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In New Orleans, Brass Bands Don’t Just Play Music — They Carry a City’s Soul
When a trumpet sounds on the corner of Dauphine and Toulouse, everything stops. Traffic yields. Heads turn. What starts as a solemn hymn — maybe “Just a Closer Walk with Thee” — soon rises into something joyful, even defiant. This is a second line parade, one of New Orleans’ most powerful traditions: a moment of public mourning that transforms into celebration, sorrow lifted by rhythm. Here, grief marches side by side with joy. And always, always with a brass band leading the way. Second lines are part funeral procession, part block party. The term “second line” refers to the people who follow behind the musicians — dancers, friends, and onlookers drawn into the moment. But these parades don’t only mark funerals. They happen at weddings, birthdays, holidays, and anytime the city decides something is worth remembering or honoring. At the center of it all are the brass musicians, decked out in pressed white shirts and black pants, wielding trombones, sousaphones, and snares. They’re not just playing music. They’re carrying tradition. “If you grow up here, the African drumbeats, the dancing, which goes back to slavery and to Congo Square, that stuff is in our DNA,” says Roger Lewis, 83, a founding member of the world-renowned Dirty Dozen Brass Band. Formed in 1972 out of a church marching band, Dirty Dozen helped change the sound and shape of brass music. They’ve toured five continents and shared stages with legends from Dizzy Gillespie to Elvis Costello, yet they still play small shows in New Orleans warehouses for a few dollars at the door. That’s how it is here. As jazz legend Ellis Marsalis once said, “In New Orleans, culture doesn’t come down from on high. It bubbles up from the streets.” And brass music is very much street-born. Its origins trace back to the late 1800s, when military instruments and African rhythms merged. Social Aid and Pleasure Clubs — groups that once offered financial support to newly freed slaves — began hiring bands to play at funerals and parades. Over time, brass music soaked in gospel, bebop, funk, and eventually, hip-hop. “We played the same, traditional songs, but we picked that beat up. I mean up,” says Lewis. “I used to say, ‘Wear tennis shoes and your jogging suit. You may lose 40 pounds parading with us.’” That energy shaped the next generation. In the early ’80s, high schoolers in the Tremé neighborhood — too young to play in clubs — took their sound to the streets. That group became the Rebirth Brass Band, now a Grammy-winning act that still plays weekly shows in town. “I think, in terms of sound, we continued what the Dirty Dozen set down,” says Keith Frazier, Rebirth’s bass drummer. “Hip-hop and jazz and reggae… with these instruments, you can do anything.” Neighborhoods shaped the music too. “Uptown guys play it a little faster. The Tremé loves a more traditional set, whereas New Orleans East has a hip-hop fan base,” Frazier explains. “I’m from the Upper Ninth Ward, which is kind of traditional mixed with modern. I think that’s the beauty of brass music. It’s never one thing, or even one part of the city.” But for decades, brass bands were mostly male. That’s changing, slowly. Christie Jourdain leads The Original Pinettes — the first all-female brass band in New Orleans, founded in 1991. “I came out of the ’80s/MTV generation,” she says. “I was listening to Peter Gabriel and Prince rather than the traditionals or Gospel.” With the help of a high school band director, the Pinettes carved out space in a male-dominated scene. “At first people called us ‘cute,’” Jourdain remembers. “Then we’d kick the doors down when we played.” In 2013, they beat out several male bands at a citywide Red Bull competition, forcing organizers to rename the event from “Street Kings” to “Street Queens.” Their success paved the way for newer acts like Bra’s Band, another all-women group formed in 2021. “I got a request to put together an all-ladies brass group for the Krewe of Boheme Mardi Gras parade,” says Bra’s Band leader Maude Caillat. “It wasn’t easy. There aren’t enough women playing brass.” Today, her group includes about 15 women, though only a handful play each gig — a common practice in New Orleans where musicians juggle multiple bands, jobs, and obligations. “French Quarter Fest is my favorite,” says Jourdain. “They recruit homegrown talent and pay well. I wish others would do the same. We all have second jobs now. That’s why a seven-piece band might have 12 members, so people can schedule around work. The pay is something we need to address as a city. Because what is New Orleans without brass music?” It’s a fair question. One few locals want to answer. Ron Rona, former artistic director at the historic Preservation Hall, says it best: “Many brass bands emerge from high school marching band relationships... these musicians often end up knowing their bandmates for much of their lives. Then, whether organically or formally, many serve as musical mentors to the kids coming up. It’s cyclical and familial, and that’s not something too many other cities can claim.” In New Orleans, that cycle plays out daily. A young couple might be getting married right now, just a few blocks from Congo Square. The trumpet player from Kinfolk might look at the bride and say, “You ready?” She’ll nod, lift her parasol, and step into the street. Behind her: a century of tradition, joy, rhythm, and grief — and a brass band that won’t let the music stop.
Score (96)
Valentine's Day Love Story: This Couple Who Exchanged Months of Shy Bus Glances is Now Set to Marry
For Gabriel Enyi and Uloma Igwe, romance began quietly on the number 88 Stagecoach bus that runs from Northampton Bus Station to Silverstone. What started as shy glances during their daily commute has grown into a relationship they describe as joyful, loving and unexpectedly life changing. Enyi first noticed Igwe in September 2024. Each morning, he saw her arrive at the bus station and sit on the same service. For months he kept silent. “There was a kind of fear or uncertainty, is she married or not, so I wasn't brave enough to approach her,” he said. Igwe noticed him too. At one point she almost confronted him, half amused and half curious. “There was a day I nearly spoke to him: is there a problem, why are you always staring at me?” she said. She wondered whether he knew her from somewhere, but decided she would have recognised him. What Enyi saw was someone he considered “a classy lady,” and eventually that pushed him to act. Their first conversation in late June was brief, a simple hello, but Igwe said she smiled because she had already noticed him. They exchanged numbers that day and soon went on their first date. Igwe, who works as a customer service adviser for West Northamptonshire Council, said her now fiancé is “a loving gentleman.” She added, “I've never been this loved and appreciated. I'm really happy, it's such a beautiful relationship.” The couple burst into laughter as they described the surprise proposal Enyi staged at Igwe’s sister’s house, surrounded by friends and family. For Enyi, the journey from shy commuter to future husband still feels surreal. “The bus gave me the love of my life and I'm so happy about it,” he said. They even reached out to Stagecoach to ask if they could use one of its buses for pre wedding photos, a nod to the route that brought them together. The pair plan to marry later this year, grateful that a simple commute turned into something far greater than either expected.
Score (97)
A Trail Camera Just Caught an Endangered Marsupial Thought Missing for 80 Years
A small, spotted marsupial that had not been seen in more than eight decades has unexpectedly reappeared in northern Australia. A trail camera at Piccaninny Plains Wildlife Sanctuary captured new images of a northern quoll, an endangered species whose numbers have collapsed due to habitat loss and feral predators. The footage came after Nick Stock, the sanctuary’s manager, followed a hunch that the species might still be present. He set up a camera, and within days it caught the animal moving through the area. Researchers consider the find significant, since northern quolls, with their long tails and distinctive white spots, have been increasingly difficult to document in recent decades. “It was a fantastic surprise!” said Dr. Helena Stokes from the Australian Wildlife Conservancy. “After years of no sightings, to finally confirm a northern quoll on the sanctuary is hugely uplifting for our team.” The group later posted the news on Instagram and wrote, “It’s an exciting sign that targeted, science-led conservation is helping keep one of Australia’s most threatened marsupials hanging on.” The sighting highlights the value of trail cameras in monitoring fragile wildlife populations. Conservation teams rely on this technology to confirm species that are disappearing from their historic ranges, especially when field sightings have become rare or impossible. These moments also serve as reminders of why continued habitat protection matters, since even small and elusive creatures help regulate ecosystems. Similar camera traps around the globe have recently captured other elusive species like the Canada lynx, the Allegheny woodrat, and the Javan rhinoceros. Each instance offers a bit of optimism that some vulnerable animals can still persist despite environmental pressures and human activity. Social media users welcomed the Australian Wildlife Conservancy’s update. “Remarkable capture!” one person wrote. Another added, “So awesome!!”
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Score (96)
AI Just Unravelled a Mystery Of This Baffling Roman-Era Stone
For years, a smooth white stone dug up in the Netherlands puzzled researchers. The circular piece of Roman era limestone is carved with straight and diagonal lines, but no one could say what it was for. Now, a mix of old fashioned archaeology and artificial intelligence has produced a compelling answer. Scientists think it was a board game, and they have even proposed a set of rules. The key breakthrough came from analysing the stone’s surface. Using 3D imaging, researchers noticed that some carved lines were deeper than others. That pattern pointed to repeated movement along specific paths. "We can see wear along the lines on the stone, exactly where you would slide a piece," said Walter Crist, an archaeologist at Leiden University who specialises in ancient games. That wear pattern became the foundation for reconstructing how the game might have been played. Researchers at Maastricht University then turned to an AI system called Ludii. The program is designed to identify likely rule sets for ancient games by learning from existing examples. They trained it with rules from about 100 historic games found in the same region. Dennis Soemers, from Maastricht University, said the computer "produced dozens of possible rule sets. It then played the game against itself and identified a few variants that are enjoyable for humans to play." After that, the team compared those possible versions against the stone’s wear marks to narrow down which movements made the most sense. Soemers urged caution despite the excitement. "If you present Ludii with a line pattern like the one on the stone, it will always find game rules. Therefore, we cannot be sure that the Romans played it in precisely that way," he said. Even with the uncertainty, the findings point toward a "deceptively simple but thrilling strategy game" where players tried to trap their opponent’s pieces in as few moves as possible. The proposed rules and the full research have been published in the journal Antiquity. The discovery adds to a growing list of ancient artefacts that may have been early board games. It also shows how AI is becoming a useful tool for archaeologists as they revisit old mysteries and test new interpretations.
Score (97)
The Coach With 10 Jackets: Benoît Richaud Is Everywhere at the Winter Olympics
If you’ve watched even a few minutes of figure skating at the Winter Olympics, chances are you’ve seen Benoît Richaud. He is the tall, slender, bald man sitting beside what feels like every athlete in the “kiss and cry” area, waiting as their scores flash across the screen. One moment, he’s next to American Maxim Naumov. The next, he’s with France’s Adam Siao Him Fa. Then Canada’s Stephen Gogolev. Then Mexico’s Donovan Carrillo. And each time, he is wearing a different national team jacket. That constant presence is no coincidence. Richaud is the choreographer for 16 competitors in Milan: 12 singles skaters and four pairs from 13 countries. There is no rule preventing a coach or choreographer from working with athletes representing different nations. So he simply adjusts his wardrobe accordingly. “I just come with all of the jackets and then I make quick changes,” Richaud told NBC News. “The people from the federation or team leaders, they help me and we make quick changes and that’s how it goes. Sometimes it’s quite slow and sometimes it’s quite crazy when it’s one after the other one.” On one stretch, he might wear Mexico’s colors for Carrillo, then quickly switch into Japan’s jacket for Kao Miura. Later, he could be racing to remove Georgia’s colors after supporting Nika Egadze, before pulling on red, white and blue for Naumov. For Richaud, the effort is deliberate. “I know some coaches want to wear normal clothes,” he said. “But I think the Olympic Games is a special moment where you also need to cherish the difference of people. I think it’s something beautiful. Every different country has different cultures. When I go on the screen, I want to promote that.” From “Nobody” to Olympic Mainstay It was not always this way. A former competitive skater from Lyon, France, Richaud never placed higher than seventh at the World Junior Championships. When he turned to coaching in 2013, the start was slow. He had just one 25 minute session during his first week. “It was like that for the first four weeks of work,” he said. “I didn’t start with high-level skaters because I was a nobody,” he explained. “My first job was literally working with people who were 70 years old. I started with a grandmother. I was teaching old people how to skate.” Gradually, his reputation grew. He began working with Latvian standout Deniss Vasiļjevs at the junior level. Success followed. Word spread. Over the past decade, Richaud has become one of the most sought-after choreographers in the sport. He attributes his rise to a mindset that embraces risk. “I’m not scared. I’m not scared at all,” he said. “It means that I do whatever I want, and I never try to please judges or people. If we want to do a crazy idea, we do it. I always find a way to make things happen.” “One of my big powers is that I do things very differently, and it’s all connected to fear. I want to push our sport forward and change the styles, change the way people think and see figure skating.” Skating for More Than Scores For Richaud, innovation is personal. He has spoken about wanting to create routines that would draw in non-skating fans, including his own father. “I lost my dad, and I always think about making him fall in love with skating,” he said. “Nobody cares about skating where I live, and I always think about those people.” That emotional connection has been especially powerful this week. Naumov, now 24, lost his parents in a plane crash outside Washington, D.C., last year and nearly stepped away from the sport. Instead, he is now competing in the Olympic men’s singles final. Richaud calls his perseverance “amazing.” “He wanted to leave the sport, and now he’s making his dream come true, which was also the dream of his parents,” he said. “There’s something very unique about him. And knowing that he struggled so much, and to be able to do that, I think it’s just pure respect.” Before each performance, Richaud offers final words of encouragement. Afterward, he sits beside his skater in the kiss and cry, sharing the tension of the score reveal. Then he disappears into the corridors of the arena. There is another skater about to take the ice. And another jacket waiting to be zipped up.
Score (98)
Meet the Choreographer Behind Bad Bunny's Super Bowl Performance
Before she was choreographing halftime shows for Beyoncé, Kendrick Lamar, and Bad Bunny, Charm La’Donna was a three-year-old in Compton learning to dance. By kindergarten, she was already performing solos. Now, she’s one of the most in-demand choreographers in music — and the Emmy-nominated creative force behind some of the most memorable Super Bowl halftime performances in recent years. La’Donna’s style doesn’t fit neatly into a single category. “Hybrid” is how she describes herself, blending hip-hop, krumping, ballet, jazz, and everything in between into a signature movement language that’s both high-impact and emotionally charged. “I love the work that goes into creating the art for whoever to see,” she told The Grio. “You’re talking to the little girl who used to choreograph in her room by herself, and now I see my work all over the world.” That journey took her through the Los Angeles County High School for the Arts, and eventually into the orbit of renowned choreographer Fatima Robinson, who mentored her early on. It wasn’t long before La’Donna was leading choreography for some of the most-watched performances on Earth. Her credits are stacked. The Weeknd’s 2021 halftime show. Kendrick Lamar’s 2025 set. Bad Bunny’s 2026 debut. Beyoncé’s now-iconic “Beyoncé Bowl.” In each one, La’Donna’s choreography carried her signature mix of storytelling and athleticism, drawing from both her formal training and lived experience. What makes her work stand out is how it’s tailored to each artist. La’Donna builds trust with performers, studying their rhythms and quirks, and creating movement that feels organic — even as it electrifies stadium crowds and television audiences alike. “I’ll probably still be up there dancing when I’m 60,” she said. Despite her global reach, she hasn’t strayed far from her roots. She teaches, mentors young dancers and talks often about building an “empire of all arts” that lifts up future creatives. Her choreography might be seen by millions, but she’s still that little girl from Compton — only now, the stage is a lot bigger.
Score (98)
At 54, Rich Ruohonen Becomes Oldest U.S. Winter Olympian
American curler Rich Ruohonen made history Thursday in Milan, becoming the oldest U.S. Winter Olympian ever at 54 years old. He took the ice during the final moments of the U.S. men’s 8–3 loss to Switzerland. With the Americans down 8–2 and the game effectively decided, Ruohonen was brought in for a single end and helped the team put one point on the board before they conceded. "It's awesome. It's hard to do it in that situation when we're getting beat," Ruohonen said after the match. "I would have rather done it when we were up 8-2 instead of down 8-2. I really appreciate the guys giving me a chance." Ruohonen passed a record that had stood for more than 90 years. The previous oldest American Winter Olympian was Joseph Savage, who was 52 when he competed in pairs figure skating at the 1932 Lake Placid Games. The oldest American Olympian at any Games remains Thomas Scott, who was 71 when he competed in archery at the 1904 Olympics in St. Louis. A longtime figure in U.S. curling, Ruohonen has been serving as the alternate for skip Danny Casper’s team in Milan. That squad earned its Olympic berth by beating five-time Olympian John Shuster’s team at the U.S. trials and later winning a last-chance qualifier to claim a spot at the Games. For Ruohonen, the moment was bittersweet—a personal milestone set against a difficult match. But it’s also a reflection of the long path he’s taken in curling, and a rare Olympic honor that few athletes at any age ever get to experience.
Score (82)
Special Ops Team Rescues Patient from 17th Floor of High-Rise Building
A Sarasota special operations team carried out a dramatic high-rise rescue on February 9, using a construction crane to lower a patient from the 17th floor of a building under construction. The patient, who had suffered a medical emergency after a fall at the site on Quay Commons in Sarasota, was safely brought to the ground in a Stokes basket, accompanied by a first responder, and transported to Sarasota Memorial Hospital. Their current condition has not been disclosed. The Sarasota County Fire Department’s Special Operations team was praised for their “quick thinking and intricate training” during the incident, which was captured on video. The footage shows the patient and rescuer being carefully lowered by crane — a high-angle maneuver rarely seen outside of training drills. “These are high-risk, low-frequency events, and that’s why constant practice is critical,” Sarasota County Emergency Services said in a statement. The department’s Special Operations unit includes 60 highly trained personnel who spend hundreds of hours preparing for everything from chemical spills and structural collapses to machinery extrications and rope rescues. “In this line of work, the training never stops,” the agency said. The rescue comes as Sarasota County continues to expand its capabilities, including the construction of a new fire training academy to further support specialized operations. “Their commitment to excellence ensures they are ready to assist Sarasota County residents and visitors no matter the challenge,” the department said. 📸 Sarasota County Emergency Services via Storyful
Score (95)
This Dog Who Guarded His Owner’s Grave for a Decade Just Inspired a New Burial Law in Brazil
A loyal dog who spent 10 years beside his late owner’s grave has inspired a new state law in São Paulo, Brazil, that allows pets to be buried alongside their humans. The legislation, already nicknamed the Bob Coveiro (“the Gravedigger”) Law, was signed this week by São Paulo Governor Tarcísio de Freitas. It formally recognizes the deep emotional bond between people and their pets, and permits the burial of dogs and cats in family plots, provided the grave rights belong to the pet owner’s family. Bob, the long-haired mixed-breed dog at the heart of the story, gained national affection for his steadfast loyalty. After his owner died in 2011, Bob refused to leave her grave in the Taboão da Serra cemetery, about 20 kilometers from São Paulo’s city center. Despite repeated attempts by relatives to bring him home, Bob always found his way back. Eventually, cemetery staff adopted him, building a kennel for him on site and caring for him for the rest of his life. Beyond guarding the grave, Bob became something of a gentle mascot. Nicknamed “the Gravedigger,” he was known to follow funeral processions, often carrying a ball in his mouth, offering what many mourners saw as a small gesture of comfort in times of grief. In 2021, Bob was fatally hit by a motorcycle after leaving the cemetery grounds. There was no legal provision for animals to be buried in human graves at the time, but the city council made an exception. Bob was laid to rest next to his former owner. Public reaction was overwhelming. The local NGO Patre, which works with stray animals, led a successful crowdfunding campaign to install a statue of Bob in the cemetery. The plaque beneath it reads: “Our tribute and gratitude for your lessons in love and loyalty. In the face of grief, [Bob] taught us to ‘offer little balls’ and attention when others need it most.” The new law’s co-author, conservative state deputy Eduardo Nóbrega, wrote online: “Anyone who has lost a pet knows: it’s not just an animal. It’s family.” He added that the new rules offer a more affordable and meaningful option than cremation, which can be costly and often forces families to dispose of remains in undignified ways. São Paulo is not the first state in Brazil to legalize pet burials in human cemeteries. Similar laws are already in place in Rio de Janeiro and Santa Catarina, and a federal bill is currently awaiting debate in Congress. The issue hasn’t been without resistance. In Paraná’s city of Apucarana, councillors initially opposed the idea in 2024, calling it inappropriate for “sacred ground.” But after public debate, the proposal passed. For supporters, the Bob Coveiro Law is about more than burial rights — it’s a tribute to the bond that defies words, and sometimes, even death.
Score (96)
Bright Orange Baby Monkey Born at UK Zoo Offers Hope for Endangered Species
Whipsnade Zoo is celebrating a colourful new arrival: a rare François’ langur baby born on February 1 — and he’s turning heads with his vibrant orange fur. The endangered monkey, born to 10-year-old mom Nguyen and 9-year-old dad Wang, is part of an international conservation breeding program aimed at saving the species, which numbers fewer than 2,000 in the wild. Unlike the sleek black coats of adult langurs, infants are born a vivid orange — a striking contrast that serves a purpose. “It’s an evolutionary quirk thought to allow parents to easily spot their youngsters when they’re being cared for by other members of the troop,” said a zoo spokesperson. Amanda Robinson, Whipsnade’s section manager of primates, said the first clue came not from staff but a curious visitor. “We knew Nguyen was expecting, but when we completed our morning rounds on Sunday, she hadn't given birth yet,” Robinson explained. “Only an hour later, when a visitor began asking us questions about an ‘orange monkey,’ we knew that could only mean one thing!” The baby’s birth is more than just adorable — it’s significant. Native to China and northern Vietnam, François’ langurs are threatened by illegal hunting, particularly for their meat and use in traditional medicine. As a result, managing healthy zoo populations is seen as a vital safeguard against extinction. “Sadly, it’s estimated that only 2,000 of these primates remain in the wild, so every birth is a ray of hope for the species,” Robinson said. The newborn's vivid colour won’t last long — it will gradually darken to match the rest of the troop — so visitors are encouraged to stop by soon. “I’d definitely recommend coming to see him in his home at Monkey Forest whilst he's still tangerine,” said Robinson.
Score (95)
City of Golden Turns Into a Sea of Fur As 5,500 Golden Retrievers Take Over for Annual Celebration
Golden retrievers took center stage — and every street corner — in Golden, Colorado, on Saturday, as thousands of dogs and their humans gathered for the annual Goldens in Golden event. The free celebration, held each February near International Golden Retriever Day (February 3), has become the world’s largest unofficial gathering of the famously friendly breed. This year’s turnout set a new record: 5,500 golden retrievers and more than 16,000 people descended on a city with a population of just over 20,000. The morning kicked off with golden retrievers posing for group photos under the city’s iconic Welcome Arch — three separate times. Tumbleweeds of golden fur collected in the streets while crowds cheered on dogs in a fashion show, and voters cast ballots in a “Golden Election” that crowned a golden retriever named Cash as the new Canine Mayor. For Maddi Smith, who brought her golden Davis from Loveland, Colorado, the event is about more than photos. “I just feel in love with how kind they are, how cuddly. They’re just your best friend,” she said. “They’re born without mean bones.” Some dogs hitched rides on their owner’s shoulders when the streets got crowded. Others played in a park designated for puppies or mingled in a “senior zone” for older dogs near a fire hydrant sign. Golden Mayor Laura Weinberg said it’s “probably one of the happiest days in the city all year.” “You see a lot of happy people and pets,” she said. “Golden retrievers are very friendly dogs. They also seem to have very friendly and community-minded owners that come out with them to the event.” Fans came from 44 U.S. states and nine other countries, including Canada, Australia, France, and Argentina. What started in 2019 as a local winter event to boost foot traffic has grown into a major tourism draw. “The first quarter has for a long time been one of the slowest times in Golden and for our small businesses,” Weinberg said. “Some of our businesses say that this day is their busiest day of the year.” Hotels, restaurants, and vendors all saw a boost. At one bar, two golden retrievers sprawled across the floor in front of the bathroom, forcing patrons to pet them before passing — earning the nickname “the golden gate.” This year’s event expanded to accommodate the surge: pet-friendly shuttles ran from remote parking lots, vendor areas were spread throughout the city, and festivities stretched from 9 a.m. to 1 p.m. First-timers Charla Cameron and Maria Loredo traveled from San Diego as a retirement gift for their 11-year-old golden, Monty, a former bed bug detection dog. “It’s amazing,” Cameron said. “It’s cool to see an event catered to dogs.” Others, like Jonathan Carley from Thornton, Colorado, came to celebrate his birthday with his golden Bubba. “I couldn’t think of a better place to be,” he said. Rescue groups were also well represented. Maeve and Miles, two goldens adopted from Colorado-based shelters, showed off matching flower garlands and wagged their way through the crowd. Even some non-golden breeds tried to sneak in — two black Labradors came in disguise, wearing golden manes to blend in. Ashley Bailey, who made the trip from Ogden, Utah, with her goldens Cinder and Lottie, summed up the event in four words: “This is so much fun.” And in a town named Golden, for one day every year, it really does feel like goldens rule the world.