Demi Lovato's wedding date with bandmate revealed a year and a half after engagement
Demi Lovato 's wedding date has been revealed as she is set to marry her bandmate after a year and a half engagement.
The 32-year-old former Disney star - who recently revealed that they have never been happier - is set to marry fiance Jordan Lutes at the end of the month according to TMZ.
Demi (who uses she/they pronouns) and the 34-year-old Canadian musician will be exchanging vows on Memorial Day weekend, though no location has been revealed, according to the publication's sources
Her Holy Fvck back-up vocalist bandmate nicknamed 'Jutes' popped the question to her in December 2023.
Jutes teamed up with New York City-based jewelry company Material Good's Teresa Panico to create the bespoke pear-shape diamond sparkler.
'I'm still speechless! Last night was the best night of my life and I can't believe I get to marry the love of my life @jutesmusic,' Demi wrote at the time when she announced her engagement.
'My love, I'm beyond excited to marry you. Every day I've spent with you has been a dream come true and I can't wait to love and cherish you forever. Here's to the rest of our lives. I love you baby!'
At the time the two-time Grammy nominee and Jutes got matching tattoos of the track - 4 Ever 4 Me - which she wrote especially about him.
The heavily-tattooed millennial and Demi - who met in January 2022 - also reportedly collaborated on her songs Substance, Happy Ending, and City of Angels.
Jutes marks Lovato's second engagement after ending her first engagement to four-time Daytime Emmy nominee Max Ehrich in 2020 after six months of dating.
This comes after Demi insisted she's never been happier as she updated fans on her wellbeing in a candid Instagram post after sparking Ozempic rumors with her recent weight loss.
The former child star reflected on how far they've come in the past five years as she shared a sweet video on Wednesday.
Demi danced in the short clip as she shared 'things that would send 2020 me into a coma' with her 153million followers.
Revealing the list, she wrote: 'The happiest I've ever been, loving cooking and rebuilding my relationship with food, surrounded by loved ones.
Demi gushed on Instagram at the time: 'I'm still speechless! Last night was the best night of my life and I can't believe I get to marry the love of my life @jutesmusic. My love, I'm beyond excited to marry you. Every day I've spent with you has been a dream come true and I can't wait to love and cherish you forever. Here's to the rest of our lives. I love you baby!'
'Three songs in the billions club!!!, acting in a move premiering at Tribeca, engaged to love of my life, in the studio making music I love (I can't wait to share!), I have three dogs'.
Recently, Demi shared a set of new bikini-clad photos on social media sparking Ozempic rumors.
Last week, the Camp Rock star modeled a two-piece which boasted a black bandeau top and matching high-waisted bottoms, flaunting her newly slimmed down figure.
Demi posed up a storm in a swimming pool overlooking the picturesque ocean.
The post came amid speculation that the ex Disney actress could be using a GLP-1 weight loss drug like Ozempic or Mounjaro.
Under her previous Instagram post, social media users were quick to point out her different look.
'Honey just stop the ozempic; Demi ilysm but stop rn with the ozempic you've been perfect for ages pls keep some curves;
'She has the Ozempic drop in her cheeks; Ozempic Queen; Ozempic hitting hard.'
Demi recently insisted she's never been happier as she updated fans on her wellbeing in a candid Instagram post after sparking Ozempic rumors with her recent weight loss
Demi has not publicly commented on the rumors.
In March, Demi was accused of ditching her ' woke ' era in favor of cultivating a more 'soft girl' inspired image.
The singer previously sported a shaved head in a bid to shed 'gender and sexuality norms', identified as non-binary and called out a froyo shop for 'triggering' her due to a past eating disorder.
Yet in recent months she has transformed her image to a retro glamor look coupled with wholesome cooking videos.
Gone are the controversies of the past as a smiling Demi rustled up a roast chicken dinner in a recent TikTok, although fans were later left concerned over her nervous 'shaking' in the clip.
Demi's transformation wowed fans who quipped she's gone from 'woke to womanhood' and entered her 'feminine soft girl era.'
One fan wrote: 'Soooo this was just a phase' while a second typed: 'her aura is so back.'
The former child star has previously suffered a turbulent personal life, suffering a near-fatal heroin and fentanyl overdose inside her $8.3M Hollywood Hills mansion back in July 2018.
In 2021 Demi shocked fans when she discussed her 'fluid' sexuality. She said: 'I'm very fluid. I think love is love. You can find it in any gender. I like the freedom of being able to flirt with whoever I want'
'I've always known I was hella queer, but I have fully embraced it' and added she was 'just too queer' to date men at the time.'
In March, Demi was accused of ditching her ' woke ' era in favor of cultivating a more 'soft girl' inspired image (left, in 2021 and right in 2025)
Gone were the controversies of the past as a smiling Demi rustled up a roast chicken dinner in a recent TikTok, although fans were later left concerned over her nervous 'shaking' in the clip
She also expressed feeling proud of belonging to the 'alphabet mafia', referring to the LGBTQ+ community.
That same year detailed how she felt 'liberated' when she shaved her head because of how it helped her shed 'gender and sexuality norms' she was raised with as a 'Christian in the South.'
Ditching her previous wholesome look, she adopted an edgier style and even got a gigantic spider tattoo on her head.
Another memorable outburst that year saw Demi slammed by fans after she went to war with a frozen yogurt shop after feeling 'triggered' by their selection of diet and sugar free items .
The star was blasted over the 'stupid' attack, leaving many fans confused, as well as people upset with the idea of a big star attacking a small business in lockdown.
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Surfin' USA was a pivotal record in the Beach Boys' career, the moment where they began selling the world an idealised notion of Californian youth as a carefree, sun-kissed paradise of beauty, athleticism and unending material luxury. It was set to music that was still essentially primitive – three chords; guitars, bass and drums with only a brief splash of reedy organ for colour – but so thick with beautifully arranged harmony vocals, it felt weirdly sumptuous. Indeed, it was so irresistible that no one seemed to notice the Beach Boys themselves bore no resemblance to the tanned teen Adonises they were singing about: the band's heartthrob, the unreasonably handsome Dennis, was hidden away at the back of the stage behind his drumkit, leaving audiences looking at his two rather less glamorous brothers, their prematurely balding cousin Mike Love and the diminutive, jug-eared guitarist Al Jardine. Nor, as it turned out, had the Wilson brothers ever enjoyed the kind of carefree youth they sang about. Their horrendous father Murray, a thwarted songwriter, was a tyrant who, in Brian Wilson's words 'brutalized' and 'terrorised' his family: most notoriously, he was reputed to have beaten his eldest son about the head so severely as a child, it left him permanently deaf in one ear. 'Murray Wilson was a dick,' Mike Love once noted, flatly. 'I'm glad he wasn't my father.' You could perhaps tell that all was not well in the Wilsons' world by the fact that, left to his own devices, Brian Wilson kept coming up with songs that told a completely different story to the big hits. In October 1963, The Beach Boys released Be True To Your School, their third US Top 10 hit of the year, a fabulously overblown bit of swaggering Californian braggadocio, replete with cheerleader backing vocals and an arrangement that mimicked a marching band: 'whatsamatta buddy, ain't ya heard of my school? 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Smile was certainly filled with extraordinary music: the heart-stopping beauty of Surf's Up; Wind Chimes' eerie evocation of the unsettling side of the LSD experience; the album's awesome opening sweep, from the wordless, ethereal Our Prayer to the dark, lurching rumble of Do You Like Worms? to a wilfully episodic version of Heroes and Villians that, depending on your perspective, either pushed the 'feel' technique to new heights of daring or to breaking point, where the song started to sound disjointed in a way Good Vibrations simply had not. But it also sounded absolutely nothing like the kind of psychedelia that was selling in 1967. Instead of phasing effects and backwards tapes and lyrics about peace and love there was doo-wop, yodelling, barbershop singing, ragtime, references to pre-rock and roll crooning and the cod-Polynesian Tiki culture that had swept Hollywood in the 1950s: straight-arrow American pop culture – the kind of stuff the emergent hippy counterculture dismissed as hopelessly square – filtered through an lysergic lens. Whether Smile would or wouldn't have been a success on release is besides the point: its abandonment in 1967 prompted a decline in both Wilson's health and the Beach Boys' commercial standing. They spent the rest of the decade scrabbling around trying to make up lost ground, and – increasingly – to get their former leader engaged in making music at all. There's a great deal to commend the Beach Boys' late 60s albums – Wild Honey's raw fusion of their trademark sound with soul is a delight; both 1968's understated Friends and 1969's 20:20 were liberally sprinkled with highlights, Wilson's gorgeous Time To Get Alone and Wake the World Among them; his brothers Carl and Dennis were increasingly developing as songwriters in their own right. But with their resident genius only intermittently engaged, they were clearly no longer at the vanguard of pop. Curiously, their most prescient release was the 1968 single Do It Again, an attempt to recreate their old surf music-themed sound that you might have called craven were the results not so infectiously joyous. It pre-empted the vogue for nostalgia that variously gave us American Graffiti, Grease, a rock'n'roll revival and Don McLean's famous assertion that 'the music' had died with Buddy Holly – that ostensibly more innocent era looked appealing as the 60s first curdled into darkness and violence, then turned into the grim 1970s. Rumours about Brian Wilson's mental health became ever more lurid, but as the 70s began the Beach Boys made a succession of fantastic albums – Sunflower, Surf's Up and Holland – all of which contained songs that suggested that, however unwell he was, Wilson's creative abilities were far from extinguished: This Whole World, All I Wanna Do, Sail On Sailor and the frankly astonishing 'Til I Die, a harrowing and surprisingly clear-eyed expression of his misery set to melody as divine as anything on Pet Sounds. None of them sold. They eventually found a niche as a revival act, bolstered by shows that depended on their stockpile of unimpeachable 60s hits: at the height of his 70s fame, Elton John unwisely booked the Beach Boys as a support act and, by his own account, they blew him offstage. In search of a new album to match their live reputation, they employed a dubious psychiatrist called Eugene Landy, and embarked on an ill-advised Brian's Back campaign – Mike Love even wrote a thoroughly ghastly song of the same name – which propelled 1976's 16 Big Ones into the Top 10, but no one in their right minds would have claimed its contents were anything close to Wilson at his peak and no one who read the profoundly disturbing interviews he gave to support it could have claimed his mental health was repaired. By the early 80s, Wilson was clearly more unwell than ever: vastly overweight, he cut a distracted, unsettling figure onstage. In desperation, Landy was re-employed, and by 1988, a svelte Brian Wilson re-emerged seemingly miraculously cured and touting an eponymous solo album. There was still plenty to be concerned about, not least the fact that Landy was now apparently Wilson's 'executive producer', business partner and occasional co-songwriter, but it contained a couple of great songs in Love And Mercy and Melt Away: such was the general delight at Wilson's unexpected reappearance that it got rather better reviews than its contents deserved, a pattern that was to be repeated many times in the ensuing years. In truth, nothing on Brian Wilson's subsequent solo albums really came close to his 60s peak, even after he was disentangled from Eugene Landy's clutches. His best latterday work is probably the moving suite of songs that concluded the 2012 Beach Boys reunion album, That's Why God Made the Radio, filled with intimations of aging and mortality. But it scarcely mattered. In the late 90s, a band was assembled around him that, incredibly, could replicate the complex arrangements of his 60s productions live. They began touring, playing Pet Sounds in its entirety, to deservedly rapturous response – the shows they played at London's Royal Festival Hall in 2002 were an utterly euphoric underlining of Wilson's songwriting genius. It was a move that proved curiously influential: within a few years, you couldn't move for legendary artists performing their most celebrated albums live. They enabled him to complete a new version of Smile, provoking more shows performing the album in full. Incredible as it would once have seemed, Brian Wilson spent most of the 21st century as a touring artist, a dependable bringer of joy to festivals and high-profile shows. Occasionally, concerns were raised about Wilson's wellbeing – he could appear disengaged and confused onstage – but in interviews he insisted that it was where he wanted to be. It was a happy ending of sorts to a story that, at one point, seemed destined to end horribly. But, for a moment, let's try and forget the story – the myth of Brian Wilson, if you like – entirely. Instead, just play Good Vibrations, or Don't Worry Baby, or California Girls, or Caroline No, and marvel at what he achieved, rather than what lurked behind those achievements. Pop music as perfect as pop music is ever likely to get: music you can bathe in.
