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Chala Chala Nav Bala (Maze Baal, 1943) marks the debut of Asha Bhosle, who entered the film world at ten years old. Paired with her sister Lata Mangeshkar, her bright falsetto captures the youthful innocence of the Marathi romance, foreshadowing the emotive style that would define her career. Aaiye Meherbaan (Howrah Bridge, 1958) showcases Bhosle’s rise during Hindi cinema’s golden age, thanks to her partnership with composer O.P. Nayyar. The song’s sultry vibrato and lush orchestration set the tone for the film’s noir atmosphere, establishing her as a leading‑lady playback voice. Aao Huzoor Tumko (Kismat, 1968) became a chart‑topping hit, featuring intricate vocal runs over a flamenco‑style guitar. Bhosle’s lower‑register chorus broke the conventional shrillness of female playback, while her nuanced phrasing added depth to the on‑screen heroine’s drunken allure. Dum Maro Dum (Hare Rama, Hare Krishna, 1971) stands out as her most successful crossover, later sampled by Western rappers. The track, produced with R.D. Burman—her future husband—blends psychedelic Beatles‑inspired grooves with Hindi lyrics, demonstrating her ability to bridge Eastern and Western pop sensibilities. Piya Tu Ab To Aaja (Caravan, 1971) pushes the fusion further into jazz‑cabaret territory, with bold horn sections and cinematic guitar reverb. Bhosle’s breathy, suggestive delivery sparked controversy, yet the performance remains a masterclass in balancing sensuality with technical agility. Chura Liya Hai Tumne Jo Dil Ko (Yaadon Ki Baaraat, 1973) epitomises the “masala” film soundtrack, merging drama, romance, and crime. Over a gentle guitar backdrop, Bhosle’s tender humming conveys quiet longing, contrasting with the film’s high‑octane narrative. In Ankhon Ki Masti (Umrao Jaan, 1981) sees Bhoske venture into Urdu ghazals with composer Khayyam. Her lower, huskier timbre—adjusted a half‑step down—highlights her continued artistic experimentation even as she approached fifty. Bow Down Mister (1991) illustrates her early 1990s foray into international collaborations, lending wordless, soaring vocals to Boy George’s post‑Culture Club project. The track transforms into a rave‑infused anthem, underscoring Bhosle’s versatility across genres. Radha Kaise Na Jale (Lagaan, 2001) pairs Bhosle with a young A.R. Rahman, reaffirming her status as an elder stateswoman of Indian music. The duet with Udit Narayan blends tabla and flute with powerful vocal runs, marrying traditional Hindustani scales to contemporary film scoring. The Way You Dream (2002) features an unexpected partnership with REM frontman Michael Stipe on the 1 Giant Leap project. The eight‑minute piece weaves tabla rhythms, subtle guitar, and a dramatic breakbeat, proving that Bhosle’s voice can seamlessly inhabit New Age and electronic soundscapes.

Britney Spears, one of the most iconic pop artists in US history, has taken a significant step towards recovery by voluntarily entering a rehabilitation centre after her arrest in March for driving under the influence (DUI). The arrest occurred in Ventura County, California, where Spears was stopped by police for driving erratically. The tests revealed the presence of drugs and alcohol in her system, leading to her brief detention. Her manager at the time described her actions as 'completely inexcusable' and emphasized that Spears would take the necessary steps to comply with the law and make overdue changes in her life. This recent development marks another chapter in Spears' journey, which has seen her step back from her music career in recent years. Her last album was released in 2016, and her most recent chart success was in 2022 with 'Hold Me Closer,' a collaboration with Elton John that reached the US and UK Top 10. In 2024, Spears expressed her intention to never return to the music industry, stating a preference for ghostwriting for other artists. Additionally, in January, she mentioned that she would never perform again in the US, though she hoped to perform in the UK and Australia. Spears has also made headlines with her memoir, 'The Woman in Me,' published in 2023, which is currently being adapted for the big screen. Her career has not been without challenges, including a conservatorship arrangement in 2008 that lasted until 2021, which significantly impacted her personal and financial independence. Spears' decision to seek rehab is seen as a proactive step towards addressing her challenges and regaining control over her life. The journey ahead will likely be closely followed by her fans and the media, given her status as a cultural icon.

Joz Norris' latest show, 'You Wait. Time Passes', is a thought-provoking exploration of artistic character and the choices that define a creative life. In this maverick confection of a show, Norris takes on the role of an unhinged, self-absorbed guru figure, imparting life lessons with a healthy dose of silliness.The show delves into Norris's career as a comedian, actor, and magician, as well as his bid to become Google's number one Joz. Through snippets of his career and interactions with his erratic AI girlfriend, Norris presents a picture of himself as a complex, multifaceted artist.At its core, the show poses big questions about the futility of the niche creative's life and whether weird artists are truly weird or just trying to express themselves in a different way. While some moments feel a bit strenuous or for-its-own-sake, the show's extreme dottiness is backed up by good jokes, twisty philosophy, and a highly energetic performance.Ultimately, 'You Wait. Time Passes' constitutes a curiously rousing defence of experimental art-making in a conformist, capitalist world. The show is a must-see for fans of comedy and experimental art, and it will be touring after its run at the Lowry in Salford.

The Guardian’s latest photo gallery offers a front‑row look at the 2026 Olivier Awards arrivals, highlighting the glamour and excitement that surround the UK’s most prestigious theatre ceremony. Leading actors, directors, designers and producers were captured on the red carpet, each reflecting the night’s high‑style atmosphere.From bold, contemporary ensembles to classic evening wear, the images illustrate how the event serves as a runway for theatrical fashion, while also underscoring the significance of the awards in recognising artistic excellence across London’s West End and beyond.Beyond the sartorial showcase, the gallery underscores the Olivier Awards’ role as a cultural touchstone, bringing together the industry’s most influential personalities to celebrate the year’s standout productions. The visual narrative reinforces the ceremony’s status as a barometer of trends and talent within British theatre.

Asha Bhosle, the iconic voice of Bollywood, passed away at age 92 after being hospitalized in Mumbai with severe exhaustion and a chest infection, her family confirmed.Her son, Anand Bhosle, told reporters that his mother died on Sunday and that her last rites would be performed the following day at Shivaji Park in Mumbai.Over a career that stretched across nearly eight decades, Bhosle recorded more than 12,000 songs, pioneering cabaret and Western‑influenced styles that broadened the sonic palette of Indian cinema.India’s Prime Minister Narendra Modi expressed deep sorrow, noting that her "extraordinary musical journey" enriched the nation’s cultural heritage and will continue to inspire future generations.Born on 8 September 1933 into a musical family, she was the younger sister of the celebrated vocalist Lata Mangeshkar, often referred to as “India’s nightingale.” While comparisons were inevitable, Bhosle forged a distinct path, embracing genres from pop to folk.Her early years were marked by hardship, including a turbulent marriage at the age of 16, yet she rose to become one of Indian cinema’s most versatile singers, earning the prestigious Dadasaheb Phalke Award in 2000 and receiving two Grammy nominations.Even in her later years, Bhosle remained artistically active, collaborating with the British virtual band Gorillaz on their album The Mountain, demonstrating her enduring global appeal.Beyond music, she pursued a passion for cuisine, establishing the Asha’s restaurant chain in Dubai and the United Kingdom, further cementing her status as a cultural entrepreneur.Agence France‑Presse and Associated Press contributed to this report.

The rise of generative AI has sparked concerns about its impact on the art world. Artists are seeing their work stolen and used to train AI models without consent or compensation. This has led to a heated debate about the role of AI in creative industries and the need for regulation.In 2022, the author, an artist, first started to see knock-offs of their work generated by AI image generators. The tech industry's approach has been to move fast and break things, with little regard for the consequences. The author argues that this is the greatest art heist in history, with billions of images harvested from the internet without credit, compensation, or consent.The tech lords knew what they were doing, with venture capitalist Marc Andreessen claiming that enforcing copyright law would “kill” the entire industry. The industry's narrative of inevitability is a way of getting people to comply in advance. The author notes that people seemed utterly unprepared to question the impact of AI on creative industries.In response, journalist Marisa Mazria Katz and the author launched an open letter demanding to keep AI-generated images out of newsrooms. The letter attracted thousands of signatures from around the world. Other artists have fought back in more powerful ways, including a lawsuit against leading image-generation companies Midjourney and Stability AI.The author argues that the tech elite's anti-humanism is revealed in their attacks on art. They shun human interaction and its serendipities, annoyances, and joys. The author notes that friction is the basis of all pleasure and that learning to make art is also friction.The impact of AI on creative industries has been devastating, with many artists out of work and entry-level illustration gigs annihilated. The audience will have to get used to the fact that generative AI is a tool to discipline and eliminate the human worker. The author argues that this is sold as progress, but it is actually a dystopian future.The author draws parallels with the luddites, who fought against the “satanic mills” and were skilled artisans fighting for their way of life. Artists too are fighting for a way of life, and if they are too disorganised to triumph, that will be everyone’s loss. The author concludes that AI companies' scraping may have started with the work of illustrators, but it has grown to encompass everything else, including culture, education, sanity, and our very imaginations.

Renowned jazz composer and pianist Jason Moran recently discovered a fake album on Spotify bearing his name. The album, titled For You, had a moody Japanese anime-style cover and featured indie pop music, which was a far cry from Moran's actual work.Moran is not alone in this experience. At least a dozen famous musicians, including Benny Green, Antonio Hart, and Dee Dee Bridgewater, have been targeted by AI bots impersonating them on music streaming platforms. The issue has led to frustration and surreal experiences for the musicians, who are now having to deal with the deluge of AI-generated music.Spotify has acknowledged the problem and has taken steps to address it, including removing over 75 million "spammy tracks" from its platform in the past year. The company is also working on a new tool to give artists more control over what shows up under their name.However, for musicians like Moran, these fixes aren't enough. He's concerned about the additional work for artists who don't put their music on Spotify, and for musicians who are no longer alive. Morgan Hayduk, a co-CEO of Beatdapp, estimates that 5% to 10% of all streams across the industry are fraudulent, which breaks down to a value of $1 billion to $2 billion per year.The issue highlights the challenges of regulating AI-generated content and the need for more effective solutions to prevent music impersonation on streaming platforms.

Rehab did not happen to Lena Dunham; she walked into it. The writer describes the moment she entered a stone‑manor facility in the Berkshires, Massachusetts, and was immediately asked to remove her designer shoes and answer mundane questions about her diet, a surreal welcome that felt like a college orientation—except many of the fellow residents struggled with IV heroin. She notes the unsettling blend of patients and staff, all dressed in ordinary clothes, making it impossible to tell who was who. A tattooed man in a Harley‑Davidson shirt turned out to be a sober companion, while a grandmother knitting in slippers battled a severe Benadryl addiction that had once ruined her daughter’s wedding. “Never judge a drug addict by their Patagonia half‑zip fleece,” she writes. Using the pseudonym “Rose O’Neill” – after the pioneering cartoonist – Dunham reflects on feeling trapped in a cycle reminiscent of the late‑career decline of the early 20th‑century artist. It was only after she allowed staff to use her real name that she began to reclaim her identity. Her therapist, Dr. Mark, a kindly man in khakis, asked her to articulate the root causes of her admission. Dunham linked her descent to chronic physical illness, relentless stress from supporting multiple families, hormonal turmoil after a hysterectomy, and a fraught romantic relationship. She also disclosed past sexual trauma, describing the rehab experience as “a fever dream” that echoed those memories. Medication played a paradoxical role. While Klonopin eased anxiety and Percocet dulled pain, the initial IV dose produced a euphoric “shiver through the whole body, better than any orgasm.” She acknowledges the temporary relief as a “pause button” that allowed her racing thoughts to quiet, yet also recognized the danger of dependence. Group sessions revealed complex dynamics. A fellow patient, Walter, breached confidentiality, prompting staff to enforce policy and send him home. The ensuing discussion divided the group, with some defending Walter’s lapse and others demanding accountability. Dunham’s own voice was subdued, emphasizing the tension between personal safety and collective responsibility. In a values‑mapping exercise, Dunham listed ART, FAMILY, MAKING PEOPLE FEEL SEEN as her core priorities, contrasting them with the values of the people she had surrounded herself with during active addiction. This exercise highlighted the stark misalignment between her aspirations and the environment she had inhabited. Despite the strict regimen, Dunham was granted a brief leave to attend the 2018 Met Gala. The decision sparked intense debate among staff about safety, yet she ultimately walked the red carpet, feeling “wan and haunted” amid flashing cameras and champagne she could not enjoy. The experience underscored the surreal juxtaposition of celebrity life and rehab recovery. During the final week, she formally identified as an addict and faced the pivotal question from Dr. Mark: “Do you want to be sober?” The answer marked a turning point, culminating in a moment of pure joy as she ran outdoors, feeling her legs move of their own accord. She closes with a vivid scene of spotting a robin’s egg on the grass, a simple yet profound reminder of life’s unexpected beauty. The memoir Famesick, published by Fourth Estate on 14 April, expands on these revelations and invites readers into the often‑hidden world of addiction behind the celebrity façade.

Oppdal, a mountain village in central Norway, hosted its first interspecies council on a snowy morning at the Bjerkeløkkja conference centre. Thirty‑eight local participants each represented a different species – from a northern bat to a birch tree – and voiced the needs of the natural world in a structured decision‑making process.The council draws on the legacy of the Council of All Beings, a practice created in the 1980s by environmentalists John Seed and Joanna Macy. Phoebe Tickell, a scientist and “moral imagination” activist mentored by Macy, adapted the ritual into a governance methodology that expands representation beyond humans.Facilitators first identified the multispecies stakeholders in the region, then briefed human representatives – chosen either randomly or for expertise – on the perspectives they would embody. The session concluded with a manifesto of principles for human governance and an impact‑evaluation plan to track participants’ connection to nature six months later.Oppdal’s mayor, Elisabeth Hals, noted that the village’s population swells from 5,000 to over 30,000 in winter as tourists flock to private cabins (hytter). The municipality plans to add 1,000 new apartments by 2035 to promote year‑round tourism, a move that has sparked debate over land use, farming, and conservation.During the council, a birch “worried there’s too much of me,” while a rockfoil flower urged humans to “slow down and listen to where nature can tolerate more activity.” The River Driva lamented being treated as a mere resource, and a fox enthusiastically pointed at a wader, highlighting the emotional range the exercise seeks to capture.Proponents argue that such empathy‑building exercises are crucial as wildlife populations have fallen by roughly 70 % over the past 50 years. Tickell contends that “imperfect representation beats exclusion” and envisions interspecies councils becoming as routine as environmental impact assessments.Across the UK, 13 councils have recognised river rights since 2023, and a coalition of artists, ecologists, lawyers and policymakers is exploring similar biodiversity governance around the North Sea. In London, multispecies assemblies have already informed stewardship of the River Roding and land‑use consultations.Oppdal’s experiment aims to create “institutional trace” – genuine decision‑making power backed by robust methodology and longitudinal research – rather than a tokenistic green‑washing exercise. If successful, the model could be replicated internationally, giving non‑human nature a formal seat at the policy table.