The Beatles and grief have always been fundamentally intertwined. When John Lennon and Paul McCartney met as teenagers, they bonded over losing their mothers early on. Their manager, Brian Epstein, died in 1967 at only 32; as McCartney put it during the ensuing Get Back sessions, "Daddy's gone away now, you know, and we're on our own at the holiday camp."

Lennon's murder in 1980, at just 40 years old, imbued their story with bottomless longing — not just between this band of brothers, but a world that had to process the Beatles were never coming back. George Harrison's death from cancer, in 2001, was another catastrophic blow.

But the Beatles' message, among many, was that the light prevails. And from "In My Life" to "Eleanor Rigby" to "Julia" to "Let it Be" and beyond, almost nobody made sorrow sound so beautiful. And "Now and Then," billed as "the last Beatles song" — yes, the AI-assisted one you heard about throughout 2023 — is liable to move you to the depths of your soul.

A quick AI sidebar: no, it's not the generative type. Rather, it's the technology Peter Jackson and company used to separate theretofore indivisible instruments and voices for the Get Back documentary. It also worked in spectacular fashion for Giles Martin's — son of George — 2022 remix of Revolver.

*The cassette edition of "Now and Then." Photo © Apple Corps Ltd.*

With this tech, Martin and his team were able to lift a Lennon vocal from a late-'70s piano-and-vocals demo of "Now and Then," a song he was workshopping at the time. (Remember "Free as a Bird" and "Real Love," the reconstituted Beatles songs from the Anthology era? "Now and Then" was the third one they tried — and, until now, aborted.)

The final version of "Now and Then" features Lennon's crystal-clear, isolated vocal, as well as Harrison's original vocal and rhythm guitar from that 1995 session. McCartney adds piano and guitar, including a radiant slide guitar solo in homage to Harrison. Ringo Starr holds down the groove and joins on vocals.

"Now and Then" is more than a worthy parting gift from the most beloved rock band of all time. And you can experience it a la carte or as part of the Red and Blue albums — the Beatles' epochal, color-coded 1973 hit compilations, remixed by Martin, with expanded tracklistings, out Nov. 10.

Ahead of "Now and Then," which will arrive on Nov. 2, read an interview with Martin about his approach to the emotionally steamrolling single — and the host of Beatles classics that flank it on Red and Blue.

This interview has been edited for clarity.

What was the thinking behind the expansion of the Red and Blue albums?

That kind of stemmed from "Now and Then," really. You know, we finished "Now and Then," and then there was the thought about, OK, it can't go on an album. What are we going to put it on?

There was a thought about trying to respect people's listening tastes. And the fact that they've changed — and the No. 1s, for example, don't really reflect the most popular Beatles songs that people are listening to.

Then, we realized it was the 50th anniversary of Red and Blue. For a whole generation — much older than you, my generation — the Red and Blue albums have this sort of gravitas behind them. I know all the tracklistings; even though I think I was 3, when they came out, we had them at home.

So, we decided to do the Red and Blue albums — which took quite a long time, because there was quite a lot of stuff to do on them.

Since you've remixed all the Beatles albums from Sgt. Pepper's onward, I've been glued to the pre-1967 material — this is the first time I've heard your touch on their early work. Remixing songs as early as 1962 must have been a whole different ballgame.

In all honesty, that was the fun bit.

You know, we couldn't have worked on these songs six months ago; the technology had to be developed in place so we could do this — separate drums, bass and guitar, and have the different elements. And they sound good; it doesn't sound strange or artifact-y in any way.

I think people will talk about "Now and Then" for "Now and Then." But I [also] think the true innovations come back from the early Beatles stuff. The way that it pops out; the way that the records still sound like the same records. Hopefully, the character doesn't change, but the energy is different.

Ringo always said, "We're just a bunch of punks in the studios," and they sound like a bunch of punks in the studios. Now, they sound the age they were when they played it.

And that's so key to me, to making these records — that they sound like that. You know, they were way younger than Harry Styles is now, when they were making these records. People think they're old guys, and they're not.

That, to me, is important, in a way. We get old — I hate to break that to you, but we do get old. And recordings, by their nature, stay the same age. And the Beatles will always be that age on those records.

I think, now, they sound like a bunch of young guys in the studios bashing their instruments, and I think that's really exciting, and the technology we've applied has enabled us to, bizarrely, strip back the inadequacies of the technologies they had.

And I don't mean that in a pompous way. What I mean is that my dad never wanted the Beatles to be coming out of one speaker, and then coming out of another speaker. They didn't want the two tracks to be like that. He hated it. He hated it.

But now, we can have the drums coming out of the middle, like a record is now. He can luxuriate in that, and I think it's fun and exciting.

I'm noticing so many heretofore-obscured details in their early work. The vocal flub on "Please Please Me." The maniacal bongos that power "A Hard Day's Night."

I think you're right, but I think from experience — which, actually, I have a lot of now — there is a beauty in the reality.

What I mean by that is: so much music is perfect, and it's fabricated. There are checks and balances that go on, to make sure that everything is in tune, in time. And all this stuff goes on, which is fine and it suits a place. But it's a bit like the dangers of plastic surgery — everyone ends up looking the same.

And in records, everyone's sounding the same. We dial in so it's exciting, and it becomes boring, essentially, is what I mean.

The excitement you get from hearing a mistake in a song you've heard for years doesn't necessarily demean the song itself. It doesn't make you think, Oh my god, the band is s—. You think, Oh my god, what's exciting is these are humans. These are human beings in a room, making noise.

People go, "Well, who's responsible for the sound of the Beatles? Is it your dad? Is it Geoff Emerick? Is It Norman Smith…" blah, blah, blah. I go, "No, it's the Beatles. It's the fact they're four friends in a room. They make that noise."

And that's the thing about great bands; great bands make a great noise together, and they don't even know how they do it themselves. That's the beauty of it.

It's like, why do you love someone? "Well, because they're nice to me," or because they're whatever. You can't explain things; they just happen. And there's something about "Please Please Me," all that early stuff — you can hear it. It's something just happening, and that's so exciting. God, I sound like such an old hippie.

*The Beatles in The Cavern, Liverpool, August 1962. Photo © Apple Corps Ltd.*

Your first Beatles remix project, for Sgt. Pepper's, came out five years ago. On the other side of the coin, The Blue Album features songs from that dense, psychedelic era, like "I Am the Walrus," which is such a beast. That must have been a different kind of fun.

Yeah, well, "Walrus" is a beast. I've actually gone back and re-changed the stereo [mix] recently, because I got asked questions like, "Why did I change the end section so it didn't sound like the original?" I was thinking, Did I? I didn't do it deliberately. It's just the balance of speech versus vocals and stuff like that.

I was very lucky, because "Walrus" was on the Love album and show. I tackled a version of that before, and know how tricky it is.

Because by its nature, "Walrus" sounds technically bad, but it's beautiful. It's beautifully ugly as a record, and they're the hardest ones, because you don't want to take away the character. You don't want to remove the grime, because the grime is the record. I spent a lot of time looking at this and doing this — hopefully, we're in a good place with "Walrus."

You know, music's about, How does this make you feel? You don't want to feel secure around "Walrus" at any stage; you want to be unnerved by it. People sort of ask about plugins and technology, and it's like, it's not about that — something you can get on a shelf. How it makes you feel is the most important thing.

You once said that a White Album remix couldn't be too smooth — it's "slightly trashy. It's visceral. It slaps you in the face." I thought of that while listening to the remixed "Old Brown Shoe"; George's vocal is way grimy on that one.

This is going to sound really ridiculous — and I've been through this with a number of different people — but my job is to make a record sound like how you remember it sounding. Because records never sound like how we remember them sounding. And you go back and go, Was that really there?

Some people accuse me of doing stuff that I haven't done, or maybe forgot to do, or whatever. But the fact of the matter is that we kid ourselves all the time, and we fill in the blanks constantly.

It's like, "What about the vocal of 'Old Brown Shoe'? Why does it sound like this?" And I go, "Well, it sounds like that on the record." It's part of the character of the record. If it was too clean, it wouldn't sound [right].

George was very particular at that stage. He didn't get many goes, is the way I would say it, because he wasn't given enough songs.

There's a story [Beatles engineer] Ken Scott told about The White Album, of him doing "Savoy Truffle" — which is incredibly bright as a song, by the way. And my dad apparently went, "You know, it sounds quite bright, George." And he goes, "I know, and I like it." Like, "I know, and f— off," basically.

You have to respect the artists' wishes when you're doing these things, even though they're not there. Yeah, on "Old Brown Shoe," the vocal's quite strange. But that's what George wanted it to sound like, and [far be it from] me to say it shouldn't sound like that.

*The Beatles in 1965. Photo © Apple Corps Ltd.*

What's your understanding of the extent of the work the Beatles put into "Now and Then" back in 1995, before they aborted it?

I wasn't there, so I'm just going to speculate. What Paul played me — what we worked on together — was kind of after he'd looked at the material they did together.

Far be it from me to argue with a Beatle: there were some things that I thought we should change from that recording. There were a few synth [things], which I thought, once we decided to put strings on it, [weren't necessary].

You know, the key thing is that George is playing on it. Therefore, it is, by definition, a Beatles song, because all four of them are on it. People ask me, "Why is this the last Beatles song?" Well, there's not another song. There won't; there can't be another song where all four Beatles are playing on it.

So, there were bits and pieces that were used and not used. I don't think they spent a lot of time working on it, but essentially, what we kept was George — and obviously, John's vocal, which then we looked at.

Listening, I was thinking, Thank god that George tracked a rhythm guitar part and harmony vocal back then. Or else, this couldn't happen. Or, if it happened, you and your team would never hear the end of it.

What was interesting was, we did the string arrangement. I sat down with Paul in L.A., and there are lots of chugs and "Eleanor Rigby" kinds of ripoffs in the string arrangement.

And what essentially happened was, Paul spent a lot of time listening to what George was playing on the guitar, and it really changed the arrangement. It's in service to the guitar; it doesn't go against George's playing. They were completely respectful of the other Beatles, and made sure it was a collaboration, and it was all four of them.

As Yoko said to me, "John is just a voice now." And I think it sounds like the Beatles, "Now and Then."

Looking at the post-"Now and Then" Beatles landscape, I'm enticed by which Beatles albums you'll remix next. The select tracks on Red and Blue open a door to what Rubber Soul or Beatles For Sale redux might sound like.

Technology doesn't — and never has — made great records, but it creates a pathway. You can do certain things that you couldn't do in the past. And the most exciting thing for me is — as you say — it does open that door to that early material, which we couldn't have done before.

I suppose fortuitously, we kind of worked backwards, in a way — and it made sense to do that. I couldn't have done what I've done on The Red Album even six months ago, probably; it's that quick. I love the fact that the Beatles are still breaking new ground with technology that will pave the way for other artists.

*The Beatles during a photo session in Twickenham, 9 April 1969. Photo: Bruce McBroom / © Apple Corps Ltd.*

I can't imagine what this next week of "Now and Then" promotion will be like. There's an incredible weight to this. You must be feeling that.

Well, I mean, there's some perspective. My mom's just died. So, it's like [dark laugh] what's important in life?

It's a funny time. We just talked about her funeral arrangements, and she's getting buried the day, I think, the record comes out. So, there are personal things for me in this.

I've been doing interviews this week, and people have asked me, "How do you feel about what your motivation was?" Somebody was saying I'm talking about the Beatles as a resource, or whatever. I go, "You do these things and hope people get touched by stuff."

When you say you enjoy "Now and Then," that's really nice, because that's why we do it. We do it so people can listen to stuff and not just hear it. "Now and Then" sounds like a love song. It sounds like a song that John wrote for Paul, and the other Beatles: "I miss you/ Now and then."

It sounds like Paul has gone there, which I think he did. You know, no one told Paul to go and do it, and Paul didn't go, This would be a great exercise for the Red and Blue Album.

He was at home in the studio. He dug on the record and started working on it, because it's his mate. And he really misses John. I mean, that's the truth. They broke up, and John died nine years later. It really isn't very long.

So, I hope that people listen to the record and they think about loved ones. Or they think about things. That's what I hope. I don't really care about anything else — do you know what I mean? What I'm excited by is people being touched by it.

Masterful Remixer Giles Martin On The Beach Boys' Pet Sounds, The Beatles, Paul McCartney

This story was originally published on Sept. 26, 2023 and has been updated to reflect details of his memoir.

Mark Ronson's fingerprints are everywhere in pop music. 

Whether he's behind the board as a producer, penning earwormy hooks for some music's biggest names, or employing a crate digger's mindset to create his own records, you'd be hard-pressed to find something on your playlist that Ronson hasn't touched. The seven-time GRAMMY winner might as well be considered the industry’s Kevin Bacon — he's worthy of his own "six degrees" game. 

Today, Ronson is on his way back to New York City from some time spent in the Hudson Valley — a much-need reprieve after a blockbuster summer that saw his Barbie movie soundtrack top charts around the world. 

"I love this film so much and I did something I've never done before by executive producing and overseeing [its music]," he tells GRAMMY.com. 

That Ronson still has things to check off his professional bucket list is something of a surprise. The stepson of Foreigner guitarist Mick Jones, Ronson got his start DJing in New York in the '90s, bridging his twin loves of funk and hip-hop. In the latter part of the decade, Diddy hired Ronson to DJ several parties, thus opening up the then-twentysomething to a world of A-list talent. Ronson's elite status only grew over decades — from DJing Paul McCartney's wedding in 2011 (for which he refused to accept payment), to creating the ubiquitous hit "Uptown Funk," and curating the final night of the iconic 2023 Montreux Jazz Festival.

Ronson has released five of his own albums — beginning with 2003's Here Comes The Fuzz and up to 2019's Late Night Feelings — each of which is a star-studded affair, featuring everyone from Miley Cryus and Camilla Cabello to Bruno Mars and Mary J. Blige (as well as the occasional lawsuit over interpolation and sampling). Over the years, he's developed a cadre of session musicians and production collaborators, creating an incredibly pop savvy sound often built on horn-driven funk and soul.

At the bedrock of Ronson's production — and among his best-known works — is Amy Winehouse's GRAMMY-winning album Back To Black. Since that 2006 release, Ronson has collaborated with an ever-increasing number of major acts, composing, arranging, producing, writing or playing on (and sometimes all of the above) works by Lady Gaga, Duran Duran, Dua Lipa, Adele, Queens of the Stone Age, and even Sir Paul himself. 

Ronson will add another first to his list: author. A hybrid memoir and cultural history, the still-in-progress 93 'Til Infinity will cover the New York downtown club scene of Ronson's salad days. 

"It's really fun to revisit that era, and it was a very specific time in DJing where DJs weren't really famous," he recalls. "There was no stage; sometimes the turntables were shoved in the corner at the end of the bar and you would have to crane your neck to even see the crowd. I sound like Grandpa Simpson, but I loved it." 

Ronson is en route to a DJ gig as we speak, though the new dad says he'll be "kicking back into high gear on the book" soon. "[Writing it] requires really falling off for seven hours in the basement, like Stephen King says in his book. But I like that," he says.

Ahead of the release of his memoir, Night People: How to Be a DJ in '90s New York City on Sept. 16, revisit GRAMMY.com’s interview with Mark Ronson. Ronson shared the stories behind some of his favorite productions – including the song that makes people "stupidly happy." 

"Ooh Wee," Here Comes The Fuzz feat. Ghostface Killah, Nate Dogg, Trife and Saigon (2003)

I went to see Boogie Nights in the theater and I remember this scene where Mark Wahlberg's a busboy on roller skates and in the background there was this song playing that had just this string thing that just hit me so hard. I bought the Boogie Nights soundtrack and it wasn't on there — obviously this is 20 years before Shazam — then I figured out it was the song called "Sunny" by Boney M. 

When I was making my first record, I was sort of locked up by myself in the studio on 54th Street just experimenting, making tracks all the time. That string line, I could never figure out what to do with the sample. I tried 80 different tempos and drum beats over it, and it wasn't until I just put that drum break behind it, the drums from the song, and it just all sort of gelled together. 

Because that was an era in hip-hop where people weren't really using drum loops or drum breaks anymore. It was about chopping and having hard kicks and snares,  like DJ Premiere and Timbaland. The DJ in me was like, f— it, let me just try putting a drum break under it. It all gelled and felt good.

I was a huge Wu-Tang fan, and at that point Ghostface was my favorite out of the group and I loved his solo records. I've never been more nervous in some weird way to talk to somebody — nervous and giddy, and what if I just sound so dorky? 

I remember he was like, "Yeah, I get it. I think it's dope. It's like some Saturday Night Fever with Tony Manero s—." I guess because of the strings and it was so disco, and Ghost always had this pension for those disco kind of uptempo beats. 

The album had to be handed in and I didn't have a hook that I liked on this song yet. Sylvia Rhone was the head of Elektra and she said, "I could try and get Nate Dogg on it." Of course that was the dream. I sent him the track, and it was probably two days before I had to master the album, on a Sunday. He sent me the files back, and all the waveforms were blank.

I had to call Nate Dogg at like 10 a.m. at home on a Sunday. While he's on the phone, he goes back in the studio and turns all his equipment on, trying to do the session. 

The fanboy thing is still very real because I still work with people all the time that I'm a fan of. At that age, being in the studio with M.O.P., Mos Def, Q-Tip, Jack White, Freeway, Nate. I was just trying to keep it together some of the time.

"Rehab" - Amy Winehouse, Back to Black (2006) 

"Rehab" just came about in general because Amy was telling me an anecdote. She was really together when we worked — she might not have been sober, but she got her whole life together. She was telling me about this time in her life that was difficult and she was in a really bad place. She said, "And my dad and manager came over and they tried to make me go to rehab and I was like, 'No, no, no.'"

I remember that it instantly sounded like a chorus to me, so we went back to my studio and we made the demo. That was when the Strokes and the Libertines were really big. I remember [the drums] sounded much more like an indie beat, even though it came from soul and Motown and the original rock 'n' roll. She would tease me; she's like, "You trying to make me sound like the bloody Libertines."

When [studio group] the Dap-Kings played it, they just brought it to life. I didn't really know anything about analog recording at that point. I only knew how to make s— sound analog by sampling records, so to hear them all play in the original Daptone studio, all the drums bleeding into the piano…. I felt like I was floating because I couldn't believe that anybody could still make that drum sound in 2006.

Amy couldn't be there for the recording, so I was taking a CD-J into the studio with me and I had her demo vocals on a cappella. I was playing it live with the band so that they could keep pace with the arrangement. I loved it so much.  

"Valerie," feat. Amy Winehouse,Version (2007)

Amy had never met the Dap-Kings, even though they had been the band for all the songs that I had done on Back to Black. There was this really lovely day in Brooklyn where I took her to the studio to meet all the guys. The album was already out; there was a very good feeling about it [and] they obviously made something really special together. Amy loved the way the record sounded so much, she was so grateful. They loved her.

While we're all having this love-in in Bushwick, I was finishing my album Version and I said, "Maybe we could just cut a song for my record?" The whole theme of the record had sort of been taking more guitar indie bands like the Smiths, the Jam, the Kaiser Chiefs, and turning those into R&B or soul arrangements. I asked Amy if she knew any songs like that. She's like, "Yeah, they play this one song down at my local. It's called 'Valerie,'" and she played us all the Zutons' version. I didn't really hear it at first.

The first version we did was this very Curtis Mayfield kind of sweet soul. Part of me was just like, This is really good, but I feel like there's a hit version as well. I don't have that kind of crass thing where everything needs to be a hit, but…

Everybody was already packing up their instruments and I didn't know the guys that well yet, so it was kind of a pain in the ass to be like, "Hey, I know everybody just wants to go onto the f—ing bar and get a beer right now, but can we just do one more version where we speed it up a little?"  Everybody flips open their guitar cases and we do like two more takes, and that's the version on my album.

"Alligator" - Paul McCartney, NEW (2013)

We've done other things together, but I've only really [worked on] three songs on his album, NEW. "New" I just loved as soon as he sent me the demo, because as a McCartney fan, it gives you the same feeling as "We Can Work It Out"; it just has that amazing uplifting feel. That's just his genius. I love "Alligator" maybe a little more because it's more weird.

He definitely gives you a day to f— up and be an idiot because you're just so nervous to be in the studio with McCartney. By the second day it's like, okay, get your s— together.

I remember running around just like, What sound can I find for Paul McCartney that every other amazing producer who ever recorded him [hasn't found already]? He was like, "Anybody can record a pristine acoustic guitar. Give me something with some characteristic that's iconic. That feels like someone just put the needle down on track one on an album." 

That's something I always try to remember: don't just make it sound like a guitar, make it sound like a record.

"Uptown Funk" feat. Bruno Mars, Uptown Special (2015)

My enjoyment of the song is now gauged by the people that I'm playing it for. I was playing at this party at Public Records [in Brooklyn] on Sunday. I knew that I wasn't going to play that song on that night; it wasn't right for that crowd or something. And then an hour into my set, the vibe is really good, and I was just like, f— it and I dropped it, and people went crazy.  

I'm a little extra critical sometimes on the more commercial songs, thinking nobody wants to hear this or this doesn't really have a place in this space. I think it's just a song that makes people stupidly happy, and that's cool. 

The lyrics [to "Uptown Funk"] came really quick. We had the jam: Bruno was on drums, I was playing bass, Jeff Bhasker was on keys, and then Phil Lawrence was there and we jammed for five hours. We just chopped up our favorite parts of the instrumental jam, and then just started writing lyrics almost like a cipher. Bruno had been playing the Trinidad James song ["All Gold Everything"] in his live sets and playing it over a sort of uptempo, funky James Brown, "Get Up Off That Thing" groove.

We were just throwing about lyrics, throwing a little bit of the cadence of the Trinidad James song. Then when Jeff Bhasker said, "This s—, that ice cold/That Michelle Pfeiffer, that white gold." It was like a great rap line. Then everything started to elevate a little bit from there on up.

That first day, we had the whole first verse and it felt great. Every time we went back in the studio, a lot of the times it would feel labored and not as good as that first verse. So it really took a long time to get in. Sometimes we'd go in the studio for three days and then at the end of the whole session we realized, we actually only liked these four bars. 

So we kept building on it, and luckily Bruno didn't really let it die. Bruno was touring Unorthodox Jukebox; I was just flying around the country with a five string bass just to get the song done.

"Uptown Funk" still ended at Daptone…to do the horns last with Dave [Guy] and Neil [Sugarman], me. It's almost like you've always got to go through Daptone to finish something. 

Bruno came up with that horn line. He was like, "I know you're going to kill me because you're trying to get away from being the horn guy, but I have this horn line and I think it's kind of killer." He demoed it from whatever backstage room on tour and I was like, Okay, here we go.

"Shallow" - Bradley Cooper and Lady Gaga, A Star Is Born Soundtrack (2018)

It's very rare that I write on a song that I don't have to produce as well. We wrote that song in the middle of sessions for [2016's] Joanne, and then Gaga produced the whole Star is Born soundtrack herself. I remember we all had some tingly feelings when we were writing it.

It wasn't meant to be a duet ever. Then Bradley wrote it into the film; it becomes the beginning of their love story. Bradley showed [me a rough cut] at his house, I remember just being like, he's taking this special song [and] made it put its hooks into you. This film, and the story, and the way this song is unfolding is so special.

Then also shout to Lukas Nelson, because that guitar that he came up with that opens the song was not in our demo, and that is such an iconic, memorable part of the song.

The film and the script was really powerful, and I think that me, [co-writers] Andrew [Wyatt], Anthony [Rossomando], Gaga were all in this sort of heartbreak place. We're all just going through our own dramas in the song. The juju was really good and a little spooky in the studio that night.

"Electricity" - Dua Lipa & Silk City feat. Diplo, Mark Ronson, Electricity (2018)

That song just always makes me happy. I don't have a lot of other songs [that sound] like that. I'm always psyched to play that in a set or to go see Diplo play it live.

When I came up DJing in the mid-'90s in New York, if you're a hip-hop DJ you had to be versed in dancehall, old R&B dance classics, and a little bit of house. So I knew 12 house records, but I love those records.

It came out of a fun jam, just me and Diplo — who I'd known probably at that point for 10, 15 years, but we never got in the studio together. He's just firing up drum s— and I'm just playing on this old tack piano that was in the studio I just moved into. But it also sounded quite housey. 

We came up with those chords and [singer/songwriter] Diana Gordon came over. I never met her before and she just started freestyling some melodies, and it was just so soulful instantly.

We'd moved the key a little bit lower for Dua — she has this amazing husky voice — but we still left Diana's demo vocal in. She's singing these mumble, non-word melodies that sound like a sample.

We had that old studio where we did Version and all the Amy demos. It has an old-school elevator that was sort of manual and it would always break down. There were people that were just too afraid, like Cathy Dennis — the  brilliant songwriter who wrote "Toxic" and "Can't Get You Out of My Head" — she would just always be like, "I'm taking the stairs." We were on the fifth floor and it was a steep, steep walk up. [Editor's note: The music video for "Electricity" features Ronson and Diplo stuck in an elevator. He notes that he's gotten stuck several times in real life.] 

"Nothing Breaks Like a Heart" feat. Miley Cyrus, Late Night Feelings (2019)

I was in L.A. working in Sound Factory [Studios], and I had seen Miley a couple years back sing "50 Ways to Leave Your Lover" on the "SNL" 40th anniversary; I had never heard her perform with that stripped-down arrangement. I was just so in love with her voice and the tone. I remember hounding my manager, because usually somebody who knows somebody, but Miley Cyrus was completely unreachable and just in another stratosphere.

I was in the studio with [Dap-King] Tommy Brenneck; he's just such a wonderful player, such a soulful touch. We got this thing going, and then Ilsey [Juber] was saying, like, "What about all these things that break, but nothing breaks like a heart?" 

[I thought], You know what? I've been trying to hit this girl up for years and nothing ever happened, but let me just try it one more time. I sent it off to Miley, and I guess she was just in a really motivated part of life. She's like, "This is cool. Where are you guys? I'll be there Monday." She came down Monday to the studio, and then her and Illsey wrote the whole rest of the song. 

"Break Up Twice" - Lizzo, Special  (2022)

[I produced a few other songs on Special], but they didn't make the cut. There's one that I really love called "Are You Mad" that might hopefully see the light of day once.

We spent a lot of time together and I love working with her because she has a really eccentric/ avant garde music taste. Like, the Mars Volta is her favorite-ever band; she's a conservatoire flute player; then she has a strong Prince heritage because she spent time in Minneapolis and she's been to Paisley Park. 

The thing that I really love about her is, even at the status that she was at when we were working, there was never anything too silly or too left field to try. It's really freeing when you're with a big artist who isn't afraid to just f— around and jam and make some s— that you know might not be the thing. 

"Break Up Twice" was actually an instrumental that we had done at Diamond Mine with [Daptone family] Tommy [Brenneck], Leon [Michels], Victor [Axelrod] and Nick [Movshon]. I just played that, and it instantly spoke to her and she just started freestyling, adding the harmonies and the sax and the vocal arrangements. I just didn't quite know how versatile and talented that she was when we first went in the studio. I just remember constantly being impressed and amazed.

Barbie: The Album (2023)

I'm really proud of the Dom Fike song ["Hey Blondie"], the Sam Smith song ["Man I Am"], [Dua Lipa's] "Dance and Night," of course. Even the Billie [Eilish] song that we did the string arrangement for. I played the tiniest bit of synths on the Nicki [Minaj]i/Ice [Spice] song. 

I love this film so much and I did something I've never done before by executive producing and overseeing it. There's so many songs that I had nothing to do with creatively; sometimes I was just doing admin, hounding Tame Impala to send in a demo.

I'm really proud of "I'm Just Ken." Of course Ryan Gosling is a superstar in a different kind of way, but the fact that he's not some superstar pop artist, and the fact that that song has managed to do what it's done….Obviously it's so much to do with the film and his performance, but I'm really proud of that song. I was so inspired by the script. I just instantly had the idea for that line.

There was never anything in the script that said Ryan was going to sing a song. It was just something where Greta [Gerwig] and him really loved the demo, and she loved it enough to write it into the film, which was just so exciting. It was happening in a way that felt wonderful and organic, and to then get Josh Freese and Slash, and Wolf Van Halen to play on it and even bring it to even this next level of sonic fullness. 

On TikTok and Instagram, I've seen people singing it; [even] in Spanish, really intense, really earnest covers. We were never trying to write a parody song or anything that wasn't earnest, because there's nothing parody about the film. I guess the chords have a bit of heartbreak in them, a little melancholy, and Ryan's performance is really lovely.

Barbie score (2023)

We worked equally hard or harder [on the score]. It doesn't have quite the same shine because obviously it's not Billie Eilish, Lizzo, and Dua Lipa, but it's something Andrew [Wyatt] and I did. A piece called "You Failed Me" — that's during both Barbie and Ken's meltdown in the middle of the film — I'm quite proud of that. I really love the "Meeting Ruth" orchestral interpolation of the Billie tune as well.

I've contributed music to other films and little cues and things like that, but this is the first time that Andrew and I really did a whole movie from start to finish while also doing the soundtrack.

It's incredibly humbling, too, because when you make a song for someone's album, you're working. It's certainly the most important thing that's happening. In a film, it could be the second most important thing. You could sometimes say it's the third most important thing after dialogue and the sound effects. All that's programmed into your mind about hooks and things like that it's like, No, actually sometimes get the f— out of the way and just provide a lovely emotional texture for things to sit under things.

The thing that I guess is universal is you're reacting to an emotion. Especially if it's a film that you really feel emotionally partial to, you're watching this wonderful performance on screen and how could you not be inspired by that? We're so spoiled to have this as our first film where we're reacting to the emotional heart of this film, which is so rich.

Behind Shania Twain’s Hits: How A Hospital Stay, A Balmy Porch And A Hair Nightmare Inspired Her Biggest Songs & Videos

No fictional band has persevered and prospered like Spinal Tap. For more than four decades, they’ve walked a fine line between fiction and reality so skillfully that people prefer the invented band members playing their satirical songs. You can’t have one without the other. We’ve fully bought into the act, something no one foresaw back in 1984.

The evolution of Spinal Tap from cult movie invention into real-life band is a surreal and endearing cinematic story — one that went to 11 and paved the way for the new sequel Spinal Tap II: The End Continues. 

Out Sept. 12, Spinal Tap II begins when the daughter of Spinal Tap's contentious late manager inherits what she thinks is a worthless contract requiring the dormant band to do one more gig. But after a video clip of Garth Brooks and Trisha Yearwood dueting on the bass-heavy "Big Bottom" goes viral, a Tap buzz reignites. The unexpected reunion — the group's first in 15 years — renews their classic squabbling while nodding at contemporary music industry nonsense.

"Well, once someone really forces you into it, a good time could be had, you know?" vocalist and guitarist David St. Hubbins (actor Michael McKean, in character) tells GRAMMY.com. "Sometimes you go kicking and screaming into a new, or sort of a stale, environment, and you say, Well, make the best of it, and then it's okay."

Director Rob Reiner and actors McKean,Christopher Guest, and Harry Shearer — portraying filmmaker Marty DiBergi, and Spinal Tap members David St. Hubbins, Nigel Tufnel, and Derek Smalls — are the key original players delivering this sequel. Some supporting ones like Fran Drescher and Paul Shaffer get cameos to show us where their characters wound up.

When that original quartet (along with keyboardist David Kaff as Viv Savage and drummer Ric Parnell as Mick Shrimpton, both now deceased), set out to make the famed first mockumentary, it took them four years to bring their vision to life. They even made a short film as a sort of rough draft.

The fictional 1984 documentary This Is Spinal Tap followed the titular hard rock band during their calamitous, alleged final tour — getting lost on the way to perform, stage prop fails, hapless antics, and a fatal succession of drummers — and became a cult hit. The film brilliantly satirized the unglamorous side of rock ‘n roll via the group’s own buffoonery. It gave us original songs like "Sex Farm," "Heavy Duty," and "Stonehenge" (with its epically comic concert fail), along with immortal lines like "This one goes to 11" and "There’s a fine line between stupid and clever."

This Is Spinal Tap was a hoot but also hit too close to home for many musicians. Sting reportedly told Reiner that whenever he watched it, he didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. General audiences the world over embraced that dichotomy, giving decades of life to the film and its hapless rockers. Some fans have even written about Tap albums that were mentioned but don’t actually exist.

Spinal Tap had gigged around L.A. prior to filming to perfect their shtick, though the group truly took flight after This Is Spinal Tap hit theaters. Following a mini U.S. tour in ‘84, McKean and Shearer (that is, guitarist/vocalist St. Hubbins and bassist Smalls) participated with real-life rockers on the Hear ‘n Aid song "Stars" — the heavy metal version of "We Are The World." 

Spinal Tap reunited in 1992, 2000, 2007 and 2009; they released three more albums (Break Like The Wind, Back From The Dead, and the new The End Continues); performed on "The Simpsons," had their own "Behind The Music" special, embarked on an acoustic tour, and played the Live Earth and Glastonbury festivals. Acoustic shows aside, they've always been in character.

Spinal Tap has laid low since 2009, although Smalls released his 2018 solo album Smalls Change (Meditations Upon Ageing) and did a couple of orchestral concerts.

Chris Addison, Kerry Godliman, Christopher Guest, Michael McKean and Harry Shearer in 'Spinal Tap II' | Photo: Bleecker Street/Kyle Kaplan

This week, Spinal Tap returns for one last hurrah, or so we think. There’s the sequel, a new dual autobiography (from the band’s and actors’ points of view), a fresh soundtrack album, and even a limited edition Liquid Death water pack.

In Spinal Tap II: The End Continues, filmmaker Marty DiBergi reunites the estranged lads for one big final concert in New Orleans. The decades since This Is Spinal Tap have seen the quartet explore a variety of vocations; most recently, David now composes music for murder podcasts, Nigel owns a cheese shop, and Derek runs the New Museum Of Glue. Unsure of the band's draw so many years later, a sleazy, vapid concert promoter (who admits he has a disability where he can’t actually hear music) suggests maybe one or two of them actually die at the show to secure their legacy and sales.

"It was originally called the Under Duress tour," Tufnel chimes in. "Only one show, but we wound up having a mixed good time."

Tap does most of their press in character, and the three American actors slip easily into their British personas. David, Nigel and Derek feel like real people with distinct personalities and their trademark banter. When it’s suggested that Spinal Tap II could be shown in 4D to really capture the majesty of "Stonehenge" with Elton John live in the movie’s climactic concert sequence, Tufnel says he doesn’t know what that looks like.

"4D is the same as 3D except you go back in time," remarks St. Hubbins. "There are two Ds for each eye," quips Smalls.

The "Spinal Tap Moment" — when something goes terribly wrong onstage, or off — has also become entrenched in popular culture. St. Hubbins does not mind the term: "It positively became known as that because everyone's had mishaps."

Fellow industry vets Sir Elton John and Sir Paul McCartney both appear in Spinal Tap II. Smalls notes, "I think in retrospect, Sir Paul is going to regard him dropping in on us and getting that cold reception from David as his Spinal Tap moment." The two are currently not speaking after the famed Beatle offered St. Hubbins some ill-taken musical advice. 

"I did embarrass Sir Elton, though," admits St. Hubbins. "I told him — it's a true thing — that I had run into a bloke who works at the Troubadour and that Elton owes them one more show from 1971. He fell short, so he's got to drag his ass back to West Hollywood just one more time."

Witticisms aside, the trio can also be sincere, and thoughtfully consider the strength of classic rock nostalgia. "What's going on now is not really very interesting, so people want to turn back [to the past]," explains Smalls.

"Rock and roll keeps reinventing itself, using the same spare parts that they left behind," moans St. Hubbins. "All of a sudden, we've got machines playing all the bass parts, machines playing all the drum parts, and AutoTune helping out with everything else."

"People are scared that it's all going to be done by AI," says Smalls. "So they're going, No, no, no, we want the real thing, as dirty and as messy as it might be. It’s real, and that's us."

As one classic Tap lyric declares, "The more it stays the same, the less it changes." But the music industry has changed over the last 15 years. "You don't talk about units anymore," notes St. Hubbins. "You used to talk about units because there were LPs, then there were cassettes, and then…"

"It’s been since the Middle Ages they’ve had eunuchs," interjects Tufnel.

"Units," corrects his bandmate. "Now it's streams, yeah? A stream is one thing. It's a body of water with lily pads flowing by. What does it mean? It's nonsense."

Marketing has changed too. Within the world of the film, Spinal Tap's 1984 album Smell The Glove — with its infamous cover featuring a collared woman on all fours with a glove held to her nose — was censored and replaced with an all-black cover, years before Metallica did it on purpose. Spinal Tap was told their cover was sexist, whereas one by rival Duke Fame, featuring him in bondage at the mercy of women, was sexy. ("He’s the victim.")

Sabrina Carpenter's recently released Man’s Best Friend — the cover for which features the singer on all fours in a tight dress with her hair being pulled by an anonymous man — begged some of the same questions. Is it sexy? Sexist? Was she inspired by Tap?

"Oh yes, to all three questions," St. Hubbins replies enthusiastically. "It's theft," grouses Tufnel. 

"No, it's not theft," counters St. Hubbins. "It's a tribute. Listen, I prefer to look at it as a tribute."

"Look, if it's such a tribute," fumes Smalls, "where's the bloody glove?"

Both in and out of character, Spinal Tap are actually solid musicians, singers and songwriters. During one moment in Spinal Tap II, the trio breaks into a beautifully harmonious a capella bit. Their oddball contrasts haven’t changed: Smalls later presents a new song, "Rockin’ In The Urn," about post-cremation rock star afterlife, to lower the bar.

After many famous drummers skittishly back out — some Spinal Tap drummers are known to spontaneously explode, others die in equally bizarre ways — Spinal Tap II showcases spunky spitfire Didi Crockett (a.k.a. real-life drummer Valerie Franco), the group’s first female drummer and member. 

Crockett, a lifelong Tap fan, smashes and bashes the kit with aplomb.

Drummer issues aside, Tap has been judicious with their sporadic reunions, and their fans always return. When asked about their eternal appeal, they can’t quite place their fingers on it.

"I think they know that we're humans," muses Tufnel. "I don't mean it like a UFO thing. They see in us what real people are like. We're not pretending to be something we're not."

"You're saying they see themselves in us?" asks Smalls.

"No, they're seeing us in us," clarifies Tufnel.

"They might see us in them," offers St. Hubbins.

"Maybe us as well," concludes Tufnel, cluelessly.

With a bevy of long-running farewell tours going on, one wonders why few rockers actually retire.

"If you play for a living, and that's what you do, you've got to play. You don't want to stop playing," Tufnel says. "You might think for a minute, I've had it with this, but really you want to keep playing because that's the most fun. Simple as that, simple as that."

"We get to do what other people dream of doing, and then we do it," says Smalls. "Then we dream about being them." But, he admits, "That's a bit of a letdown."

The (mostly) septuagenarian Tap has done a lot: Released many albums, toured the world, made movies, even released a book. Tufnel ponders that no one has played a full gig in a space station.

"There was that astronaut that played the guitar briefly, but that was just, you know, like a folk gig," says Tufnel. "[I want] a real gig with the drummer, bass player, two guitars." Smalls suggests that they would play their guitars upside down: "Instruments don't have gravity."

No fictional band has persevered and prospered like Spinal Tap. For more than four decades, they’ve walked a fine line between fiction and reality so skillfully that people prefer the invented band members playing their satirical songs. You can’t have one without the other. We’ve fully bought into the act, something no one foresaw back in 1984.

Genetics don’t guarantee hit records, but they can certainly set the stage for the next generation’s interest in a music career. Often, this inspiration starts at home; Latin pop stars Julio Iglesias and his son, Enrique Iglesias, are just one example of how enthusiasm not only for music but for a specific genre can be homegrown. For other famous music dads, while the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, it sometimes rolls into an entirely different genre, as it has for country crooner Billy Ray Cyrus and his daughters, Miley and Noah.

Music is full of iconic lineages, like jazz trumpeter Olu Dara and his son, hip-hop wordsmith Nas, but the idea of talent running in the family isn't limited to the stage. While some families have music in their DNA, creative dynasties form across pop culture, bringing familiar surnames to other industries ranging from television and film to sports and everything in between. Take Aerosmith frontman Steven Tyler and his daughter, accomplished actress Liv Tyler, or Major League Baseball pitcher Tug McGraw and his son, country sensation Tim McGraw, as examples.

These are far from the only examples of superstars who’ve followed their famous father’s footsteps into the spotlight, and they won’t be the last. This Father’s Day, GRAMMY.com celebrates some of music’s most prominent dads, across different genres and decades in music, who changed the sound of their generation — and raised the next one.

Rhett Atkins was part of the mid-90s wave of country radio staples, scoring smashes like "That Ain't My Truck" (1995), but his biggest impact came from behind the scenes, as a chart-topping Nashville songwriter with credits for contemporary country standouts like Blake Shelton, Luke Bryan and his own son, Thomas Rhett. In his teenage years, Thomas learned how to play the drums and later joined his father on stage. Between this early experience and his father's musical roots, it's hardly any surprise that Thomas grew up to become a modern country juggernaut with crossover appeal — one who's arguably surpassed his father, at least in mainstream terms.

Since his 2013 debut, It Goes Like This, Thomas Rhett has won fans with his earnest blend of heartland storytelling and pop-savvy hooks, notching 20 No. 1s on Billboard's Country Airplay chart while balancing writing and producing his own music with penning singles for other country acts, such as Jason Aldean, Lee Brice and Florida Georgia Line. With his dad as both inspiration and co-writer — the pair have written several songs together, including "Things Dads Do" — Thomas has bridged generations of country while pushing the genre forward, proving that in this family, the hits just keep coming.

Travis Barker & Landon Barker

As blink-182's drummer, triple-threat singer/songwriter/producer Travis Barker helped bring pop-punk into the mainstream with razor-sharp skill, fiery stage presence and a knack for turning angst into anthems. Cult-favorite blink-182 albums like 1999's Enema of the State made Barker a respected rocker, recognized by Rolling Stone not only as "punk's first superstar drummer" but also one of the 100 greatest drummers of all time. Though he's best known for his role in blink-182, the native Californian has been a bandmate of other groups — including the rap-rock outfit Transplants — and has also released solo music (like his 2011 debut LP, Give the Drummer Some). As is often the case with visionary artists, Barker's influence has transcended genre, leading him to work with prominent voices in hip-hop and produce for both Machine Gun Kelly and Willow Smith. 

Since making his first major strides into the music industry in 2022 (on Machine Gun Kelly's "Die in California"), Travis' son Landon has shown that musical talent runs in the Barker family blood. But unlike his father, the Gen Z up-and-comer has traded the drums for the mic and pop-punk for alternative/indie, adopting a vocal cadence and overall style not unlike Machine Gun Kelly's on Tickets to My Downfall (produced by Travis). He's currently signed to his father's record label, Elektra Imprint DTA Records, where he's released the first two official singles of his career. In a true full-circle moment, Travis plays the drummer on Landon's debut offering, "Friends With Your EX."

Few voices are as timeless as Nat "King" Cole's. The jazz pianist, pop vocalist and civil rights ally rose to prominence in the late 1930s as the founding member of the King Cole Trio, which went on to become the best-selling group and sole Black act on Capitol Records a decade later. Come 1950, he would launch his solo career, continuing to break racial barriers while delivering the velvety numbers, like "Unforgettable" and "L-O-V-E," that made him a household name.

Natalie Cole's career is inextricably linked to her father's not just by blood, but by shared artistry. Her debut single, "This Will Be (An Everlasting Love)" from her first album, 1975's Inseparable, introduced her dulcet R&B sound and earned her the GRAMMY for Best New Artist the following year. Like her father, Natalie made history in her own way, becoming the first Black artist and the first from the R&B genre to receive the award.

Over time, Natalie moved away from R&B and toward pop, eventually releasing Unforgettable…with Love. The tribute to her father finds Natalie covering some of his songs and even dueting with him on the album's namesake song, "Unforgettable." In 1992, Natalie became the first Black woman to win the coveted Album Of The Year golden gramophone for Unforgettable…with Love, which also won for Record Of The Year and Best Traditional Pop Vocal Performance that year. The LP bridged their two inimitable yet interwoven sonic legacies, striking a sense of magic that has permeated Natalie's career since.

Billy Ray Cyrus & Miley, Noah, Trace, and Brandi Cyrus 

With his signature mullet and career-making hit, "Achy Breaky Heart," Billy Ray Cyrus popularized line dancing as he formalized his place in country music's hall of fame. From a Billboard Hot 100 No. 1 credit (for his feature on Lil Nas X's 2019 record-breaking single, "Old Town Road") to a nine-times multi-platinum album (his debut LP, Some Gave All), Cyrus has stacked accolades since he broke out in 1992, solidifying his status as a defining voice in country music. But his most enduring cultural imprint might be his role as the father and creative launchpad of Miley, Noah and Trace Cyrus. 

Many 90s kids' first exposure to Billy Ray and Miley was the Disney Channel TV series "Hannah Montana," which blossomed into the 2009 Walt Disney Pictures theatrical film of the same name. After co-starring with her father, Miley transcended Disney stardom to become one of the most polarizing and chameleonic artists of her generation, fluidly working across country, pop, rock and even hip-hop. Last year, she won her first solo GRAMMYs (Record Of The Year and Best Pop Solo Performance for her 2024 single, "Flowers"), and added to her total at the 2025 GRAMMYs thanks to her Beyoncé collab, "II MOST WANTED," which took home Best Country Duo/Group Performance.

Noah celebrated a GRAMMY nomination of her own at the 2021 GRAMMYs, where she was nominated for Best New Artist. Since her official debut as a singer/songwriter with 2016's "Make Me (Cry)," Noah has increasingly carved her folk-pop lane while maintaining a flexibility evident in her genre-fluid collaborations with acts like Fleet Foxes, Diplo, XXXTENTACION, and Leon Bridges.

Miley and Noah's older brother, Trace, has also enjoyed musical success as the frontman of Metro Station. The pop-rock outfit scored a few radio hits in the late 2000s, including the party-starting track "Shake It." Outside of his work with Metro Station, Trace has also formed the pop group Ashland HIGH, and has most recently pursued a solo career that taps into his father's country roots (though, as recent social media posts have indicated, their relationship is strained).

Even the eldest Cyrus sister, Brandi, has dabbled in the music industry. Known for her work as a DJ, Brandi has landed residencies at the Wynn in Las Vegas, where she is also serving as the opening act for Kenny Chesney's shows at the Sphere in May and June.

Bob Dylan & Jakob Dylan

Jakob Dylan didn't set out to be his father, but comparisons were inevitable. As the frontman of The Wallflowers, he was part of the 90s alt-rock wave, netting a GRAMMY for their breakout hit, "One Headlight," and steadily developing a sound grounded in heartland grit and quiet introspection. 

His father, 10-time GRAMMY winner Bob Dylan, cast one of the longest shadows in American music history, not just as a folk and rock and roll legend but as a true artist who expanded the possibilities of lyricism in folk and other genres. Widely regarded as one of the greatest songwriters of all time — who achieved greater lyrical depth by weaving imagery and allusions to political, philosophical and other influences into his music — Bob turned protest into poetry, earning a Pulitzer Prize (2008) and a Nobel Prize for Literature (2016) along the way.

Musically, Jakob took a different path — one less overtly political and generally more personal than his father's. Across six Wallflower albums and two solo projects, he's developed a lyrical style heavily invested in character-driven storytelling that unfolds in a much more straightforward fashion compared to Bob's, though with no less depth. Jakob's work is proof that he didn't try to echo Bob's voice; rather, he found his own.

The frontman of U2, Bono is arguably one of the most recognizable voices in rock. Thanks to open-hearted singles like "With or Without You" and "I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For," U2 carved out a contemplative corner in the genre after getting their start in 1976. The Irish band's introspective, socially conscious strain of rock set it apart from its more aggressive counterparts, merging vulnerability with a global point of view that has continued to resonate with audiences decades later. In a testament to their enduring influence, U2 became the first musical act to perform at the Sphere in Las Vegas in 2023, playing a residency of 40 shows at the groundbreaking venue.

All these years later, Bono's son, Elijah Hewson, channels that same emotional pull, but with an indie edge. As the lead singer of fellow Irish band Inhaler, he's compellingly intersected indie-rock cool with arena ambition. Their 2021 debut album, It Won't Always Be Like This, topped the Irish and UK charts, establishing Inhaler as one of Ireland's most promising exports. They further expanded their footprint with 2023's Cuts & Bruises and, more recently, February's Open Wide. These albums are Elijah and Inhaler's stepping stones into a spotlight of their own right.

Julio Iglesias & Enrique Iglesias

Julio Iglesias isn't just a romantic icon — he's also the best-selling male Latin artist of all time. With more than 300 million records sold in 14 languages, the GRAMMY-winning Spanish singer/songwriter set an unprecedented standard for suave, multilingual crossover success. 

The expression "like father, like son" is certainly applicable to Enrique's booming career, which has extended the Iglesias family's musical legacy since he began releasing music in the early '90s. Determined to keep his musical ambitions a secret from his father and avoid any advantage tied to his last name, Enrique shared his first demo under the alias Enrique Martínez. In 1995, he embraced his true identity, putting out the eponymous debut LP, Enrique Iglesias. 

His explosion in the Latin pop space was catalyzed by chart-dominating singles like "Bailamos," "Hero" and "Escape," which thrust Latin flavor into the American Top 40. Today, he's recognized as one of Latin music's best-selling acts; along with more than 180 million album sales worldwide, he has the most No. 1 songs on the Billboard Hot Latin Songs chart (27) and the Latin Pop Airplay chart (24). A GRAMMY and five-time Latin GRAMMY winner, Enrique has followed in his father's footsteps to become a crossover king who learned from the genre's very best.

In the case of the Kravitzes, one boundary-pushing career begets another. Lenny Kravitz built a bold reputation rooted in individuality, defined by his signature dreadlocks, bell-bottoms, sunglasses, and his soulful sound melding vintage rock influence with a modern edge.

The multi-instrumentalist is recognized not only for reinvigorating rock in the late '80s and '90s, but also for bringing Black artistry back into the rock space at a time when pop cultural conceptions of rock had grown increasingly white, due to the rise of acts like the Rolling Stones and Led Zeppelin. He reclaimed rock's Black roots through a genre-fluid, retro-futuristic lens that underscored his ear for innovation. His four consecutive GRAMMY Awards for Best Male Rock Vocal Performance between 1999 and 2002, given for hits like "Fly Away" and "Again," were a resounding reflection of his impact.

While Zoë Kravitz is better known for her acting than her music, she's made her mark as the frontwoman of Lolawolf, an indie-electronic duo that draws from a cool, curated palette of R&B and electropop. Though her sonic approach is different from her father's, it embraces the same sense of genre fluidity that helped put Lenny on the map. Lolawolf put out its last album, Tenderness, in 2020 and previously opened for Miley Cyrus, Azelia Banks and Lily Allen.

John Lennon & Julian and Sean Ono Lennon 

It's only natural that the sons of a member of one of the most influential bands in music history found their way into music. The Beatles shifted the very shape of rock and roll from the '60s onward, rocketing into an unprecedented echelon of international stardom and commercial success. Come 1969, John Lennon's role in the group, which remains the best-selling music act of all time, primed him for a high-achieving solo career that often found him collaborating with his wife, multimedia artist Yoko Ono. He continued to influence popular music and culture through his resonant songwriting and peace-driven activism alike, most famously with his 1971 anthem, "Imagine."

Both Lennon brothers carry fragments of their late father's influence in their music, but they've each reshaped it in their own ways. Julian, John's eldest son, broke through in the '80s with Valotte, a GRAMMY-nominated debut that introduced his smooth, melodic pop-rock sound and vocals that bore an uncanny resemblance to John's. Like his father, Julian split his focus between music and philanthropy and, in the '90s, even took a step back from the music industry to focus on aid efforts. While he's made many nods to his father throughout his career, the most overt came on his 2022 album Jude — a titular allusion to the Beatles' "Hey Jude."

Sean Ono Lennon, by contrast, has walked a far more experimental path, embodying his father's natural aptitude for artistic exploration in an avant-garde psychedelic pop framework. This roving has taken him across roles, too, leading Sean to score several films, join four different bands (including an offshoot of his parents' Plastic Ono Band, the Yoko Ono Plastic Ono Band), and produce music for a diverse array of artists, ranging from his mother to Lana Del Rey to the Black Lips. 

Notably, Sean served as an art director on the 2024 box set of John's 1973 album, Mind Games, which won Best Boxed or Special Limited Edition Packaging at the 2025 GRAMMYs. In his heartfelt acceptance speech, Sean paid tribute to his late father's legacy: "I'm going to really work my hardest to keep the Beatles and John Lennon's music out there in the world."

Before stadium tours and streaming-era fame, Brian Littrell was one of the voices that defined late-'90s pop. As the high tenor in the Backstreet Boys, his smooth, expressive vocals anchored smashes like "I Want It That Way" and "As Long As You Love Me," which turned the group into a global sensation.

His son, Baylee Littrell, grew up watching it all. By the age of 9, Baylee was already opening arena shows for the Backstreet Boys, performing two songs mostly every night. But when it came time to make music of his own, Baylee pivoted from his father's boy-band pop (and, later, contemporary Christian music) to a genre completely his own: country. 

Despite his different stylistic lane, that same year, Baylee joined the Backstreet Boys as the opening act of the North American leg of their 2019 DNA World Tour. A few months later, he formalized his burgeoning sound, based in twang and storytelling, on his debut album, 770-Country. As he's continued to actualize his country music career, he's guested on Chris Lane's Big Big Plans tour and even appeared on "American Idol" this past March to punch his golden ticket to Hollywood. For Baylee, music has never been about filling his father's shoes — it's more about lacing up his own.

The face of reggae, who is widely recognized as one of the genre's founding fathers, Bob Marley merged Rastafarian philosophy with music in a movement that was deeply spiritual, political and ultimately, generational. Through celebrated numbers like "One Love" and "Redemption Song," the late Jamaican musician delivered a message of resistance and unity that his sons, Ziggy, Stephen and Damian, have expanded on in their respective, highly decorated careers.

Ziggy, the eldest of the three, has become a prominent voice in reggae music, first as the frontman of the family band, Ziggy Marley and the Melody Makers, and currently, as a solo artist with eight GRAMMY Awards and one Daytime Emmy Award to his credit. Along the way, he's used his platform to champion children's rights and social justice. 

Stephen is also an eight-time GRAMMY Award winner who's earned his golden gramophones across solo projects, production and his work with Ziggy Marley and the Melody Makers. Over the years, he's leaned more heavily into production than his father did, but embraces a lyrical style similarly focused on themes of spirituality, struggle and social justice. 

Like Bob, Damian carries forth the tradition of using music as a vehicle for protest and cultural pride, albeit in a more genre-fluid fashion that pushes the boundaries of reggae music by infusing elements of modern hip-hop and dancehall. He's won four GRAMMYs to date, with two — Best Reggae Album and Best Urban/Alternative Performance — given for his best-known album, Welcome to Jamrock. At the 2006 awards ceremony, Damian became the first Jamaican reggae artist in history to take home two GRAMMYs on the same night. (Perhaps surprisingly, Bob never won a GRAMMY in his lifetime, but was honored with a Lifetime Achievement Award in 2001.)

With his swiveling hips, devilish charm and singular sound, Elvis Presley ascended to a level of celebrity that propelled him to become the first true rock and roll icon — and one of the most influential cultural figures of the 20th century. He was the driving force behind rock and roll's explosion in the '50s, hybridizing the genre into a blues, country, gospel, and R&B-inflected fusion of energetic and sometimes sensual sound.

Elvis' impact is still felt in the cultural zeitgeist today, with the Elvis impersonators who marry couples in Las Vegas — where The King of Rock and Roll revolutionized the Sin City residency — serving as just one example. While he remains the best-selling solo artist in music history, Elvis' lasting influence lies not just in his rich sound and role in shaping rock and roll. As much as he was a popular figure, he was also a controversial one who challenged the era's conservative norms around race and sexuality while helping to establish the concept of the modern celebrity.

This left big blue suede shoes for his daughter, Lisa Marie Presley, to fill in the wake of his 1977 passing. In 2003, she established her bluesy, alt-rock sensibilities with the release of her debut studio album, To Whom It May Concern. Over the course of her career and two follow-up LPs, this sound morphed into a more organic, Americana offshoot that stood in stark contrast to her father's booming baritone, but descended from the same type of deliberate artistry. Listeners can hear both Elvis and Lisa Marie on "Where No One Stands Alone," a digital duet of the 1967 original, released in 2018.

The Presley family's name continues to live on in the entertainment space beyond Elvis and Lisa Marie's solo contributions, via Lisa Marie's daughter, Riley Keough. The actress took home a Primetime Emmy Award for her starring role in the 2023 Amazon Prime Video series, "Daisy Jones & the Six," in which she shows off her own musical chops — proving that the Presley genes are alive and well.

Carlos Santana & Stella and Salvador Santana

As the namesake and lead guitarist of the rock band Santana, Carlos Santana electrified and redefined Latin rock, fusing bluesy riffs and Afro-Latin percussion into a sound that has endured across generations — and continues to captivate them. His sonic footprint is massive, spanning 10 GRAMMY Awards, three Latin GRAMMYs and rock's highest honor: induction into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. 

Stella Santana's sound largely diverges from her father's highly textured, instrument-rich fusion to favor more muted, downtempo production layered with silky vocals — but it's no less rooted in rhythm and soul. Since debuting her first single in 2015, she's released three EPs, a full-length album, and a slew of singles, including her latest, "Shark Bite," in April. 

Her brother, Salvador, is also a musician, and won his first GRAMMY Award alongside his father, for the song "El Farol," from Santana's 1999 album, Supernatural. Later, in 2004, he founded the Salvador Santana Band, which specializes in a melange of hip-hop and jazz. Both siblings contributed to Santana's 2021 LP, Blessings and Miracles; Stella is credited on "Breathing Underwater," and Salvador on "Rumbalero."

Will Smith rose to fame as one-half of D.J. Jazzy Jeff & The Fresh Prince, integrating hip-hop into popular culture with a smooth, agile flow and comedic storytelling. In 1989, the duo won the inaugural GRAMMY award for rap, Best Rap Performance, for their song, "Parents Just Don't Understand." This achievement alone confers legend status to the entertainment icon, who is acclaimed not only for his success in music but also within the film and television industry. He's passed down his raw, versatile talent and charisma to his children, Jaden and Willow Smith, who have together proven that the Smith legacy isn't about replication but rather, reinvention.

While both of the Smith kids have followed in their father's footsteps to act and release music, they've done so with their own unique flair. Jaden forged his artist career with an appearance on Justin Bieber's 2010 single "Never Say Never" and a stream of mixtapes that paved the way to his 2017 debut LP, SYRE, released via Roc Nation and Interscope Records. That same year brought Willow her first taste of viral success with "Whip My Hair," which landed on Roc Nation with high energy and pure confidence.

Both siblings' sounds have transformed since the earlier days of their careers. Jaden's has morphed into a warm, upbeat hybrid of dream pop and alternative hip-hop, which complements Willows stride into a similarly ambient palette of sounds, including neo-soul, R&B and pop. It's no wonder, then, that the siblings each recruited each other on their respective 2019 projects: "Summertime in Paris" on Jaden's Erys, and "U Know" on Willow's self-titled LP. (Will and Jaden have also teamed up on two songs: "Icon" alongside Nicky Jam from Jaden's 2017 album, Syre, and "Work of Art," a collab with Russ on Will's 2025 album, Based On a True Story.)

Guitar god Eddie Van Halen all but rewrote the instrument's vocabulary while propelling his eponymous band, Van Halen, into one of the biggest rock acts of the late 20th century, courtesy of hits with horsepower, like "Jump." In the '70s, Van Halen drove hard rock's mainstream resurgence, becoming a household name in the process. With this much natural-born skill in the Van Halen bloodline, music was destined to become a family affair. (Later, Eddie would even name a line of Peavey Electronics guitars, the Wolfgang series, after his son.)

Although Wolfgang Van Halen grew up in the wings of one of rock's most esteemed legacies, he never treated it like a shortcut. After playing as the bassist in his father's eponymous band from 2007 through his father's death in 2020 — as well as in the band Tremonti in 2015 and 2016 — Wolfgang came into his own on 2021's Mammoth WVH. Along with writing every song, he sang and played every instrument, as he did on its 2023 follow-up, Mammoth II.

Though the name Mammoth is an homage to his dad's first group, Wolfgang's solo project marries precision with vulnerability, pairing muscular riffs with melodic hooks and lyrical honesty. It trades Van Halen's signature flashiness for introspection and emotional focus in a way that found Wolfgang carrying the torch but reshaping its fire — like so many other children of famous musicians who forged their paths not by lineage, but rather by finding and igniting their own creative flames.

God only knows if Brian Wilson was ever as happy as the feel-good summer songs he penned made others feel. What’s known is Wilson, who passed away June 11 at age 82, is now singing heavenly harmonies in that great gig in the sky with his younger brothers Dennis and Carl, who predeceased him.

At a loss for words, Wilson’s surviving family members announced the death of The Beach Boys’ visionary via his website and on social media. No cause was given, but the artist’s declining health in recent years was well-documented. Sadly, in the twilight of his life and career, Wilson suffered from dementia and a diminishing capacity to manage his own affairs. 

Over a career spanning 60 years, the musical genius leaves behind a legacy of hits — both with the Beach Boys — and via his solo records. But, the two-time GRAMMY-winner and Recording Academy Lifetime Achievement Award recipient, is remembered for much more than the chart-topping songs he co-wrote like "Help Me, Rhonda," "I Get Around," and "Good Vibrations."

Beyond his commercial success with The Beach Boys — more than 100 million records sold, four No.1 Billboard hits, and more than 33 platinum and gold records (the greatest hits album Sounds of Summer: The Very Best of the Beach Boys sold three million copies alone) — and his solo work (winning a pair of GRAMMY Awards) there are few genres the virtuoso did not have an influence on over the past six decades.

Read more: How Brian Wilson Crafted The Beach Boys' Early Sound: A Symphony Of Inspirations, From Boogie-Woogie To Barbershop

"The Recording Academy mourns the loss of Brian Wilson, a true musical genius whose work with The Beach Boys and beyond not only shaped the ‘California sound’ we know and love, but also modern music," said Harvey Mason jr., CEO, Recording Academy and MusiCares. 

"A two-time GRAMMY winner, 2001 Lifetime Achievement Award honoree and 2005 MusiCares Person of the Year, Brian's legacy is immeasurable. His innovative songwriting and timeless music throughout his decades-long career has inspired many generations. Brian’s spirit and sound will live on forever. We extend our heartfelt condolences to his family, friends and the music community."

To honor the life of Brian Wilson, CBS will re-air "A GRAMMY Salute To The Beach Boys" on Sunday, June 15 at 9 p.m. PT. The special originally aired in 2023; clips from the special can be viewed here.

California Dreamin’

The Beach Boys started in Hawthorne, California in 1961, when Brian and younger brothers Carl and Dennis, recruited cousin Mike Love and childhood friend Al Jardine. The group’s debut, Surfin’ Safari, was released in 1962. The title cut peaked at No. 14 on the Billboard Hot 100 and was a harbinger — and a hint—of what was to come from these young lads. 

The following year, the Beach Boys released not just one, but three albums: Surfin’ U.S.A., Surfer Girl, and Little Deuce Coupe and from 1962 to 1966, the group were everywhere, churning out hit after hit with 13 singles in the Top 10. 

Like Pablo Picasso or Vincent Van Gogh, masters who created hues and artistic techniques never witnessed before they splashed paint on canvases, Wilson did the same with sound. At the heart a listener — with heightened auditory perceptions — that’s what Wilson was. His lifelong fascination with recording, overdubbing and experimenting with sound started from the moment he received a reel-to-reel tape recorder for his 16th birthday. That curiosity never stopped.

Listen: 50 Essential Songs By The Beach Boys Ahead Of "A GRAMMY Salute" To America's Band

Wilson combined complex and innovative musical arrangements, along with lush orchestration to songs that defined an era and created a sound unlike any previously heard in pop music. The Renaissance man was a sonic genius long before the term was coined. A modern Mozart, who combined classical music sensibilities with mainstream pop, Wilson was a musical hero to his peers. As Bob Dylan is oft-quoted of Wilson’s talents: " Jesus, that ear. He should donate it to the Smithsonian."

The artist’s studio wizardry and ingenuity influenced his contemporaries in the 1960s — everyone from Neil Young and Paul Simon to Heart’s Ann Wilson — as well as younger artists like Weezer, Fleet Foxes, and Vampire Weekend. His timeless creations are sure to impact the hitmakers of tomorrow. 

Wilson’s accolades include induction into the Rock And Roll Hall of Fame as a member of the Beach Boys in 1988; the Songwriters Hall of Fame in 2000. And, in 2007, induction into the Hollywood Bowl Hall of Fame and the prestigious Kennedy Center Honors. Five Beach Boys songs have been inducted into the GRAMMY Hall of Fame.

Following news of the singer/songwriter’s passing, fellow artists, celebrities, and everyday people, wrote tributes on social media, with odes to Wilson pouring in non-stop throughout the day. "Anyone with a musical bone in their body must be grateful for Brian Wilson’s genius magical touch," wrote Mick Fleetwood. The Monkees’ Mickey Dolenz added: "His melodies shaped generations, & his soul resonated in every note."

Paul McCartney, who was famously impressed by Wilson's talents, remembered the singer on Instagram: "Brian had that mysterious sense of musical genius that made his songs so achingly special. The notes he heard in his head and passed to us were simple and brilliant at the same time. I loved him, and was privileged to be around his bright shining light for a little while. How we will continue without Brian Wilson, ‘God Only Knows’."

Writer-director Cameron Crowe chimed in "Those transcendent words and happy/sad melodies will be there for all-time, waiting for each new generation." And, composer and touring keyboardist Robin Hatch, who has toured with Porno For Pyros, F*cked Up and Our Lady Peace, said: "Those songs are weird but they don’t even seem weird. In a million years AI could never churn out a ‘Wouldn’t It Be Nice.’"

Actor John Stamos, who has performed with the Beach Boys, similarly offered tribute to Wilson in an Instagram post. "Brian Wilson didn’t just soundtrack my life…he filled it with color, with wonder, with some of the most unforgettable, emotional, joyful moments I’ve ever known," Stamos wrote. "He heard things no one else could hear. He felt things deeper than most of us ever will. And somehow, he turned all of that into music that wrapped itself around the world and made us all feel less alone."

Nothing To "Smile" About

Wilson was a once-in-a-generation talent. An artiste, the musician forever sought new and innovative ways to sculpt and refine songs, using mixing and overdubbing techniques to layer harmonies and experimenting with the latest technology to create orchestral arrangements in pop that popped when the needle dropped. These memorable melodies remain woven into the fabric of modern pop culture and make first-time listeners shake their heads in wonder.  

Born June 20, 1942 in Inglewood, California to Murry and Audree Wilson, Brian spent his formative years in the southwest L.A. city of Hawthorne. Music, for Brian, was an escape from an abusive father, who tormented him physically and mentally. Music provided a vehicle to channel these feelings; his lyrics and openness about his depression, addictions, and mental health struggles helped generations of teenagers acknowledge it’s okay to not be okay, making them feel not so alone. 

Learn more: 10 Memorable Oddities By The Beach Boys: Songs About Root Beer, Raising Babies & Ecological Collapse

While Wilson and the Beach Boys sang often (especially in the early days) of an idyllic endless summer of beaches, cars, and good vibrations to throngs of adoring fans in public at sold-out arenas and stadiums, his private life was far from sun-splashed. Listen to the GRAMMY Hall of Fame-inducted "In My Room," a tender melancholic ballad written from the point of view of a teen who finds refuge in their bedroom. Or, "God Only Knows" — an orchestral opus written, arranged and produced when Wilson was just 23 — which Paul McCartney considers the "greatest song ever written."

Creating His Magnum Opus

Good music makes you feel, but by the late 1960s Wilson did not feel like performing and making public appearances anymore. Anxiety, combined with an ever-growing dependency on drugs, caused a panic attack on a flight to Houston for a Beach Boys’ gig that led him to quit touring. In the ensuing years and decades, Wilson increasingly focused on songwriting and production work. 

The songwriter’s public struggles with mental health resonated on a different level than the Beach Boys’ sunnier summer songs upon release and decades later. Steven Page, former member of the Barenaked Ladies, was touched by the artist’s journey and wrote the song "Brian Wilson" when he was just a 19-year-old college student living in Toronto and struggling with his own mental health issues. Wilson’s openness led Page to pen what is still one of the Barenaked Ladies fan favorites that appeared on the band’s debut studio album Gordon in 1992. 

The Beach Boys’ harmonies are the bar that groups ever since have attempted to emulate. Though many of their earliest songs idealized the California lifestyle and rode the wave of the surf craze, Brian Wilson’s 1966 studio masterpiece Pet Sounds is often cited as one of the first concept records for its cohesiveness from start to finish — following a narrative arc similar to a three-act play with a distinct beginning, middle, climax and denouement. In a 2010 interview, Wilson ambiguously described this conceptual idea, saying, "If you take the Pet Sounds album as a collection of art pieces, each designed to stand alone, yet which belong together, you’ll see what I was aiming at." 

While the album only peaked at No. 10 upon release largely because listeners familiar with the radio-friendly pop hits did not know how to react to this batch of complex, meticulously curated songs. Wilson’s brainchild and magnum opus — a bildungsroman put to music — Pet Sounds is perennially ranked one of the greatest rock albums ever made.

In 1988, Wilson, along with his Beach Boys’ mates, were inducted into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame; that same year, the singer/songwriter released his debut solo record, simply titled Brian Wilson. In the 2000s, the artist returned to his group’s catalogue and re-recorded Smile, the unfinished and abandoned Beach Boys’ album meant as the follow-up to Pet Sounds, never released due to creative differences among band members. At the 2005 awards, the record garnered Wilson his first GRAMMY for the instrumental song, "Mrs. O’Leary’s Cow."

Learn more: The Beach Boys' 'Sail On Sailor' Reframes Two Obscure 1970s Albums. Why Were They Obscure In The First Place?

Outside of music, Wilson continued to shine a light on mental health issues. In 2015, he  partnered with mental health advocacy group Change Direction, a coalition dedicated to changing America's views about mental health, mental illness, and wellness.

From the smiles to the sadness to the endless summer songs, Wilson’s genius lives on. As Bruce Springsteen said of his friend and mentor in the documentary: Brian Wilson: The Long and Promised Land: "[He] just took you out of where you were and took you to another place."