Caught Up in the Rapture of Anita Baker

Singer-songwriter Ella Langley’s country tune “Choosin’ Texas” entered the Billboard Hot 100 chart last November, and it hasn’t left. It’s just tied the record for the most nonconsecutive weeks at No. 1: 22 . (Sorry, Mariah Carey.) Wesley Morris is a student of the chart and he’s noticed that in recent years certain songs seem to hang around for a long, long time. These chart toppers are starting to feel more like chart cloggers. Why is this happening? His curiosity cannot be contained for another week. So he’s going to Chris Molanphy, a pop music critic and the host of Slate’s “Hit Parade” podcast, for answers. Together, they recall chart trends, think about Billboard’s tracking metrics, and consider what kind of choice “Choosin’ Texas” is.

It has been 25 years since the attacks on Sept. 11, 2001, and Wesley has been reflecting on what has changed since then — particularly when it comes to comedy. The first film he saw in theaters after the attacks was “Zoolander,” which opened to mediocre box office numbers and mixed reviews. The movie became a flashpoint as the world wrestled with questions about what was funny and when it would be OK to be funny again. And that uncertainty about what American comedy is, whom it’s aimed at and whether it can be therapeutic may never have gone away. This week, The Times’s comedy critic, Jason Zinoman, sits down with Wesley to remember the debates about comedy in the aftermath of the attacks, and to think through how that period changed the art form in ways that we’re still experiencing today.

This year’s summer movie season proved that the “Toy Story” franchise still has some juice, that “The Odyssey” can spark endless debates, and that “The Invite” might be the sleeper film of the year. But according to Wesley Morris, we’re still in a summer movie drought. He can’t help himself! His nostalgia for the movies of summers past is as strong as it was last year. So, once again, Wesley invites Sam Anderson, staff writer for The New York Times Magazine, to go back in time. This week, they travel to 1986, where the multiplex marquee reads: “Ruthless People” and “Ferris Bueller’s Day Off.”

What did we get for our country’s 250th birthday, a.k.a. the semi-quincentennial? An Ultimate Fighting Championship cage match on the White House lawn? A sparsely attended Great American State Fair? An underwhelming logo? The last time we had an anniversary this massive, it was 1976 — the bicentennial — and the celebration was everywhere: in our movies, in our books, in our Saturday morning cartoons. What happened this year? Wesley Morris is perplexed. Jennifer Schuessler, a Times reporter who covers intellectual life and ideas, has talked to state planners and historians alike, and attended semi-quincentennial events across the country. Together, she and Wesley mull over the circumstances that led this year’s birthday bash to fall flat, and they celebrate the bicentennial gifts that keep on giving, 50 years later.

When Madonna’s new album, “Confessions II,” dropped in early July, it went straight to the top of the Billboard 200 (her 10th No. 1 album). Many of the 16 tracks plumb her own history for lessons learned along the way. On “Bizarre,” the blue Shelby Cobra she gave her first husband, Sean Penn, “wasn’t meant to last.” On “The Test,” she tells her daughter Lola Leon, with whom she sings: “I wish I knew the pain I’ve caused.” And on “Danceteria,” she takes us to the New York City clubs of the 1980s and the moment when a D.J. “played my tape ‘Everybody’ ” and launched her career. Wesley Morris describes the album as “post-nostalgia,” with Madonna using an idea of her past as a slingshot into some kind of future. “Confessions II” is also a dance record that reminds us of the impact she has had on club culture and gay culture. Wesley sits down with one of the biggest Madonna fans he knows — Jacob Bernstein, a writer for The Times’s Styles section and a former club kid in New York City — to talk about her new record and the immense influence Madonna has had on their lives.