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      Miley Cyrus, Selena Gomez and 9 More New Songs

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      Hear tracks by Selena Gomez, Al Green, L’Rain and others.Every Friday, pop critics for The New York Times weigh in on the week’s most notable new tracks. 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, and The Amplifier, a twice-weekly guide to new and old songs.Miley Cyrus, ‘Used to Be Young’“You say I used to be wild, I say I used to be young,” Miley Cyrus sings on the muted, introspective new ballad “Used to Be Young.” The timing of the single’s release is canny: Cyrus gave her infamous, twerk-seen-’round-the-world MTV Video Music Awards performance 10 years ago on Friday. Cyrus, now 30, isn’t chiding her younger self or expressing regrets here, though — “I know I used to be crazy, messed up, but God was it fun,” she sings with an audible grin — so much as she is asserting her right to grow and change. Though “Used to Be Young” starts out quiet, it gradually builds in intensity, culminating in a finale that allows Cyrus to showcase the full power of her grainy drawl. LINDSAY ZOLADZAl Green, ‘Perfect Day’The magnificently idiosyncratic soul singer Al Green has re-emerged singing “Perfect Day,” a song from 1972 by — of all people — Lou Reed. Reed’s original had a disquieting undertone, warning “You’re going to reap just what you sow.” But Green’s remake — backed by musicians from his 1970s Hi Rhythm Section — trades any misgivings for romance, and the same line becomes a promise of mutual bliss. JON PARELESZach Bryan featuring Kacey Musgraves, ‘I Remember Everything’This wrenching highlight from Zach Bryan’s new self-titled album is a he-said/she-said account of a failed, whiskey-soaked romance, set to a forlorn chord progression. “A cold shoulder at closing time, you were begging me to stay ’til the sun rose,” Bryan sings in his aching croak, before Kacey Musgraves enters with a pointed question: “You’re drinking everything to ease your mind, but when the hell are you gonna ease mine?” ZOLADZL’Rain, ‘Pet Rock’“Why would you go without me?” L’Rain — the songwriter and musician Taja Cheek — wonders in “Pet Rock,” a turbulent song about unwanted solitude. Cascading guitars and shifty-meter drumbeats give the music an unpredictable, almost tidal motion that ebbs and flows with all the lyrics’ unanswered questions. PARELESSelena Gomez, ‘Single Soon’“I know he’ll be a mess when I break the news/but I’ll be single soon,” Selena Gomez exults in the ultra-smiley “Single Soon.” It’s a triumphal march about all the prerogatives of moving on — “I’m gonna do what I wanna do” — with giggles in the backup track as she decides it’s “Time to try another one.” Like Taylor Swift’s “Blank Space,” it celebrates the choices ahead. PARELESPrince, ‘Alice Through the Looking Glass’The teaser for the next much-expanded Prince reissue — “Diamonds and Pearls,” due Oct. 27 — is a falsetto funk tune about a woman with a mysterious but alluring occupation. “Some call it a curse, some call it sweet salvation/No one can deny the stimulation,” Prince sings over a skulking synth-bass line. The lyrics stay ambiguous, but the groove tells its own sensual story. PARELESMargo Price, ‘Strays’Margo Price released her album “Strays” in January, but its title track arrives this week in the rollout of “Strays II,” a sequel she’s releasing a few songs at a time. In “Strays,” she sings about being young, broke and ferally in love back in January 2003, with a galloping beat and pounding piano chords that suggests the E Street Band visiting Nashville. The memories sound victorious. PARELESMon Laferte, ‘Tenochtitlán’The Chilean songwriter Mon Laferte sings about a woman shamed for her pregnancy in “Tenochtitlán,” comparing her to the Virgin Mary. In a track that melds the retro and futuristic, she overlays a trip-hop bass undertow with lushly dramatic strings, a flamenco-tinged guitar solo and a passage of pitch-shifted vocals, while she urges, “Beautiful one, cry no more.” PARELESLuciana Souza & Trio Corrente, ‘Bem Que Te Avisei’The new album from Luciana Souza and Trio Corrente, “Cometa” is a celebration of Brazil’s classic songbook, with covers of songs by Dorival Caymmi and Antonio Carlos Jobim alongside lively originals written in the spirit of tradition. Souza contributes a composition, “Bem Que Te Avisei” (“Well, I Warned You”), an up-tempo samba in which she admonishes a suitor not to chase someone unless he’s interested in committing. The piece comes fully alive midway through, when she sings a verse accompanied by just Paulo Paulelli’s bass and Edu Ribeiro’s light percussion, and achieves elevation at the end, as Souza’s wordless vocals double with the piano of Fabio Torres, briefly bringing to mind Flora Purim’s synergy with Chick Corea in Return to Forever. GIOVANNI RUSSONELLOTitanic, ‘Anónima’The Guatemalan songwriter Mabe Fratti and the Venezuelan composer Hector Tosta, who bills himself as I la Católica, have collaborated as Titanic, with an album due in October. In “Anónima” (“Anonymous”), Fratti’s cello grunts rhythmic double-stops as she sings about persistent, troubling thoughts, surrounded by clusters of piano notes and increasingly brutal percussion. Her voice maintains its equanimity, but her distorted cello finally lashes out. PARELESAbiodun Oyewole, ‘Somebody Else’s Idea’In 1968, the poet-activists Larry Neal and Amiri Baraka released “Black Fire: An Anthology of Afro-American Writing,” a collection that would help to define the Black Arts Movement. The poet with the most works featured in its pages was Sun Ra: Although mostly known as the bandleader of the Arkestra, Ra was a philosopher and poet as much as he was a musician. That same year, a group of young poets came together in Harlem, dubbing themselves the Last Poets and helping to lay the groundwork for what would soon become hip-hop; Abiodun Oyewole was one of them. Those histories collide on “My Words Are Music: A Celebration of Sun Ra’s Poetry,” a new album on which various artists read Ra’s poems between spacey synthesizer interludes from Marshall Allen, the Arkestra’s current leader. On “Somebody Else’s Idea,” Oyewole delivers verses that Ra first recorded in the early 1970s, when the Last Poets were in their prime: “Somebody else’s idea of things to come/need not be the only way to vision the future,” he declares. RUSSONELLO More

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      The Old West Is New Again

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      When Navied Mahdavian, a cartoonist, and his wife, Emelie, a filmmaker, moved from San Francisco to Mackay, Idaho (population 473), they fixated on their new hometown’s theater. Or, rather, the ghost of a theater.A red and white marquee for the Mackay Main Theater dominated part of Main Street, and Mr. and Ms. Mahdavian, who had moved in pursuit of a cheaper and less frantic way of life, resolved with other community members to reopen the cinema, which had been defunct for years.Before the big reopening, one longtime town resident seemed less than enthusiastic about the plan, Mr. Mahdavian recalled, accusing the theater boosters of trying to import an “artsy-fartsy, social-justice-warrior” sensibility to the Idaho mountains.“We’re actually showing a western,” Mr. Mahdavian said.To which the resident replied: “John Wayne?”Instead, the Mahdavians chose “Damsel,” a new-age western from 2018 featuring a heroine played by Mia Wasikowska, a wimpy male character and a masturbation scene. It didn’t go over all that well.“We probably should’ve anticipated that the reaction in town would be mixed,” said Mr. Mahdavian, 38, who has chronicled his move to a rural area in the forthcoming book “This Country.”By taking an active interest in the West of the American imagination — and the ever-evolving notions about what a western story can, or should, be — the Mahdavians are part of a larger movement.“Every generation is going to interpret differently what it sees in the West,” said Richard Aquila, a historian and author of “The Sagebrush Trail.”Photo Illustration by Kim Hoeckele for The New York TimesCowboys ride in and out of popular culture every few years, propelled by a hunger for stories that are wild, tumultuous and unvarnished. Now, as western style spreads across fashion and entertainment once more, that spirit of reinvention is being applied to reinvent the western itself, inflecting an old genre with new viewpoints.Two cultural stars of the summer, Beyoncé and Barbie, have invoked western tropes. Beyoncé wore a disco cowboy hat tilted over her face and sat atop a silver horse in portraits promoting her Renaissance World Tour, the imagery reminiscent of an extraterrestrial cowgirl. Re-creations of the hat, for fans trying to mimic the look, have sold for over $100 on Etsy. “Barbie,” which has climbed to more than $1 billion at the box office, included a lengthy sequence of Margot Robbie venturing deep into the Wild West of Los Angeles while wearing a white cowboy hat, a pink bandanna and a western-cut pink ensemble. And Taylor Swift may no longer wear western gear in public, as she did early in her career, but there were plenty of cowboy boots and cowboy hats to be seen among her fans headed to the Eras Tour shows this summer.History rhymes, fusty fashions turn trendy and cult classics become newly beloved — so it’s no surprise that cowboys keep cycling back into the popular imagination.“There’s a longstanding tradition in American history of looking West,” said Andrew Patrick Nelson, a historian of American cinema and culture at University of Utah. “Part of the appeal is the idea you can live a more authentic, exciting and rugged life.”Coming out of a period of pandemic malaise, millions of people have gone that-a-way — in their clothing choices, social media posts, and selections of TV shows and movies. In fashion, high-end brands, including Prada, unveiled spring collections comprising get-ups that smacked of the Old West. On TikTok, thousands of women have posted videos of themselves modeling outfits billed as “coastal cowgirl” — linen shirts, boots, hats and well-worn denim shorts. The #CoastalCowgirl hashtag has racked up tens of thousands of views.“Glam western is probably the No. 1 trending thing in fashion right now,” said Taylor Johnson, 36, who owns the concert wear boutique Hazel & Olive.The silver cowboy hat worn by Beyoncé in promotional images for her Renaissance tour was a fashion inspiration for fans on their way to one of the singer’s concerts in New Jersey this summer.Amir Hamja/The New York TimesTaylor Swift fans, outside the MetLife Stadium in New Jersey in May.Jutharat Pinyodoonyachet for The New York TimesBarbie, played by Margot Robbie, went full cowgirl as she explored the world beyond Barbie Land in “Barbie.”Warner Bros. PicturesBrunello Cucinelli, the fashion designer, said the “ease and sportiness” of western style lent itself to perennial cycles of popularity. “As a younger man, I watched many Sergio Leone movies and listened to Johnny Cash,” Mr. Cucinelli said in an email interview. “While visiting America for the first time, I remember vividly my trips to Texas and how men dressed with their tapered jackets and those great belts with large buckles.”“Yellowstone,” the soapy “red state” rancher television series, was ranked by Nielsen as the top scripted program last year. In interviews, several TikTok users said their #CoastalCowgirl posts represented their efforts to mimic Beth Dutton, the ruthless main daughter of the show played by Kelly Reilly.Kimberly Johnson, 39, a stay-at-home mother in Delaware, said the series offered a reprieve from the Covid-era divorce drama of her own life. When she saw the #CoastalCowgirl trend, she said the thought that crossed her mind was: “Now I have an excuse to dress like I’m from ‘Yellowstone’!”“Yellowstone,” which is filmed and based in Montana, pumped some $700 million in tourism spending into the state’s economy, on top of $72 million in production spending from Paramount, according to a study from the University of Montana (which was sponsored by the Media Coalition of Montana and Paramount). Nearly 20 percent of visitors to the state in 2021 attributed their travel in part to watching the series, in what economists called “‘Yellowstone’-induced” tourism.Jordan Calhoun, a writer in New York who edits the how-to site Lifehacker, was one of the fans who went West because of the show. He said his affection for the series came about in the early weeks of the coronavirus pandemic, when he was locked down in his Harlem apartment and felt the need for a landscape that looked different from what he was seeing out his window. He longed for rows of pines, big stretches of sky. And he wanted to experience the Dutton family’s way of life.“I don’t know how to fix a fence or ride a horse or grow crops,” Mr. Calhoun, 38, said. “Self-reliance, or country living, is something that got really appealing during the pandemic.”Jordan Calhoun, a writer and editor who lives in New York, went West because of his love for “Yellowstone.”Jordan CalhounHe spent five days on a Colorado ranch in 2022. Although the trip confirmed for him that it wasn’t what he wanted full time, it taught Mr. Calhoun, who is Black, that the western landscapes he loved on TV were something he could go and enjoy. That was a realization far afield from what he had felt watching westerns when he was growing up.“I watched ‘Young Guns’ a thousand times,” he said. “There wasn’t much of me in it.”But as much as it is a place on the map, the West is also an idea, one that changes over time. And amid the latest round of fascination with cowboy culture, the western, a staple film genre since the early days of cinema, is being reimagined for a growing audience.From 2000 to 2009, Hollywood made 23 movies categorized as westerns, according to Comscore, which compiles box office data. That number shot up to 42 from 2010 to 2019. Some of these new films feature Black cowboys, Native American protagonists, queer heroes and damsels far from distress. Some are directed by female filmmakers, like Jane Campion, whose 2021 movie “The Power of the Dog,” which features a most likely closeted rancher, received more Academy Award nominations than any other film last year.Alaina Roberts, an American historian who wrote “I’ve Been Here All the While: Black Freedom on Native Land,” was raised with all the classic images of what a western film looked like: Davy Crockett wrestling a bear, John Wayne squinting through the Texas dust. Her mother loved those films.But when Dr. Roberts started her own career as a scholar, those weren’t the visions of the West that captured her imagination. Instead, she wanted to research stories of her own Black family members, who were enslaved by the Chickasaw and Choctaw tribes in what is now Ardmore, Okla. She also grew fascinated by the Buffalo Soldiers, all-Black regiments who policed the plains.“We shouldn’t be afraid of complexity,” said Ms. Roberts, 32, who consulted on the recent documentary series “The Real Wild West,” which focuses on Black and Hispanic cowboys, Buffalo Soldiers, Native leaders and women on the plains. “It doesn’t mean we’re trying to rewrite history.”TV shows and movies including “Yellowstone,” “The Harder They Fall,” “Bitterbrush,” and “The Power of the Dog” are reshaping the cowboy image.Top: Paramount Network, Netflix; Bottom: Magnolia Pictures, NetflixThe list of movies, TV shows and documentaries taking on these more tangled western tales keeps growing. There’s “The Harder They Fall,” a 2021 film from the director Jeymes Samuel about Black outlaws, sharpshooters, horse riders and frontier townspeople. The director Kelly Reichardt has put her stamp on the genre in two films: “Meek’s Cutoff,” which is centered on pioneer women played by Michelle Williams, Shirley Henderson and Zoe Kazan, who realize that a Native American man they meet on the Oregon Trail is more trustworthy than their white guide; and “First Cow,” about a pair of misfits, played by Orion Lee and John Magaro, trying to make a go of it in mid-19th-century Oregon. There’s also Chloé Zhao’s “The Rider,” a rodeo story about the Lakota Sioux tribe.Ms. Mahdavian, 41, who moved with her husband from San Francisco to rural Idaho, is another filmmaker who has trained her camera on the West. Her 2022 documentary, “Bitterbrush,” follows female cattle ranchers near her new home. “I don’t have an agenda to kill the western,” she said. “I find myself drawn to telling stories that feel true to a certain type of lived experience.”Western films have tended to reflect the experience of the people who produced them and the ideas in the air at the time of their production, film historians say. The westerns of the World War II era, for example, fulfilled a hunger for clear-cut messages. Some see “Stagecoach,” the 1939 John Wayne classic, as a parable for the New Deal: A group of Americans (a whiskey salesman, a drunken doctor) have to work together to prevail over what’s lurking around them.Then came the 1960s, when social changes raised questions about the old order, driving a desire for new types of anti-establishment western heroes, like Clint Eastwood’s antihero “Man With No Name” character, or the jovial outlaws played by Paul Newman and Robert Redford in “Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid.”“It’s almost like a Rorschach inkblot test,” Richard Aquila, 76, a historian and author of “The Sagebrush Trail” said. “Every generation is going to interpret differently what it sees in the West.”John Wayne, the quintessential western actor, in the 1939 film “Stagecoach.”Michael Ochs Archives/Getty ImagesFor die-hard lovers of western films and novels, the periodic resurgence of the genre is invigorating because it sends new fans toward old classics. W.F. Strong, a professor of communications and culture at the University of Texas Rio Grande Valley, delights in hearing from young readers who have recently discovered Larry McMurtry’s 1985 novel “Lonesome Dove,” which follows a group of lovably bone-headed cowpokes from their tiny hometown, Lonesome Dove, to the plains of Montana.Mr. Strong, 68, said he particularly loved how Mr. McMurtry, who died in 2021, was able to capture the lives of ordinary Americans in the novel. “He was writing about my people — and I didn’t realize you could do that as an author,” he recalled. “When I was young, I thought you had to be writing about glamorous things far away, like England.”For many people, including those taking part in the #cowgirl memes on social media, that’s part of the appeal — the idea that the western experience seems within reach, that wide-open plains are closer than they appear. Kyra Smolkin, a content creator in Los Angeles who has been posting her cowgirl-themed fashions on TikTok, said she grew up in Toronto “romanticizing small towns and ranches.”“What’s cool about cowgirl style is it’s attainable — there’s no barrier to entry,” Ms. Smolkin, 30, said. “I love that there’s an ease to it. It’s easy to make your own.”And for the Mahdavians, the couple who moved from San Francisco to Idaho, there was a thrill to making the western story their own, by setting up a home in the kind of landscape that they had long associated with the movies. They built a house on a small plot of land about a 20-minute drive from Mackay. It is surrounded by snow-capped mountains, and there are no people in sight.They have also gotten past the mixed reception they received for their opening night at the renovated theater on Main Street. They pulled it off by showing “The Quiet Man,” a 1952 western romance starring John Wayne.“We had, like, 70 people come, which for a population of 500 is a lot,” Mr. Mahdavian recalled. “People definitely responded to John Wayne.”First collage: Bettmann/Getty Images (background); Amir Hamja/ The New York Times, Maggie Shannon for The New York Times, Paramount Network, Matt Winkelmeyer/Getty Images (hats); Paramount Network, Jason Kempin/Getty Images (shirts); Gabriela Campos/Santa Fe New Mexican, via Associated Press, Jutharat Pinyodoonyachet for The New York Times, George Frey/EPA, via Shutterstock, Roy Rochlin/Getty Images (boots)Second collage: George Rinhart/Corbis, via Getty Images (background); Amy Sussman/Getty Images (body) More

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      Toto Cutugno, Singer Whose ‘L’Italiano’ Struck a Chord, Dies at 80

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      The nostalgic ballads and catchy pop songs he wrote paved the way for an international career. He sold more than 100 million albums worldwide.Toto Cutugno, an Italian singer and songwriter whose 1983 hit song “L’Italiano” became a worldwide sensation and was still hugely popular decades later, died on Tuesday in Milan. He was 80.His longtime manager, Danilo Mancuso, said the cause of Mr. Cutugno’s death, at San Raffaele Hospital, was cancer.In a career that began when he was in his late teens, Mr. Cutugno sold more than 100 million albums worldwide.“He was able to build melodies that remained stuck in the audience’s mind and heart,” Mr. Mancuso, who had worked with Mr. Cutugno for 20 years, said in a phone interview. “The refrains of his most popular songs are so melodic.”Mr. Cutugno’s career began with a stint, first as a drummer and then as a pianist, with Toto e i Tati, a small local band in Northern Italy. He soon branched out into songwriting.His talent for writing memorable songs earned him collaborations with famous French singers, like Joe Dassin, for whom he wrote “L’été Indien” and “Et si Tu N’Existais pas,” and Dalida, with whom he wrote the disco hit “Monday, Tuesday … Laissez-Moi Danser.” He also wrote songs for the French pop star Johnny Hallyday and for famed Italian singers like Domenico Modugno, Adriano Celentano, Gigliola Cinquetti and Ornella Vanoni. International stars like Celine Dion sang his songs as well.But Mr. Cutugno also found success singing his own compositions, first with Albatros, a disco band, which took third place at the Sanremo Festival of Italian Song in 1976. He then began a solo career and garnered his first national recognition in Italy in 1980, when he won the festival with “Solo Noi.”Mr. Cutugno in performance in Rome in 2002. “He was able to build melodies that remained stuck in the audience’s mind and heart,” his manager said.Fethi Belaid/Agence France-Presse — Getty ImagesHe returned to the festival three years later with “L’Italiano.” He finished in fifth place, but the song, a hymn to a country straining to rebuild after World War II — marked by symbols of Italy like espresso, the Fiat Seicento and a president who had fought as a partisan during the conflict — became tremendously popular. It is still one of Italy’s best-known songs, played on television and at street festivals across the country, as well as a nostalgic reminder of their homeland for expatriates elsewhere.The song’s success paved the way for an international career: Mr. Cutugno went on to tour over the years in the United States, Europe, Turkey and Russia.“Russia was his second homeland,” said Mr. Mancuso, his manager. “The only Western entertainment that Russian televisions broadcast at the time was the Sanremo song festival, and Toto was often on, and was appreciated.”He added that Mr. Cutugno’s nostalgic tunes were reminiscent of the musical styles of Eastern Europe, and especially Russia, which made them instantly familiar to those audiences.In 2019, Mr. Cutugno’s ties to Russia got him into trouble with some Ukrainian politicians, who wanted to stop him from performing in Kyiv, the nation’s capital. Mr. Cutugno denied that he supported Russia in its aggression against Ukraine and noted that he had rejected a booking in Crimea after Russia reclaimed it in 2014. He eventually did perform in Kyiv.In 1990, Mr. Cutugno won the Eurovision Song Contest. He was one of only three Italians to have done so — the others were Ms. Cinquetti in 1964 and the rock band Maneskin in 2021. His winning song, “Insieme: 1992” (“Together: 1992”), was a ballad dedicated to the European Union and its political integration. That same year, Ray Charles agreed to sing an English-language version of a song by Mr. Cutugno at the Sanremo festival; Mr. Cutugno called the collaboration “the greatest professional satisfaction” of his lifetime.Mr. Cutugno, who was known for his emotional guitar playing and for shaking his longish black hair when he sang, also had a stint as a television presenter in Italy.Toto Cutugno was born Salvatore Cutugno on July 7, 1943, in the small town of Tendola, near Fosdinovo, in the mountains of Italy’s northwest between the regions of Tuscany and Liguria. His father, Domenico Cutugno, was a Sicilian Navy marshal, and his mother, Olga Mariani, was a homemaker.He went to secondary school in the city of La Spezia, where he grew up, and took private music lessons that included piano and accordion.He is survived by his wife, Carla Cutugno; his son, Niko; and two younger siblings, Roberto and Rosanna Cutugno. More

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      Dead & Company Said Farewell, but the Scene Is Very Alive

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      Subscribe to Popcast!Apple Podcasts | Spotify | Stitcher | Amazon MusicIn mid-July, Dead & Company concluded what it had announced would be its final tour. The band, which includes members of the original Grateful Dead — Bob Weir, Mickey Hart and Bill Kreutzmann — along with Jeff Chimenti, Oteil Burbridge and John Mayer, was formed in 2015, becoming one of several offshoots of the Dead universe that took on its own life. But the band ended up generating tremendous interest from new audiences, too, becoming a bridge between Deadheads then and now.The long shadow of the Grateful Dead has hovered over improvised music for decades, and entire scenes have been built in the original band’s wake. In the last 10 years, however — thanks in part to the success of Dead & Company — those scenes are growing, thriving and mutating.On this week’s Popcast, a conversation about the long, strange trip the Grateful Dead kicked off, the overlaps of the Dead and Phish universes, and the younger generations who have found succor in the music and community that the band inspire.Guests:Scott Bernstein, editorial director at JamBaseMarc Tracy, New York Times culture reporterConnect 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. More

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      13 (Great) Songs With Parenthetical Titles

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      How Radiohead, Whitney Houston, Meat Loaf and others made a point with punctuation.Radiohead’s Thom Yorke: (Nice pic.)Mario Ruiz/EPA, via ShutterstockDear listeners,Today’s playlist is devoted to one of my absolute favorite musical conventions: the parenthetical song title.Why use parenthesis when naming a song? There are so many reasons. Sometimes it’s a rather brazen way to remind a listener of the song’s hook, in case the title itself was too obscure: “Single Ladies (Put a Ring on It),” “Doo Wop (That Thing),” “I’m Gonna Be (500 Miles).”But sometimes (and these are my favorite times) the motives are a bit more inscrutable. Does “Dude (Looks Like a Lady)” really need that parenthesis? Would we not know what the Quad City DJs are singing about without the clarification “C’Mon ’N Ride It (The Train)”? Are the Kinks making fun of this whole convention with “(A) Face in the Crowd”?Plus, when we’re saying these song titles aloud, are we supposed to pause between title and subtitle, or just say the whole thing like a run-on sentence? Will you know which song I’m talking about when I say “Movin’ Out” or must I specify, “(Anthony’s Song)”? The mind boggles.This playlist is here to help you through all that confusion, and to celebrate some of the best and most inventive uses of the parenthetical song title. It features some of the obvious ones, from the likes of Otis Redding, Aretha Franklin and Talking Heads, alongside a few of my lesser-known personal favorites from Charli XCX, Sonic Youth and more. I hope it provides at least one opportunity for you to (shake, shake, shake) shake your booty.Listen along on Spotify as you read.1. Whitney Houston: “I Wanna Dance with Somebody (Who Loves Me)”In the chorus of one of the most jubilant pop songs ever, Whitney Houston qualifies her initial demand — hey, I didn’t mean just anybody — and lays her heart on the line. Good on her for having high standards on the dance floor. (Listen on YouTube)2. R.E.M.: “It’s the End of the World As We Know It (And I Feel Fine)”Michael Stipe learns to stop worrying and love (or at least feel fine about) the bomb in this cheerily apocalyptic hit from R.E.M.’s 1987 album “Document.” There are already so many words in this song, the parentheses seem to shrug, what’s a few more in the title? (Listen on YouTube)3. My Chemical Romance: “I’m Not OK (I Promise)”Gerard Way is (really, really, really) not OK in this 2004 emo-pop anthem, which asks listeners to imagine a sonic alternate universe in which Freddie Mercury fronted the Misfits. Though the parenthetical promise doesn’t appear in the song’s lyrics, it appropriately kicks up the overall feeling of excess and garrulous melodrama. (Listen on YouTube)4. Charli XCX: “You (Ha Ha Ha)”This title is poetry to me. From “True Romance,” the 2013 album by one of my favorite “middle class” pop stars, “You (Ha Ha Ha)” is a beautifully scathing kiss-off — as if the very mention of this person’s existence were an inside joke not even worth explaining. Savage. (Listen on YouTube)5. Bob Dylan: “I Don’t Believe You (She Acts Like We Have Never Met)”When it comes to parenthetical titles — as with just about every other element of songwriting — Bob Dylan is an expert. “It’s Alright, Ma (I’m Only Bleeding)” is an all-timer; “One of Us Must Know (Sooner or Later)” is a classic; “Do Right to Me Baby (Do Unto Others)” is a clever co-mingling of the sacred and profane. But this one, from his 1964 album “Another Side of Bob Dylan,” is probably my favorite. I love the way the title switches from second to third person inside the parenthesis, as if he’s turning to the audience in the middle of a conversation and mouthing, “Can you believe her?!” It mimics a similar perspective shift in the song itself, when, in the penultimate verse, Dylan goes from singing about this woman to suddenly singing to her: “If you want me to, I can be just like you,” he sings, “and pretend that we never have touched.” (Listen on YouTube)6. Otis Redding: “(Sittin’ on) The Dock of the Bay”Recorded days before his untimely death, the parenthetical prefix of Otis Redding’s enduring swan song not only specifies what he’s doing on the dock of the bay, but it gives that titular setting a human character — eyes through which this languid bayside scene is witnessed. (Listen on YouTube)7. Talking Heads: “This Must Be the Place (Naïve Melody)”When the members of the recently (sort of?) reconciled Talking Heads recorded the instrumental tracks for their 1983 album “Speaking in Tongues,” they gave the demos unofficial titles. But even after David Byrne wrote lyrics to what would become the luminous “This Must Be the Place,” they wanted to honor the track’s original nickname, which expressed both its compositional simplicity and its childlike innocence. (Listen on YouTube)8. Janet Jackson: “Love Will Never Do (Without You)”I’m a big fan of parenthetical song titles that complete an internal rhyme — see also: Sylvester’s “You Make Me Feel (Mighty Real)” — and an even bigger fan of this ecstatic tune from Ms. Jackson’s 1989 opus “Rhythm Nation 1814.” That key change gets me every time! (Listen on YouTube)9. Radiohead: “(Nice Dream)”The members of Radiohead are such fans of parentheses that every single track on their 2003 album “Hail to the Thief” has a subtitle — which is honestly a bit much to keep track of. I prefer this early song from “The Bends,” which has its title entirely encased in parentheses, adding to the song’s liminal, somnambulant feel. (Listen on YouTube)10. Sonic Youth: “Brave Men Run (in My Family)”Off “Bad Moon Rising,” a strange and eerie early Sonic Youth album of which I am quite partial, this ferocious squall of a song finds Kim Gordon meditating on masculinity, turning it inside out with her sly wordplay, and bellowing each lyric with a warrior’s intensity. (Listen on YouTube)11. The Rolling Stones: “It’s Only Rock’n’Roll (But I Like It)”Perhaps the spiritual inverse of Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers’ later “Fooled Again (I Don’t Like It)”, this 1974 hit contains a truly shocking admission: The Rolling Stones … like rock ’n’ roll? I have to say, I didn’t see that one coming! (Listen on YouTube)12. Aretha Franklin: “(You Make Me Feel Like) a Natural Woman”Oh, I could have written an entire women’s studies paper on this one in college. The proper title “A Natural Woman” proposes that there’s such a thing as authentic and essential femininity, but the parenthetical totally upends that notion — the singer doesn’t need to be a natural woman to feel like one. No wonder it’s a drag classic! (Listen on YouTube)13. Meat Loaf: “I Would Do Anything for Love (But I Won’t Do That)”It’s the Alpha (and Omega) of parenthetical song titles. Thesis and antithesis. It prompts certainly the most profound mystery in all of rock opera, and perhaps in pop music writ large: What. Is. That? Meat Loaf claimed that the answer was hidden in the song itself, and in a 1998 episode of “VH1 Storytellers,” he pulled out a chalkboard and gave a grammar lesson proposing as much. (But I choose to believe the mystery … or maybe the explanation his character gave in “Spice World.”) (Listen on YouTube)Feelin’ pretty psyched,LindsayThe Amplifier PlaylistListen on Spotify. We update this playlist with each new newsletter.“13 (Great) Songs With Parenthetical Titles” track listTrack 1: Whitney Houston, “I Wanna Dance with Somebody (Who Loves Me)”Track 2: R.E.M., “It’s the End of the World as We Know It (And I Feel Fine)”Track 3: My Chemical Romance, “I’m Not OK (I Promise)”Track 4: Charli XCX, “You (Ha Ha Ha)”Track 5: Bob Dylan, “I Don’t Believe You (She Acts Like We Have Never Met)”Track 6: Otis Redding, “(Sittin’ on) The Dock of the Bay”Track 7: Talking Heads, “This Must Be the Place (Naïve Melody)”Track 8: Janet Jackson, “Love Will Never Do (Without You)”Track 9: Radiohead, “(Nice Dream)”Track 10: Sonic Youth, “Brave Men Run (in My Family)”Track 11: The Rolling Stones, “It’s Only Rock’n’Roll (But I Like It)”Track 12: Aretha Franklin, “(You Make Me Feel Like) A Natural Woman”Track 13: Meat Loaf, “I’d Do Anything for Love (But I Won’t Do That)”Bonus tracksOn Saturday night — one of the loveliest and most temperate New York evenings all summer — I witnessed something utterly enchanting in Prospect Park, as a part of the BRIC Celebrate Brooklyn! summer concert series: a free show headlined by the one and only John Cale. (Earlier this year, you may recall, I devoted an entire newsletter to Cale’s vast discography.) I’ve been trying ever since to recapture the magic of that night by listening to some of the songs he played: The serene “Hanky Panky Nohow,” the rollicking “Barracuda,” and, most haunting of all, his slow, mournful deconstruction of “Heartbreak Hotel.” More

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      Mark Linkous Died in 2010. His Final Album Is a Family Affair.

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      The last time Mark Linkous visited his younger brother, Matt, in Richmond, Va., he was excited about making albums again.By that point, in late 2008, two years had passed since Linkous’s band, Sparklehorse, released its fourth and final album for Capitol Records. “Dreamt for Light Years in the Belly of a Mountain,” a set of uncannily warped pop gems and warbled solitary hymns, had performed much like its predecessors: critically praised, commercially stillborn.Linkous, though, seemed at the edge of an independent resurrection. He had capped a batch of electronic abstractions with the Austrian experimentalist Christian Fennesz and was in the closing stages of a star-studded project alongside the producer Danger Mouse, where the likes of Iggy Pop and David Lynch would sing their songs. After an introduction from Tom Waits and Kathleen Brennan, he had signed a new deal with the musician-owned imprint Anti-. He had booked studio time with the no-nonsense recording engineer Steve Albini, long a hero.As the brothers sat around Matt’s cozy bungalow dissecting records like “The Kinks Are the Village Green Preservation Society” as they had done as teens, Linkous gushed ideas. “He wanted to get this big rhythm section and do these live recordings,” Matt, 56, said while sitting on his porch on a rainy weekday in late June, grinning even as his gray-blue eyes suddenly went glassy. “I was just cheering him on: ‘Man, do it.’”Late in 2009, Linkous arrived at Albini’s Electrical Audio in Chicago and cut the core of at least a half-dozen songs, the long-suffering perfectionist delighted by how fast and free of fuss it went. He took the results home and kept working in his rural North Carolina studio, Static King, recording new tunes and adding diaphanous textures. In late February 2010, he made plans to head to New York the next month to finish the record with Joel Hamilton, the engineer who had finessed his 2001 breakthrough, “It’s a Wonderful Life.”Linkous onstage in Nashville in 2009. A year later, he took his own life.Shawn Poynter for The New York TimesBut in early March, Linkous moved to Knoxville, Tenn., to live with his longtime bandmate Scott Minor. Linkous had struggled with addiction and depression for decades, exacerbated by a medication mishap in the ’90s that left him partially paralyzed. His marriage was splintering. Early on a Saturday afternoon, he walked into an alley and shot himself. He was 47.After Linkous’s death, everyone, including Matt, assumed the album that had recently lifted his spirits was lost inside the enormous archive he had accreted since he bought his first four-track in the ’80s. A musician from those Chicago sessions had even passed Anti- an instrumental version of the work in progress, a what-might-have-been whiff that suggested Linkous had never recorded vocals.He had. In fact, Linkous had completed much of the album, as Matt slowly discovered starting in 2017, near the end of a decade-long quest to retrieve and preserve his brother’s entire musical output. He’d named it, too, scrawling “Bird Machine” in a black notebook of lyrics and doodles that served as a skeleton key. “Here I was all these years later, finally hearing this stuff,” said Matt, a longtime musician himself. “It was just amazing — I can’t count how many times I said that.”For two years, Matt and his bandmate and wife, Melissa Moore Linkous, led a small team of Linkous’s closest collaborators through an arduous process of analyses, edits and additions to those tapes. In 2003, when Melissa was pregnant with their son, Spencer, she and Matt had served as Sparklehorse’s backing band during an arena tour with R.E.M. Now they asked themselves an impossible question: How would one of this century’s most idiosyncratic pop auteurs have perfected these songs had he survived? On Sept. 8, Anti- will finally release “Bird Machine,” the Sparklehorse swan song few believed existed.“What do you do with someone else’s art?” Matt said. “Music was so incredibly important to my brother. It saved him at times, and he meant every note. He did this stuff for people to hear. It needed to be out there.”A DESCENDANT OF the bluegrass royalty of the Stanley Brothers, Linkous always invested his songs with folk intimacy, no matter how strange the textures around them became. He wrote fragile and insular tunes, tentative transmissions from a mind where upheaval and despair always lurked beneath wonder.“Something Mark and I shared was that we needed to do this,” said Jason Lytle, the Grandaddy singer who was smitten by Sparklehorse in the late ’90s before befriending its leader. “I’m not the most expressive, going-to-therapy kind of guy, so I needed songs to get stuff out. Mark had a similar thing.”Making art, then, was essential; the conventions of the music industry were not. At one point, a steadfast Sparklehorse fable goes, a Capitol executive told Linkous a new song sounded like the hit. He slathered it in static. Linkous regularly sang into a plastic Silvertone microphone he had found in a junkyard in the late ’90s, giving his voice its trademark grain.“Our first conversation steered immediately toward the core of emotion behind the gesture in music,” Hamilton said. “It wasn’t an engineering conversation. When you drop all the pretense of a $10,000 microphone, there’s no pomp left. The point was what was being expressed, what was moving from him to you.”Linkous had told Albini he wanted to take the material home and continue in his peculiar way. Years earlier, Linkous had invested in a Flickinger recording desk, a finicky beast from the ’60s that Albini called “the best-sounding recording consoles ever built.” After years of fixes, it at least worked enough to use. Back home, Linkous routed his cheap microphones and curious textures through the console, bearing down on songs that suggested a more urgent, open Sparklehorse.“His method was charming,” Albini said via email. “While it borders on a psychological hurdle, when I’ve seen people realize ‘the sound,’ there’s nothing more gratifying.”These unconventional methods, however, made the discovery of “Bird Machine,” let alone its release, seem like a miracle.Linkous performing at the Bowery Ballroom in New York in 2001. His brother led the painstaking process of tracking down all of his work and helping assemble his final recordings into an album.Rahav Segev for The New York TimesAfter Matt was named the estate’s administrator in 2012, he began gathering every scrap of Sparklehorse sound he could find, songs scattered across nearly 30 years of microcassettes, two-inch tape reels, bulky hard drives. Melissa cataloged every artifact, copying whatever notes she found on labels or scraps of paper floating among the flotsam. “As I was documenting all this stuff, I was just with it — the grief, the work, Mark,” Melissa said during a series of video calls after that day on the porch.They passed each new batch to Bryan Hoffa, a family friend and Grammy-nominated archival audio engineer. He digitized everything, advancing through Linkous’s timeline. When Hoffa arrived at the Chicago sessions, it became clear how much work Linkous had done on his final songs. While trying to maximize storage on 24-track magnetic tape, he split songs into different chunks. They found the vocals in such recesses.Matt called Alan Weatherhead, a friend for nearly 25 years who had clocked more studio hours with Linkous than anyone else. “I really didn’t know what to expect based on what had been written — that it was totally done except the vocals, that it was unsalvageable,” Weatherhead said. And then Matt played “Hello Lord,” a wistful love song undercut by a sense of anxious dread for the future. “Hello Lord, how’s your children tonight?” Linkous sang, his falsetto cracking over acoustic strums.“It was so strange hearing music of Mark’s I hadn’t heard, so emotional hearing his voice again,” Weatherhead said. “I was in.”Early in 2021, Matt took a month off from his job leading a historic-home restoration company. Clad in masks because of the pandemic, he and Weatherhead met daily at Montrose Recording, the Richmond studio that had bought Linkous’s ornery Flickinger and then meticulously rebuilt it. Working until dawn neared, they pored over the tracks, considering what layers Linkous might have warped, lost or added as he wrapped “Bird Machine.”Weatherhead reinforced the crunchy guitars of the brief rock stomp “It Will Never Stop.” Melissa’s subtle violin traced the rests of “Evening Star Supercharger,” a fever dream about the inevitable sprawl of entropy and pain captured in classic pop. The notebook Melissa and Matt found served as an incomplete atlas, guiding their decisions as they finished. A page with Hamilton’s name, number and pay rates suggested Linkous wanted him to mix the album, which he did. The lyrics allowed them to sing along when they felt like Linkous would have wanted a harmony.They shipped two songs to Lytle to add his own diminutive croon, which had always seemed a fitting counterpart to Linkous’s. Lytle asked himself the same questions Matt and Melissa had been pondering for months.Linkous wrote fragile and insular tunes, tentative transmissions from a mind where upheaval and despair always lurked beneath wonder.Danny Clinch“I kept wondering what his head space was when he made these songs — ‘Did he like these songs? Is he into this? Would he even want me to sing on this?’” Lytle said, laughing. “How can you even attempt to assume the role of this super perfectionist, whose moods change like the weather?”ONE NIGHT EARLY in the process, Matt and Melissa gathered in their home studio, where several of Linkous’s guitars and amps still line the walls. Hoffa, the archivist, had sent new excavations from the recordings, and among the disembodied vocals and out-of-tune pianos they spotted a familiar voice — their son, Spencer. “Wake up. I love you. It’s daytime,” he said in a voice mail message he left his uncle when he was 5. “Hi, Uncle Mark. What are you doing? I miss you. I love you. Bye-bye.”The sound was shocking, as heartbreaking as it was heartwarming. Linkous had long sampled voice mail messages from loved ones, including the brothers’ mother, Gloria. Matt knew that Linkous had recorded Spencer, the godson he adoringly called “god boy.” But arriving at the end of “O Child,” a bittersweet and Beatles-quoting ballad about the way people can mistreat you, their kid’s voice was crushing.“It was so hard, knowing that Spencer doesn’t have his uncle. They were so sweet together,” Melissa said, tears streaming down her face. “Mark used to worry about what it would be like for Spencer, with all the troubles of the world. He wanted Spencer to be healthy and happy.”As the family worked to finish “Bird Machine,” Weatherhead suggested that Matt sing on a few songs, his voice slipping behind his brother’s because they sound so similar. After coming home from the studio late one night, Matt heard Spencer, now 19, singing and playing guitar. He had a better idea: His son should sing those parts. He sang on five of the album’s 14 tunes, sometimes joining his mother to support his lost uncle.“There is something about a blood harmony, like the Stanleys, and the connection of Mark and Spencer. It was powerful to hear all this stuff,” Matt said, pausing for a long time. “We just wanted to keep it close. We did.” More

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      Two 2003 LPs Changed Ben Gibbard’s Life. He’s Taking Both on Tour.

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      Being an indie-rock musician was largely its own reward from the 1980s to the turn of the 21st century. But as Ben Gibbard learned firsthand, in the early 2000s, things started to shift.Since the late 1990s, he had served as a lead singer and guitarist in Death Cab for Cutie, an indie-rock band known for its chiming guitar lines and wistful lyrics. A chance meeting with the electronic musician and producer Jimmy Tamborello led to a creative spark, and the two formed a group called the Postal Service, named after the nature of their analog partnership: Tamborello, who was living in Los Angeles, sent his airy instrumentals north to Seattle through the U.S. mail system, so Gibbard could add his vocals.The group expanded to include the singer Jenny Lewis, and when its only album, “Give Up,” was released in February 2003, its romantic tunes set to stuttering beats and bloopy synths became a sensation. It remains the second best-selling record in the history of the indie label Sub Pop — just behind Nirvana’s “Bleach” — and went platinum in 2012.In the fall of 2003, Death Cab put out “Transatlanticism,” a lush, sweeping record exploring the pleasures and pains of a long-distance relationship that was heralded as a creative high point. With buzz from “Give Up” still reverberating, Death Cab for Cutie landed a few key placements on the inescapable teen soap “The O.C.,” and a year later inked a deal with Atlantic Records.Gibbard, 47, will be celebrating both anniversaries on a two-month tour starting Sept. 5, where Death Cab for Cutie and the Postal Service will perform both albums in full. In a recent video call from his Seattle home, he discussed one of the most creatively fertile periods of his life, how it feels to become the guardian of a younger generation’s nostalgia and his role in indie rock’s early 2000s commercial renaissance. These are edited excerpts from the conversation.You first reunited the Postal Service in 2013 for a 10-year anniversary tour. Did you expect to be doing this again?No, I didn’t. We had done that tour primarily because by the time the Postal Service was done touring in 2004, we realized that the record had taken on a life of its own after we had all gone back to our other jobs. When we were coming up on the 20th anniversary of “Transatlanticism” and “Give Up,” it made sense that Death Cab would do something to mark the anniversary of what is our breakout record, and what has universally been determined to be our best record. After doing the math, I realized that Death Cab usually plays for two hours, and both of those albums are 40-something minutes. So while it would appear to be more work for me, the total number of songs would be fewer than a normal set.From left: Jenny Lewis, Gibbard and Jimmy Tamborello of the Postal Service onstage at Coachella in 2013. The band toured that year to celebrate its album’s 10th anniversary.Chad Batka for The New York TimesIn 2013, you said one of the motivations for reuniting the Postal Service was for you to take ownership of the band and its legacy.I’ve always had a complicated relationship with that record. When “Give Up” came out, it very quickly surpassed where Death Cab was, sales-wise. It became this ubiquitous cultural phenomenon. Everyone in Death Cab was supportive of me, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel some tension around the success of the Postal Service.I want to be very clear that I’m not trying to cry with two loaves of bread in my hand. It was humbling and moving to see the response to “Give Up.” At this point in my life, I’m of the opinion that if you’ve made one thing that has an impact on another human being, you’ve succeeded. And the 2013 tour allowed me to be in those songs again. Being in front of people who love that album closed a circle that I needed to close.Both “Give Up” and “Transatlanticism” sold over 500,000 copies, blowing the ceiling off expectations for an indie band. What did it feel like to be at the center of a transformation of the scene?To someone becoming a sentient music fan in the late ’80s and early ’90s, selling 50,000 copies was indie-rock gold and platinum. The dream in 1997 and 1998 was only to not have a job while on tour. In 2003, a lot of people of my generation found themselves in music supervision in TV, movies and commercials and could suddenly say, “I don’t want to use Paula Cole in this teen drama, let’s use Death Cab, or Bright Eyes, or Modest Mouse.”I think that was what started the drive of indie rock into the mainstream — or at least as close to the mainstream as it could get. People in decision-making positions wanted to use the music they loved, at a moment, in the late ’90s and early 2000s, when mainstream rock ’n’ roll was the worst it’s ever been. People who like classic rock, or were into the Cure or Depeche Mode, said, “You know what? There must be an alternative to Creed.” There was a thirst for a change, and as the internet started disseminating pop culture, suddenly there was an avenue to find out about it.So I was pleased that the music we were making was reaching a larger audience. But I was also a 28-year-old who wasn’t used to the attention that comes from both adoration and scorn. I’m not going to say it was an incredibly difficult time in my life, but it’s only now, 20 years later, that I’m able to have a real appreciation for what these records accomplished and what a unique situation we found ourselves in.You often talk about how making “Give Up” was loose and enjoyable. What about the Postal Service stopped feeling so easy?I felt very self-conscious. I was already dealing with the weight of expectations on “Transatlanticism.” My ability to write both of those albums concurrently was predicated by a year-ish long break Death Cab took from touring. We had almost broken up, and we had a meeting where we decided to take some time away. During that break, there wasn’t nearly the same sense of expectation to the songs I was writing. Yes, there were fans of Death Cab who I’m sure were anticipating a new record, but in 2001 and 2002, the band still felt very small. But by the time that “Give Up” was out and had gone gold, and we’re touring “Transatlanticism” with Pearl Jam — we literally signed with Atlantic Records backstage at a Pearl Jam show — I was feeling a ton of pressure from my main gig.Eventually Jimmy and I had a conversation where we were like, “Hey, this isn’t happening, is it?” He was the perfect partner. Jimmy is the most easygoing dude in the world. If I had made “Give Up” with someone who was a little more success-oriented, or career-oriented, it would’ve gone very poorly.Gibbard, right, onstage with Death Cab for Cutie in 2004. ”There was a thirst for a change, and as the internet started disseminating pop culture, suddenly there was an avenue to find out about it,” Gibbard said of the band’s rising profile in that era.Karl Walter/Getty ImagesWithout radio or MTV, how did you become aware that you had an indie hit in 2003?With Death Cab it was more cut and dry. For a long time, and with good reason, there was no mention of Death Cab without “The O.C.” That was our MTV, that was our radio, and that made more sense to me. It made sense that as we were being beamed into people’s homes on network television, our band’s profile would grow. And so, you’d just walk into places and hear the record. You’d hear it in coffee shops, or coming out of people’s cars. I could feel it jumping outside the insular circles of indie rock. But we weren’t famous. We weren’t pop stars.I think a lot of people know some of the music I made, but they don’t know anything about the band, or who’s in it or what I look like. That’s been an absolute godsend; to have the success that we’ve had, without the visibility.The Postal Service process got a lot of attention: Jimmy would send you instrumentals on burned CDs through the mail, and you’d add vocals.In 2001 and 2002, I’m sure people were figuring out how to send files back and forth. We just weren’t technologically advanced enough to have that knowledge. We were both definitely aware of the novelty of it. I’d get an email from Jimmy being like, “Hey, I put a CD in the mail, it’ll be there in a couple of days.” So I’d get a sense of anticipation, waiting for it to show up to my house. I’d get it, put it in my CD player, and walk around coming up with ideas. I don’t necessarily think the anticipation directly correlated to the creative process, but everyone I knew was tickled by the idea of it.Going on an anniversary tour is engaging pretty plainly with the culture of nostalgia.One of the most important things for bands and artists who span decades is that you continue to try to make new things, and find new creative ways to express yourself musically, while also having self-awareness for why people are here to see you. To honor your own past.I’m first and foremost a fan of music, and it’s frustrating to see a band you love — that was formative for you — only for them to say, “Yeah, we’re playing a new album and four old songs.” I’ve always tried to serve that balance. It is most likely that the records that will be on my tombstone have already been made, but I’m also dedicated to making new things that can stand alongside the things that people love. I want our new music to remind people why they love our music. A lot of our music has marked time in people’s lives. It’s not because we’re so amazing, it’s because we make music. And music marks time. More

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      Feminist Stories Are Being Set to a Pop Beat. But Are They Empowering?

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      Our critics debate how well shows like “Six,” “& Juliet” and “Once Upon a One More Time” engage with the inner worlds of women onstage.During the first act of “Once Upon a One More Time,” the Broadway jukebox musical that grooves to the Britney Spears oeuvre, a fairy godmother arrives with a present for Cinderella. A gown? No. Glass slippers? No. Cin has enough already. Instead, her godmother gifts her a copy of Betty Friedan’s 1963 best seller, “The Feminine Mystique.”It’s a clumsy gesture in the show, which plans to close next month. (Feminist thought has advanced in 60 years!) And arguably emblematic of a recent spate of Broadway musicals that set feminism to a pop beat, including “Six,” a zippy modern retelling of the lives of Henry VIII’s six wives; “& Juliet,” whose protagonist, miraculously alive, embarks on a girls’ trip of self-discovery; and “Bad Cinderella” (now closed), a chaotic rejiggering of the classic fairy tale. Aimed at girls and women (historically the majority of Broadway ticket buyers), these shows may be sincere attempts to engage with women’s issues — or they’re hollow efforts to capitalize on calls for change. Empty political gestures on Broadway? To quote a song used in two of these shows: “Oops! … I did it again.”On a recent morning, Laura Collins-Hughes, contributing theater critic and reporter; Salamishah Tillet, critic at large; and Lindsay Zoladz, pop music critic, gathered to debate facts and fairy tales. They discussed how narrowly these shows define empowerment, if they define it at all, and why Prince Charming gets the best song. These are edited excerpts from the conversation.The recent musicals “Six,” “& Juliet,” “Bad Cinderella” and “Once Upon a One More Time” take female empowerment as their central theme. Are these shows actually empowering or legibly feminist?LAURA COLLINS-HUGHES I wouldn’t say any of them are feminist.SALAMISHAH TILLET Some are empowering, others are not. “Six” is partly feminist, because it shows the impact of King Henry VIII’s misogyny. With the exception of Anne Boleyn, most of his wives have been relegated to the margins. My 11-year-old daughter really loved that these women finally reclaimed their stories and did it with style! But I felt like I was at a fun pop concert rather than at a big Broadway musical.COLLINS-HUGHES “Six” drives me completely up the wall. It wants to have a good time in the neighborhood of spousal murder and abandonment, singing “I don’t need your love.” As if Henry’s love had anything to do with it. As if abuse is what a man’s love for a woman looks like.Lauren Zakrin, second from left, as Little Mermaid gets her voice back upon reading “The Feminine Mystique” in “Once Upon a One More Time.” Sara Krulwich/The New York TimesLINDSAY ZOLADZ I like “Six,” but probably for the reason Salamishah doesn’t — it’s basically a pop concert. I do think the overarching problem with these musicals is the way they fail to define terms, presenting “empowerment” and “feminism” as given, unexamined virtues. Instead of the marriage proposal that supposedly leads to the happily ever after, it’s … empowerment ever after? “Once Upon a One More Time” provided the clearest distillation of the trend. Cinderella’s “feminist awakening” is spurred by her fairy godmother giving her “The Feminine Mystique.” Seriously. The book is treated like a magical talisman throughout the rest of the show, but its actual content is never engaged with. That seems beyond the show’s grasp. Though the book is on sale for $20 in the lobby gift shop.TILLET I gasped when she discovered the book.ZOLADZ Not in a good way, I’m guessing.Doesn’t Cinderella know that women’s studies syllabuses have moved on?TILLET Or that Friedan was heavily criticized for her bourgeois feminism back in the day? Is it weird that we are still locating the beginnings of feminism exclusively in the sexual liberation of straight, white, middle-class, stay-at-home 1950s wives? But that’s an ongoing problem, not just on Broadway.Why do you think we’re seeing these shows now? Is it a cynical attempt to appeal to female ticket buyers or something more organic?TILLET These shows, despite their best intentions, seem limited by their source material. There was a lot of Cinderella this year! The publicity appeal of anything Cinderella is obvious, so for Broadway theaters struggling to get audiences back into the theater, of course it is a ploy.From left: Justin David Sullivan, Melanie La Barrie, Lorna Courtney and Betsy Wolfe in “& Juliet.” With its thoughtful casting of a Black Juliet and the nonbinary character May, the show enables us to see Shakespeare differently, one critic said.Sara Krulwich/The New York TimesCOLLINS-HUGHES “Bad Cinderella” could have been so much more than it was. It is a messy show, it’s always been a messy show, but in London it was actually fun. It had a bit of substance to it. And magic. The feminism, which was so clear and so dramatically propulsive in the London version, was wiped away for Broadway.I took my daughter to “Bad Cinderella” and afterward we had a conversation about the show’s messaging, which was confused at best. Is it asking too much of a musical to also have great messages?COLLINS-HUGHES This question makes me think we all live in fear of that riposte that often greets girls and women who won’t laugh along at a joke that’s not funny: “Where’s your sense of humor?” It’s perfectly legitimate to recoil from a show whose message bugs you, and all the more if it’s at odds with its girl-power, you-be-you marketing.And yet if a show is successful enough in other ways, the messaging may not matter. That was my delighted experience of “& Juliet.”TILLET This was definitely my favorite pop feminist musical of the year. I was genuinely intrigued by the conceit of what happens if Juliet doesn’t die. What life does she make for herself beyond the formula prescribed for her? The musical opens up possibilities for her as a protagonist. And with its thoughtful casting of Lorna Courtney as a Black Juliet and Justin David Sullivan as the nonbinary character, May, it enables us to see Shakespeare differently, too.COLLINS-HUGHES When it has a top-notch cast, “& Juliet” is a blast. But I am baffled that people perceive it as feminist. It really is not.ZOLADZ Say more!COLLINS-HUGHES I don’t mean that it’s anti-feminist, but I don’t think it’s particularly female-centered — not on Juliet, nor on Anne Hathaway [Shakespeare’s wife], who gets one of the subplots.“Bad Cinderella,” starring Linedy Genao, had a brief run this spring. “The feminism, which was so clear and so dramatically propulsive in the London version, was wiped away for Broadway,” one critic said.Sara Krulwich/The New York TimesWith the exception of “Six,” these shows are largely created by men. Does that explain anything?COLLINS-HUGHES Of course. It’s not that men can’t and don’t write women well or can’t imagine women’s lives. And it’s certainly not that artists should stick to writing only about people just like them. But they are writing from the outside. That can come with a lot of blind spots and a lot of misapprehensions.All of these musicals use a pop vernacular, “Bad Cinderella” somewhat less so. Is pop, particularly pop written and produced by men, a useful form for feminist discourse?ZOLADZ Something I’ve been thinking about regarding “Once Upon a One More Time” and especially “& Juliet,” which uses the songs of the massive millennial hitmaker Max Martin, is the lyrical limitation of a lot of modern pop music. Martin and the generation of pop architects who followed him treat lyrics almost as an afterthought. Martin has referred to his method of songwriting as “melodic math.” “& Juliet” was fun and more cleverly written than “Once Upon a One More Time,” but a lot of that had to do with the ironic distance between the lyrics themselves and the winking, metatextual way the characters employed them — like when “I Want It That Way,” by the Backstreet Boys, becomes not so much a love song as a narration of an argument between Shakespeare and his wife, who have conflicting opinions about how his latest play should end.TILLET I hated a lot of those pop songs and found them anti-feminist when they originally came out, but when I sang along with the “& Juliet” audience and my tween daughter, I found that they aged better than I had expected. Or maybe, because I’m now middle-age, I’m mistaking nostalgia for progress.COLLINS-HUGHES Inattention to lyrics is a limitation of jukebox musicals, but it doesn’t hold for original pop songs, which can be whatever the writer makes them. It would help, though, if more of the songwriters getting musicals produced were women.ZOLADZ I generally pay more attention to pop music than Broadway musicals, so I found the sound of these shows to be quite striking. Modern pop’s influence is everywhere, especially in a show like “Six,” which is full of electronic beats, hip-hop cadences and direct nods to artists like Beyoncé and Ariana Grande. Is that a trend you have observed over time? And given that this is such a golden age for female pop stars, do you think that crossover appeal has something to do with the rise of these empowerment musicals?COLLINS-HUGHES Musically, “Hamilton” changed Broadway, but it is very much a guy story. Having proved the hunger for modern pop musicals, it left a lot of room for female artists to fill.Do these shows do that filling?COLLINS-HUGHES Musically? Sometimes. But in terms of storytelling, generally no. There are such blinders on imagination, and there’s such an aversion to nuance. It’s a question of whom you’re trying to please. The perception of risk is about displeasing men, not the women and girls who might want to see smart, muscular new musicals.Megan Hilty, left, and Shoshana Bean in “Wicked,” which is partly about a girl learning to harness the power of her outrage to fight against injustice in the world.Sara Krulwich/The New York TimesDoes the success of the Barbie movie, directed and co-written by a woman, with its several song and dance numbers, point a way forward?COLLINS-HUGHES Absolutely, if the idea is to give the best numbers to the guys.ZOLADZ And the charisma! That’s what ultimately sank “Once Upon a One More Time” for me: Cinderella was often the least compelling character onstage. Juliet didn’t fare much better. I don’t know if blandly “empowered” female characters are the answer. Too often it just feels like a shortcut. Writing flawed, idiosyncratic and more interesting female characters seems like a worthier goal, but most of these shows don’t want to take the risk.TILLET If song choice in a musical is any indication of narrative priorities, “Once Upon a One More Time” had difficulty sustaining its attention on Cinderella and her awakening. Prince Charming got “Oops! … I Did It Again” and her stepmother had “Toxic.” When I watched “Barbie,” I realized how seductive patriarchy is onscreen or onstage, even when we say we are trying to smash it. Why do the Kens get that massive and amazing dance scene?COLLINS-HUGHES A story about or aimed at women is so seldom deemed interesting enough on its own. But Hollywood, like commercial theater, is often in the business of blandification. And who’s blander than Ken? I’d like to think audiences want more than that.These recent shows define empowerment narrowly, restricting it to questions of romantic and sexual relationships with men rather than any broader political awakenings. Why can’t these stories dream bigger or attempt something more intersectional?TILLET I do think a lot of these producers feel that they are being intersectional, simply through casting. But while I appreciate so much more diversity onstage, it is still not enough. The musicals would really have to try to dismantle various forms of oppression at once. That takes nuance, patience and a really radical imagination. An older musical, “The Color Purple,” was successful at this, which brings us back to the strength of the source material, Alice Walker’s novel, and then a sizable female team behind its Broadway staging. It is an understatement to say that the evolution of Celie, who endured such abuse and trauma, is far more compelling than Cinderella’s!ZOLADZ What I find missing from a lot of contemporary art about female empowerment is the way it focuses on the attainment of power and then stops there. What about stories about how easily power can corrupt those who have it? Yes, even women!COLLINS-HUGHES This is a thing that “Wicked” imagines. And two decades on, it’s still packing houses and making loads of money. That show is partly about a girl learning to harness the power of her outrage to fight against injustice in the world.TILLET I’ve seen “Wicked” twice recently. The depth of the storytelling — when the villain and heroine aren’t what they seem — it is just so good. Is it feminist? Maybe. Does it reveal the power and heartbreak of female friendship as the ultimate love story? Very much so. For that alone, it provides a wonderful model for how to really revel in the inner worlds of women onstage. More