West Coast rap veteran Kurupt is opening up about a private act of generosity from one of hip-hop’s biggest superstars that helped save his life.
In a newly published interview, the former Death Row Records artist and Tha Dogg Pound member revealed that Eminem quietly paid the full cost of his medical rehabilitation treatment following a severe struggle with alcohol addiction.
Speaking on SiriusXM’s "Sway in the Morning," Kurupt, born Ricardo Brown, detailed how his addiction led to multiple seizures and a three-week medically induced coma. While recovering from the life-threatening ordeal, he received unexpected outreach from two iconic architects of hip-hop.
The 53-year-old rapper explained that Dr. Dre initially reached out to offer moral support and guidance.
"It was Dr. Dre that called and was just giving his support and just let me know that, you know, we all go through these things," Kurupt told the radio hosts. "He was just giving me that game."
That phone call quickly opened the door for direct financial and logistical help from Eminem. According to Kurupt, the Detroit rapper arranged treatment through his own trusted contacts and covered the entire expense to ensure the rehabilitation remained entirely private.
"And it was Em who came to the table like, 'I'm gonna put Kurupt with my folks, and I'm going to put some money into getting him into like, a rehab situation to where he can sit down and enjoy [himself] and be out the way. Nobody will know he's there,'" Kurupt recalled.
"You know, these things cost bread, so Em put the cheese up for it and said, 'Tell Kurupt I love him,'" the rapper added. "Dr. Dre relayed the message, and then he put me with Em's folks."
The revelation underscores a long-standing, quiet brotherhood between 1990s and 2000s rap legends. Eminem famously listed Kurupt among his favorite MCs of all time on his 2002 track "Till I Collapse". Furthermore, Eminem has been highly transparent about his own past struggles with prescription pill addiction and a near-fatal overdose, treating his hard-won sobriety as a point of pride.
For Kurupt, whose 1990s dominance was anchored by legendary West Coast releases like Dr. Dre's 1992 album "The Chronic" and his own 1998 solo debut "Kuruption!", the unexpected gesture left a lasting mark.
"So, you know, that was real special to me," he said. "I appreciate both of them so much. And it's like, damn, you know? He just came out the blue from nowhere. Like, 'OK, Kurupt going through that? Bam. Boom. I'ma do that for him, man. Tell Kurupt get well, we love him.' That's deep."
Earth, Wind & Fire appear in a promotional photo. The R&B and funk group postponed its Aug. 6 concert with Lionel Richie at San Francisco's Chase Center minutes before showtime after a medical emergency involving a band member. The affected member has not been publicly identified. (Jabari Jacobs/Live Nation)
A medical emergency involving a member of Earth, Wind & Fire forced the legendary group to postpone its San Francisco concert with Lionel Richie just minutes before showtime Thursday night.
The band and Chase Center announced the postponement shortly after 7:20 p.m., about 10 minutes before the scheduled 7:30 p.m. start. Thousands of concertgoers who were already inside the arena or waiting outside were directed to leave, according to local reports.
“We are unable to perform as scheduled tonight at Chase Center in San Francisco due to a medical emergency involving a member of our band,” Earth, Wind & Fire said in a statement posted to social media.
The group has not identified the member or publicly disclosed the nature of the medical problem.
The San Francisco Fire Department received a medical call at Chase Center at approximately 5:30 p.m., spokesperson Capt. Mariano Elias told the San Francisco Chronicle. One person was taken to a hospital by private ambulance. Elias did not identify the patient or tell the newspaper what prompted the emergency response.
TMZ reported Friday morning that Elias separately described the call to the outlet as a “cardiac incident” and said the patient was transported in critical condition.
Neither Earth, Wind & Fire nor its representatives had confirmed those additional details as of Friday morning, and the identity of the patient remained undisclosed. The band's representatives referred TMZ to Earth, Wind & Fire's original statement.
ABC7 in San Francisco also reported Friday morning that officials had not released the affected band member's identity or current condition.
The abrupt postponement came as Earth, Wind & Fire and Richie near the end of their 26-city “Sing a Song All Night Long” North American tour.
According to Earth, Wind & Fire's official tour announcement, the Live Nation-produced run began June 24 in Saint Paul, Minnesota, and is scheduled to conclude Aug. 14 at Moody Center in Austin.
The tour's next scheduled performance is Saturday at Acrisure Arena in Palm Desert, California, followed Sunday by a show at Intuit Dome in Inglewood. As of Friday morning, those dates remained listed on the official tour schedule, and no further postponements had been announced.
The San Francisco show will be rescheduled, the band said. Ticketholders were told to keep their tickets, which will be honored on the new date. Refunds will also be available through the original point of purchase.
“We sincerely apologize for the unexpected change and appreciate everyone’s understanding,” the group said.
The health scare follows an earlier interruption of the same tour involving Richie. During the June 24 opener in Saint Paul, Richie became dizzy during his performance and later postponed two dates before returning to the tour June 30 in Pittsburgh.
Earth, Wind & Fire remains anchored by longtime members Philip Bailey, Verdine White and Ralph Johnson. The group, founded by the late Maurice White in Chicago, has remained one of R&B and funk's most enduring touring acts more than five decades after its breakthrough.
Earth, Wind & Fire has won six Grammy Awards from 18 nominations and received the Recording Academy's Lifetime Achievement Award in 2016. Its catalog includes “Shining Star,” “September,” “Reasons,” “After the Love Has Gone” and “Let's Groove.” The group was inducted into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame in 2000 and became the first Black group to receive Kennedy Center Honors in 2019.
No new information about the affected band member had been released publicly as of Friday morning.
The cover of Plas Johnson’s Capitol Records album “Mood for the Blues.” Johnson, whose tenor saxophone gave Henry Mancini’s “The Pink Panther Theme” its unmistakable sound, died July 15 at 94. (Courtesy Photo: Capitol Records)
Most people heard Plas Johnson long before they knew his name.
His tenor saxophone slides into Henry Mancini’s “The Pink Panther Theme” with a low, bluesy prowl, giving the animated cat in the film’s opening credits its cool, its mischief and its unmistakable strut.
The melody became part of popular culture. The musician behind it spent much of his career outside the spotlight.
Johnson died July 15 at his Los Angeles home, his children, Eric Johnson and Stephanie Oliver, told The New York Times. He was 94. A cause of death was not announced.
He died six days before his 95th birthday. His children said he had performed at his retirement community about a month earlier.
“The Pink Panther Theme” was Johnson’s most famous performance, but it accounted for less than three minutes in a recording career that crossed jump blues, jazz, R&B, soul, rock, pop, television and film.
His saxophone appeared on recordings by the Platters, Larry Williams, Little Richard, Fats Domino, Nat King Cole, Sam Cooke, Nancy Wilson, Ella Fitzgerald, Marvin Gaye, Dr. John, the Beach Boys and scores of others. He played tenor on the Platters’ “The Great Pretender” and piccolo on Bobby Day’s “Rockin’ Robin.”
Johnson was part of a generation of Black studio musicians whose work moved across genres more freely than the music industry’s marketing categories did.
A record might be sold as pop, rock, easy listening or a Hollywood soundtrack. Johnson brought to it the phrasing he had developed in Louisiana dance halls, blues bands, jazz clubs and Los Angeles recording rooms.
Other musicians knew what his name meant.
Louisiana arranger and producer Harold Battiste recalled that when producers could not hire Johnson, they looked for someone who sounded like him. Harmonica player and producer Bob Corritore remembered him after his death as a “musician’s musician.”
Mancini did not want an imitation.
He composed “The Pink Panther Theme” with Johnson’s tenor in mind after watching David Niven play the sophisticated jewel thief at the center of Blake Edwards’ comedy.
“Plas has the sound and the style I wanted,” Mancini wrote in his autobiography.
The theme was recorded in 1963 for the film, which opened in the United States in 1964. Johnson played during the introduction, returned for the central solo and closed the piece.
He later recalled that the arrangement felt special from the first run-through. When the musicians finished, the string section joined the rest of the room in applauding — an unusual response during a professional studio session.
Mancini’s music from “The Pink Panther” won three Grammy Awards, while the score received an Academy Award nomination. The American Film Institute later ranked it No. 20 on its list of the 25 greatest American film scores.
Johnson’s identity remained less familiar than the solo.
He sometimes met listeners who told him that his performance sounded exactly like the musician heard in the movie. Johnson would explain that they were listening to the same man.
He returned to the theme decades later, rerecording it for the 2004 tribute album “Ultimate Mancini” and the 2006 remake of “The Pink Panther” starring Steve Martin. Johnson was born July 21, 1931, in Donaldsonville, Louisiana, and grew up in a family of professional musicians. His mother played piano, while his father played saxophone and banjo.
The family later moved to Thibodaux and then New Orleans. Johnson began as a singer before his father gave him a soprano saxophone. He switched to tenor at 15 and formed the Johnson Brothers Combo with his older brother, pianist Ray Johnson.
The brothers played dances around the New Orleans area, mixing the popular music of Louis Jordan, Dinah Washington and Charles Brown with the bebop of Charlie Parker and Dizzy Gillespie.
The crowd did not always ask for bebop. The brothers played it anyway.
Johnson moved to Los Angeles with his siblings in 1954. Jam sessions led to recording dates, and his blues-touched sound proved valuable as rock and roll expanded the market for musicians who could combine Black musical language with the precision demanded by commercial studios.
A session with Johnny Otis brought him to the attention of Capitol Records executive Dave Cavanaugh. Johnson soon found himself recording behind Cole, Frank Sinatra, Peggy Lee and other major stars.
He could bring personality to a record without crowding the singer or arrangement.
“You just have to know when to start and when to stop,” Johnson said in a 2005 interview.
That judgment kept him working through decades of changes in recording technology and popular taste.
Johnson remained active in jazz while handling commercial studio work. He released albums under his own name, including “This Must Be the Plas!” and “Mood for the Blues,” and maintained a long association with trumpeter Harry “Sweets” Edison.
In 1970, he joined the studio band for “The Merv Griffin Show,” beginning a 15-year run that placed a working jazz ensemble inside a five-day-a-week television production. He continued accepting outside recording dates during the show’s run.
Johnson later appeared in Denny Tedesco’s documentary “The Wrecking Crew,” which brought wider attention to the Los Angeles session musicians behind generations of familiar records. The film also featured New Orleans drummer Earl Palmer, with whom Johnson had worked frequently.
By then, Johnson had spent more than half a century demonstrating how much identity a musician could fit into an introduction, a background fill or a few measures between a singer’s lines.
Alley Boy, the Atlanta rapper whose hard-edged records helped make Duct Tape Entertainment one of the city’s most recognizable mixtape-era movements, died Monday, his daughter confirmed on Instagram.
Multiple outlets reported his death was caused by kidney failure. He was in his early 40s. His exact age remains the subject of conflicting reports, with music publications placing his age at 42, while biographical databases list his birth date as March 3, 1981, which would make him 45.
The confirmation followed a day of confusion. Reports of Alley Boy’s death began circulating Sunday, but his daughter said Monday morning that he was still alive and criticized people for spreading the news prematurely.
Later Monday, she posted photographs in his memory, including a childhood image of Alley Boy holding her and another showing her hand resting on his. She marked the second photograph with the date July 20, 2026, confirming his death.
Alley Boy, smiles while holding two young children in an undated photograph. His daughter shared the image to her Instagram story on Monday, overlaid with an emotional message, to confirm the mixtape pioneer's death.
Alley Boy, whose real name was Curt Freeman, had publicly documented serious kidney problems and his need for a transplant. He said in 2023 that he had begun dialysis and later described undergoing treatment three times a week.
He attributed the damage to his kidneys in part to years of drinking codeine cough syrup, commonly called lean, and used later interviews to warn younger people about the habit.
Alley Boy never became one of Atlanta’s biggest crossover stars. His standing came from somewhere else.
During a period when mixtapes could establish a rapper’s weight without a national radio hit, his voice carried through East Atlanta, Southern street rap and the artists who understood what Duct Tape represented. His performances were blunt and pressurized, often making anger, fear and desperation sound like parts of the same thought.
He told The Fader in 2011 that he grew up in Edgewood Courts, began rapping at 9 and entered a recording studio by the time he was 10 or 11. With both parents struggling with drugs, he lived with his grandmother and began paying for studio sessions once he could earn his own money.
“I always fell back to the music,” he said.
Freeman and longtime friend Big Bank Black co-founded Duct Tape Entertainment, an independent East Atlanta operation whose identity was built as much around loyalty and neighborhood ties as music. The company later became home to Trouble, another respected Atlanta rapper whose death in 2022 left a lasting wound inside the group.
Alley Boy introduced himself to a wider Southern rap audience with the 2009 mixtape “Da Don.” He followed it with “The Definition of F--- S---” and its 2011 sequel, records that established his reputation as an uncompromising street rapper during one of Atlanta’s most competitive mixtape periods.
“The Definition of F--- S--- 2” also earned attention well outside the usual mixtape circuit.
Pitchfork praised the urgency of the project and Alley Boy’s consistency, noting how easily his threats and more vulnerable moments ran into one another. The tape featured Trouble, Jeezy, Yo Gotti and Freddie Gibbs, but Alley Boy’s intensity remained its center.
His catalog eventually connected him with artists including Pusha T, Meek Mill, Future, Master P and Fat Trel. “Your Favorite Rapper,” with Pusha T, challenged performers whose public images did not match the lives they described on records. “War Cry,” released in 2013, included “Stack It Up” with Meek Mill, “Mama’s House” with Trouble and collaborations with Future, Master P, Yo Gotti and Young Scooter.
His 2012 project “The Gift of Discernment” showed more of the reflection beneath the confrontation. It arrived through Duct Tape Entertainment and was followed by projects including “War Cry,” “Alley Shakur (The Soul of a Runaway Slave),” “Definition of F--- S--- Pt. 3” and “AlleyGod.”
The Duct Tape name never became the commercial empire its founders envisioned, but its influence survived the label deals and internal fractures that slowed its momentum.
Less than a month before Alley Boy’s death, he joined Big Bank for an extended episode of the “Perspektives” podcast. The two revisited Duct Tape’s rise and spoke candidly about business inexperience, industry politics, financial problems and the decisions that kept the movement from reaching its full potential.
The conversation also turned to grief, mental health and life after the deaths of people close to them, particularly Trouble. Alley Boy spoke less like a rapper protecting an image than a man taking account of what the years had cost.
News of his death brought tributes from across Atlanta rap.
21 Savage called him an East Atlanta blueprint and legend. DJ Scream remembered him as one of the best rappers the city produced. Master P, who recorded with Alley Boy as part of the Louie V Mob period, praised him as a soldier and recalled the street records they made together.
Those reactions reflected a career whose importance was never best measured by chart positions. Alley Boy helped represent an East Atlanta rap world that existed outside the city’s most famous label systems, carrying Duct Tape’s name through mixtapes, collaborations and a voice that rarely softened itself for wider approval.
His final public chapter was different. He spoke openly about dialysis, his need for a kidney and the damage he believed codeine had done to his body. The same rapper who built his name on survival began using his experience as a warning.
“What was meant to destroy me woke me up,” he wrote after starting dialysis. “Now I know my purpose.”
Sparky D, born Doreen C. Broadnax, is shown in an undated publicity photo. Broadnax, the Brownsville, Brooklyn, rapper whose 1985 answer record “Sparky’s Turn (Roxanne You’re Through)” made her a key voice in the Roxanne Wars, died July 4 at 61. No cause of death has been announced.
Sparky D, born Doreen C. Broadnax, the Brownsville, Brooklyn, MC whose 1985 answer record “Sparky’s Turn (Roxanne You’re Through)” made her one of the defining voices of the Roxanne Wars, has died. She was 61.
Her death was announced over the holiday weekend by her family. No cause of death has been announced.
For a later generation raised on diss tracks, beef timelines and endless commentary, the Roxanne Wars can sound almost quaint. They were anything but. They proved that rap audiences would follow conflict across records, boroughs, radio stations and personalities. They also proved that women MCs were not side characters in hip-hop’s competitive tradition.
After “Sparky’s Turn,” she continued recording through the 1980s. Her catalog included “He’s My DJ” with Kool DJ Red Alert, “Throwdown,” “Sparky’s Back” and the 1988 album “This Is Sparky D’s World” on B-Boy Records. The records placed her in the same gritty independent ecosystem that helped define New York rap before major labels fully understood the music’s commercial power.
Her life after the first wave of fame was not easy. Sparky D later spoke publicly about addiction, abuse and the doors that closed once her early rap run slowed. In a 2007 profile, she described herself as a woman who had been through hardship and come out with faith intact.
“You gotta go through something in order to grow,” she said.
In later years, Broadnax turned toward Christianity, gospel rap and ministry. She moved to Atlanta, founded Treasure Ministries and won a Gospel Choice Award in 2007 for “This Is for the Church.” That part of her story mattered, too. It was not a footnote after hip-hop. It was how she chose to keep using her voice.
The tag told you who made it. The drums told you where he was from.
“Tay Keith, f--- these n----- up” was crude, unmistakable and usually followed by something stripped down, hard and built to move. It was not just a drop. It was a producer’s signature at a moment when producers were becoming part of rap’s front-facing language.
Keith, the Grammy-nominated producer born Brytavious Lakeith Chambers, was found dead Thursday in his Nashville apartment, police said. He was 29.
Metro Nashville Police said Chambers was found in his Martin Street apartment during a welfare check. Police said no foul play is suspected. His death remains unclassified pending autopsy results.
Keith’s death lands hard because he helped put Memphis back in the middle of mainstream rap’s daily conversation.
He came from a city that had already changed Southern rap through Three 6 Mafia, 8Ball & MJG, Playa Fly, DJ Squeeky, Gangsta Pat, Project Pat, Yo Gotti, Young Dolph and a long line of producers and rappers who made darkness, bounce and bass feel like local language. Keith did not clean that language up for the mainstream. He made the mainstream come to it.
“I always knew music was gonna be my outlet,” Keith told The Fader in 2018. “I just didn’t know when, or how it was gonna happen.”
It happened with BlocBoy JB.
Keith and BlocBoy were not an industry pairing cooked up after the city was already hot. They were Memphis kids who knew each other’s timing before the rest of the country caught on. When “Look Alive” arrived in 2018 with Drake on it, the record did not sound like a local act being invited into pop. It sounded like one of the biggest rappers in the world stepping into their room.
The beat was stripped down and cold. BlocBoy gave it movement. Drake gave it reach. Keith gave it the floor.
That year, his run got ridiculous. He produced or co-produced Drake’s “Nonstop,” Travis Scott’s “Sicko Mode,” Eminem’s “Not Alike” and Lil Baby and Gunna’s “Never Recover,” featuring Drake. “Sicko Mode” brought him a Grammy nomination for best rap song.
Keith was barely in his 20s, and his sound was already moving through some of the biggest records in the country.
That is usually where the industry starts sanding off the regional edge. Keith’s records kept their accent. The drums stayed dry. The bounce stayed Memphis. The empty space was not empty; it was where the record got its nerve.
Memphis rapper BlocBoy JB, left, and producer Tay Keith pose in an undated throwback photograph shared to BlocBoy JB's Instagram Story on Thursday. The rapper posted the image with the caption "Damn Cuz You Just Hurt Me Bad" following the announcement of Keith's death at age 29. The long-time friends and collaborators rose to global prominence together with their 2018 hit Look Alive. (Screen capture via Instagram/blocboy_jb)
“People were trolling the shit out of me,” he told Billboard in 2024. “It wasn’t much good feedback. It was coming from even people around me, ‘What you doing?’ I saw the potential. That’s as simple as it was, me believing in her.”
That was the job. Hear it early. Stand on it. Let everybody else catch up.
Keith’s production did not beg for approval. It gave rappers a hard, open lane and made them decide what to do with it. BlocBoy could dance inside it. Drake could turn it into chart language. Travis Scott could fold it into spectacle. Sexyy Red could make it blunt and funny.
The center still held because the center was Memphis.
Keith also finished college while his career was exploding. Middle Tennessee State University said he graduated in December 2018 with degrees in integrated studies and media management. By his last week of school, he had his first No. 1 single.
“There wouldn’t be any point for me to come to college if I didn’t want to finish it — I could have just focused 100% on music,” Keith told MTSU. “By my last week of college, I had my first number one single, so it didn’t make any sense to drop out.”
After news of his death, BlocBoy JB posted the kind of grief that does not need polish.
“Damn Cuz You Just Hurt Me Bad,” he wrote in an Instagram Story.
In another tribute, he wrote, “We talked everyday.”
Fellow Memphis producer Hitkidd wrote, “I ain’t even got the words, we been doing this since 2010 @taykeith.”
Fred Alexander Jr., longtime drummer for Lakeside, sits behind his drum kit in a photo shared by The Original Lakeside - Unfiltered. The group remembered Alexander as “our friend, our family and our band member of over 40 years.” (Photo Credit: The Original Lakeside - Unfiltered/Facebook)
Fred Alexander Jr., the Lakeside drummer whose pocket helped carry “Fantastic Voyage” from the funk era into old-school R&B memory, has died.
Alexander’s death was announced by bandmate Stephen Shockley in a social media post. A cause of death and funeral arrangements were not immediately announced.
“Today is a Very Sad Day for our band Lakeside because we lost Fred Alexander,” Shockley wrote, calling him “The little General” and “The Backbone to all of our Records.”
Alexander’s role in Lakeside went beyond the drum kit. He was the drummer, the timekeeper and, later, one of the people helping keep the band’s business and road life together.
Alexander joined Lakeside in 1977, just as the Dayton-born band was moving into the stretch that would define its recording legacy. Lakeside had come through the Midwest funk circuit, early label stops and industry false starts before finding its place with Dick Griffey’s Solar Records, the Los Angeles label that also became home to acts including the Whispers, Shalamar, Midnight Star and Klymaxx.
That Solar run made Lakeside one of the most reliable self-contained funk and R&B bands of its era. The group’s records were not built only around lead vocals or studio polish. They moved because the band could play.
Alexander was part of that engine.
On “It’s All the Way Live,” the band’s 1978 breakthrough, Lakeside turned a stage command into a groove. On “Fantastic Voyage,” its signature record, the group built a party anthem that became bigger than its original chart moment. The song reached No. 1 on Billboard’s R&B chart and later found another life in 1990s hip-hop when Coolio used it as the foundation for his own “Fantastic Voyage.”
Alexander’s role also extended into the group’s survival after its main chart years. A 2025 Truth in Rhythm interview described him as Lakeside’s general manager, and Shockley’s tribute pointed to the administrative weight Alexander carried inside the organization.
British R&B singer and songwriter Talay Riley smiles in an undated photograph. Riley, 35, who helped bridge the gap between 2000s R&B and the modern streaming era, died Friday following a stabbing in East London. (Photo: Family Handout)
Talay Riley, a British singer, songwriter and producer whose real name was Mark Orabiyi, died Friday after a stabbing in east London. He was 35.
The Metropolitan Police said officers were called around 9 a.m. Friday to reports of a stabbing on Pankhurst Avenue in Silvertown. Riley was found with stab wounds in the garden of a nearby property on Rayleigh Road. Police said he was pronounced dead at the scene.
Another man in his 20s was taken to a hospital with multiple stab wounds. Police said his injuries were not believed to be life-threatening. Three people were arrested on suspicion of murder. A 27-year-old man has been released on bail pending further inquiries, while a 24-year-old man and a 25-year-old woman were released with no further action after police questioning, according to British news reports. The investigation remains ongoing.
Riley belonged to the part of R&B history that often hides in the credits. Before some listeners knew his name, they knew the records: Khalid’s “Young Dumb & Broke,” H.E.R.’s “Lights On,” Kehlani’s “Out the Window” and Chip’s “Oopsy Daisy.” Riley’s work moved through the writing rooms and vocal sessions that helped shape the sound of R&B, pop and hip-hop after the 2000s arena era.
Riley’s death drew grief from across the British and American music worlds, where he was known as both an artist and a writer whose reach extended well beyond his own recordings.
His brother Michael Orabiyi, the producer and songwriter known professionally as Scribz Riley, confirmed the loss in an Instagram tribute.
“My heart is shattered! This doesn’t feel real. It feels like a bad dream,” he wrote.
Scribz Riley said the brothers had spoken before Talay went to sleep about the future, staying positive and everything they still had left to do.
“I never imagined that would be our last conversation,” he wrote.
He described his brother as “a friend to many, a mentor, an inspiration, and a light in so many people’s lives.”
“He loved deeply, gave freely, and touched countless people through his talent, kindness, and spirit,” Scribz Riley wrote.
The tribute drew condolences from artists who understood the reach of Riley’s work. Stormzy wrote, “I’m sorry bro.” Khalid wrote, “I’m so sorry bro … I’m sending you so much love.” Kehlani wrote, “Big hugs Scribs I’m so sorry.” Wretch 32 called Riley “a gem” and said he would be “missed + never forgotten.”
In a family statement reported by British news outlets, relatives remembered Riley as “a beloved son, brother, uncle and friend.”
“We will always cherish his kindness, beautiful spirit and remarkable talent,” the family said. “His presence touched many lives, and his memory will remain in our hearts forever.”
Riley’s career connected several eras of R&B and pop. He signed his first major publishing deal at 18 and later wrote Chip’s U.K. No. 1 single “Oopsy Daisy.” He also worked on records connected to Tinie Tempah, Jessie J, Britney Spears, Craig David, Khalid, H.E.R., Kehlani, the Chainsmokers and others.
For listeners who came up on the Usher and Trey Songz era, Riley also belonged to the bridge between 2000s R&B showmanship and the global songwriting economy that followed. He toured with Usher, while his later credits placed him inside the streaming-era sound of artists such as Khalid and H.E.R.
Riley received a writing credit on H.E.R.’s “Lights On,” which appeared on the singer’s self-titled album “H.E.R.” The album won Best R&B album at the 2019 Grammy Awards.
Peabo Bryson appears in an undated photo posted to his official Facebook page. Bryson, 75, has suffered a stroke and is under medical care, according to a statement from his representative. (Credit: Peabo Bryson/Facebook)
Peabo Bryson’s voice has lived in slow dances, quiet-storm dedications, wedding receptions and Disney memories shared across generations. Smooth, controlled and unmistakably rooted in R&B, it carried romance with a kind of dignity that never needed to shout.
That made Sunday’s news hit hard.
Bryson, 75, the two-time Grammy-winning singer known for “Beauty and the Beast,” “A Whole New World (Aladdin’s Theme)” and decades of romantic R&B ballads, has suffered a stroke and is under medical care, according to a statement from his representative.
No additional details about Bryson’s condition have been publicly released. His family asked for privacy as he receives treatment. The statement said the ‘thoughts, prayers and love’ of friends and fans are welcomed.
The support began moving through R&B circles quickly. Stephanie Mills, one of Bryson’s contemporaries and a defining voice of her own generation, posted a message of support for him on social media.
“Right now for my friend @peabobryson2,” Mills wrote. “I truly love you. I am here for your family while you recover. ABUNDANT #POWER AND #STRENGTH.”
For casual listeners, Bryson may be most widely known as one of the voices behind two of the most recognizable movie duets of the early 1990s. He won Grammys for “Beauty and the Beast,” performed with Celine Dion, and “A Whole New World (Aladdin’s Theme),” performed with Regina Belle. Both songs won best pop performance by a duo or group with vocal.
Those records made him part of childhood for millions. But R&B audiences knew Bryson long before animated films carried his voice into the pop mainstream.
Born Robert L. Bryson in Greenville, South Carolina, he came through the Southern music circuit before becoming one of contemporary R&B’s premier male vocalists. His catalog includes “Feel the Fire,” “I’m So Into You,” “If Ever You’re in My Arms Again,” “Can You Stop the Rain” and “Tonight, I Celebrate My Love,” his duet with Roberta Flack.
Those records belonged to a tradition that treated romantic ballads as serious craft. Bryson’s best work had polish, but the polish never flattened the feeling. He could make longing sound composed without making it cold, and tenderness sound powerful without turning it theatrical.
That restraint became part of his signature. It let him move from soul radio to adult contemporary and into Disney’s early 1990s run without sounding like a visitor in any room. He brought the grammar of R&B with him — the patience, the breath, the glide, the quiet command.