ms. Rudow said. Cozza MediaAnd that is often the couples’ intention: to expose their broader communities to their passions. At the Le Ducs’ wedding reception in Palm Springs, Moses Samuel — a friend they had met at a rave who acted as officiant — performed a 30-minute fire spinning set. Ms. Le Duc danced with her LED hula hoop and Mr. Le Duc took out his light-up baton. They also handed out light-up crowns, mini-fiber optic whips and light sticks — party favors that even their parents’ friends enjoyed.“I was concerned about my mom because she’s in her 70s and this is not quite her cup of tea,” Mr. Le Duc said. But “she pulled me aside and she goes, ‘I’m having the most fun I’ve ever had.’” More

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      Britain’s Friendliest Bear to Hit the Stage in ‘Paddington: The Musical’

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      The star of a long-running book series and two films will hit the stage in a show currently being developed in Britain, producers said.Paddington, the well-traveled bear known for his floppy red hat and love for orange marmalade sandwiches, is taking on yet another venture in 2025: the theater.A stage musical about the friendly bear is in development and is set to open in Britain in 2025, the show’s producers announced on Tuesday. It will be adapted from the book series that made him famous, as well as the two live-action films, “Paddington” and “Paddington 2.”The working title is “Paddington: The Musical,” and it “is currently undergoing a period of development and workshops,” according to a news release.Paddington was first introduced in a book series by Michael Bond that follows the good-natured bear who emigrates from Peru to England and is taken in by the Brown family. Paddington is sweet, curious and prone to mishaps.The first book in the series, “A Bear Called Paddington,” was published in October 1958. More than 35 million copies of Paddington books have been sold worldwide.The live-action feature films, with Ben Whishaw as the voice of Paddington, premiered in Britain in 2014 and 2017. The first film depicts Paddington’s arrival in London and the early stages of his relationship with the Brown family. In the second film, Paddington attempts to get his Aunt Lucy a gift and ends up in prison, where, eventually, there is music, cake and dancing.A third film, “Paddington in Peru,” is set to be released in Britain on Nov. 8, 2024. Its U.S. release date is Jan. 17, 2025.The stage show’s music and lyrics will be written by Tom Fletcher, a founding member of the popular British band McFly and a well-known children’s author. The musical’s book will be by Jessica Swale, whose play “Nell Gwynn” won an Olivier Award for best new comedy in 2016.The musical’s director will be Luke Sheppard, who has worked on “Just for One Day,” “What’s New Pussycat?” and “Rent.”The musical is being produced by Sonia Friedman Productions, Studiocanal and Eliza Lumley Productions on behalf of Universal Music UK. The producers did not provide details on the plot and said the cast would be announced later.“The magic of Paddington is that, through his wide-eyed innocence, he sees the very best in humanity,” Ms. Friedman and Ms. Lumley said in a joint statement, “reminding us that love and kindness can triumph if we open our hearts and minds to one another.” More

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      Sara Tavares, Portuguese Singer Who Prized Her African Roots, Dies at 45

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      She drew on rhythms from across the African diaspora and sang in Portuguese, English, Cape Verdean Criolo and Angolan slang.Sara Tavares, a Portuguese songwriter, singer and guitarist with a gentle voice and an ear for global pop, died on Nov. 19 in Lisbon. She was 45.Her label, Sony Portugal, announced the death, in a hospital, on social media. She had been diagnosed with a brain tumor in 2009.Ms. Tavares began her career in the pop mainstream, singing R&B-influenced songs in Portuguese and English. But as she found her own style, she came to embrace her African roots.Her parents were from Cape Verde, a nation of islands off the coast of Senegal, and Ms. Tavares increasingly drew on rhythms from across the African diaspora: Cape Verdean morna, funaná and coladeira, Brazilian samba and bossa nova, and Angolan semba, as well as funk and salsa.She often defined rhythmic fusions with her own intricate guitar picking, and she sang in Portuguese, English, Cape Verdean Creole (known as Criolo) and Angolan slang. In “Balancê,” the title song of her 2005 album and one of her biggest hits, she sang in Portuguese about wanting to share “A new dance/A mix of semba with samba, mambo with rumba.”Sara Alexandra Lima Tavares was born on Feb. 1, 1978, in Lisbon; her parents had moved to Portugal from Cape Verde earlier in the decade. She grew up admiring American singers like Aretha Franklin, Stevie Wonder and Donny Hathaway; learned English; and delved into gospel music.At 16, she won a nationally televised contest, “Chuva de Estrelas,” singing the Whitney Houston hit “One Moment in Time.” She went on to represent Portugal at the 1994 Eurovision Song Contest.Her debut EP, “Sara Tavares & Shout,” released in 1996, emulated American pop-R&B and featured a gospel choir called Shout. Her 1999 album, “Mi Ma Bo” (“You and Me”), was produced by the Paris-based Congolese songwriter Lokua Kanza and dipped into an international assortment of styles. It was certified gold in Portugal.Ms. Tavares fully came into her own with the albums she released in the 2000s, which she produced or co-produced herself: “Balancê” in 2005, “Xinti” (“Feel It”) in 2009 and — after a hiatus following her diagnosis with a brain tumor — “Fitxadu” in 2017, which was nominated for a Latin Grammy Award. (“Fixtadu” is Criolo for the Portuguese “fechado,” which means closed.) Intricate, transparent and seemingly effortless, carried by acoustic guitars and percussion, her songs offered yearning introspection, thoughts about love and socially conscious admonitions.Ms. Tavares in performance in Lisbon in 2018 with the Brazilian hip-hop artists Emicida, left, and Rael.Jose Sena Goulao/Epa-Efe/Rex, via Shutterstock In an interview promoting the release of “Balancê,” she said: “When I walk around with my friends, it’s a very, very interesting community. We speak Portuguese slang, Angolan slang, some words in Cape Verdean Criolo, and of course some English. In Criolo there are already English and French words. This is because slaves from all over the world had to communicate and didn’t speak the same languages.”She added: “I want to be a part of a movement like the African Americans were, like the African Brazilians were. Instead of doing the music of their ancestors, they have created this musical identity of their own. And it is now respected. It is considered whole and authentic and genuine. It will be a long time before the people from my generation do not have to choose between being African or European. I think you shouldn’t have to choose.”Between her own albums, Ms. Tavares collaborated widely, recording with the Angolan electronic group Buraka Som Sistema and the Portuguese rapper and singer Slow J, among others. Her last release, in September, was “Kurtidu,” a single that used electric guitars and programmed beats. Her voice stayed friendly and airborne on every track she sang, sailing above borders.Information on survivors was not immediately available.Ms. Tavares received online tributes from the presidents of both Portugal and Cape Verde, where she had won Cabo Verde Music Awards for best female voice in 2011 and for “Fitxadu” in 2018.President José Maria Neves of Cape Verde said on Facebook:“Sara Tavares, through her voice, her smile, her glance, was able to plant peace, friendship and brotherhood among Cape Verdeans, and also between Cape Verdeans and the world.” He added, “Your light will illuminate the path that still lies with us, in this land that temporarily welcomes us.” More

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      Zahara, Acclaimed South African Singer and Guitarist, Dies at 36

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      A self-taught musician who sang in English and Xhosa, she was a prominent figure in contemporary Afro-soul known for her heartfelt voice.Zahara, the South African singer-songwriter whose soulful voice and heartfelt ballads earned her platinum-selling albums and multiple accolades in her country, died on Monday in a hospital in Johannesburg. She was 36.Her family confirmed her death on social media but did not cite a cause. Litha Mpondwana, the spokesman for South Africa’s minister of sports, arts and culture, said Zahara had been hospitalized for several weeks.“My deepest condolences to the Mkutukana family and the South African music industry,” Zizi Kodwa, the minister, said on social media, adding that officials had been “with the family for some time now.” He continued, “Zahara and her guitar made an incredible and lasting impact in South African music.”She was born Bulelwa Mkutukana on Nov. 9, 1987, in the village of Phumlani in Eastern Cape, South Africa, and grew up listening to songs her mother played on the radio before discovering a love of singing. She became the lead singer of her Sunday school choir at 6.Zahara began her singing career busking on the streets of her hometown. She said she had never received any formal musical training and had taught herself the guitar.“There’s a difference between a gift and a talent,” she said in an interview in 2021. “I’m gifted, not talented.”Her father gave her the stage name Zahara, which means “blooming flower” in Arabic, she said in the same interview.Beginning with her debut album, “Loliwe,” in 2011, Zahara’s music drew critical acclaim and found success on the music charts. Nelson Mandela invited her to his private residence to perform a bedside concert before his death in 2013. Her most recent album, “Nqaba Yam,” was released in 2021.Zahara, who sang in both English and Xhosa, her native language, was known for her husky and heartfelt voice, often compared to those of Tracy Chapman and India.Arie, and her acoustic instrumentals. Her collaborations with titans of Africa’s music industry, like the singing group Ladysmith Black Mambazo, the musician Robbie Malinga and the Nigerian singer-songwriter 2Baba, cemented her place in contemporary Afro-soul music. She was named one of BBC’s 100 women of 2020.Through her lyrics, she spoke of her faith, her struggles and her dreams. She described her songs as stories of her experiences and thoughts.“I write about my life,” she said in an interview in 2022. “If you want to know mentally, physically, spiritually, emotionally where I’m at, where I’m centered, go get my albums.”Zahara’s younger brother, Mbuyiseli Mkutukana, was murdered in 2014, after which she said she went through a period of depression. In 2021, her older sister, Nomonde Mkutukana, died in a car accident. Over the years, she spoke publicly about her struggle with alcohol addiction.Zahara campaigned for female victims of violence in South Africa, which she said she experienced when she was in her 20s. “Prayer has kept me going through this difficult time,” she told the BBC. “Nothing can beat prayer.” More

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      Ricardo Arjona, Prolific Latin Pop Star, Says He Will Stop Touring

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      The Guatemalan singer-songwriter said that his latest performance in Chile would be his last after struggling with back issues that made it difficult to stand and perform.Ricardo Arjona, the Guatemalan singer and songwriter known for dozens of Latin pop ballads that became international hits over a career that spanned more than 30 years, said he would stop touring, citing back problems and an imminent surgery.Arjona, 59, wrote in social media posts on Sunday that he would stop performing on his “Blanco y Negro” tour after a show in Santiago, Chile, though his statement fell short of announcing a retirement.“I’ll have to disappear to invent a reason that’s bigger than this,” he wrote in Spanish. “If I can’t find it, I prefer not to return.”Arjona said he had received “six spinal infiltrations,” also known as epidural injections, over the past two months to be able to stand during his concerts, and to delay surgery. Before he performed on Saturday, Arjona said he wasn’t sure if he would be able to take a step. His “Blanco y Negro” tour, which began last year in Buenos Aires, included dozens of shows, with several stops in Mexico, Costa Rica and Guatemala. The North American leg of the tour this year included stops at Madison Square Garden in New York, as well as dozens of other cities across the United States.“I came from dear Argentina, which gave me songs in the street and gave me a glory that I did not deserve,” he said. “I say goodbye in this Chile of so many stories and affections.”The tour highlighted two of his albums: “Blanco,” which was released in 2020, and “Negro,” which came out in 2021. Over the course of a career that has spanned more than 30 years, Arjona has produced more than a dozen studio albums, which have earned him several awards and accolades, including the Billboard Latin music lifetime achievement award in 2017.In 2006, Arjona won a Grammy Award for best Latin pop album and the Latin Grammy Award for best male pop vocal album for his album “Adentro.” As of December, Arjona’s music was drawing more than 8 million monthly listeners on Spotify.Arjona began his musical career in the 1980s, and after his music didn’t initially attract many listeners, he briefly taught at a public school, he said in an interview in 2011. He returned to music, and his career took off in the 1990s, when he released songs like “Historia de Taxi,” the tale of a taxi driver’s love affair. The song remains one of his most popular hits to date, having been played more than 158 million times on Spotify. Multiple other hits followed and ranked him on the top Latin music charts for his signature songs of romantic lyrics and inventive storytelling.“Life and people have been immensely generous to this Guatemalan,” he wrote on social media, adding, “a public-school teacher, who by playing the guitar, adding some words and trying a melody, achieved a miracle that I never suspected.” More