Zogblog

When Dolly Parton’s family announced her passing earlier today, the obituaries flooded in, packed mostly with praise for her musical achievements. The New York Times called her “a superstar whose songs spoke to millions”; Variety described her as “the queen of country music.” These are all well-deserved plaudits. But most of the early coverage of Parton’s death has underplayed—or completely ignored—a major part of her legacy.

Midway through the first quarter of Game 2 of the NBA Finals, my four-year-old daughter Riley decided she’d had enough. Yes, she had fallen in love with the Knicks after her Madison Square Garden debut in March. Sure, she wore her Jalen Brunson jersey proudly to preschool every week. But with our team down double-digits for the second night in a row, she was done. “I never want to watch the Knicks, ever again!” Riley declared, and stomped off to bed.

Dear Rocky, You entered the world on April 23rd at 6:24pm, weighing six pounds and nine ounces, at Mt. Sinai hospital. Your arrival was, in many ways, similar to your sister’s: early (by a couple of weeks), dramatic (in the style of Julius Caesar), and musical (to the strains of “Irish Blessing”). But you were your own person from the very beginning, even amid these commonalities. Somehow, your debut felt a little more sudden (we still needed to get the air conditioning fixed).

Most casual observers don’t remember this, but when Shawn Carter released his 1996 debut Reasonable Doubt, his nom-de-plume was styled with an umlaut: JAŸ-Z. Back then, he was a relative unknown, and preferred to maintain an air of mystery—his face wasn’t visible on the album cover, obscured by the fedora of his black-and-white mafioso outfit.

Pop quiz: What music video earned the most streams globally in 2025? Really, please take a second and just guess. Do you have your guess ready? Great. Remember it. The answer comes at the end of this post. If you get it right, let me know and I’ll send you a signed copy of Empire State of Mind. We’re all friends here, so we’ll use the honor system. And now, down to business. Every January, Luminate—the company that powers Billboard’s charts—puts out a year-end report detailing music consumption.

As the year draws to a close, the West Coast is getting pummeled by rain while snow blankets the Northeast. The virtual forecast is similar: It’s the time of year when our inboxes are inundated with best-of lists, particularly in music, where everything is ranked and wrapped. But one bit of information stood out to me amid the late-December rush.

Sometimes when my daughter, Riley, dutifully waits with me at Manhattan crosswalks, she’ll spot a delivery driver speeding toward a red light on an e-bike. A common refrain of hers in such a scenario: “STOP … in the naaaame of love! Before you to behave a heart.” Riley is only three years old—excuse me: three and a half, as she’s quick to remind anyone who’s listening. And while a lot has changed since her earliest years, a surprising amount has remained the same.

The following is adapted from my book, Michael Jackson, Inc.: The Rise, Fall, and Rebirth of a Billion-Dollar Empire, on the occasion of Halloween. As 1983 wore on—and Michael Jackson’s Thriller continued to fly off shelves en route to becoming the bestselling album of all-time—his team decided to take a then-unusual step: creating a third music video from the LP. The title track seemed a good target. “It’s simple,” Jackson’s longtime manager Frank Dileo told him.

Yesterday, during a commercial break on NBC’s Sunday Night Football broadcast, a closeup of Bad Bunny’s face appeared, panning out to reveal him seated on a beachside goalpost. When “FEB 8” flashed across the screen, the message was clear: the Puerto Rican superstar had been selected to headline the halftime show of the upcoming Super Bowl. “What I’m feeling goes beyond myself,” Bad Bunny said in a statement.

This is the second installment of the series “What Would Jay-Z Do?” He once said he’d give you $1 million worth of game for $9.99. I’m offering it for even more of a bargain: the price of a Substack subscription. As the author of the Jay-Z biography Empire State of Mind, I know a thing or two about the guy.