"THEY WANTED UP-TEMPO," Nicole Scherzinger purrs in the insulated register of a pop star preserving her voice, "so I'll do a fun little set of the hits." You may know the hits yourself: Scherzinger is best known as the lead singer of the Pussycat Dolls, the aughts girl group whose songs touch a certain age bracket in the amygdala and get them on the dance floor. You probably remember the bravado of "Don't Cha," which suggests the listener wishes "their girlfriend was hot like me," or the aural striptease of "Buttons." We are, at this moment, speeding down the FDR Drive in a black car on her way to a gig: a set under the Brooklyn Bridge at a Wimbledon watch party. A few days earlier, she was performing at a festival outside London. Even in a very short time talking to Scherzinger, you get the impression she is never at rest. Her mind is always on to the next thing, the next comeback.
We arrive at a makeshift dressing room in St. Ann's Warehouse, and Scherzinger slips out of her poppy-red dress-deployed for a press appearance at the Empire State Building to promote this gig-and into a black sweat suit. When she begins rehearsal with her version of "Jai Ho," inspired by the song from Slumdog Millionaire, she doesn't hold back. Her voice has the quality of a non-Newtonian fluid, slick and solid, silver as a wisp of smoke.
It catches the attention of some of the event's employees.
"She sounds fucking incredible," one tells another, who brags, in turn, that they saw her perform on the West End in Sunset Blvd., Andrew Lloyd Webber's staging of the classic Billy Wilder film.
ãã®èšäºã¯ New York magazine ã® August 26 - September 08, 2024 çã«æ²èŒãããŠããŸãã
7 æ¥éã® Magzter GOLD ç¡æãã©ã€ã¢ã«ãéå§ããŠãäœåãã®å³éžããããã¬ãã¢ã ã¹ããŒãªãŒã9,000 以äžã®éèªãæ°èã«ã¢ã¯ã»ã¹ããŠãã ããã
ãã§ã«è³Œèªè ã§ã ?  ãµã€ã³ã€ã³
ãã®èšäºã¯ New York magazine ã® August 26 - September 08, 2024 çã«æ²èŒãããŠããŸãã
7 æ¥éã® Magzter GOLD ç¡æãã©ã€ã¢ã«ãéå§ããŠãäœåãã®å³éžããããã¬ãã¢ã ã¹ããŒãªãŒã9,000 以äžã®éèªãæ°èã«ã¢ã¯ã»ã¹ããŠãã ããã
ãã§ã«è³Œèªè ã§ã? ãµã€ã³ã€ã³
Trapped in Time
A woman relives the same day in a stunning Danish novel.
Polyphonic City
A SOFT, SHIMMERING beauty permeates the images of Mumbai that open Payal Kapadia's All We Imagine As Light. For all the nighttime bustle on display-the heave of people, the constant activity and chaos-Kapadia shoots with a flair for the illusory.
Lear at the Fountain of Youth
Kenneth Branagh's production is nipped, tucked, and facile.
A Belfast Lad Goes Home
After playing some iconic Americans, Anthony Boyle is a beloved IRA commander in a riveting new series about the Troubles.
The Pluck of the Irish
Artists from the Indiana-size island continue to dominate popular culture. Online, they've gained a rep as the \"good Europeans.\"
Houston's on Houston
The Corner Store is like an upscale chain for downtown scene-chasers.
A Brownstone That's Pink Inside
Artist Vivian Reiss's Murray Hill house of whimsy.
These Jeans Made Me Gay
The Citizens of Humanity Horseshoe pants complete my queer style.
Manic, STONED, Throttle, No Brakes
Less than six months after her Gagosian sölu show, the artist JAMIAN JULIANO-VILLAND lost her gallery and all her money and was preparing for an exhibition with two the biggest living American artists.
WHO EVER THOUGHT THAT BRIGHT PINK MEAT THAT LASTS FOR WEEKS WAS A GOOD IDEA?
Deli Meat Is Rotten