Part of the deposition that Katy Perry was reportedly fighting to keep sealed was unsealed Monday, and shows Perry telling her attorney that she was not raped by producer Lukasz “Dr. Luke” Gottwald.
The documents obtained by Jezebel include a conversation between Perry and her attorney in which she refutes the rumor that she was raped by Dr. Luke, who worked with her on her albums One of the Boys, Teenage Dream, and Prism:
“Did Dr. Luke ever rape you?” an attorney asked.
“No,” Perry replied.
“Did Dr. Luke ever sexually assault you?”
“Did he ever give you a roofie?”
“Did you have a sexual relationship with Dr. Luke at all?”
“A romantic relationship?”
The rumor stems back to a text exchange between Lady Gaga and Kesha, in which Kesha reportedly told Lady Gaga that Dr. Luke had raped Perry. Since then, Perry has been trying to keep her deposition sealed, with her attorney writing in court papers obtained by Page Six that the unsealed testimony could cause “significant harm” to her “career and reputation.”
Previously, Kesha’s legal team told press that the CEO of a major label told her and Gaga at the same time that Perry had been raped by Dr. Luke, which is confirmed in Lady Gaga’s deposition to be Interscope CEO John Janick.
“Did Mr. Janick say in your presence and Ms. Sebert’s presence that my client, Mr. Gottwald, raped Katy Perry?”
“He said he had heard a rumor.”
“Janick said he heard a rumor?”
“In the presence of both of you?”
“Yes, and I don’t know that he used the word “rumor.” I don’t recall exactly the way he said it. I just recall that it was brought up.”
“Okay. By him?”
Gaga further says that Janick was in conversation with the two of them to be supportive and potentially bring Kesha over to Interscope. “I had a conversation with him and her about what we can do to speak with Sony about potentially maybe bringing her over to Interscope, and that I would look after her,” she says.
Kesha, as well, in her unsealed deposition is repeatedly upset that Dr. Luke’s legal team made her text messages with Gaga public, as she didn’t want to out a potential rape victim this way.“I feel upset that the private text messages about this is being made public. I’m upset about that,” Kesha says at one point. “I’m upset that a rape victim would be outed like this.” (At this point, Perry’s deposition in which she denies being raped by Dr. Luke was not public.) And at one point, after Dr. Luke’s lawyer Christine Lepera is accused of yelling at Kesha during a heated exchange, Kesha says:
Your legal team and Dr. Luke have taken my private text messages that have been the only conversation about Katy Perry getting raped by Dr. Luke and made it public. This was a private conversation that you and your side and your team have made public. I would have never in a million years, in a million years made the fact that she got raped, if she got raped, public. Ever.
On the same day the deposition was unsealed, Dr. Luke’s press representation sent out a lengthy press release alleging that Kesha filed a “bogus complaint” against him, along with emails in which Kesha’s managers Jack Rovner and Ken Levitan, discussed a “jihad” against Dr. Luke. Included is also a 2014 Sunshine and Sachs press plan, obtained in its entirety as well by Variety, which lays out how the publicity company would handle press for the lawsuit.
In my opinion, that Kesha would take specific steps to help broadcast her lawsuit doesn’t necessarily reveal anything nefarious about her intentions. Dr. Luke has always had considerably more power her than her in this industry (as evidenced by the fact that he still has a job and still works with A-list talent) and in order to raise a complaint against him, I’d argue that Kesha needed all hands on deck. This was nearly four years before #MeToo, when allegations of harassment and sexual misconduct against famous men were covered widely and yet those men saw little to no repercussions, and getting the public on your side as a famous victim of sexual assault was a different battle.
“Contrary to Dr. Luke’s Legal Team’s assertion that today’s evidentiary record reveals something Kesha doesn’t want the public to see, Kesha has consistently requested that the evidence in the case be unsealed, while Dr. Luke has fought vigorously to keep the evidence from seeing the light of day,” Kesha’s legal team wrote to Pitchfork in response to Luke’s allegations. “Kesha looks forward to defeating Dr. Luke’s meritless $40+ million damage claims at summary judgment or trial.”
Avicii‘s parents have launched a new digital memorial to the late DJ and have asked fans to share their memories of him.
The EDM star, whose real name was Tim Bergling, died by apparent suicide on April 20 after his body was found in a hotel room in Oman. He was 28 years old.
The Bergling family have now turned his website, avicii.com, into a digital memorial where fans can share their stories of what Avicii meant to them.
“Tim created music that brought people together with timeless memories from all over the world,” the website reads. “We created this space so you could share your memories with us and let the world know what Avicii meant to you. His music and your memories are forever.”
Avicii’s father, Klas, thanked fans for their “amazing tributes” earlier this month after he accepted a posthumous award on his son’s behalf. The DJ was honoured at the Swedish Rockbjörnen ceremony in Stockholm on August 15, where his song ‘Without You’ won the fan-voted award for Song Of The Year.
This new Netflix smash hit isn’t just addressed to Lara Jean’s high school crushes; it’s also a love letter to her late mum.
At a first glance, To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before – the new Netflix film that everyone is talking about right now – appears to be about the giddy embarrassment of first crushes. A coming-of-age flick cut from a similar cloth to all of the best teen movies, it takes apart the ways in which we sugar-coat the objects of our infatuations, as five old, embarrassingly-smitten love letters find their way into the outside world against their author’s will in the present day. It’s also a film about growing up. Over the course of the movie, Lara Jean Covey learns to express her true feelings, and finds her own assured place in the world. Starting out as an introverted character who eats lunch alone in the library, she’s quietly confident by the end.
The importance of To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before as a romantic comedy which stars an Asian-American lead character has been widely spoken about already, and quite rightly. In the film, the script knowingly drops a reference to John Hughes, the iconoclastic director behind The Breakfast Club, Pretty in Pink, and other staples of the ’80s high school movie genre. As well as paying homage to the classic teen flicks, TATBILB also manages to reappraise the ’80s films and their dodgy handling of racial representation at the same time as acknowledging their huge influence. “I’m sorry, but isn’t this character, Long… Dong… Duk, like, kinda racist?” asks Peter Kavinsky while they’re watching Hughes’ classic Sixteen Candles.
Peter, Lara Jean and Kitty watch ‘Sixteen Candles’
The people who help to raise you, those who become your family one way or another, are the same people who help to shape you as a person; that’s one reason why the presence of Lara Jean’s Korean culture is so vital to the film. To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before is also interested in the idea of upbringing as a whole, and in the opening sequence, it’s less a typical romantic comedy. Initially, we see Lara Jean’s father trying to create a love letter on a plate, addressed to his late wife and his kids.
In the opening minutes of the film, Lara Jean’s father struggles to cook the same Korean recipes that her late mother use to make on the regular. “I hate it when dad makes Korean food, it always tastes like butt,” complains her youngest sister Kitty. “I was still eating smushed peas when mum died.” As well as carefully handling the ways in which we borrow traditions from one another to connect, it’s a touching moment that perfectly encapsulates the difficult-to-navigate thorniness that is mourning for a lost parent.
Again and again this is a film concerned with revisiting loves from the past – usually romantic ones. When Lara Jean wrote her love letters, she was writing them to idealised, half-fictional versions to the real people they were addressed to. However, To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before is also addressed to Lara Jean’s mother, one of the biggest and most influential figures from her life.
For anybody who has ever lost a parent, the clumsy exchanges that pepper To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before will be all too familiar. In one such scene, when Lara Jean goes for dinner with Peter Kavinsky’s mum, she navigates a conversation about her family as the entire room freezes and turns the hue of a very ruddy looking beetroot. “Your mum must love having girls,” Peter’s mum says brightly as her son sideeyes her angrily. The ensuing slow-blink after she’s reminded that Lara Jean’s mother has died, followed by the immediate embarrassed apology, rings true to life.. After I lost my mum in my mid-20s, I felt like I had been signed up to a bleakly-named fictional society called the Dead Parents Club against my will. When you’re in this unlucky club, chatting with new acquaintances about the subject of family suddenly feels like treading on hundreds and thousands of very apologetic eggshells, with the usual scripts of small talk taken away. Nobody in life, it seems, really knows how to talk about death without being sorry.
“Actually, she did love having girls,” Lara Jean replies after an uncomfortable silence. You can see relief wash over Peter’s mum’s entire face. After dinner, when Peter apologises for a second time – honestly, when you’ve lost a parent people apologise to you, a hell of a lot – Lara Jean articulates complicated feelings that usually don’t find a place in lighthearted rom-coms. Telling Peter about the sudden flashes of guilt she experiences while washing up or doing her homework, she adds “honestly, it’s nice talking about her like it’s normal, like it’s not some tragedy”. It’s one of the key moments of the film that glues the initially unlikely pair together.
To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before frequently nails these difficult interactions with pinpoint accuracy; in a number of scenes Peter draws clunky but well meaning comparisons between the death of Lara Jean’s mum, and his dad leaving to start another family. “It’s hard, huh?” she agrees with him. Where romantic comedies can stick so rigidly to safe and soppy territory – think of Bridget Jones-type catchphrases like “I like you, very much. Just as you are” – To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before doesn’t shy away from exploring the ways in which people attempt to relate to each other’s alien situations, despite all of the barriers, when they’re falling in love. The film also explores different close relationships, too; as Lara Jean opens up to her dad about her massive dilemma (and lets be fair, having five cringeworthy love letters leaked into the outside world is a fairly large one) they end up discussing her mum instead. He comments that Lara Jean seems to have found happiness with Peter. “Seeing you come alive like that, you remind me of her,” he tells his daughter. In the diner, the pair of them put her mother’s favourite song, ‘Everybody Wants To Rule The World’, by Tears for Fears, on the jukebox. “There’s so much about her I should’ve told you girls, but I haven’t because just talking about her makes me sad. It’s not ok.”
It’s honestly refreshing to discover a rom-com that delves into permanent loss; the sad and darker consequence of love that we rarely speak about. “The more people that you let into your life, the more people there are that can just walk right out,” Lara Jean tells Peter, speaking about her letters, but also her mother. Over the film, as she gradually opens up, we also see her begin to heal.
As the US Open kicked off Monday night (Aug. 27) at Arthur Ashe Stadium in Flushing, N.Y., Kelly Clarkson was on hand to deliver a rocking opening ceremony performance — and it may just be her ticket to the 2019 Super Bowl.
Clarkson was only on stage for about 10 minutes, but delivered six of her biggest hits, including «Since You Been Gone,» «Miss Independent» and «Stronger (What Doesn’t Kill You).» Though the tennis stadium wasn’t the best for concert audio, Clarkson’s voice carried far and wide, with the singer also utilizing practically every inch of the court for her short but stunning performance. And now, fans are calling for her production to be brought to Atlanta for Super Bowl LIII next year.
«I feel like @kelly_clarkson just submitted her audition for the Super Bowl,» one fan tweeted. Another added, «@kelly_clarkson is a fucking legend and the people deserve her for the Super Bowl halftime show 2019. LET IT BE KNOWN.»
That seemed to be the general consensus across Twitter following Clarkson’s US Open performance, with some even taking action to get the attention of halftime show organizers using retweet petitions and tagging the NFL.
Clarkson hasn’t addressed the Super Bowl campaigning yet, probably because she’s still buzzing from being in the same place as tennis’ queen: «I love opening for Serena Williams,» she joked after her performance.
Check out some of the Kelly Clarkson Super Bowl wishes and a clip of her performance below.
Patrick Dempsey vuelve a la pequeña pantalla. Sí, el guapísimo doctor Derek Shepherd de Anatomía de Grey, regresa a la televisión, ahora interpretando a un escritor acusado de asesinato. El actor americano es el protagonista de la próxima serie de Movistar Series que va a arrasar: La verdad sobre el caso Harry Quebert.Estamos ante una producción basado en el best-seller homónimo de Joël Dicker, con más de dos millones de copias vendidas en todo el mundo y traducida a más de 25 idiomas. Una mini-serie formada por 10 capítulos que apunta a ser uno de los éxitos de la nueva temporada de series.
Este thriller psicológico, presentado en el pasado Festival de series de Cannes, recrea la historia de Harry Quebert, un famoso escritor vinculado a la desaparición de una chica de 15 años en un pequeño pueblo de la costa de Maine.
Allí llega Marcus Goldman (Ben Schnetzer) para hacer una visita a Quebert con la idea de que lo ayude a encontrar una solución a su crisis creativa ante las presiones impuestas por la editorial. Los planes de Marcus se ven pospuestos cuando Harry es acusado públicamente del asesinato de Nola Kellergan, una joven de 15 años desaparecida hace más de treinta años y que aparece en el jardín de su casa. Goldman decide indagar en los hechos con el fin de ayudar a esclarecer la verdad y, quizá también, encontrar la inspiración definitiva para su nueva novela.
Una serie dirigida por Jean-Jacques Annaud (Siete años en el Tibet, El nombre de la rosa), ganador de un Oscar por la película La victoria en Chantant, en lo que supone su primer trabajo para televisión como director. Completan el reparto Damon Wayans Jr. que interpreta al sargento Perry y Virginia Madsen que es la propietaria de un restaurante y conoce un secreto sobre Quebert.
La fecha de estreno no está cerrada, sí está pensada para finales de octubre, como en Estados Unidos, pero según Movistar Series aún no hay fecha de confirmación.
It’s here! Earlier this week Jessie Reyez announced a remix of her single “Body Count” featuring Normani and Kehlani. Produced by The Rascals and Babyface, the original track is a sex-positive anthem. Based on the cover, which features sassy, animated versions of the hitmakers in front of a pink background, it seemed like the new take would be equally fierce. With one listen, it is clear that it exceeds any expectations. The bop arrived today (August 24) and offers a serious moment of girl power as the ladies drop some self-assured lines. “Funny how you think I need you, but honestly I don’t need anything,” Normani declares over the buoyant production.
And that’s just the start of her epic verse. “You were birthed by a woman, show some fucking respect. I like you much better when you shut up and get down, down on your knees.” Kehlani’s contribution is equally amazing. “I dodge dick for some pussy, something that we can agree on,” the queer siren coos. “Don’t tell me it’s a turn on for you, or maybe it bothers you that you’re the only one out the equation.” The chorus centers the production while highlighting Jessie’s distinct voice. “We don’t care what they say. We gon’ love who we wanna love,” the 28-year-old breakout star announces.
The “Body Count” remix has all the makings for a hit including a star-studded lineup. Kehlani seems to have the golden touch. She has lent her voice to a bevy of anthems including KYLE’s “Playinwitme,” which dominated Spotify this summer. Things are going even better for Normani right now. The Fifth Harmony alum kickstarted her solo career with a solid hit after linking up with Khalid on “Love Lies.” The slinky single landed on the Love, Simon soundtrack and has steadily climbed the Billboard Hot 100. This week it hit the number 11 spot and went top three on Pop Radio.
Featuring an empowering message and an endearingly quirky production, their collaboration could experience just as much success. Hopefully the trio have plans to promote the track. A performance or two would be ideal, but I am even more excited about the possibility of an official video. The Canadian up-and-comer’s visual for the original is fresh and creative, and I would love to see another spin on it. As an added bonus, it also offers a taste of what to expect on Jessie’s forthcoming Being Human In Public EP. Give it a spin below!
Recently, the LA Times asked me to name the first time I saw myself represented onscreen. The answer I gave the interviewer was long and winding and delved into the many different ways I have and haven’t seen myself at the movies – demographically, relationally, emotionally.
By the time it got to print, though, it had been pared down to nine words: «I don’t know that I’ve ever had the experience.» Fair enough.
But that’s changing now, at least in theory. After decades of little to no Asian representation in American pop culture, we find ourselves now in a veritable boom. The Meg, To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before, and Searching are all out this month; Bao and Kim’s Convenience hit last month; Killing Eve is up for Emmys next month; and Fresh Off the Boat is back the month after that. The crown jewel in this treasure trove, of course, is Crazy Rich Asians, billed as the first major studio movie to feature an all-Asian cast with Asian-American leads since The Joy Luck Club25 years ago. That statistic says it all: We have literally never had it this good.
So do I feel represented now? Well, it’s complicated. To be clear: Yes, I see more details of my life reflected in movies than ever before, and yes, that makes me happy. I experienced a thrill of recognition when I noticed that Searching‘s protagonist had listed his mom in Korean in his FaceTime contacts. I nearly yelped in delight when Kitty popped open a bottle of Yakult in To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before – and immediately messaged a fellow Korean-American critic so we could squeal about it together. Still, that doesn’t necessarily mean I feel some deep spiritual connection to most of these characters, storylines, and scenarios.
Which brings us to Crazy Rich Asians. Much has been made of the impossible burden borne by this movie. It’s such a rarity that it’s not enough for it to be merely good and successful. It needs to be so good and successful that it single-handedly justifies the existence of every single Asian-American movie that might come after it. It’s not fair, but, as explained in interview after interview and article after article, them’s the breaks.
There’s a corresponding burden, though, on the Asian-American audience. Actually, no – let me be clear. I don’t want to speak for other Asian-American moviegoers or critics. I am talking here specifically about myself, and the immense pressure I felt within myself to go beyond simply loving this film, and into feeling seen by this film.
Whenever a film like Ghostbusters or Black Panther comes out – that is to say, a movie that’s not just about another straight white guy – I hear grumbling from well-meaning critics, mostly white and male, worried that they must like these movies lest they be branded as bigots. I’m sympathetic, to a point. But I guarantee it’s nothing compared to the dizziness I felt in anticipation of Crazy Rich Asians, a movie positioned as my one chance to prove I, and people like me, deserve a place at the table.
I wanted desperately to love Crazy Rich Asians because I wanted to be able to hold it up as proof that diversity can spark creativity. I was (and still am) eager to add to its coffers so I could put my money where my mouth is when I say non-white faces can move tickets. And above all, I needed to feel incredibly moved by it so that I could tell people how much it meant to see someone like me onscreen.
I accept this challenge because I’d rather rise to it than spend a lifetime straining to hear echoes of my experiences in the voices of white people. But a part of me resents it, too.
For the average American moviegoer (that is to say, a white moviegoer), Crazy Rich Asians is a featherlight romp, no heavier or more meaningful than your average Mission: Impossible orHotel Transylvania. For me, though, it felt like a test – of my Asianness, of my Americanness, of my commitment to the cause of combining them both and insisting that other people witness the results.
I know, intellectually, that my Asian-American identity is not in question. And yet when it comes to representation, I feel sometimes like a fraud. I’m desperate to be represented authentically, and at the same time unsure of what that should or could look like. When something does come along with the trappings of authenticity, I fret if I don’t fit the mold, get the jokes, recognize the references.
It’s nothing compared to the dizziness I felt in anticipation of Crazy Rich Asians, a movie positioned as my one chance to prove I deserve a place at the table.
I ask myself: Is it bad if I find the white love interest in To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before just as appealing as the Asian one in Crazy Rich Asians? What does it say about me if Searchingfelt familiar not despite its light touch with Korean-American details, but specifically because of it? Should I be embarrassed if I’m unfamiliar with the music in Crazy Rich Asians? What about the food? The history? I may not be Chinese Singaporean, but I’m still Asian. Shouldn’t I know more about the continent? Or does worrying I should make me guilty of generalizing?
I don’t think I’m the only one feeling this anxiety, either. I’ve seen essays arguing that Crazy Rich Asians might be too Asian or not Asian enough, or criticizing it for ignoring the racial and ethnic diversity of the real Singapore. I remember when Henry Golding was cast, and sparked a debate over whether this half-white man was Asian enough, whether we were perpetuating Eurocentric beauty standards by holding him up as the gold standard of Asian good looks. I saw complaints that the red carpet didn’t do enough to showcase Asian excellence in fashion design, even as it celebrated Asian excellence in cinema.
These are questions worth asking and conversations worth having. Crazy Rich Asians‘ rareness doesn’t exempt it from analysis or criticism, nor does it shield the movie from missteps. At the end of the day, no one is truly obligated to like this movie. I might feel like I personally should like it, but I’d never purposely put that demand on anyone else.
But these critiques are being raised loudly and all at once in large part because we know Crazy Rich Asians is our one chance to have them. If this movie doesn’t take a closer look at Singapore’s Indian population, it hardly seems likely that The Predator or A Star Is Born is going to pick up the slack. If this cast doesn’t make a point of wearing Asian designers on the red carpet, it’s not like the cast of Venom or The Nutcracker is going to insist on it. If Golding becomes Hollywood’s favorite Asian male love interest, where does that leave other Asian men?
All of this was on my mind when I went to go watch Crazy Rich Asians, and as a result I couldn’t lose myself in it at first. My brain kept sparking every two seconds. Do we like this? Is this us? Should it be us? What if it’s not us? I kept score, and I kind of hated myself for it: This character was «good» representation because he was handsome and kind; that one was bad representation but in a good way because his specific brand of awful bucked the stereotypes; that one was leaning into American assumptions about Asianness only to subvert them, so let’s call it a wash.
Then Bernard Tai sauntered onto the screen. Played by Silicon Valley‘s Jimmy O. Yang, he’s the kind of obnoxious, oblivious creep you’d go out of your way to duck at the bar. My shoulders tensed and my heart sank. I just knew this guy was going to ruin it for me, by reinforcing every ugly stereotype about the sleaziness, trashiness, and all-around undesirability of Asian men.
But my fears dissipated as I glanced around the rest of the scene. Bernard was throwing a party also attended by the dashing Nick (Golding), the affable Colin (Chris Pang), the pushy Eddie (Ronny Chieng), the ditzy Alistair (Remy Hii). Other scenes had introduced us to down-to-earth Rachel (Constance Wu), formidable Eleanor (Michelle Yeoh), loyal Kerry (Tan Kheng Hua), quirky Peik Lin (Awkwafina), and elegant Astrid (Gemma Chan). All of them Asian, and each of them unique.
Crazy Rich Asians can’t be all things to all people. It can’t even be all things to me.
In a movie surrounded by white people, Bernard could’ve become the avatar of all Asian men, or all Asian people. In this one, he wasn’t obligated to represent anything but himself. It didn’t matter which stereotypes he fit or didn’t, because he had dozens of co-stars demonstrating dozens of other ways of being Asian. The character danced around his awful party boat like he had not a care in the world, and for a moment I felt as light as he did.
He’d made me feel fully what I already knew intellectually: that Crazy Rich Asians cannot be all things to all people. It can’t even be all things to me. It’s reminiscent of my life in some ways (yes, Peik Lin, I know what a «banana» is), and completely unlike it in others (I’ll never casually pick up a pair of million-dollar earrings like Astrid did). I was moved by it, for reasons that had to do with my Asian-Americanness and for reasons that didn’t. I laughed at its jokes, I teared up over its grand romantic gestures, and I came out of the theater happy to have seen a movie I liked. Even if it wasn’t my absolute favorite of the year. Even if I didn’t feel some white-hot rush of recognition.
Crazy Rich Asians had reminded me that the Asian-American experience – my experience – is too rich and varied to be captured in a single story. I see bits of myself in Rachel and Eleanor and Kerry and Araminta. I don’t see a whole lot of myself in Astrid, who’s far too cool for a dork like me, and that’s okay, too. There are sides of me reflected in Lara Jean from To All the Boys and David and Margot from Searching, and I’ve caught shades of myself in Steven Yeun’s imperfect accent in Okja, in the good grades of the teen criminals in Better Luck Tomorrow, in the complicated mother-daughter relationships of The Joy Luck Club.
None of them paint a complete picture of me or who I am or what I’ve been through. Collectively, though, they’re starting to show me something I recognize. Slowly but surely, my own portrait is starting to take shape
This article was originally writting by Mashable.com
Not even Batman is exempt from the struggles of addiction.Just a few days after news broke that Ben Affleck was entering rehab, E! News is learning more details into what led the A-list actor to seek professional help. While there were many factors that impacted his decision, one struggle was his recent split from Lindsay Shookus.»Ben had been content in his relationship with Lindsay, but the travel became a lot to deal with,» a source shared with E! News. «They talked about Lindsay moving to LA but it wasn’t going to happen.» Our insider added, «They tried hard to make it work but with their families on both coasts it was tough to have a consistent relationship. This put a strain on Ben and he started drinking again.»
Another source shared with E! News that Ben was doing well for the last few months and very committed to his sobriety. But recently, he started to slip up and began drinking again.
On Wednesday evening, Jennifer Garner was spotted driving her soon-to-be ex-husband to an undisclosed rehab facility. We’re told Ben was not resistant to getting help and reached out for assistance. As for Jennifer, she wanted to be there for him and show support.The Hollywood actor has long struggled with alcohol addiction and previously completed a rehab stint in March 2017. At the time, Ben spoke out about his struggles in a Facebook post to his fans and followers.
«I have completed treatment for alcohol addiction; something I’ve dealt with in the past and will continue to confront. I want to live life to the fullest and be the best father I can be,» he shared. «I want my kids to know there is no shame in getting help when you need it, and to be a source of strength for anyone out there who needs help but is afraid to take the first step.» Ben continued, «I’m lucky to have the love of my family and friends, including my co-parent, Jen, who has supported me and cared for our kids as I’ve done the work I set out to do. This was the first of many steps being taken towards a positive recovery.»
According to a source, Ben will be in a different program this time around for at least 30 days. «He wants to try something different and knows he needs more help,» an insider shared.And with no immediate projects on the horizon, the Oscar winner can focus entirely on his health while receiving support at home. «[Jen] will continue to be there for him and not turn her back,» a source previously shared. «She feels like she can’t do that to her kids and that she wants him to be in their lives.»
Like nearly every modern pop star, Ariana Grande has flitted from genre to genre over the course of her career, easily collapsing the distance between the steroidal EDM of “Break Free” and the relaxed reggae of “Side to Side,” the clipped Eighties pop of “Love Me Harder” and the storming house of “Into You,” the hip-hop soul of “The Way” and the retro-soul of “Dangerous Woman.”
But with her new album Sweetener, she set her sights on conquering trap, the Southern hip-hop variant defined by sludgy, savage basslines and jittery swarms of drum programming. Grande is just the latest Top 40 star to acknowledge this sound — see Selena Gomez’s “Fetish,” Taylor Swift’s “End Game,” Demi Lovato’s Tell Me You Love Me and Kelly Clarkson’s “Love So Soft” and “Whole Lotta Woman.” The mass embrace of the trap template demonstrates the remarkable extent to which a once-niche style now rules modern production.
Grande tipped her fans to her latest creative zigzag with Sweetener‘s second single, “God Is a woman.” The song opens with a feint: Unadorned guitar is Grande’s only accompaniment for the first few lines. But then the punishing beat kicks in, knee-buckling on the low end while the drums splat frantically in a higher register. Grande is known for her elastic voice, one of the most flexible and forceful in the Top 40 space. But she suppresses her vocal tricks here, instead sing-rapping in a rigid, repetitive style.
“God Is a Woman” is one of at least five songs on Sweetener that pulls from the same trap playbook. During the album’s title track, Grande cuts away the beat at several junctures to display swooping vocal runs. But the hook as is curt and hard-headed as the hi-hats: “Hit it, hit it, hit it/ Flip it, flip it, flip it.”
The primary producers on Sweetener are Max Martin, his fellow Swede Ilya Salmanzadeh and Pharrell Williams, names that shape pop music — it’s notable that Grande did not decamp to Atlanta to make her album with Metro Boomin or another modern trap architect. The dominant presence on the final third of Sweetener is Thomas “TB Hits” Brown, who has been working with Grande since her debut. On 2013’s Yours Truly, Brown helped craft the neo-doo-wop “Daydreamin;’” the next year, he worked on the string-laden piano ballad “My Everything.” But on Sweetener, he helps close the album with another chunk of trap-pop, co-producing a trio of booming, ironclad beats.
That trap’s structures have made their way to a figure like Martin, who has had more success in the Top 40 than anybody over the past few decades, is proof that those skittering drums and chest-shaking basslines are now simply the vocabulary of popular music writ large. “Everytime,” one of Martin’s productions, may be the most effective hybrid on the album. At first Grande delivers an unyielding staccato rap, but she abruptly returns to supple singing on the line-ending phrase “back to you;” the effect is like a boxer following a series of short jabs with an uppercut. As more and more pop singers are forced to reckon with trap, the fusion achieved on “Everytime” offers them a path forward.
This article was originally writing by: Rolling Stone USA.
Tras determinarse, meses atrás, que la música ha ido siendo cada vez menos alegre con el paso de las décadas, hoy la sección de cultura de BBC publica un interesante estudio, que va más allá del (por otra parte atractivo, claro está) titular de esta noticia. En él, la experta en big data Miriam Quick ha utilizado la API de Spotify (esto es, las herramientas de big data que ofrece el algoritmo de la plataforma sueca sobre sus contenidos) para tratar de determinar cuáles serían, en base a esos datos, los “éxitos más tristes” de los últimos 50 años. Para ello, Quick ha analizado los números 1 de Billboard desde el año 1958 hasta hoy (1.080 canciones) y ha examinado la valencia –entre 0 y 1– que les otorga el algoritmo, siendo 0 lo más “triste” y 1 lo más “feliz”. Un método que ya se empleó para clasificar “los villancicos más deprimentes” o “las canciones más oscuras de Radiohead”.
El resultado final del estudio es como poco confuso, comenzando porque esa valencia no es del todo determinante, puesto que hay que considerar la energía rítmica como un factor determinante. Quick comprobó que había canciones próximas a valencia 0 que eran rápidas en cuanto a ritmo, debido a un factor: la ira. Así, ‘Lose Yourself’ tiene una de las valencias más bajas, pero no es lenta. Y es a causa de lo enfadado que suena en ella Eminem. Así las cosas, Quick estableció un curioso diagrama considerando valencia y energía, dando lugar a un gráfico muy curioso, en los que las esquinas opuestas serían lo más extremo en cuanto a “tristeza/felicidad”, en una diagonal, e “ira/calma”, en la otra.
Así, las canciones más próximas a la esquina “tristeza” son estas cinco, en este orden:
Como explica Quick, sólo las canciones de Elvis y ‘Still’ de Commodores podrían encajar en lo que podemos entender como “canciones tristes”, melancólicas, puesto que la canción de Roberta Flack y ‘Three Times A Lady’ de Commodores (hay que ver lo bien que trabajaba la valencia Lionel Ritchie) son en realidad baladones románticos. Y ‘Mr. Custer’ es una especie de broma de cowboys que se apropia del gospel y la música de los nativos norteamericanos. Entonces, ¿dónde nos lleva esto?
Quick determina que, por fortuna, el big data pasa por alto dos detalles: las letras de las canciones y el vínculo personal con ellas. Es evidente que el fondo lírico de cada canción influye en nuestra mente de manera drástica para llevarnos a emocionarnos, como también lo hace los recuerdos que genere en nosotros. Y el algortimo de Spotify no sabe aún apreciarlo, como confiesa el Alquimista de Datos (es el nombre real de su cargo, aseguran) de la multinacional sueca, Glenn McDonald. “Cuando una máquina “mira” a una canción, sólo lee una forma de onda”, dice, por lo que es incapaz de interpretar el factor sentimental que tenga para nosotros. Podemos respirar, pues, porque las máquinas no saben tanto de nosotros… de momento: Quick habla también sobre los sistemas MER (Reconocimiento de Emoción Musical), que aunque aún son muy básicos, mejoran día a día.
This article was originally written by: Jenesaispop.com