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    Remembering Quincy Jones, a Bridge Between Genres and Generations

    Subscribe to Popcast!Apple Podcasts | Spotify | Amazon MusicEarly this month, Quincy Jones, one of the most influential and creative forces in American pop music history, died at 91. The scope of his success almost defies comprehension — his work began in the 1950s and continued all the way up through recent years. He produced the most important Michael Jackson albums, and also Frank Sinatra, and also “We Are the World.” He won 28 Grammys. Sarah Vaughan, Miles Davis, Usher, the Weeknd, Lionel Hampton, “The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air,”: He crossed paths with all of them, and more.His broad reach was a byproduct of his musical facilities, as well as his social adeptness and ability to bridge worlds, scenes and audiences with a combination of the two. It’s a scale of influence unlikely to be matched by anyone else.On this week’s Popcast, a conversation about Jones’s long and unique career, how he bridged musical styles and generations, his willingness to share stories and the role of long-form journalism in the social media age.Guest:David Marchese, a staff writer at The New York Times Magazine and co-host of The Interview podcastConnect With Popcast. Become a part of the Popcast community: Join the show’s Facebook group and Discord channel. We want to hear from you! Tune in, and tell us what you think at popcast@nytimes.com. Follow our host, Jon Caramanica, on Twitter: @joncaramanica.Unlock full access to New York Times podcasts and explore everything from politics to pop culture. Subscribe today at nytimes.com/podcasts or on Apple Podcasts and Spotify. More

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    Ella Jenkins, Musician Who Found an Audience in Children, Dies at 100

    Performing and recording, she transformed what was seen as a marginal genre in the music industry into a celebration of shared humanity. Ella Jenkins, a self-taught musician who defied her industry’s norms by recording and performing solely for children, and in doing so transformed a marginal and moralistic genre into a celebration of a diverse yet common humanity with songs like “You’ll Sing a Song and I’ll Sing a Song,” died on Saturday in Chicago. She was 100. Her death was confirmed by John Smith, associate director at Smithsonian Folkways Recordings.Ms. Jenkins had no formal musical training, but she had an innate sense of rhythm. “I was always humming or singing and la-la, lu-lu or something,” she once said.She absorbed the everyday melodies of her childhood — the playground clapping games, the high school sports chants, the calls of a sidewalk watermelon vendor hawking his produce. As an adult, she paired such singsong rhythms with original compositions and sought not simply to amuse or distract children but to teach them to respect themselves and others.Against the sound of a kazoo, a harmonica, a variety of hand drums or, later, a baritone ukulele, Ms. Jenkins sang subtly instructive lyrics, as in “A Neighborhood Is a Friendly Place,” a song she wrote in 1976:You can say hiTo friends passing byA neighborhood is a friendly place.You can say helloTo people that you knowA neighborhood is a friendly place.Neighbors to learn to shareNeighbors learn to careA neighborhood is a friendly place.Over children’s steady clapping, she recorded the age-old “A Sailor Went to Sea”:A sailor went to sea, sea, seaTo see what he could see, see, seeAnd all that he could see, see, seeWas down in the bottom of the sea, sea, sea.For many parents and classroom teachers, Ms. Jenkins’s renditions of traditional nursery rhymes like “Miss Mary Mack” and “The Muffin Man” are authoritative.Still, from the beginning of her career in the 1950s, Ms. Jenkins pronounced her signature to be call-and-response, in which she asked her charges to participate directly in the music-making, granting them an equal responsibility in a song’s success. She had seen Cab Calloway employ the technique in “Hi-De-Ho,” and for her, the animating idea, veiled in a playful to-and-fro, was that everything good in the world was born of collaboration.In one of her most popular recordings, Ms. Jenkins sings out, “Did you feed my cow?” “Yes, ma’am!” a group of children trumpet back. The song continues:Could you tell me how?Yes, ma’am!What did you feed her?Corn and hay!What did you feed her?Corn and hay!As Ms. Jenkins repopularized time-honored children’s songs, she also gave the genre global scope. Before Ms. Jenkins, children’s music in the United States consisted primarily of simplified, often cartoonish renditions of classical music.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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    Book Review: ‘Heartbreak Is the National Anthem: How Taylor Swift Reinvented Pop Music,’ by Rob Sheffield

    HEARTBREAK IS THE NATIONAL ANTHEM: How Taylor Swift Reinvented Pop Music, by Rob SheffieldIt’s possible that I know too much about Taylor Swift. I know the words to all her singles and every name on her long list of ex-lovers. Thanks to her current relationship with Travis Kelce, I know details about the various social entanglements of his Kansas City Chiefs teammates that I would prefer not to. I listen to her music about as much as the median American, which is to say: all of the time. Swift has become America’s Muzak, her songs the soundtrack to our Starbucks lines and her life the fodder for our tabloid stories.In “Heartbreak Is the National Anthem: How Taylor Swift Reinvented Pop Music,” Rob Sheffield charts how Swift, who rose to fame writing songs for teenage girls (when she was still one herself), became ubiquitous — and he makes the case that even as her cultural dominance can work to obscure her skill, everything always leads back to her virtuosic writing.Sheffield is a contributing editor at Rolling Stone, where he publishes consistently glowing reviews of Swift’s seemingly limitless offerings. Here he steps back to consider the roots of her appeal. Swift has “always had a unique flair for writing songs in which people hear themselves — her music keeps crossing generational and cultural boundaries, in ways that are often mystifying,” he writes. She makes her “experiences public property, to the point where she makes the world think of her as a character.”Swift’s self-mythologizing stretches beyond her music to become a collaborative storytelling prompt, one that manages to absorb even her critics. As her superfans brand themselves as “Swifties” and build an extended Taylorverse of analysis and intrigue on social media, they recruit her haters into their project, using them to cast their billionaire idol as a complex and scrappy protagonist.A character becomes more interesting when she has challengers and flaws. “Taylor’s hubris, her way-too-muchness, her narcissism disguised as even more narcissism, her inability to Not Be Taylor for a microsecond — it’s a lot,” Sheffield writes. “You can’t fully appreciate her without appreciating the wide range of visceral reactions she brings out in people.”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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    5 Minutes That Will Make You Love the Vibraphone

    Are the vibes good? These tracks by Milt Jackson, Lionel Hampton, Roy Ayers and others, chosen by 12 musicians and writers, should convince you.We’re living in the era of “vibes.” But before that word was everywhere — before elections had “vibe shifts” and before a first date could be breezily ended because the vibes were just off — there was the instrument that started it all: the vibraphone.If you aren’t quite sure what that sounds like — well, there’s only one way to describe it. It’s vibey.Invented in the 1920s as an electrified variation of the marimba, the vibraphone is made out of tuned metal bars, which the player strikes with mallets; a tubular resonator that carries the sound; and a set of electronically controlled fans affecting how much vibrato goes on the notes (that is, how much they warble). Out of this complex contraption wafts a sound that is mellow and ethereal, but starkly rhythmic. After all, the vibraphone is a percussion instrument: Most vibraphonists who double on something else play the drums.The vibraphone has been a feature of jazz bandstands since about 1930, when a young Lionel Hampton — one of the first improvisers to master it — impressed Louis Armstrong by playing along with the trumpeter’s solos note for note. At Armstrong’s encouragement, he switched from being a full-time drummer to a vibraphonist. As its popularity grew, jazz musicians gave the instrument a nickname: “the vibes,” a term that came to signify not just the instrument’s metal bars and their vibrations but also the hazy, moody feeling that its sound produced.It is little wonder that, amid the revolutionary grooves of the 1960s, that term made the leap from jazz (and from Black American vernacular) to the general population. In the process, it gave us a slightly more musical way of describing everyday life.In the nearly 100 years since Hampton’s innovation, the vibraphone has traveled through the many shifts and stages of jazz and Black American music. These days, it’s being played by a broad range of musicians — from straight-ahead swingers to avant-gardists — a number of whom are quoted below. Read on for an array of vibes-heavy tracks, selected by musicians and writers. You can find a playlist at the bottom of the article, and if you have a personal favorite that wasn’t on the list, go ahead and drop it in the comments.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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    Shenseea’s Dancehall Music Makes Women ‘Feel Free’

    While touring the Bob Marley Museum in Kingston, Jamaica, on a Saturday in late September, Shenseea, the dancehall pop singer, paused at a glass case. Inside was the Grammy lifetime achievement award that Mr. Marley received posthumously in 2001.“Haffi get one,” she said in Jamaican Patois of her desire to win a Grammy of her own.Shenseea, 28, who was wearing a cropped turquoise halter top, a matching flowy skirt and Louis Vuitton slides, has already come closer than many. In 2022, she was up for album of the year for her work as a collaborator on Ye’s album “Donda.”The museum occupies Mr. Marley’s former home in the Jamaican capital, where Shenseea also has a residence. Though she was raised mostly in Kingston and grew up listening to Mr. Marley’s reggae music, she had never been to the museum before.“He made it so cool to be a rasta,” Shenseea said, referring to Mr. Marley’s association with the Jamaican spiritual movement Rastafarianism. She had left the museum and was sitting in the back seat of a white Mercedes-Benz, playing a string of breezy new songs she has yet to release. Mr. Marley, Shenseea continued, “showed the people that it’s OK to live your life the way you want to, even though it’s different.”The same could be said for Shenseea. Dancehall, a musical genre known for its suggestive lyrics and provocative visual style, was not a feature of her upbringing in a Christian household. “I wasn’t allowed to listen to dancehall music when I was young,” Shenseea said. “When I was in high school, that’s when I fell in love with it.”She is now among the brightest young stars of the genre, which blossomed in the 1970s in Kingston and is named for the dance halls that held parties in the city.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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    Quincy Jones: A Life in Photos

    A musician, bandleader, composer, producer and much more, Quincy Jones, who died at 91 on Sunday in California, led many musical lives. Only supreme talent can explain his accomplishments, but there was another factor, too: a ferocious work ethic.From childhood, he fought to learn the skills that would allow him to build a life in music. He first touched a piano at age 11 after breaking into a recreation center looking for food. Two years later, he persuaded a professional trumpeter to give him lessons every morning before school started.But once he had acquired those musical foundations, he worked to expand the range of his skills at a dizzying speed. Over the decades that followed, Mr. Jones was presented with a steady stream of opportunities — sometimes simultaneously. He embraced them all, turning much of what he touched to gold, and remaking American music along the way in a career that endured for more than five decades.These photographs show Mr. Jones both under and outside the spotlight, often helping other artists bring forth their best work. They also show the public side of him — a musical titan honored for his achievements.PoPsie Randolph/Michael Ochs Archives, via Getty ImagesMr. Jones and the singer Lesley Gore working in New York on the song “It’s My Party,” which was released in 1963.Franz Hubmann/Imagno, via Getty ImagesMr. Jones leading a band at the Konzerthaus in Vienna in 1960.Gai Terrell/Redferns, via Getty ImagesMr. Jones guiding a session in a recording studio in 1963.David Redfern/Redferns, via Getty ImagesMr. Jones and the singer Roberta Flack, circa 1973.A&M Records/ Michael Ochs Archives, via Getty ImagesMr. Jones in 1974.David Redfern/Redferns, via Getty ImagesMr. Jones, left, with Duke Ellington, at the piano, during the recording of the television special “Duke Ellington … We Love You Madly” at the Shubert Theater in Los Angeles in 1973.Bettmann, via Getty ImagesStevie Wonder and Mr. Jones during a recording of the song “Stop, Don’t Pass Go.”G. Paul Burnett/The New York TimesMr. Jones won six Grammy Awards in 1991 for his album “Back on the Block.”URLI/GARCIA and Gamma-Rapho, via Getty ImagesMr. Jones in Paris in 1988.Alain Benainous/Gamma-Rapho, via Getty ImagesMr. Jones leading student musicians at the Montreux Jazz Festival in 1991.Jeff Kravitz/FilmMagic, Inc, via Getty ImagesMr. Jones and Oprah Winfrey at the 1995 Academy Awards in Los Angeles, where he was given the Jean Hersholt Humanitarian Award.Associated Press/Associated PressMr. Jones with President Barack Obama in 2011, when Mr. Jones received the National Medal of Arts at the White House.Danny Moloshok/Invision, via Associated PressMr. Jones onstage with Oprah Winfrey at his induction into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame in 2013 at the Nokia Theater in Los Angeles.Richard Shotwell/Invision, via Associated PressMr. Jones at a hand and footprint ceremony at the TCL Chinese Theater in Los Angeles in 2018.Damon Winter/The New York TimesMr. Jones in 2013. More

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    4 Surprising Things We Learned From the John Williams Documentary

    A new Disney+ film about the prolific film composer chronicles his life and career, with a focus on his famous music for movies including “Jaws” and “Star Wars.”The composer John Williams is responsible for some of the most recognizable music in film history: the epic fanfares in “Star Wars,” the two-note dread of “Jaws” and too many other examples to name without sounding like an IMDb tour of popular American cinema.A new documentary, “Music by John Williams” (streaming on Disney+), introduces audiences to the man behind all of that music, featuring extensive interviews with Williams and glowing interviews with filmmakers he has worked with, including Steven Spielberg (also a producer of the movie), George Lucas and J.J. Abrams.Laurent Bouzereau, the documentary’s director, first met Williams while directing making-of features for the home video releases of Spielberg movies, including “Jaws,” “Jurassic Park” and “Raiders of the Lost Ark.”In a phone interview, he said the project started as part of Williams’s 90th birthday celebration, but it became clear it would be a waste to not do a full documentary combining his interviews with Spielberg’s archival footage of Williams, now 92, scoring his films. “I wanted people to understand his dedication to an art form,” Bouzereau said. “John is an eternal student.”Here are some takeaways from the film.When he first heard the ‘Jaws’ theme, Spielberg thought Williams was joking.Early in the documentary, Williams recounts the first time he played the opening music to “Jaws” for Spielberg.The director thought he was joking. “I was expecting something just tremendously complex, and it’s almost like ‘Chopsticks,’” he says.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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    Luther Vandross Is Transformational in the Documentary ‘Never Too Much’

    He was hounded by a fat-phobic press, but as Dawn Porter’s new documentary shows, he was a transformational presence from the start.Beginning in the late 1970s, while making the transition from background singer to phenomenal solo act, Luther Vandross shaped the sound of commercialism as much as he shaped the sound of modern American music. He recorded lucrative jingles for Juicy Fruit, Miller beer and even Gino’s pizza. During the Gino’s session, he was asked to personify a sizzling hot pie coming from the oven, and he improvised by quickly dropping his tenor into the hadal zone of his body and retrieving it, like a free diver collecting pearls.“I could see the control room just jumping up and clapping,” he says in one of the interviews laced throughout “Luther: Never Too Much,” a new documentary by Dawn Porter (in theaters).It was a genius stroke. He developed a signature as recognizable as Whitney Houston’s record-length notes or Mariah Carey’s fluted crystalline range. Vandross’s musical intelligence predated what is obvious in the era of TikTok: A distinct sound is worth the price of gold.Vandross left a full, rich archive, yet there’s still an emptiness at the heart of it that manages to come through in Porter’s engrossing work. She starts her chronology with Vandross’s second birth. In an interview clip early in the film, Oprah asks Vandross when he knew he could sing. He answers that he decided to sing after seeing Dionne Warwick perform in 1963 in Brooklyn. “I wanted to be able to affect people the way she affected me that day,” he explains. Notice how he didn’t specify a date. Notice how he knew the voice was always there. He just chose the way he wanted to use it.Vandross with Dionne Warwick. He saw her sing in 1963 and decided he should sing as well. Jim Smeal/Ron Galella Collection, via Getty ImagesIn the film, a white interviewer asks Vandross, who grew up in the Alfred E. Smith Houses on the Lower East Side, if he was poor then. His response is earnest if not amused. “My impression of life growing up was great.” He knew something that she did not: Money is only one kind of wealth.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