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25 YEARS AGO, SHE SANG “LADY MARMALADE” WITH CHRISTINA, LIL’ KIM AND MYA. LAST NIGHT, SHE BROUGHT IT BACK — WITH 170 BROADWAY STARS. P!nk opened the 79th Tony Awards at Radio City Music Hall not standing on stage — but flying above it. Dressed as Peter Pan, spinning in the air while singing “I’m Flying.” Then Neil Patrick Harris walked out and asked what everyone was thinking: “Why is P!nk hosting the Tonys?” What she did next is the part nobody saw coming. She flipped upside down, belted lines from Phantom, Les Mis, and Wicked — then launched into “Leading Lady Marmalade,” a Broadway reimagining of the hit she made iconic 25 years ago. Megan Thee Stallion appeared in her Zidler costume from Moulin Rouge. Lea Michele hit Christina Aguilera’s legendary high note. And 101-year-old June Squibb — the oldest acting nominee in Tony history — grabbed the mic and sang along. 170 performers. One stage. And a woman who’s never stepped on Broadway leading every single one of them.

P!nk’s Tony Awards Opening Turned a Pop Classic Into a Broadway Celebration

At the 79th Tony Awards at Radio City Music Hall, P!nk did not make a quiet entrance. She arrived suspended above the stage, dressed as Peter Pan, spinning through the air while singing “I’m Flying.” It was the kind of opening that immediately changed the mood in the room. Everyone knew they were about to see something bold, but few could have predicted how far she would take it.

Then Neil Patrick Harris stepped out and delivered the question on everyone’s mind: “Why is P!nk hosting the Tonys?” The answer came quickly, and with confidence. P!nk was there not to imitate Broadway, but to collide with it, twist it, and celebrate it in a way only she could.

A performance built on surprise

What followed felt less like a single performance and more like a fast-moving tribute to musical theater history. P!nk flipped upside down, powered through lines from Phantom of the Opera, Les Misérables, and Wicked, and kept the energy moving with the kind of control that has made her one of pop music’s most reliable live performers.

Then came the moment that connected the whole night back to her own past. P!nk launched into “Leading Lady Marmalade,” a Broadway-inspired reworking of the hit she helped make famous 25 years ago with Christina Aguilera, Lil’ Kim, and Mya. The song was instantly recognizable, but it was also newly staged, newly theatrical, and built for a room full of performers who know how much it takes to own a stage.

Broadway met pop in the middle

The crowd got an extra jolt when Megan Thee Stallion appeared in her Zidler costume from Moulin Rouge!, adding another layer of theatrical energy to the performance. Lea Michele stepped in to hit Christina Aguilera’s legendary high note, and the room erupted with the kind of excitement that only comes when a familiar song is suddenly transformed into something larger.

It was a reminder that Broadway is at its best when it welcomes unexpected voices and lets them reshape the moment.

Then came one of the sweetest surprises of the night: 101-year-old June Squibb, the oldest acting nominee in Tony history, grabbed the mic and sang along. Her presence gave the performance a real sense of history, as if the entire theater was being asked to hold onto the past while cheering for the future.

170 performers, one unforgettable stage

By the end, 170 performers had taken part in the opening. That number alone was impressive, but it was the feeling behind it that mattered most. P!nk, who has never had a Broadway career in the traditional sense, stood at the center of a massive theatrical celebration and made it feel natural. She moved with the confidence of someone who understands live performance is about risk, timing, and trust.

Last night’s Tony opening was more than a mashup of pop and Broadway. It was a reminder that a great song can travel across genres, generations, and stages without losing its power. P!nk brought back “Lady Marmalade” in a form nobody expected, and in doing so, she turned a familiar hit into a celebration of Broadway itself.

 

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8 FLUENT CHEROKEE SPEAKERS DIE EVERY MONTH. THEN ONE SPOKE THEIR LANGUAGE IN FRONT OF 26 MILLION VIEWERS. At the 90th Academy Awards, Wes Studi walked out as the first Native American presenter in Oscar history. He talked about serving 12 months in Vietnam with Alpha Company. Then he looked at the Hollywood crowd and asked, “Anyone else?” Dead silence. But what happened next is what no one was ready for. Out of 376,000 Cherokee people, only around 2,100 still speak the language. For generations, Native children were beaten in boarding schools for saying a single word in their mother tongue. The government wanted those languages to disappear completely. And right there, on that stage, Wes Studi spoke Cherokee. No hesitation. No permission. He thanked veterans and Cherokee people who served — in the exact language they tried to erase. A year later, the Tri-Council of Cherokee tribes declared a state of emergency for the language. Eight fluent speakers still die every month. But that night, millions of people heard Cherokee — and it sounded like something that refuses to die.

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“A 21-YEAR-OLD WATCHED POLICE ARREST HIS FRIENDS ON SUNSET STRIP. HE DROVE HOME AND WROTE ONE OF THE GREATEST PROTEST SONGS IN HISTORY — IN 15 MINUTES.” November 12, 1966. Stephen Stills was 21. His band Buffalo Springfield was nobody yet — playing a residency at the Whisky a Go Go with Neil Young. That night, he headed to Sunset Strip for live music. What he found was a thousand teenagers outside Pandora’s Box — a little rock and roll club the city had voted to demolish. LA had imposed a 10 p.m. curfew for anyone under 18. The kids carried signs: “We’re Your Children. Don’t Destroy Us.” Three busloads of LAPD showed up in riot gear. Peter Fonda got handcuffed. But here’s what nobody expected — Stills didn’t stay. He drove home and wrote a song in 15 minutes. It didn’t even have a title. Just a first line: There’s something happening here. They recorded it December 5 in a single session. On Christmas Day, Pandora’s Box reopened one last night — and Stills performed the song inside a building already marked for destruction. When he played it for his label, he shrugged: “I have this song, for what it’s worth.” That became the title. It appears nowhere in the lyrics. It hit Number 7 on the Billboard Hot 100. Grammy Hall of Fame, 2000. Rolling Stone’s 500 Greatest Songs, Number 63. Pandora’s Box was demolished in August 1967. That corner is now just another intersection. No plaque. Nothing left but the song.

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HE LAID 8 FLOWERS ON THE “8” PAINTED ON THE CHARLOTTE GRASS — 3 DAYS AFTER HIS BROTHER DIED, AND STILL SAID NOTHING. For 18 days after Kyle Busch passed away at 41, Kurt Busch stayed completely silent. Not a word when NASCAR announced Kyle’s death from sepsis caused by severe pneumonia. Not when Richard Childress Racing retired the No. 8 car. Not even at the Coca-Cola 600, where he quietly placed those flowers on the Charlotte infield — and walked away. But what he finally wrote wasn’t about the 234 wins, the most in NASCAR history. Wasn’t about the 2 Cup championships. Kurt talked about big wheels. Two kids from Las Vegas racing anything they could get their hands on, long before the trophies and the fame. “No trophy, championship, or accomplishment could ever measure the impact you had on my life.” And then, five words that hit harder than anything: “Rest easy, little brother.”

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8 FLUENT CHEROKEE SPEAKERS DIE EVERY MONTH. THEN ONE SPOKE THEIR LANGUAGE IN FRONT OF 26 MILLION VIEWERS. At the 90th Academy Awards, Wes Studi walked out as the first Native American presenter in Oscar history. He talked about serving 12 months in Vietnam with Alpha Company. Then he looked at the Hollywood crowd and asked, “Anyone else?” Dead silence. But what happened next is what no one was ready for. Out of 376,000 Cherokee people, only around 2,100 still speak the language. For generations, Native children were beaten in boarding schools for saying a single word in their mother tongue. The government wanted those languages to disappear completely. And right there, on that stage, Wes Studi spoke Cherokee. No hesitation. No permission. He thanked veterans and Cherokee people who served — in the exact language they tried to erase. A year later, the Tri-Council of Cherokee tribes declared a state of emergency for the language. Eight fluent speakers still die every month. But that night, millions of people heard Cherokee — and it sounded like something that refuses to die.

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“A 21-YEAR-OLD WATCHED POLICE ARREST HIS FRIENDS ON SUNSET STRIP. HE DROVE HOME AND WROTE ONE OF THE GREATEST PROTEST SONGS IN HISTORY — IN 15 MINUTES.” November 12, 1966. Stephen Stills was 21. His band Buffalo Springfield was nobody yet — playing a residency at the Whisky a Go Go with Neil Young. That night, he headed to Sunset Strip for live music. What he found was a thousand teenagers outside Pandora’s Box — a little rock and roll club the city had voted to demolish. LA had imposed a 10 p.m. curfew for anyone under 18. The kids carried signs: “We’re Your Children. Don’t Destroy Us.” Three busloads of LAPD showed up in riot gear. Peter Fonda got handcuffed. But here’s what nobody expected — Stills didn’t stay. He drove home and wrote a song in 15 minutes. It didn’t even have a title. Just a first line: There’s something happening here. They recorded it December 5 in a single session. On Christmas Day, Pandora’s Box reopened one last night — and Stills performed the song inside a building already marked for destruction. When he played it for his label, he shrugged: “I have this song, for what it’s worth.” That became the title. It appears nowhere in the lyrics. It hit Number 7 on the Billboard Hot 100. Grammy Hall of Fame, 2000. Rolling Stone’s 500 Greatest Songs, Number 63. Pandora’s Box was demolished in August 1967. That corner is now just another intersection. No plaque. Nothing left but the song.

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HE LAID 8 FLOWERS ON THE “8” PAINTED ON THE CHARLOTTE GRASS — 3 DAYS AFTER HIS BROTHER DIED, AND STILL SAID NOTHING. For 18 days after Kyle Busch passed away at 41, Kurt Busch stayed completely silent. Not a word when NASCAR announced Kyle’s death from sepsis caused by severe pneumonia. Not when Richard Childress Racing retired the No. 8 car. Not even at the Coca-Cola 600, where he quietly placed those flowers on the Charlotte infield — and walked away. But what he finally wrote wasn’t about the 234 wins, the most in NASCAR history. Wasn’t about the 2 Cup championships. Kurt talked about big wheels. Two kids from Las Vegas racing anything they could get their hands on, long before the trophies and the fame. “No trophy, championship, or accomplishment could ever measure the impact you had on my life.” And then, five words that hit harder than anything: “Rest easy, little brother.”

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“RUSH JUST PLAYED THEIR FIRST SHOW IN 11 YEARS — AND A WOMAN NO ONE SAW COMING STOLE THE STAGE.” Sunday night at the Kia Forum, Rush played their first full show in 11 years. Same stage where Neil Peart took his final bow in 2015 before cancer quietly took him in 2020. Behind the kit now — Anika Nilles, a 43-year-old German drummer who once toured with Jeff Beck. During opener “Xanadu,” she fumbled a stick mid-fill. Caught it. Kept playing. The whole arena erupted. But that wasn’t even the moment people will remember most. Over three hours and 22 songs, Nilles didn’t just play Peart’s parts — she made them breathe again. “Tom Sawyer,” every fill locked. “YYZ,” every odd time signature clean. She wasn’t copying Neil. She was channeling something no one expected, grinning through all of it. And when Aimee Mann walked out to sing “Time Stand Still” — 40 years after recording it — the entire Forum went silent in a way that said more than any standing ovation ever could.