Erma Franklin recorded the original version of one of our most enduring R & B classics.

A look at Hilary Duff’s childhood fame, industry pressure, public scrutiny, and how she escaped Hollywood’s damage to build a peaceful life on her own terms.

At one point, Mick Fleetwood had everything a rock star was supposed to want: sold-out tours, iconic albums, and a band whose name was permanently etched into music history. And yet, right in the middle of all that success, he did the unthinkable: he went bankrupt. Not quietly struggling, not “cash poor”—fully broke. It was a moment that pulled the curtain back on rock stardom and showed just how messy, reckless, and unsustainable the excess of that era had become.

Anybody can toss on a “reggae classics” playlist, hear Three Little Birds once, and declare themselves spiritually Jamaican. But really knowing reggae—the songs that built the sound, pushed the culture forward, and got sampled, covered, and quoted into eternity is a whole different thing. This genre isn’t just beach vibes and good moods. It’s love, protest, faith, survival, celebration, sometimes all in the same track.

For years, Elton John was already one of the biggest stars on the planet before the public had any real idea who he was offstage. He wore outrageous costumes, wrote intensely emotional songs, and built a persona that felt flamboyant but carefully controlled. In an era that wasn’t exactly welcoming to queer artists, that distance wasn’t accidental—it was survival.

Hanoi Rocks were on the doorstep of becoming the next superstars of rock when unthinkable tragedy struck.