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In the spring of 2002, the modest Free Butt pub on Brighton’s seafront buzzed with a restless energy. Future stars such as Natasha Khan, then a university art student, danced atop the bar while the Yeah Yeah Yeahs thundered through their first UK dates. Behind the scenes, band frontmen like Guy McKnight of Eighties Matchbox B‑Line Disaster served pints, and budding engineers like Steve Ansell of Cat on Form fine‑tuned the sound. The atmosphere felt like a rite of passage, where any performer could slip from a cramped stage to national attention.Unlike the neatly branded scenes of New York’s garage‑rock revival or London’s Libertines‑driven hype, Brighton’s early‑2000s scene resisted a single aesthetic. Rock groups emerged from rehearsal rooms and tiny clubs with wildly different looks and sounds, creating a cultural mosaic rather than a monolithic movement.Electrelane’s guitarist recalls recording their debut Rock It to the Moon in a studio once owned by the Levellers, and crafting their sophomore effort inside a former public toilet. These unconventional spaces proved surprisingly fertile, underscoring the city’s DIY spirit.By the turn of the millennium, the big‑beat dominance of Fatboy Slim and Skint Records had faded, making way for a grassroots rock surge. Sea Power relocated from Reading to Brighton, drawn by the city’s “dilapidated charm and fresh sea air”. Their self‑organized Club Sea Power nights at the Lift offered a chaotic yet liberating platform that eventually caught Rough Trade’s attention.Women played a pivotal role in shaping the scene’s infrastructure. Promoters Lisa Lout and Anna Moulson, both still active, booked seminal shows—including the Strokes’ first UK gig at the Lift in 2001—and helped launch the Great Escape festival. Their efforts ensured that bands such as the Pipettes, Electrelane and Bat for Lashes could share stages and media coverage.Artists recall the city’s palpable sense of belonging. Rose Dougall of the Pipettes describes a landscape where “alternative culture was on every street, from vintage shops to the colour of the houses,” and where “small venues made it feel attainable to launch a project.” Similarly, Brakes frontman Eamon Hamilton contrasts Brighton’s walk‑able, collaborative vibe with London’s darker, more competitive energy.Music journalism mirrored the scene’s intensity. Everett True and photographer Steve Gullick launched Careless Talk Costs Lives in 2002, a deliberately short‑run magazine that championed female writers and bands at a time when the industry was still heavily male‑dominated.As rents surged through the 2010s, many of the cheap flats, rehearsal rooms and iconic venues that underpinned the scene vanished. The Free Butt closed, independent record stores shuttered, and the once‑abundant low‑cost infrastructure dwindled, prompting a migration of creative energy down the coast to places like Margate, Ramsgate, Folkestone and Shoreham.Nevertheless, the remnants of Brighton’s network continue to nurture new talent, from the Kooks to Dream Wife and Gazelle Twin. The city’s strength lies not in a singular sound but in its capacity to host a “constant collision of wildly dissimilar bands,” allowing artists to develop authentically and fearlessly.

NASA's sonifications have made it possible for us to experience the cosmos in a new way, transforming electromagnetic energy into sound waves that our ears can pick up. This innovative approach has allowed us to 'hear' the orbits and energies of celestial bodies like Jupiter, Saturn, and the Sun. The Artemis II mission, which recently slingshotted four astronauts around the moon and back, has provided a unique opportunity for us to connect with the astronauts on board. The mundane details of the mission, such as the wake-up music that NASA pipes into their module every orbital morning, have given us a glimpse into the daily lives of these space travelers. In the 1960s, the Apollo 10 mission encountered mysterious sounds while on the far side of the moon. The astronauts reported hearing a high whistling sound accompanied by a lower whooshing noise. Initially, this sparked speculation, but it was later discovered that the sounds were caused by interference between two VHF radio transmitters on board the spacecraft. NASA's sonifications are not just limited to the sounds of spacecraft. The agency has also created sonifications of cosmic phenomena like black holes and supernovae. These sonifications have allowed scientists to better understand the behavior of these phenomena and have also inspired artistic works. The article also touches on the connection between music and the universe. Samantha Harvey's novel Orbital describes the sounds of celestial bodies, such as Neptune's sound being 'liquid and rushing, a tide crashing onto a shore in a howling storm.' The article also mentions the 'music of the spheres', a concept that dates back to ancient Greece, which suggests that the universe is governed by musical ratios. Overall, NASA's sonifications have opened up new ways for us to experience and understand the cosmos, and have inspired a new generation of artists and scientists to explore the intersection of music and space exploration.

Arthur Rosenfeld, 73, and Meryl Tankard, 70, open the performance by introducing themselves as “sprightly old geezers,” setting a tone of candid humor that runs through the evening. The production, ‘Kontakthof – Echoes of 78,’ is a fresh staging of Pina Bausch’s iconic 1978 work, now re‑imagined by Australian choreographer Meryl Tankard. Unlike the 2010 London run that split the piece between teenagers and senior amateurs, this rendition features the eight surviving members of the original cast—all now in their late sixties to early eighties—performing the very roles they created half a century ago. A ninth dancer was absent due to illness. Their live movements are mirrored on a large screen by the black‑and‑white film of the 1978 performance, creating a visual palimpsest where past and present dance together. The choreography, set to 1930s dance‑hall songs, remains a wry commentary on courtship, power dynamics and consent. Tankard’s direction emphasizes the passage of time, allowing audiences to witness the same steps executed by bodies that have aged, yet retain a striking vitality. Dancers such as Josephine Ann Endicott, now in her seventies, glide across the stage in silk dresses, their frames more fragile but their confidence undiminished. Moments of poignancy arise when the film shows cast members who have since passed away. Onstage, John Giffin reaches for his late partner’s face, only to grasp empty air—a visual metaphor for loss that resonated deeply with the audience. Personal revelations punctuate the performance: Beatrice Libonati, 71, describes herself as “paranoid and a misanthrope,” while Tankard admits, “I wish I’d had children; I miss my mother every day,” underscoring the undercurrent of longing that runs through the piece. Beyond its narrative, the production offers a meditation on continuity. Bausch’s signature walking patterns—slow circles and linear traverses—are repeated, suggesting that despite changing bodies, the human species continues to tread familiar social routes. The music, unchanged from the original, carries on until the final dancer pauses, symbolising the inevitable end of the dance of life. The show runs at Sadler’s Wells, London through 11 April, offering a rare glimpse into how art can bridge generations and celebrate the endurance of the human spirit.

Bill Ackman's Pershing Square has unveiled a €55.75 bn cash‑and‑shares bid to acquire Universal Music Group (UMG), valuing the label at €30.40 per share – a 78% premium over the previous close of €17.10. The proposal translates to roughly $64.31 bn, positioning it as one of the largest recent takeovers in the entertainment sector. The offer is tied to a strategic plan to relocate UMG’s primary listing from Amsterdam to New York. A U.S. listing would broaden the investor base, potentially attracting index funds and enhancing liquidity, which Ackman argues could lift earnings and drive a higher market valuation. In a letter to UMG’s board, Ackman praised chairman‑CEO Lucian Grainge while criticizing what he described as an “underutilized balance sheet” and the company’s €2.7 bn investment in Spotify Technology. He suggested that a refreshed governance structure – including former Hollywood super‑agent Michael Ovitz as board chair and two Pershing Square directors – would better position the label for future growth. Market reaction was immediate: UMG shares jumped 13% on the news, while Bollore Group’s stock rose 5% and Vivendi’s shares climbed over 10%. Pershing Square currently holds a 4.7% stake in UMG, making it the fourth‑largest shareholder. Key shareholders whose support is essential include Bollore Group (18.5% stake), Vivendi (13.4%), and China’s Tencent. Notably, the Bollore family controls about 80% of UMG’s voting rights, giving it decisive influence over any transaction. Industry analysts point to several headwinds that have pressured UMG’s share price, which has fallen nearly one‑third since its 2021 IPO. Streaming growth is decelerating, and concerns about AI‑generated music – from copyright disputes to fully synthetic songs – are reshaping the competitive landscape. A recent survey found that 97% of listeners can differentiate between AI‑created tracks and human‑composed music. Despite these challenges, global music revenues continue to rise year over year, prompting major labels such as Sony and Warner Music to double‑down on streaming partnerships with platforms like Spotify, Amazon, Apple and Deezer. Under the proposed structure, Pershing’s SPARC Holdings would merge with UMG, creating a Nevada‑incorporated entity listed on the New York Stock Exchange. If approved, the deal could set a precedent for how legacy entertainment firms adapt to evolving technology and investor expectations.

The UK Home Office has refused rapper Kanye West’s request to travel to Britain, stating that his presence would not be "conducive to the public good" after a wave of criticism over his anti‑Semitic comments and open admiration for Adolf Hitler.West, now performing under the name Ye, submitted a visa application on Monday for a headline slot at London’s Wireless Festival in July. The Home Office issued a denial on Tuesday, effectively barring him from entry.In response, the festival’s organisers announced the cancellation of the entire event and pledged to refund all ticket holders, underscoring the pressure from sponsors and politicians to distance the show from the controversial artist.Amid the controversy, West publicly offered to meet members of the British Jewish community, saying he wanted to demonstrate “unity, peace and love through music” and that “words aren’t enough – I’ll have to show change through my actions.”The backlash intensified after West released a track titled “Heil Hitler” and marketed a swastika‑bearing T‑shirt on his website, actions that have drawn widespread condemnation for glorifying Nazism.West has performed in the United States and Mexico City this year, but was barred from Australia in July 2023 for similar reasons. He later placed a full‑page apology in the Wall Street Journal, attributing his behavior to an untreated bipolar disorder.British government minister Wes Streeting dismissed the bipolar‑disorder explanation as “appalling,” while Prime Minister Keir Starmer called the decision to book West “deeply concerning” given his prior anti‑Semitic remarks and celebration of Nazism.The Campaign Against Antisemitism welcomed the Home Office’s move, stating that it “backed up its words with action” and affirmed that antisemitism has no place in the UK.West’s European tour continues to face resistance; the mayor of Marseille, France, publicly declared the rapper “not welcome” for a scheduled June concert.

The metal music scene has witnessed a surge in popularity of masked bands, with many notable acts donning elaborate masks as part of their stage presence. This trend is not only visually striking but also allows the bands to create a sense of mystery and anonymity. For bands like Imperial Triumphant, Gaerea, Sleep Token, Ghost, and Gwar, their masks have become an integral part of their image and artistry.Imperial Triumphant, an avant-garde metal band from the US, chose to wear striking gold masks modeled after 1920s art deco architecture. These masks brought their own set of problems, including getting lost in transit. The band's singer/guitarist, Zachary Ezrin, notes that the masks add a layer of complexity to their music, allowing them to tap into different parts of their personalities.Gaerea, a Portuguese black metal band, has also adopted the trend of wearing masks. Lead singer Alpha notes that the mask allows him to get into a different mode in his psyche, similar to how athletes get into a trance-like state during intense physical activity. The band's masks are not just for show; they also help to create a sense of anonymity, allowing the band to focus on their music rather than their individual identities.The use of masks in metal music is not a new phenomenon. Bands like Gwar and Slipknot have been using masks for decades, and their influence can be seen in many modern metal bands. However, the current trend of masked bands goes beyond just shock value; it's about creating a sense of mystery and artistry.The masks also allow bands to create elaborate mythologies and universes that fans can engage with. For example, Ghost poses as a subversive, devil-worshipping church, while Sleep Token's songs are ostensibly about their devotion to a god called Sleep. These mythologies help to create a sense of depth and complexity, drawing fans into the band's world.Despite the challenges of performing in masks, many bands find that it allows them to access new parts of their personalities and create a more immersive experience for their fans. As Ezrin notes, "I love the presentation of Imperial Triumphant... Even in 2026, when there are a million masked bands out there, I'd say we're still unique."

The Greatest Showman, the hit 2017 film starring Hugh Jackman as PT Barnum, has been transformed into a high-flying, hammer-juggling, banger-filled spectacular on stage. The musical, premiering in Bristol's Hippodrome, brings to life the story of the American showman and entrepreneur, with a sold-out eight-week run.The film's iconic soundtrack, which includes the Oscar-nominated 'This Is Me,' has been retained, with new songs by the original composers, Benj Pasek and Justin Paul. The production features Oliver Tompsett as Barnum and Samantha Barks as his wife, Charity.The stage adaptation aims to celebrate the world of circus and theatre, while acknowledging the controversial history of PT Barnum, who was criticized for exploiting people and animals. The musical's producers have chosen not to cast a performer with dwarfism in the role of Charles Stratton, but instead focus on showcasing vulnerable characters and promoting inclusivity.The production features sophisticated digital technology, with a 'sky pit' above the stage and a half-circus ring design. The team behind the musical hopes to create a sense of community among audience members, but stops short of encouraging sing-alongs to the hit songs.

In the heart of Buxton lies a remarkable wood, a self-willed and entangled haven of willows and birch, teeming with life. This site, boasting a species list of 870, primarily composed of insects, has become a beacon of biodiversity. The wood's diversity is largely attributed to the presence of willows and birch, two pioneer trees known for their invertebrate-friendly nature.The connection between insect abundance and birdsong is well-established, as the music of birds is fueled largely by invertebrate protein. A recent dawn-chorus walk in the area revealed 20 early spring vocalists, including song and mistle thrushes, dunnocks, wrens, bullfinches, and greenfinches, many of which are red- or amber-listed by the British Trust for Ornithology.However, the term 'dawn chorus' can be misleading, as the songs begin as early as 3:40 am and reach their peak around 4:30 am, long before the first light of dawn. The birds sing to proclaim territories and entice partners, leading to a complex harmony of competing voices. This phenomenon is beautifully described by Bernie Krause in his book The Great Animal Orchestra, which explores how the soundscape of any place reflects a kind of collective harmonizing among its inhabitants.It is disheartening, therefore, that High Peak borough council's plans threaten to disrupt this harmony. Despite declaring a nature emergency, the council appears unwilling to protect Hogshaw wood, instead considering it for a 'land bank' for development. This decision is particularly concerning given that the site is largely owned by the council and is one of the richest in nature in the area. The question remains: what is the meaning of declaring a nature emergency if it is not backed by concrete actions to protect and preserve our natural treasures?

Judith Rapoport, a leading child psychiatrist, passed away at 92, leaving a legacy defined by her groundbreaking work on obsessive‑compulsive disorder (OCD). Her 1989 book, The Boy Who Couldn’t Stop Washing, translated into more than twenty languages, presented complex research in a clear, jargon‑free style that resonated with a broad audience. OCD is characterized by compulsive rituals—re‑tying shoelaces, repeatedly checking switches, or incessant hand‑washing—that can dominate a person’s daily life. Before Rapoport’s book, many sufferers concealed their symptoms out of shame, unaware that they were not alone. Rapoport’s research demonstrated that OCD has a neurological foundation and may affect up to 2% of the population, challenging prevailing beliefs that it stemmed from overly strict parenting. She proved that the disorder can be hereditary and responsive to medication. In a pivotal 1989 double‑blind trial, she showed that the antidepressant clomipramine significantly reduced OCD symptoms, prompting the U.S. Food and Drug Administration to approve its use for the condition—a landmark moment in psychiatric treatment. Patients and colleagues credit her work with reducing stigma. "Reading Rapoport’s book washed away my shame," recalled Charles Gentz, who lives with OCD, while Professor Gabrielle Shapiro of the Icahn School of Medicine noted that the book “reduced the stigma for these people.” Rapoport herself reflected, “If my work alleviated just part of their pain, then it was not wasted time.” Born in New York City to a schoolteacher mother and a businessman father, she grew up with a literary lineage—her grandfather translated Ibsen into Yiddish. She excelled academically, graduating magna cum laude from Swarthmore College in 1955** and earning her medical degree from Harvard Medical School in 1959, where she met her husband, Stanley Rapoport. After early positions at Mount Sinai and the Massachusetts Mental Health Center, she and her husband secured fellowships in Sweden, conducting research at Uppsala University and the Karolinska Institute on women seeking abortions abroad. Returning to the United States, Rapoport joined the National Institute of Mental Health (NIMH) in 1976. There she led the institute’s child psychiatry branch from 1984, steering American psychiatry away from Freudian models toward a **biology‑focused** approach. Beyond OCD, she made significant contributions to the understanding of attention‑deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD) and childhood schizophrenia. Her 1978 study revealed that amphetamine improved concentration in both hyperactive and control children, contradicting the notion that stimulants only calm hyperactivity. Using MRI, she showed that childhood schizophrenia is progressive, involving loss of brain matter—a finding that shifted the focus from parenting to neurobiology. Rapoport’s expertise reached mainstream audiences through appearances on shows hosted by Oprah Winfrey and Larry King, further amplifying her message. By the time she retired in 2017, she had authored over 300 scientific papers, several books, and earned prestigious honors, including fellowship in the Institute of Medicine (1991) and the American Academy of Arts and Sciences (2000). Colleague Gabrielle Shapiro described her as “a pioneer who turned child psychiatry into a modern, evidence‑based discipline.” Outside the laboratory, she enjoyed music, theatre, hiking, and gardening. She is survived by her husband, two sons, and four grandsons.