Paul Franklin is a 32-time nominee for Musician of the Year at the Country Music Association Awards. The revered Nashville session musician has also been nominated once for Musical Event of the Year.

So far, his number of wins is exactly zero. That’s a CMA record, and not one Franklin likes to tout on his website filled with stellar accomplishments.

But this year may change that. The award is meant to recognize great instrumentalists. Franklin is indisputably among them. Franklin has lent his steel pedal guitar to thousands of recordings, and it may finally be time to recognize his record of achievements. In country music alone, Franklin’s credits include hundreds of albums, including with Kenny Rogers, Shania Twain, Willie Nelson, Randy Travis, Trisha Yearwood, Carrie Underwood, Rascal Flatts, and a twinkling star named Taylor Swift. Outside the genre, he’s played with Barbra Streisand, Lionel Richie, Etta James, Toni Braxton, Megadeth and Sting.

Born in 1954 in Detroit, the musician was still in grade school when he started playing professionally.

“I think I played my first bar at 10 years old,” he told fellow musician Bill Lloyd in a 2013 onstage interview with the Country Music Hall of Fame.

At the time, Franklin observed, Detroit was filled with people like his parents: white workers from Kentucky and Tennessee drawn to jobs in the car factories. “Alcohol and country music go together, so there were a lot of bars to play at,” he joked.

And in the Motor City, country partied with jazz, funk and soul in surprising ways. In 1970, Parliament’s debut album featured a song called “Little Ole Country Boy.” You can hear little old Paul Franklin grooving away on the single; he was only 15.

Two years later, he was touring with one of country music’s biggest stars, Barbara Mandrell, and appearing with her on the popular CBS variety show Hee Haw.

Paul Franklin’s steel pedal guitar can be heard everywhere in popular music, from the 1972 soft rock hit “It’s So Nice to Be With You” by Gallery to his virtuosic appearances in Dire Straits songs such as “Walk of Life.” He was regularly booking three sessions a day in the late 1980s, as he told the Country Music Hall of Fame audience, and played the pedabro, a steel player innovated by his father, on a Randy Travis hit, “Forever and Ever, Amen” from 1987. It became associated with his style. Two years later, Franklin received his first CMA nomination. He would continue to be nominated with barely a break between years.

But Franklin’s name did not appear on an album cover until 2013. Bakersfield, his album with singer and songwriter Vince Gill, was a tribute to the classic country sound emerging from a California destination for migrants during the hardscrabble days of the Dust Bowl.

“The great thing about Paul is, even though he’s his own stylist in definitive playing, he’s got …the history in his heart,” Gill told NPR in 2013. “That’s the most important place – that he knows what Ralph Mooney played like. He knows what Buddy Emmons played like. He knows all these greats that were such a huge part of this history that gives him a vocabulary that’s deeper than anybody I’ve ever known that’s played the instrument.”

For years, Franklin has played with a Nashville band of all-star session musicians called The Time Jumpers. When NPR profiled the band in 2009, Franklin was modest about his participation. “I don’t think there’s a steel guitarist in town that wouldn’t jump at this gig,” he said.

In 2024, Franklin is again up for the CMA’s Musician of the Year alongside guitarists Tom Bukovac, Rob McNelley, Charlie Worsham and fiddle player Jenee Fleenor. Perhaps this will finally be his year.

Fashion weeks are like summer camps for style sickos. Especially this year’s L.A. Fashion Week, because every event happened at one single location: the W Hotel. You got to see your friends walk a show, or run into a stylist or press rep that you had to do a quick Google Image confirmation on because you only ever communicated with them via email. “You’re [enter name here], right? I’m Julissa, from Image. Yes, it is so good to meet you in person. What part of town are you in? Coffee soon?” On a loop, all week.

LAFW has had the reputation of being the underdog of fashion weeks in global cities, but its president, Ciarra Pardo, is focused on creating a new legacy. L.A. deserves something of its own that is reflective of its relationships and desires, says Pardo, whose company N4XT Experiences acquired LAFW in 2022. “What it hadn’t been doing was really celebrating Los Angeles,” Pardo says of fashion week’s past, pointing to a new kind of programming that is reflective of fashion’s relationship to the growing number of tech and beauty companies moving into L.A., and the city’s sustainable aspirations. There’s also an energy that feels less rooted in tradition than in moving toward openness and experimentation.

“We really support our designers and brands to have a more free-flowing approach, so they don’t have to go by traditional means whatsoever,” says Pardo. “They can show in a traditional runway format, they can show in a presentation, they can do incredible pop-up activations.” Brands including Rio, Private Policy, Priscavera, Theophilio, 424 and Ed Hardy participated in a number of shows, pop-ups and events throughout the week. Photographer, artist, musician and diva Tyler Matthew Oyer and I popped around the scene, where Oyer captured moments backstage and on the runway that reverberated with heat and intimacy.

Nike Sport X Style Studio

The Nike Sport X Style Studio celebrated a new Nike collection, and featured the campaign photos, shot by Thalía Gochez, throughout the space.

Advertisement

The Nike Sport X Style Studio, creative directed by Image’s fashion director at large Keyla Marquez, served as a soft landing spot during the week, billowing with printed organza and metallic curtains, and the enveloping aroma of a Diptyque Oud candle filling every corner of the room. The space was created in celebration of a new Nike collection, with campaign photos styled by Marquez and shot by Thalía Gochez meeting you as soon as you walked in. It featured a styling suite, where Marquez styled special guests and athletes in the new collection, along with custom pieces she made in collaboration with Sailor D. Gonzales and Rusty Reconstructed. There were three workshops led by artist and jewelry designer Georgina Treviño, and for the rest of the week LAFW attendees could be spotted with the pierced Nike bags and shoes they made under her guidance.

The Nike Sport X Style Studio was creative directed by Image’s fashion director at large Keyla Marquez.

On Thursday night, the Nike Sport X Style Studio hosted a party where Elias Lopez, a.k.a. Niño Genesis, DJ’d and I experienced the most insane charcuterie board — no, charcuterie table — I’ve ever seen in my life. (I put an entire persimmon in my purse for later — shout-out persimmon season.)

Nike’s Bob Dominguez with Spencer Christovale and Dime Jones.

Lex Orozco-Cabral and Peter Ilic.

Advertisement

Nike’s Aria Davis with Andrea J. from @masvinoplease.

Isaías Cabrera, Jessica Kao and Keyla Marquez.

The suite featured custom pieces made in collaboration with Sailor D. Gonzales and Rusty Reconstructed.

Advertisement

Ed Hardy

As someone who regards “quiet luxury” as a kind of plague (I’m bored!) — also as someone whose childhood was punctuated by paparazzi photos of early aughts celebs wearing printed and bedazzled Ed Hardy T-shirts, trucker hats and jeans — I was excited for this deeply L.A. moment. Y2K has been here and is on the precipice of leaving again (let’s be honest) so why not lean into it heavy one last time? The clothes were what you would expect in the best way possible: Classic Ed Hardy, with a twist on silhouette that felt extremely of the moment (maybe because this moment and 2004 are kind of the same moment, culturally speaking). The runway opened with the Yeah, Yeah, Yeah’s “Maps,” my low-lift karaoke song forever, and featured tops made entirely of Ed Hardy patches, low-rise embellished pinstripe pants and boxing shorts dancing with tassels up the side. The delulu part of my brain kept waiting for Lindsay Lohan or Nicole Richie to be the models closing the show. That didn’t happen, but I did spot musician Pete Wentz in the crowd along with Leah Kateb from “Love Island.”

Backstage at Ed Hardy for LAFW.

A deeply L.A. Y2K moment.

Advertisement

Ed Hardy creative director Kevin Christiana.

Theophilio

Theophilio closed the week with a part-party, part-runway show. Standing-room only, a DJ playing throwies from Sean Paul, a bar serving $25 drinks and seeing everyone you know made it feel like we were clubbing in L.A. But the room was clearly thick with a lot of love and anticipation for Theophilio creative director Edvin Thompson’s always sensual, elegant and sometimes irreverent vision. Models purposefully walked down the runway in flowing suits of crushed velvet and satin, matching leather mini-shorts and jackets, sequined hot pants and tank top sets in yellow smiley graphics and graffiti print. Looks were styled with exaggerated hats, including an oversized leather newsboy cap with eyelets, and a white baseball cap transformed to sculptural effect with white feathers.

Gazing upon the models strutting final looks on the highest floor of the W Hotel, with Hollywood Boulevard and the hills twinkling in the background, felt like a fitting reminder of where we were in space and time: L.A., the future.

The room was clearly thick with a lot of love and anticipation for Theophilio’s always sensual, elegant and sometimes irreverent vision.

Theophilio creative director Edvin Thompson.

Goodness knows, it feels as if Cynthia Erivo and Ariana Grande have been attached at the hip for the better part of this century, crying and bantering together while adorned in fabulous ensembles of green, black, and pink, the (un?)official colors of Wicked. The press tour and behind-the-scenes gossip accompanying Jon M. Chu’s long-awaited spectacular have been exhaustingly dramatique – probably to be expected for the film adaptation of a Broadway musical juggernaut beloved by theater kids all over (I was one of them), and starring one of the era’s biggest pop stars.

Ultimately, it’s what lands on the screen that matters. And with regards to Wicked: Part 1 many things are true at once: the excellent Erivo and Grande couldn’t have been better suited to play Elphaba, the Wicked Witch of the West, and Galinda, who goes on to become Glinda the Good Witch; the movie’s themes are evergreen and relevant; and whoever made the decision to divide the stage show into two separate movies deserves to be cursed by a spell from the book of the Grimmerie.

Wicked, very loosely based on Gregory Maguire’s Wizard of Oz revisionist novel Wicked: The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West, tells the origin story of Elphaba and how she became L. Frank Baum’s emblematic villain. She’s shunned by her father and ostracized by her peers for the mere fact of being born with abnormally green skin, and at a young age discovers that in response to their callousness, her rage manifests uncontrollably as a magic force from within. Years later, that ability comes to the attention of Madame Morrible (Michelle Yeoh), the no-nonsense headmistress of Shiz University, who eagerly takes Elphaba under her wing for private tutelage in sorcery.

Two good friends, two best friends

Elphaba is assigned to room with Galinda, the bubbly, supremely vain beauty queen who’s none too happy she now has to share her private suite with the school’s oddball. The two clash for all the expected reasons: if Elphaba’s whole vibe is “emo-goth girl who shops at Hot Topic circa 2003,” Galinda’s is “Barbie.” Galinda’s initially jealous that she herself doesn’t get to study with Madame Morrible. But soon enough, they become friends (best friends, even), just as Oz enters a period of social unrest.

Michelle Yeoh as Madame Morrible, the headmistress at Shiz University.

Giles Keyte/Universal Pictures

hide caption

Advertisement

toggle caption

Giles Keyte/Universal Pictures

There’s a lot to recommend here, particularly for fans of the show – the humor is punchy, Christopher Scott’s expressive choreography enhances the characterizations, and Paul Tazewell’s costume design details are perfection. But by far the standout of Wicked is that central relationship between these two enemies-turned-friends. Erivo and Grande have the goods: both come from theater backgrounds (the former has won a Tony) but are also naturals on camera, and so they’re able to bring subtlety and grandiosity as needed. Even under the green makeup and against the backdrop of some hideously overwhelming CGI aesthetics, their chemistry is undeniable, whether they’re bickering during one of the show’s highlights, “What Is This Feeling?” or finding common ground during the show-stopping Act I finale “Denying Gravity.”

This is most palpable during the big Ozdust Ballroom sequence, in which Elphaba, once again ostracized by her classmates, defiantly reacts to their laughter with dance, and Galinda, feeling empathy for possibly the first time ever, joins her. It’s both the most musical theater-y thing that could happen in this most musical theater-y of shows, and gets at the essence of the show’s enduring appeal.

A timely allegory — to a tune

Meanwhile, the show’s other central concern is striking to take in at this moment. Gregory Maguire’s 1995 book is a sprawling, bleak meditation on the nature of good vs. evil, and what it means to resist or give over into fascist movements. Oz is a world where animals have evolved to be just as intelligent as humans, with the ability to talk and live just as humans do, though they’ve long faced discrimination for doing so. (In the movie Elphaba’s beloved professor Dr. Dillamond is a goat voiced by Peter Dinklage.) The paternalistic, self-anointed Wizard (Jeff Goldblum, at his Goldblum-iest) is intent on stripping Oz’s animals of their autonomy and rights, and using Elphaba’s powers to do so.

The musical, both on stage and screen, is a significantly diluted and altogether different take on Maguire’s novel. But its parallels to our real world – currently marked by calls for mass deportations, the erosion of abortion rights; etc. – are still unmistakably apparent to anyone reading today’s news.

The allegories of minority persecution are rendered even more palpable by the fact of casting Erivo, a Black woman, in the role as Wicked Witch of the West. (To date, only one Black actress has played her in an onstage production full-time: Alexia Khadime, in London’s West End over a decade ago and again in the current production.) By coding the outcast-turned-political agitator as Black – her hair is in microbraids, and save for the green makeup, Erivo’s facial features are fully visible – the realities of the world we live in are inescapable. “Her green skin is an outward manifestation of her twisted nature!” a character proclaims to the people of Oz at one point, riling them up to position Elphaba as the common enemy. Arguing that her skin – who she is – is reason enough to demonize her: It isn’t altogether different from, say, recent rhetoric used to target Haitian immigrants in Ohio.

Jonathan Bailey dances through life as Prince Fiyero as Boq (Ethan Slater) watches on.

Giles Keyte/Universal Pictures

hide caption

Advertisement

toggle caption

Giles Keyte/Universal Pictures

For all its virtues and relevance, however, it’s curious that in this two-hour-41-minute adaptation of the first act of the show – longer, it should be noted, than the entire stage production without intermission – little of substance was added to justify making this affair a two-parter. Chu and screenwriters Winnie Holzman and Dana Fox stay quite faithful to the source material (which Holzman also wrote) and there are no new songs to go alongside all of composer Stephen Schwartz’s original ones. (Reportedly Part 2 will have some new songs, which may be for the best considering Act 2’s numbers suffer in comparison to the stacked first half.) There are few attempts to incorporate more of Maguire’s excessive lore from the book, and other secondary characters, like Elphaba’s younger sister Nessarose (Marissa Bode) and romantic interest Fiyero (Jonathan Bailey) aren’t fleshed out any more than they are in show.

The result is a movie that, while pleasant and occasionally moving, concludes with its apex (“Defying Gravity”) which also happens to be a cliffhanger. It’s an unusually and exceedingly peculiar state – both complete and incomplete at the same time. The feeling isn’t quite loathing, exactly. But it is a bit tiresome, especially since it likely means we have to expect yet another full year of a Wicked press tour. Like its predecessor, it’s an imperfect production that has a lot of heart and brains. If it only had the courage to tell a complete story in a reasonable amount of time.