‘You don’t get to take a man from his family … and just walk away from it,’ judge says as former gang leader sentenced

• Tupac trial spotlights decades of US police failures in solving the case

Duane “Keffe D” Davis, the former California gang leader convicted of murder for orchestrating the 1996 fatal shooting of rapper Tupac Shakur, has been sentenced to 40 years to life in prison.

“For three years, I’ve heard you say some variation of the same thing … ‘Yeah, I was involved in this. But I’m different. I’ve moved on. I got out of Compton. I’m a grandfather now,’” Judge Carli Kierny said Tuesday as she delivered the sentence.

Beacon Theatre, New York
Two decades after country music blacklisted the band for their Iraq war protest, the trio celebrate their unapologetic album Taking the Long Way

Last month, with almost no fanfare, the US formally completed its withdrawal of troops from Iraq, after 23 years of violent quagmire. But it was the beginning of that conflict that loomed over New York’s Beacon Theatre on Monday night, where the Chicks played the second of three sold-out shows. In March 2003, eight days before the US invaded Iraq, the country supergroup’s lead singer, Natalie Maines, said on stage in London she was “ashamed” that then president George W Bush was from the trio’s home state of Texas, triggering a swift, self-righteous and scarily prescient backlash.

More than one person at the Beacon wondered aloud where fellow fans were back then, when a single comment, circulated on AM radio and cable news, led to CD-burning protests and death threats. (High school, was a common answer.) I myself was nine, with a child’s stark view of morality and consequence. Our country was at war, I knew, in an impossibly faraway place, and my favorite band bore the cost of criticizing it. One day, I could catch blue-sky hits including Travelin’ Soldier, Landslide and Cowboy Take Me Away on the radio on the way to school; the next, they were gone.

They are some of our oldest and most historically significant buildings, yet they receive no secure state funding, writes Dr Coco Parkinson-Huggins

Jonathan Davies’ article (Abide with me: English choral music is a living part of our cultural heritage – we should cherish it, 7 October) speaks beautifully to the contribution of English choral music to our living cultural heritage, highlighting the importance of cathedral choirs in particular, in giving children access to “world-class musical training, extraordinary cultural experiences and educational opportunities that might otherwise be beyond their reach”.

What he misses however, is just how under threat these bastions of England’s religious, cultural and spiritual heritage actually are.

After having a Pretty Woman moment in a Brooklyn store, the singer-songwriter let rip on X

Name: Kelly Clarkson.

Age: 44. Born in 1982. In Fort Worth, as it happens.

Concorde 2, Brighton
Drawing almost entirely from her last two albums, and backed by a band rooted in jazz and experimentation, Orton performed her emotionally fraught songs to a rapturous crowd

The audience at Brighton’s Concorde 2 largely look old enough to have first encountered Beth Orton’s music three decades ago, as it wafted around a smoke-filled living room in the post-club small hours. That was the primary means of transmission for her 1996 debut album Trailer Park, which smartly appended classic singer-songwriter tropes to misty electronics. But if they’re expecting an evening of nostalgia, they’re in for a shock. The title track from 1999’s Mercury-nominated Central Reservation aside, her set swerves the music that made her famous, drawing almost entirely from her two most recent albums: this year’s The Ground Above and 2022’s Weather Alive.

This would count as a bold move from someone 30-odd years into their career, were it not for the fact that Orton’s recent albums are so good – the latest fruit of an artistic reboot that began in the mid-2010s, when she shifted a sound that had grown increasingly acoustic and traditional back towards something more experimental and dancefloor-adjacent.

Raised as one of 11, the Vancouver artist (and model) is now signed by A24. She talks about her ultra-religious childhood and how – despite her album title – she still suffers from imposter syndrome

The first time Sophia Stel came to London, she slept outside in the freezing cold. The Vancouver songwriter had finished a live set last autumn, then gone out until 3am with her then crush, but when they returned to their Airbnb, they found that Stel’s manager had dead-bolted the door and fallen asleep. Stel plus crush looked for a hotel but ultimately had no choice but to kip on the doorstep. “We hadn’t spent that much time together and I got to see how she was in a stressful situation,” Stel says, smiling at the memory. “She kept her vibe up and tried to solve it – I knew I was so in love then.”

A lot has changed in Stel’s life in the year since. She opened her business bank account as an artist, and that crush is now her girlfriend. “It’s a lot of change, but maybe because of my Sagittarius moon, I’m fine with it to an extent,” she says, only half-joking, when we meet at her publicist’s office in south London, the 27-year-old Stel in her uniform of vintage hoodie and Adidas trackies.