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Phish Takes Sphere to Another Level With Nine Nights of Real-Time Immersive Innovation

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Phish Takes Sphere to Another Level With Nine Nights of Real-Time Immersive Innovation

TAGS: Phish, Moment Factory, Sphere Studios, Jason Colton, Chris Kuroda, Myreze,


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Nine nights. One massive screen. Zero pre-programmed limitations. Phish has returned to Sphere, and this residency redefines what a live production can actually do. Working alongside Moment Factory and Sphere Studios, the band has built a show that responds, shifts, and breathes in real time, matched beat for beat to their improvisational sets.

The visuals run on Sphere’s 16K resolution media plane, and Moment Factory developed distinct visual concepts that pull from an almost absurdly wide creative range: iridescent spiderwebs, bubblegum worlds, a hot-dog spaceship odyssey. Each one adapts live to wherever the band takes the music. It’s a production that can’t be fully predicted before showtime, which is exactly the point.

To ground the whole thing in Phish’s actual history, Sphere Studios deployed their Big Sky camera system at The Barn, the band’s own studio in Burlington, Vermont. Four nights of capture last September brought the interior and exterior of that space into high resolution, giving concertgoers a direct line into where Phish creates. That context inside the dome adds real weight to the experience.

The virtual light rig is where things get genuinely remarkable. For over 40 years, lighting designer Chris Kuroda’s work has been inseparable from the Phish live experience. Here, Moment Factory, Sphere Studios, and creative agency Myreze rebuilt that entire system digitally, giving Kuroda command of more than 7,000 virtual DMX lights with the same improvisational fluidity he brings to his physical rig. Nothing about that is a workaround. It’s a full creative tool, purpose-built for how Phish actually performs.

Phish co-manager Jason Colton put the partnership plainly: “They’ve always approached things with a real sense of restless imagination while breaking new ground.” Ten projects in with Moment Factory, and the results speak directly to that. This residency isn’t a spectacle layered onto a concert. It’s a live production where the technology and the band are genuinely working together, in real time, every single night.

BTS Turns Las Vegas and Busan Into Immersive Playgrounds for the “Arirang” Era

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BTS doesn’t just tour, they take over. Hot on the heels of their record-breaking ‘Arirang’ cycle, the group has announced BTS the City Arirang, a sprawling immersive experience launching in Las Vegas and Busan this summer. Las Vegas runs May 20 through May 31, with Busan following June 5 through June 21, each edition timed to the group’s live shows in those cities.

The concept transforms entire urban landscapes into extensions of the BTS world. In Las Vegas, The Strip gets lit up in ‘Arirang”s signature red, with digital marquees, themed hotel packages, curated food and beverage offerings, and exclusive after-party events. It builds directly on the 2022 BTS City Las Vegas blueprint, and by every indication, this edition runs bigger and deeper.

The Busan leg continues the experience on Korean soil, with full programming details coming through BTS’s official Weverse channel. What’s already clear is the ambition: city-wide activations that pull fans into the album’s world far beyond anything that happens inside an arena.

Running alongside the announcement is Keep Swimming with BTS, a short documentary series rooted in the message of their lead single “Swim.” Launched April 7th, the series features figures like filmmaker Park Chan-wook, fashion designer Nora Noh, Olympic snowboard gold medalist Choi Gaon, and Venerable Sunjae, each reflecting on quiet perseverance over visible achievement. Park Chan-wook puts it plainly: “Rather than struggling alone, I constantly talk to people and ask questions,” adding that conversation is his creative foundation.

The numbers behind all of this are staggering. “Swim” debuted at No. 1 on the Billboard Hot 100, while ‘Arirang’ topped the Billboard 200 on arrival. Their BTS World Tour Arirang has sold out all 41 North American, European, and UK dates, moving nearly 2.4 million tickets across 34 regions and over 80 shows worldwide. By any measure, this is the biggest K-pop tour ever staged, and BTS are running it like they built the blueprint.

Ten Years Gone: Why Prince Still Lives in Every Record That Matters

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Prince Rogers Nelson died ten years ago today at Paisley Park in Chanhassen, Minnesota. He was 57. The cause was an accidental fentanyl overdose. He was found alone in an elevator.

No announcement prepared the world for it. No farewell tour, no public illness, no long goodbye. He was simply here, and then he was not. And the silence that followed was so enormous that it took days for people to fully understand what had actually left with him.

A decade on, that silence has filled back up. His catalog streams in the hundreds of millions. A 100-foot mural of his face watches over downtown Minneapolis. Minneapolis Mayor Jacob Frey recently announced a free community sing-along near that mural, declaring “In Minneapolis, we don’t just remember Prince, we feel him in the streets, in the music, in who we are.” Paisley Park is planning a five-day “Celebration of Life” featuring concerts, screenings, panel discussions, and exclusive access to unreleased music and rare concert footage, according to Consequence. The estate has not gone quiet. Neither has the conversation about what he meant and what he still means.

The real question worth asking today is not whether Prince was great. That was settled before most of us were born. The question is what kind of greatness it was, and why it keeps reverberating through music that sounds nothing like him.

The man who refused to be one thing

To understand Prince’s ongoing influence, you have to understand what made him genuinely strange in the context of his era. He arrived in the late 1970s at a moment when genre loyalty was close to mandatory. Rock audiences and R&B audiences did not share much real estate. Soul purists and hip-hop pioneers occupied separate worlds. Radio formats enforced those divisions with a kind of institutional stubbornness.

Prince simply ignored all of it. On a single album he could deliver hard rock guitar, Minneapolis funk, lush orchestral pop, spare electronic minimalism, and devotional gospel. He wrote his own songs, produced his own records, played most of the instruments himself, designed his own costumes, directed his own videos, and controlled his own masters at a time when almost no one did. He was not a genre artist. He was a weather system.

That breadth is precisely why his influence is so hard to pin down and so wide in its reach. As Far Out Magazine has noted, the extent of his ingenuity between 1980 and 1987 alone is such that most of the singers who cite his influence only reflect one aspect of his artistry. You might approximate his ballads, his limb-wrenching funk, his squalling rock, or his electronic compositions, but nobody has done it all.

The artists who carry him forward

The list of musicians who openly cite Prince as a defining influence reads like a dispatch from the current top of music.

The Weeknd has built an entire aesthetic universe from Prince’s DNA: the nocturnal sexuality, the falsetto that drops without warning into something rawer and more desperate, the way a pop song can feel simultaneously like a seduction and a confession. Justin Timberlake was direct about it after Prince’s death, saying that Prince was “somewhere within every song I’ve ever written,” as reported by Rolling Stone. D’Angelo was perhaps the most faithful inheritor of the Prince lineage, translating that virtuoso-as-sensitive-loverman sensibility for the hip-hop generation with Brown Sugar and then reaching something close to the master’s own standard with Voodoo in 2000. Janelle Monae built a career on the same refusal to be categorized that Prince embodied, and has spoken at length about the specific debt she owes him.

Writing on his Tumblr after Prince’s death, Frank Ocean said that Prince made him feel more comfortable with how he identified sexually, describing how Prince moved him to be more daring and intuitive with his own work through his irreverence for archaic ideas like gender conformity. “He was a straight black man who played his first televised set in bikini bottoms and knee high heeled boots, epic,” Ocean wrote. That piece of the legacy is perhaps the most underappreciated. Prince did not simply influence how people made music. He influenced how artists understood what was permissible, what was possible, what you were allowed to be on a stage in front of a stadium full of people.

As Dazed noted at the time of his death, Kendrick Lamar’s flow on To Pimp a Butterfly drew, via Madlib, from the Prince of “If I Was Your Girlfriend” and “Shockadelica.” You would not immediately hear Prince in Kendrick’s work, but the philosophical DNA is there: the refusal to stay in one lane, the insistence that Black artistry encompasses everything rather than being confined by any single expectation.

Speaking to Entertainment Weekly, Miguel has been clear about the debt: “There’s no way Prince could not be a musical influence of mine. I grew up not only looking up to him as a musician but as an icon, someone who was pushing the boundaries in his art.”

Alicia Keys, who helped induct Prince into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 2004, put it simply during the ceremony: “Because of him, I never wanted to be anyone else but myself. Because of his music, my music has wings to be different. He’s the inspiration that generations will return to until the end of time.”

The thing that made him unrepeatable

Every generation gets one or two artists who seem to exist outside the normal rules of what popular music is supposed to be. Artists who are not just good at the craft but who seem to have a different relationship to it than everyone else, as though the music is coming through them rather than from them.

Prince was one of those artists. He reportedly accumulated thousands of unreleased songs at Paisley Park. He would finish a record, decide it was not what he wanted to put into the world, put it in the vault, and start again. The vault is still being opened carefully, with posthumous releases trickling out over the past decade, each one a reminder that the catalog we already know represents only a fraction of what he made.

What made him unrepeatable was not any single skill. It was the combination of total musical mastery, absolute creative control, genuine weirdness, and an almost theological relationship to the act of making music. He worked constantly. He played live constantly. He believed, with a conviction that never seemed to waver, that music was a sacred thing and that doing it halfway was not really doing it at all.

Dave Grohl once called it his proudest musical achievement when Prince covered Foo Fighters’ “Best of You” during his legendary Super Bowl halftime performance in 2007. Think about that for a moment. One of rock music’s most acclaimed performers, describing as his proudest achievement the moment that Prince chose to play his song.

Minneapolis, ten years on

Elliott Powell, associate professor of American Studies at the University of Minnesota, told the Minnesota Daily that the mourning over Prince’s passing has since turned into a long-term culture of remembrance, with anniversary events and continued visits to Paisley Park becoming part of how fans honor his legacy. A new generation is discovering him constantly, through the classroom, through streaming, through the artists they already love who point back to him.

He is showing up in conversations about artist ownership of masters, a fight he waged publicly and at great personal cost long before Taylor Swift made it a mainstream debate. He is showing up in conversations about genre, about gender, about the relationship between Black artists and the commercial music industry.

He is showing up, most of all, in the music. In the way certain records take a left turn that should not work but does. In the way a guitar solo arrives in a pop song and reframes everything that came before it. In the way an artist decides, against all commercial logic, to be more than one thing and to refuse the box anyone is trying to put them in.

Ten years is a long time. It is also nothing. Some musicians make work that belongs to its moment. Prince made work that seems to belong to every moment that follows it. Put on “Sign O’ The Times” today. Put on “When Doves Cry.” Put on “Purple Rain.”

Tell me it sounds old.

Nashville Cat Wayne Moss, Whose Guitar Defined an Era, Dead at 88

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Wayne Moss, the Nashville session guitarist whose fingers shaped some of the most iconic recordings in country and rock history, died April 21, 2026. He was 88.

Born February 9, 1938 in South Charleston, West Virginia, Moss made his way to Nashville in 1959 and never looked back. Within a few years he was playing on records that would outlive generations. That electric guitar riff on Roy Orbison’s “Oh, Pretty Woman”? Wayne Moss. The guitar on Bob Dylan’s Blonde on Blonde? Wayne Moss. Dolly Parton’s “Jolene”? Wayne Moss. Waylon Jennings’ “Only Daddy That’ll Walk the Line”? You know the answer.

In 1961, Moss founded Cinderella Sound in Madison, Tennessee — Nashville’s oldest continuously operating independent recording studio — out of a nightclub’s salvaged equipment and a garage. No Google listing. No tour buses. Just great records. Steve Miller recorded there. So did Linda Ronstadt. So did Grand Funk Railroad and the James Gang. Moss liked it that way.

He co-founded Area Code 615, whose debut earned a GRAMMY nomination, and Barefoot Jerry. He spent 15 years in the Hee Haw house band. His songs were cut by Chet Atkins, Jerry Reed, Willie Nelson and the Oak Ridge Boys. The Country Music Hall of Fame honored him as a Nashville Cat in 2009. West Virginia claimed him back in 2013 with an induction into its own Music Hall of Fame.

“Wayne was a musical torchbearer and a creative pathfinder who left his own resounding stamp on music history,” said Country Music Hall of Fame CEO Kyle Young.

Roy Orbison Jr. said it more simply: “My dear friend, the great guitarist Wayne Moss, has died. We love you Wayne.”

There are records on your shelf right now that Wayne Moss played on. You just didn’t always know his name. You will now.

Alan Osmond, Founding Member and Creative Force Behind The Osmonds, Dead at 76

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There is a particular kind of person in the music industry who does the most essential work and receives the least amount of credit for it. The one who writes the songs, arranges the choreography, produces the records, holds the vision, and keeps everything pointed in the right direction while someone else stands at the front of the stage and gets the screams. Alan Osmond was that person for one of the most successful family acts in the history of popular music, and when he died on April 20, 2026, at the age of 76, surrounded by his wife Suzanne and their eight sons, the music world lost someone whose fingerprints were on far more of what we loved than most people ever knew.

Alan Ralph Osmond was born on June 22, 1949, in Ogden, Utah, the oldest of a remarkable musical family. He and his brothers Wayne, Merrill and Jay began singing as a barbershop quartet in 1958, when Alan was just eight years old. The group headed to Los Angeles in 1961 to audition for The Lawrence Welk Show, got turned away at the door, met the Lennon Sisters, found their way to Disneyland, and were discovered there by Jay Emery Williams, Andy Williams’s father. That is not a career origin story. That is a movie. And it led to seven years on NBC’s The Andy Williams Show, which is where America first fell in love with them.

By the time the 1970s arrived, The Osmonds were one of the biggest acts on the planet. Donny and Jimmy had joined the group, Marie was building her own parallel career, and the hits were coming fast and relentlessly. “One Bad Apple” hit number one in 1971 and stayed there for five weeks. “Down By The Lazy River” followed. “Love Me For A Reason” became a global phenomenon. But the song that perhaps most reveals who Alan Osmond really was as a creative force is “Crazy Horses,” a hard-driving, genuinely surprising piece of rock and roll that nobody expected from a wholesome family group out of Utah, and which Alan co-wrote with Merrill. That song still sounds extraordinary. It always will.

What made Alan’s contribution so significant was how much of it happened away from the spotlight. He played piano and guitar, co-wrote many of the group’s most important songs, co-produced most of their recordings, and arranged the choreography that made their live shows the spectacle they were. He was the band’s creative architect, the oldest brother who set the standard and held the bar. His brothers called him No. 1 and the name wasn’t ceremonial. It was accurate.

His personal life was as full as his professional one. He married Suzanne Pinegar in 1974, a marriage that lasted fifty-one years and produced eight sons, thirty grandchildren, and five great-grandchildren. His sons performed as the Osmond Boys in the late 1980s and later as The Osmonds Second Generation, which means Alan’s influence on the family’s musical legacy extended across generations in the most direct way possible. He also co-founded Stadium of Fire with his brother Merrill in 1980, which became one of the largest Independence Day celebrations in the United States, held annually in Provo, Utah.

In 1987, during an Osmond Brothers concert, Alan realized he could not raise his right arm. The diagnosis that followed was progressive multiple sclerosis. He was thirty-seven years old. What he did with that diagnosis is part of what defines the man. He did not disappear. He did not go quietly. He spent decades speaking publicly about living with MS, appearing at fundraising events, offering encouragement and practical wisdom to others facing the same diagnosis, and receiving the Dorothy Corwin Spirit of Life Award from the National Multiple Sclerosis Society in 2000. His motto was direct and characteristic: “I may have MS but MS does not have me.” He retired from performing in 2007 but his last documented appearance with his brothers was October 13, 2018, at Neal Blaisdell Arena in Honolulu, and even after that he was still writing songs. He published his autobiography, ‘One Way Ticket,’ in September 2024.

The tributes that have come since his passing reflect a man who was beloved not just as a performer but as a human being. His brother Merrill, who visited him two days before he died, shared that Alan made him laugh even while struggling, and that in a quiet moment he leaned close and whispered a request to do something with the creative work they had built together. “His life was not measured in years but in love, sacrifice, and purpose,” Merrill wrote. That is the kind of thing that gets said at funerals and usually means very little. In this case it means everything.

Beyond the music and the philanthropy, Alan Osmond was someone who lived by a set of values and didn’t waver from them. His faith was central to everything he did. His family was the frame around all of it. He helped launch the OneHeart Foundation, focused on supporting orphans and community humanitarian work. He co-created the Children’s Miracle Network Telethon, which has raised over two billion dollars for children’s hospitals. The scale of what he gave back, quietly, consistently, over decades, is genuinely staggering when you add it all up.

Before his marriage, Alan briefly dated Karen Carpenter in the early 1970s, a detail that speaks to the world he moved through and the era he inhabited. Two of the most gifted, wholesome, and deeply feeling musical presences of a generation, briefly in each other’s orbit. That detail is small but somehow illuminating. He was part of the fabric of that time in a way that is hard to fully articulate now, when the music of the 1970s has been reduced to playlist categories and streaming algorithms. The Osmonds were everywhere then, inescapable and beloved, and Alan was the reason they were as good as they were.

He leaves behind Suzanne, their eight sons, thirty grandchildren and five great-grandchildren, and a body of work that shaped what popular music looked and sounded like for an entire decade. Alan Osmond was seventy-six years old. He was still writing songs near the end. The stage he built for his family was one of the most enduring in the history of the form, and the man who built it deserved every moment of the love that is coming his way now.

Video: Royal Blood Proved Two Members Are All You Need at Lollapalooza Chicago 2017

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Riding the release of their sophomore album ‘How Did We Get So Dark?’, Royal Blood hit the Lollapalooza stage in Chicago’s Grant Park in 2017 and delivered exactly what makes them one of modern rock’s most compelling live acts, with Mike Kerr’s bass running through a complex pedal setup that alternates between screaming lead lines and floor-shaking low end while Ben Thatcher drives everything forward with relentless precision, the two of them generating a wall of sound that no one in that crowd would have guessed came from just a duo.

Video: Within Temptation’s Sharon den Adel Commands Resurrection Fest in a Full-Scale Symphonic Metal Spectacle From 2019

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Within Temptation brought the full weight of their symphonic metal sound to Resurrection Fest in Viveiro, Spain in 2019, and this professionally shot video captures every moment of it, from Sharon den Adel’s commanding vocal performance through “Stand My Ground” and “Mother Earth” to the elaborate lighting and visuals that turned the festival stage into something closer to a theatrical event.

Dan + Shay’s “Say So” Hits Country Radio With a Message That Goes Far Beyond the Charts

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Dan + Shay have released “Say So,” and the response has been immediate. The new single arrived at country radio with 112 stations adding it to immediate rotation, making it the most added song of the week. Written by Dan Smyers, Shay Mooney, Jimmy Robbins, and David Hodges, and co-produced by Smyers and Scott Hendricks, the track was inspired by a friend lost to suicide and carries a direct, unambiguous message: if you need somebody, say so.

The American Foundation for Suicide Prevention weighed in without hesitation. “Music has the power to send potentially lifesaving messages and elevate our culture’s consciousness,” said Stephanie Rogers, EVP and Chief Communications Officer of AFSP. “This song, which assures listeners ‘If you’re going through hell, you’re not alone,’ offers a beacon of hope.” That framing is precise and earned. Dan + Shay put it plainly in their Variety interview: “If it saves one person’s life, it was worth writing it.”

The music video, conceptualized and directed by Dan Smyers, gives the song’s message room to breathe visually. Within days of the release, banners inspired by the video appeared around Nashville. The launch was backed by major market billboard campaigns from YouTube, Pandora, Spotify, and Amazon, with radio world premieres across iHeart, Audacy, Cox, Connoisseur, Summit, and Beasley.

“Say So” is the first release of new music from the duo in 2026, a year that follows one of the most productive stretches of their 13-year career. Dan + Shay have accumulated over 13 billion global streams and 11 number one singles at country radio. They perform at the Stagecoach Music Festival in Indio, California on April 24.

If you or someone you know is in crisis, call or text 988 for the Suicide and Crisis Lifeline, or text TALK to 741741 to reach the Crisis Text Line.

Decca France Marks the Miles Davis Centenary With a Deluxe Reissue of His Most Legendary Film Score ‘Ascenseur pour l’échafaud’

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To mark the centenary of Miles Davis, Decca Records France will release new deluxe vinyl and CD editions of the legendary soundtrack to Louis Malle’s 1958 film Ascenseur pour l’échafaud. Recorded in Paris in December 1957, the music remains one of the most influential jazz soundtracks ever created, and one of the only film scores in which the music was entirely improvised while the musicians watched the film. Pre-order here.

The reissue programme, available from May 22, presents the recording across three deluxe formats. A 180g vinyl LP reproduces the original album in a gatefold tip-on sleeve with an English translation of Boris Vian’s original liner notes. A deluxe 3x 10” vinyl edition expands the release to include the original soundtrack alongside the complete session takes from the December 1957 recordings, presented in a three-panel gatefold with Franck Bergerot’s essay A Present from Miles Davis to Louis Malle. A limited edition 2-CD set brings together the original album and all surviving takes from the sessions of December 4 and 5, 1957, accompanied by a 60-page hardcover book featuring notes by Ashley Kahn and Franck Bergerot.

First released in 1958 by Fontana in Europe and Columbia in the United States, the recording quickly took on legendary status. Few film scores have contributed so decisively to the atmosphere and reputation of a film. Nearly seventy years later, beyond the mythology surrounding its creation, the recording still stands as one of Davis’s most striking works: a tense, nocturnal score charged with dramatic intensity and spare, haunting lyricism.

The circumstances of its creation have become part of jazz folklore. While Davis was performing at the Club Saint-Germain in Paris in late 1957, Louis Malle, dissatisfied with the music originally planned for his debut feature, was persuaded to approach the trumpeter. After attending a private screening, Davis agreed to record a soundtrack. On December 4 he arrived at the studio with four musicians then based in Paris: Barney Wilen on tenor saxophone, René Urtreger on piano, Pierre Michelot on bass and Kenny Clarke on drums.

Little preparation had been done. Davis had sketched only a few simple harmonic sequences in his hotel room and shared them with the band shortly before recording began. With the plot explained, loops of key scenes from the film were projected in the studio while the musicians improvised directly to the images, without any pre-composed themes. Bassist Pierre Michelot later recalled that “Miles just asked us to play two chords – D minor and C7, four bars of each, ad lib.” It was typical of Davis: minimal instruction paired with an unerring sense of atmosphere.

François Leterrier, the film’s second assistant director, remembered the session beginning around ten in the evening and continuing until dawn while the musicians watched black-and-white sequences shot by cinematographer Henri Decaë, including Jeanne Moreau’s celebrated walk through the Champs-Élysées at night. “All of us there in the dark auditorium were aware that something extraordinary was taking place,” he later recalled. “Something that had definitely never happened before.”

The soundtrack was first issued on a 10-inch LP by Fontana and awarded the Grand Prix du Disque from France’s Académie Charles Cros. In the United States it later appeared on Columbia’s Jazz Track, earning a Grammy nomination in 1960. The new reissue revisits the recording across three deluxe editions: a 180g vinyl LP presenting the original album in a gatefold sleeve with Boris Vian’s liner notes and Jean-Pierre Leloir’s iconic studio photograph of Miles Davis with Jeanne Moreau, alongside expanded 3x 10” vinyl and limited 2-CD sets that bring together the complete session takes from the nights of 4 and 5 December 1957.