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Swedish Egil - Groove Radio Presents Trancemission (CD)

This article about a Swedish band or other musical ensemble is a stub. You can help Wikipedia by expanding it. From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia. Svenska Dagbladet. Retrieved Retrieved 18 October SVT Nyheter. Radio Ardilla. Miguel Bizarre. Sinister Pete. Stephane Vermette. Martin James. Joakim Kock. Blair Swedish Egil - Groove Radio Presents Trancemission (CD) Synthentral. Jens Polze. Carl J Paying supporters also get unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app.

Purchasable with gift card. Buy Digital Album name your price Send as Gift. Blutest Du Grace Within Overmann People Like Swedish Egil - Groove Radio Presents Trancemission (CD) Watching You Living Now Perfect Girl Edit Hurry Up To Love Here Void The Friend Del-Anov Remix Interstate W Remix The End Of Me In My Sleep One Lap Burning Love Between Oceans Milliways The Preacher More Let The Fire Burn Electric Technomancer Remix Don't Look Back Echonocks Remix All Systems Go Innocence Ego Ge Mig Allt Hikikomori Fool For your convenience, we have done our best to compile almost all online radio stations in Sweden.

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Red Roses - Scapa Flow - The Guide (CD, Album)

LibriVox is a hope, an experiment, and a question: can the net harness a bunch of volunteers to help bring books in the public domain to life through podcasting? LibriVox volunteers record chapters of books in the public domain, and then we release the audio files back onto the net.

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Our commenting rules: You can say pretty much anything except the F word. With A Hundred Ships. A Living Pain. I Know How. Ten Winters. Instrumental Night Dance. Go go. Nikos Oikonomopoulos - Koita na ma8aineis. Nikos Oikonomopoulos - Ola mas xwrizoun. Nikos Oikonomopoulos - Matia mou. Nikos Oikonomopoulos (Youre Puttin A) Rush On Me (Moto Blanco Dub) - Eighteen Ft. Stephanie Mills - Rush On Me (File) Mia kardia pou s'agapaei. Petros Imbrios - (Youre Puttin A) Rush On Me (Moto Blanco Dub) - Eighteen Ft.

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Stiff Competition - Cheap Trick - California Man (Vinyl, LP)

Its back cover has an upside-down black-and-white photo of Carlos and Nielsen sitting on mopeds with the words "And In Black and White. In Color was re-recorded by the band in with producer Steve Albini. The band's intention was to record the album on their own terms and for the songs to sound the way that they had originally intended.

It was never officially completed or released, but a rough mix of the album was leaked onto the internet along with a handful of other tracks recorded during the same sessions. In Septemberthe re-recorded version of "Hello There" was featured as a playable song in the video game Rock Band 2raising suspicions that the album may have been finished. In AprilRick Nielsen confirmed to the online music site Spinner that the band had in fact finished re-recording the album and planned to release the new version in "the not so distant future".

Later in an interview with Eddie Trunk inTom Petersson claimed that the recordings were never finished. All tracks are written by Rick Nielsenexcept where indicated. From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia. Not to be confused with In Colour Jamie xx album. For the term in animal husbandry, see Downed animal. Cheap Trick. Power pop rock and roll. The following shows how the correct date and venue was found:. At this rate I have to live a really long life, lol. The Bottom Line had seats.

For those who doubt this was recorded there, all shows that were recorded there have a similar ambiance. Check them out. Compare this, for example, to the two Peter Gabriel shows recorded a few months later on October 4th and you will agree that this is indeed the same venue. HENRY 9. Hey spinalcrackerbox, thanks for the input. Also, I believe we found out why this set was often mislabeled as the BL — it was broadcast with a BL Rockpile show and was so mistakenly assumed to have also LP) recorded there.

Hi Pete, thanks for the message. I had always assumed that the original venue and date was correct and really hear a similar room feel compared to other BL recordings but I stand corrected. Have you ever found the rest of this show as obviously we have only selection of the full set here with many songs missing in between? This is perhaps my favourite ever live recording, despite a lack of bass. Come On Come On Stiff Competition On Top Of The World Guitar Solo Big Eyes Southern Girls Need Your Love California Man Surrender Goodnight Now Heaven Tonight.

Auf Wiedersehen The views expressed here are the author's own. Cheap Trick What do you think of Stiff Competition - Cheap Trick - California Man (Vinyl you hear that name? A magic act, the cartoon-like band with Stiff Competition - Cheap Trick - California Man (Vinyl two good lookin rock stars to one side and the two nerds on the left? Cheap Trick came out at a time when where Stiff Competition - Cheap Trick - California Man (Vinyl were a lot of New Wave Bands a term seldom used now and Post Punk Bands, so I kinda feel they got lost in the shuffle.

Then one day I went to my high school buddy Brett's house and he put on the then newest release by Cheap Trick 's "Dream Police" and I heard for the very first time the infectious guitar riff of "The House is Rockin with domestic problems " my interest was Stiff Competition - Cheap Trick - California Man (Vinyl.

By far my absolute favorite Cheap Trick album of them all. Unfortunately, Pete Comita never recorded a full album only two songs for the "Heavy Metal" soundtrack those being "Reach Out," one of my all time favorites, and "I Must Be Dreaming. When an unusual event in rock n' roll took place, Tom Petersson came back into the fold to record Cheap Trick's comeback album "Lap Of Luxury. Considine Retrieved Retrieved November 14, Hello We're All Alright!

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Wipe Away Your Kiss - Nine Below Zero - Third Degree (CD, Album)

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When we came to the next traffic light, the driver eased off the gas a bit to look around and check the road. My mother reached over, pulled the sliding door open, grabbed me, and threw me out as far as she could. Then she took Andrew, curled herself in a ball around him, and leaped out behind me. It felt like a dream until the pain hit. I smacked hard on the pavement. My mother landed right beside me and we tumbled and tumbled and rolled and rolled. I was wide awake now. I went from half asleep to What the hell?!

Eventually I came to a stop and pulled myself up, completely disoriented. I looked around and saw my mother, already on her feet. She turned and looked at me and screamed. It was animal instinct, learned in a world where violence was always lurking and waiting to erupt. In the townships, when the police came swooping in with their riot gear and armored cars and helicopters, I knew: Run for cover. Run and hide. I knew that as a five-year-old.

Had I lived a different life, getting thrown out of a speeding minibus might have fazed me. Why are my legs so sore? Like the gazelle runs from the lion, I ran. We smoked them. I think they were in shock. I still remember glancing back and seeing them give up with a look of utter bewilderment on their faces. What just happened? We kept going and going until we made it to a twenty-four-hour petrol station and called the police. By then the men were long gone. Once we stopped running I realized how much pain I was in.

I looked down, and the skin on my arms was scraped and torn. I was cut up and bleeding all over. Mom was, too. My baby brother was fine, though, incredibly. I turned to her in shock. Why are we running?! You just threw me out of the car! I was asleep! I was too confused and too angry about getting thrown out of the car to realize what had happened. My mother had saved my life.

This was not thanks to God! I know you love Jesus, but maybe next week you could ask him to meet us at our house. I started laughing, too, and we stood there, this little boy and his mom, our arms and legs covered in blood and dirt, laughing together through the pain in the light of a petrol station on the side of the road in the middle of the night.

A partheid was perfect racism. It took centuries to develop, starting all the way back in when the Dutch East India Company landed at the Cape of Good Hope and established a trading colony, Kaapstad, later known as Cape Town, a rest stop for ships traveling between Europe and India. To impose white rule, the Dutch colonists went to war with the natives, ultimately developing a set of laws to subjugate and enslave them.

When the British took over the Cape Colony, the descendants of the original Dutch settlers trekked inland and developed their own language, culture, and customs, eventually becoming their own people, the Afrikaners—the white tribe of Africa.

The British abolished slavery in name but kept it in practice. They did so because, in the mids, in what had been written off as a near-worthless way station on the route to the Far East, a few lucky capitalists stumbled upon the richest gold and diamond reserves in the world, and an endless supply of expendable bodies was needed to go in the ground and get it all out.

They set up a formal commission to go out and study institutionalized racism all over the world. They went to Australia. They went to the Netherlands. They went to America. Then they came back and published a report, and the government used that knowledge to build the most advanced system of racial oppression known to man.

Apartheid was a police state, a system of surveillance and laws designed to keep black people under total control. A full compendium of those laws would run more than three thousand pages and weigh approximately ten pounds, but the general thrust of it should be easy enough for any American to understand. In America you had the forced removal of the native onto reservations coupled with slavery followed by segregation.

Imagine all three of those things happening to the same group Wipe Away Your Kiss - Nine Below Zero - Third Degree (CD people at the Wipe Away Your Kiss - Nine Below Zero - Third Degree (CD time. That was apartheid. My mother, Patricia Nombuyiselo Noah, is black. My father, Robert, is white. During apartheid, one of the worst crimes you could commit was having sexual relations with a person of another race.

Needless to say, my parents committed that crime. Race-mixing proves that races can mix—and in a lot of cases, want to mix.

Because a mixed person embodies that rebuke to the logic of the system, race-mixing becomes a crime worse than treason. Humans being humans and sex being sex, that prohibition never stopped anyone. There were mixed kids in South Africa nine months after the first Dutch boats hit the beach in Table Bay. Just like in America, the colonists here had their way with the native women, as colonists so often do.

Based on those classifications, millions of people were uprooted and relocated. Indian areas were segregated from colored areas, which were segregated from black areas—all of them segregated from white areas and separated from one another by buffer zones of empty land.

Laws were passed prohibiting sex between Europeans and natives, laws that were later amended to prohibit sex between whites and all nonwhites. The government went to insane lengths to try to enforce these new laws.

The penalty for breaking them was five years in prison. There Album) whole police squads whose only job was to go around peeking through windows—clearly an assignment for only the finest law enforcement officers. And if an interracial couple got caught, God help them. The police would kick down the door, drag the people out, beat them, arrest them. If you ask my mother whether she ever considered the ramifications of having a mixed child under apartheid, she will say no.

She wanted to do something, figured out a way to do it, and then she did it. She had a level of fearlessness that you have to possess to take on something like she did. Still, it was a crazy, reckless thing to do. A million things had to go right for us to slip through the cracks the way we did for as long as we did.

If you were a black woman, you worked in a factory or as a maid. Those were pretty much your only options. She was a horrible cook and never would have stood for some white lady telling her what to do all day.

So, true to her nature, she found an option that was not among the ones presented to her: She took a secretarial course, a typing class. At the time, a black woman learning how to type was like a blind person learning how to drive. By law, white-collar jobs and skilled- labor jobs were reserved for whites. My mom, however, was a rebel, and, fortunately for her, her rebellion came along at the right moment. In the early s, the South African government began making minor reforms in an attempt to quell international protest over the atrocities and human rights abuses of apartheid.

Among those reforms was the token hiring of black workers in low-level white- collar jobs. Like typists. Through an employment agency she got a job as a secretary at ICI, a multinational pharmaceutical company in Braamfontein, a suburb of Johannesburg. When my mom started working, she still lived with my grandmother in Soweto, the township where the government had relocated my family decades before.

But my mother was unhappy at home, and when she was twenty-two she ran away to live in downtown Johannesburg. There was only one problem: It was illegal for black people to live there. The ultimate goal of apartheid was to make South Africa a white country, with every black person stripped of his or her citizenship and relocated to live in the homelands, the Bantustans, semi-sovereign black territories that were in reality puppet states of the government in Pretoria.

But this so-called white country could not function without black labor to produce its wealth, which meant black people had to be allowed to live near white areas in the townships, government-planned ghettos built to house black workers, like Soweto. The township was where you lived, but your status as a laborer was the only thing that permitted you to stay there. If your papers were revoked for any reason, you could be deported back to the homelands.

To leave the township for work in the city, or for any other reason, you had to carry a pass with your ID number; otherwise you could be arrested. There was also a curfew: After a certain hour, blacks had to be back home in the township or risk arrest. She was determined to never go home again. So she stayed in town, hiding and sleeping in public restrooms until she learned the rules of navigating the city from the other black women who had contrived to live there: prostitutes.

Many of the prostitutes in town were Xhosa. They also introduced her to white men who were willing to rent out flats in town. She met a German fellow through one of her prostitute friends, and he agreed to let her a flat in his name. She was caught and arrested many times, for not having her ID on the way home from work, for being in a white area after hours.

The penalty for violating the pass laws was thirty days in jail or a fine of fifty rand, nearly half her monthly salary. She would scrape together the money, pay the fine, and go right back about her business. She lived in number He lived in As a former trading colony, South Africa has always had a large expatriate community. People find their way here.

Tons of Germans. Lots of Dutch. Hillbrow at the time was the Greenwich Village of South Africa. It was a thriving scene, cosmopolitan and liberal. There were galleries and underground theaters where artists and performers dared to speak up and criticize the government in front of integrated crowds.

There were restaurants and nightclubs, a lot of them foreign-owned, that served a mixed clientele, black people who hated the status quo and white people who simply thought it ridiculous. People would meet up and hang out, have parties. My mom threw herself into that scene.

She was always out at some club, some party, dancing, meeting people. She was a regular at the Hillbrow Tower, one of the tallest buildings in Africa at that time. It had a nightclub with a rotating dance floor on the top floor. It was an exhilarating time but still dangerous. Sometimes the restaurants and clubs would get shut down, sometimes not. Sometimes the performers and patrons would get arrested, sometimes not.

It was a roll of the dice. My mother never knew whom to trust, who might turn her in to the police. Neighbors would report on one another. And you must remember that black people worked for the government as well. As far as her white neighbors knew, my mom could have been a spy posing as a prostitute posing as a maid, sent into Hillbrow to inform on whites who were breaking the law.

Living alone in the city, not being trusted and not being able to trust, my mother started spending more and more time in the company of someone with whom she felt safe: the tall Swiss man down the corridor in He was forty-six.

She was twenty-four. He was quiet and reserved; she was wild and free. Something clicked. I know that there was a genuine bond and a love between my parents. I saw it. All I do know is that one day she made her proposal. I asked you to help me to have my kid. I just want the sperm from you. Honor me with your yes so that I can live peacefully. I want a child of my own, and I want it from you. You will be able to see it as much as you like, but you will have no obligations.

Just make this child for me. She wanted a child, not a man stepping in to run her life. Eventually he said yes. Why he said yes is a question I will never have the answer to. Nine months after that yes, on February 20,my mother checked into Hillbrow Hospital for a scheduled C-section delivery. Estranged from her family, pregnant by a man she could not be seen with in public, she was alone. The doctors took her up to the delivery room, cut open her belly, and reached in and pulled out a half-white, half-black child who violated any number of laws, statutes, and regulations—I was born a crime.

They probably knew she was lying, but they accepted it because they needed an explanation. Under apartheid, the government labeled everything on your birth certificate: race, tribe, nationality.

Everything had to be categorized. And my mother, true to her word, was prepared for him not to be involved. The next week she went to visit him, with no baby. To her surprise, he asked where I was. So the three of us formed a kind of family, as much as our peculiar situation would allow. I lived with my mom. The only time I could be with my father was indoors.

My mom and I used to go to Joubert Park all the time. My mother tells me that once, when I was a toddler, my dad tried to go with us. He panicked and ran away. I thought it was a game and kept chasing him. When I was a newborn, she could wrap me up and take me anywhere, but very quickly that was no longer an option.

I was a giant baby, an enormous child. There was no way to hide me. It was illegal to be mixed to have a black parent and a white parentbut it was not illegal to be colored to have two parents who were both colored.

So my mom moved me around the world as a colored child. There was a colored woman named Queen who lived in our block of flats. When we wanted to go out to the park, my mom would invite her to go with us. Queen would walk next to me and act like she was my mother, and my mother would walk a few steps behind, like she was the maid working for the colored woman.

We lived in town, but I would spend weeks at a time with my grandmother in Soweto, often during the holidays. The township was a city unto itself, with a population of nearly one million.

There were only two roads in and out. That was so the military could lock us in, quell any rebellion. And if the monkeys ever went crazy and tried to break out of their cage, the air force could fly over and bomb the shit out of everyone.

In the city, as difficult as it was to get around, we managed. Enough people were out and about, black, white, and colored, going to and from work, that we could get lost in the crowd. But only black people were permitted in Soweto. It was much harder to hide someone who looked like me, and the government was watching much more closely.

In the white areas you rarely saw the police, and if you did it was Officer Friendly in his collared shirt and pressed pants. In Soweto the police were an occupying army. They wore riot gear. They were militarized. They operated in teams known as flying squads, because they would swoop in out of nowhere, riding in armored personnel carriers—hippos, we called them—tanks with enormous tires and slotted holes in the side of the vehicle to fire their guns out of.

You saw one, you ran. That was a fact of life. The township was in a constant state of insurrection; someone was always marching or protesting somewhere and had to be suppressed. My memories of the hippos and the flying squads come from when I was five or six, when apartheid was finally coming apart. I never saw the police before that, because we could never risk the police seeing me. Whenever we went to Soweto, my grandmother refused to let me outside. Please, can I go play with my cousins?

Children could be taken. Children were taken. The wrong color kid in the wrong color area, and the government could come in, strip your parents of custody, haul you off to an orphanage. There were also the blackjacks, black people who worked for the police. My gran still tells the story of when I was three years old and, fed up with being a prisoner, I dug a hole under the gate in the driveway, wriggled through, and ran off.

Everyone panicked. A search party went out and tracked me down. Wipe Away Your Kiss - Nine Below Zero - Third Degree (CD had no idea how much danger I was putting everyone in.

The family could have been deported, my gran could have been arrested, my mom might have gone to prison, and I probably would have been packed off to a home for colored kids. So I was kept inside. I lived inside my head. I still live inside my head. I have to remember to be with people. Traveling around the world today, I meet other mixed South Africans all the time. Our stories start off identically. Their parents met at some underground party in Hillbrow or Cape Town. They lived in an illegal flat.

The difference is that in virtually every other case they left. The white parent smuggled them out through Lesotho or Botswana, and they grew up in exile, in England or Germany or Switzerland, because being a mixed family under apartheid was just that unbearable. Once Mandela was elected we could finally live freely. Exiles started to return. I met my first one when I was around seventeen. You mean we could have left? That was an option? You hit the ground and break all your bones, you go to the hospital and you heal and you move on and finally put the whole thing behind you—and then one day somebody tells you about parachutes.

I went straight home and asked my mom. Why should I leave? We adopted the religion of our colonizers, but most people held on to the old ancestral ways, too, just in case. I come from a country where people are more likely to visit sangomas—shamans, traditional healers, pejoratively known as witch doctors—than they are to visit doctors of Western medicine.

I come from a country where people have been arrested and tried for witchcraft—in a court of law. I remember a man being on trial for striking another person with lightning. That happens a lot in the homelands. There are no tall buildings, few tall trees, nothing between you and the sky, so people get hit by lightning all the time.

So if you had a beef with the guy who got killed, someone will accuse you of murder and the police will come knocking. You used witchcraft to kill David Kibuuka by causing him to be struck by lightning. The court is presided over by a judge. There is a docket. There is a prosecutor. Your defense attorney has to prove lack of motive, go through the crime-scene forensics, present a staunch defense.

My father was loving and devoted, but I could only see him when and where apartheid allowed. His name was Temperance Noah, which was odd since he was not a man of moderation at all. He was boisterous and loud. He loved the ladies, and the ladies loved him. He had a big, dazzling smile with bright white teeth—false teeth. We found out much later in life that he was bipolar, but before that we just thought he was eccentric. He was in his eighties. I was twelve. He had his fists up, circling me.

Come on! Put your fists up! Hit me! I ran to my mom, and she got him to stop. Temperance lived with his second family in the Meadowlands, and we visited them sparingly because my mom was always afraid of being poisoned. Which was a thing that would happen. The first family were the heirs, so there was always the chance they might get poisoned by the second family. It was like Game of Thrones with poor people. They might poison us. In addition to my mom there was my aunt Sibongile; she and her first husband, Dinky, had two kids, my cousins Mlungisi and Bulelwa.

Sibongile was a powerhouse, a strong woman in every sense, big-chested, the mother hen. Dinky, as his name implies, was dinky. He was a small man. He was abusive, but not really. He was trying to live up to this image of what he thought a husband should be, dominant, controlling. Because she loves you. I was in the yard and Dinky came running out of the house screaming bloody murder.

Sibongile was right behind him with a pot of boiling water, cursing at him and threatening to douse him with it. And men were lucky if it was water. Some women used hot cooking oil. Water was if the woman wanted to teach her man a lesson.

Oil meant she wanted to end it. My grandmother Frances Noah was the family matriarch. She ran the house, looked after the kids, did the cooking and the cleaning. Where my grandfather was big and boisterous, my grandmother was calm, calculating, with a mind as sharp as anything.

If you need to know anything in the family history, going back to the s, she can tell you what day it happened, where it happened, and why it happened. She remembers it all. My great-grandmother lived with us as well. We called her Koko. Her eyes had gone white, clouded over by cataracts. The coal stove was always on. It was for cooking, heating the house, heating water for baths.

We put her there because it was the warmest spot in the house. In the morning someone would wake her and bring her to sit in the kitchen. At night someone would come take her to bed.

Sit by the stove. She was fantastic and fully with it. Our relationship was nothing but command prompts and replies, like talking to a computer. Their fathers were off working in a mine somewhere, able to come home only during the holidays. Their fathers had been sent to prison. Their fathers were in exile, fighting for the cause. Women held the community together. In Soweto, religion filled the void left by absent men. I used to ask my mom if it was hard for her to raise me alone without a husband.

God is my husband. Prayer meetings would rotate houses up and down the block based on the day. These groups were women and children only. Then we would go around the circle offering prayers. The grannies would talk about what was happening in their lives. I had a good week at work. I got a raise and I wanted to say thank you and praise Jesus.

Masango vulekani singene eJerusalema. Pray, sing, pray. Sing, pray, sing. Sing, sing, sing. Pray, pray, pray.

Ah-ah-ah- ah-men. Next night, different house, same thing. One, I got to clap along on the beat for the singing. And two, I loved to pray. My grandmother always told me that she loved my prayers. She believed my prayers were more powerful, because I prayed in English.

The Bible is in English. Which made my prayers the best prayers because English prayers get answered first. How do we know this? Look at white people. Add to that Matthew To White Jesus?

I can feel it. Whenever the Wipe Away Your Kiss - Nine Below Zero - Third Degree (CD meetings were at our house, because my prayers were so good, my grandmother would want me to pray for everyone. I loved doing it. My grandmother had convinced me that my prayers got answered.

I felt like I was helping people. Yes, it was a prison designed by our oppressors, but it also gave us a sense of self-determination and control. Soweto was ours. In America the dream is to make it out of the ghetto. In Soweto, because there was no leaving the ghetto, the dream was to transform the ghetto. There were no paved roads, minimal electricity, inadequate sewerage.

But when you put one million people together in one place, they find a way to make a life for themselves. The most common were the spaza shops and the shebeens.

The spaza shops were informal grocery stores. People would build a kiosk in their garage, buy wholesale bread and eggs, and then resell them piecemeal. Everyone in the township bought things in minute quantities because nobody had any money. You could buy a quarter loaf of bread, a cup of sugar. The shebeens were where men would go to drink after work and during prayer meetings and most any other time of day as well.

People built homes the way they bought eggs: a little at a time. Every family in the township was allocated a piece of land by the government. One wall. Then, years later, a third wall and eventually a fourth. Now you had a room, one room for everyone in your family to sleep, eat, do everything. Then windows. Then your daughter would start a family. Now your house had two rooms. Then three. Maybe four. My grandmother lived in Orlando East.

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The Downbeats (4) - Malagueña / African Waltz (Vinyl)

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Run The Jewels - The Shift (5) - Run The Mixtape (Cassette)

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At the next therapy session, Marco comes to Archie's office in order to see his long-time friend. Henry excitedly reveals that Marco is actually Geppettoand outlines his plans to search the mine because he is positive that the sinkhole's sudden appearance has something to do with the curse. Archie cuts him off; telling him that if he continues on with his crazy idea, people will think he is insane and lock him up.

Henry is crushed by Archie's demand that his nonsense must end, and leaves visibly upset. In tears, he goes straight to Emma, who comforts him and then drops him back home. Nonetheless, Henry is unable to give up on his idea, and ventures into the mines.

Inside, he removes a piece of decorative glass that bears a striking similarity to the one Regina pocketed earlier. Suddenly, the ceiling begins collapsing. Henry finds Archie inside the mines as well, and they become lost.

From following the sound of Pongo 's bark, they come upon an elevator and start cranking it upward to the surface, but it gets stuck halfway up. Henry apologizes for being reckless as Archie is also remorseful for his own harsh words earlier. In truth, he doesn't really think Henry is crazy, and though Regina is extremely protective, it's perfectly fine to have an imagination.

In turn, Henry inspires Archie to change into the person he wants to be rather than listening to other people all the time. They discuss Henry's fairytale theory, and his firm belief that there simply has to be more to the world. Suddenly, Emma is lowered down on a harness to bring them up. Archie almost falls with the collapsing elevator but latches on to Emma's foot with the umbrella.

All three of them are lifted to safety. After David is released from the hospital, he and Emma attend his welcome home party. Henry theorizes that David doesn't remember his life as Prince Charming due to the curse, and needs to recall them before his false memories set in. Emma tries to convince him that the reason David got lost a few nights back by the Toll Bridge is due to amnesia. Henry thinks if David is asked about his previous sword fighting skills as Prince Charming, it will jog his memory.

When he openly inquiries about this later, David laughs at the thought. Sheriff Graham stops by Regina's house where Henry answers the door. Graham wants to speak with Henry, and asks Henry if he is in his book.

After showing him a picture of wolf, Graham recognizes it as the Wolf he has seen around Storybrooke, and tells Henry that he has been flashes of what he believes to be a past life, and they began after he kissed Emma.

Henry is surprised Graham kissed Emma, and listens as he continues to describe the flashes; one being the wolf, the other having a knife and getting ready to hurt Mary Margaret. Henry turns the page, and finds out that Graham is the Huntsman because he was raised by wolves, and once spared Snow White's life. Graham asks what happened to him after he spared Snow White's life, and Henry states the Evil Queen ripped out his heart. At some point, Emma learns the result of Graham's autopsy and tells Henry that he died of natural causes, but the kid does not buy it.

Henry becomes increasingly depressed and, two weeks after the sheriff's death, he warns Emma that they should not mess with the curse. He blames himself for Graham's death and wants to give up on "Operation Cobra".

However, his faith is renewed when Emma wins the position as the new town sheriff. A few days later, Henry is browsing in Mr.

Clark 's store when two children about his age walk up to him. They introduce themselves as Ava and Nicholas and ask him to hang out. Just as Henry is about to leave, Mr.

Clark corners them and accuses them of shoplifting. He calls Regina who, when she arrives, is confident that Henry is framed by the two orphans.

Henry Run The Jewels - The Shift (5) - Run The Mixtape (Cassette) at the police station and tells Emma that Ava and Nicholas are really Hansel and Greteland asks her about his birth father. Emma tells him that his father was a man training to be a firefighter who liked pumpkin pie and died trying to save a family from a burning apartment building.

Emma succeeds in reuniting Ava and Nicholas with their fatherand Henry gets a pumpkin pie to share with Emma. As they leave the diner, he comments she really is changing things in Storybrooke. Suddenly, they hear a rumbling noise, and turn to see a man on a motorcycle riding into town.

In the morning, Henry walks out of his house with his backpack when he sees the stranger from last night with his motorcycle and a large box attached to the back of it. He asks the man what he is doing in Storybrooke, and that no one ever comes here.

Regina notices Henry conversing with the stranger, and comes out to investigate, but the man drives away quickly on his motorcycle. Regina demolishes Henry's castle playhouse for safety reasons, which upsets him greatly.

He also discovers that his storybook of fairytales has disappeared. Emma tries to expose Regina for wasting Storybrooke's stolen money on a separate house for herself in the woods, however, the house turns out to be a modern playground for all the children of Storybrooke.

Regina then warns Emma to stay away from Henry, or else she will take legal action against her. While Henry is playing on the playground with the other children, he asks if they can talk about "Operation Cobra" sometime.

Run The Jewels - The Shift (5) - Run The Mixtape (Cassette) declines and says that his mom might keep her away from him if they tried. As she drives away, Henry watches her leave. A few days later, during Mr. Gold's imprisonment for physical assault on MoeRegina arrives at the station with Henry. She bribes Emma to spend some time with him so she can speak to Mr. Gold for thirty minutes. He and Emma go to the parlor to get ice cream.

After that, Regina gives Henry a video game to apologize for her destroying his castle, but Henry still misses his book. A few minutes later, a visibly upset Kathryn comes into Regina's office in Run The Jewels - The Shift (5) - Run The Mixtape (Cassette) to speak with her, and Henry leaves.

Emma later finds his storybook and surprises him by returning it. Many days later, he helps out in the sheriff's office browsing on the computer through possible jobs for a recently unemployed Ruby. Most of the job listings involve carrying something in a little basket and delivering it, but she does not like the sound of any of them. However, Ruby is very good at directing and answering office telephone calls, which Emma takes note of.

Emma hires Ruby as her assistant. When David is reported in a daze in the woods, Emma is ready to go look for him when Henry cuts in. He reveals that Ruby is actually Red Riding Hoodbut that she does not know how cool she can be. Emma heeds Henry's advice and takes Ruby with her. Ruby successfully finds David, and later finds a crucial piece of evidence under the Toll Bridge linking Mary Margaret to Kathryn's murder.

Soon after Mary Margaret's arrest, Henry sits a the diner counter trying to think of ways he can help. August comes in and offers him some encouragement. August tells Henry to look inside his book for the answers. He becomes excited at the prospect of someone believing in him and browses through the book. After coming to the sheriff department, he finds Mary Margaret's cell empty.

He sits out in the hallway until Emma and Mr. Gold walk up to him, and he tells them they did a good thing by freeing Mary Margaret from her cell. Emma is confused until she goes into the sheriff's office to see what he is talking about. In a panic, she leaves the station to find Mary Margaret, and eventually finds her in a crazed stranger 's house, who believes himself to be the Mad Hatter with a daughter named Grace.

The next day, Emma talks with Henry before he has go to class. A classmate, Paigegreets Henry on her way into the school building. Puzzled by the girl's appearance, Emma asks Henry for his book, and he happily offers it up.

She flips through the book until she sees a picture page with the Mad Hatter and Grace. She finds proof of a shovel piece, to which Henry helps set them up to enter into the house garage with a key while Regina is busy in the shower. Inside Regina's garage, August and Emma find a shovel is a perfect match for the piece they found earlier. However, when Emma comes back the next day with a search warrant, the shovel is gone.

Despite the setback, they do find a disheveled and alive Kathryn in the diner alley. One morning, August suffers a severe leg spasm, and phones Henry to "move the plan along faster". On a rainy morning, they have a stakeout across the street from Mr. Gold's pawnshop. Henry does not understand how this is part of "Operation Cobra", but August asks him to do as he says. Henry goes into the store and distracts Mr.

Gold by asking to buy a homecoming gift for Mary Margaret, who has since been released from custody following Kathryn's reappearance.

Later, at the party, he asks August if he found what he was looking for, and how bad was it when Mr. Gold caught him snooping in the store.

August admits he did not find what he wanted, but he believes "it" will find him. Shortly thereafter, Emma escorts Henry out of the party as Regina does not know he is here, and he will have to go home since his mother will be home shortly. Emma opens the door just as David is preparing to come in.

To save Mary Margaret the awkwardness of dealing with him, she asks Henry to walk home with David. Since regaining his book, Henry notices the story of Pinocchio has been added to the pages. One day at school, Emma approaches him and asks to read the book, to which he happily obliges.

However, he quickly notices that the new pages are strange and asks Emma for her help over it. She does not take him seriously and leaves. After another bad encounter with Regina, and August's crazy suggestion that she is Storybrooke's "savior", Emma becomes fed up and wants to leave town with Henry.

She offers him a ride in the car, and after does he realize what is happening, Henry forces the steering wheel to swerve, and the car comes to a halt in a brush of trees. He tells her that she must stay and break the curse.

Emma reluctantly agrees to go back. Worried about Emma's lack of belief in the curse, Henry seeks out August at his bed and breakfast guest room. As August pulls up his pant leg, Henry is able to see the leg is wooden. August explains that it's no longer possible for him to help with "Operation Cobra" with his rapid transformation into wood and it's up to Henry. So, he rushes over to convince Emma that the curse is real, but she urgently tells him she is leaving town so the feud between her and Regina can stop.

He hugs her tightly, unable to say goodbye, and then notices an apple turnover sitting on the table. Alarmed, he frantically asks where she got it from. Emma states it is a treat from Regina, but Henry is adamant that she doesn't eat it. Henry refuses to accept that Emma is leaving his life for good and promises her that he has faith in her, and will somehow prove that the curse exists. Henry grabs the apple pastry and before she can stop him, he takes a bite.

At first, he seems fine, but then collapses unconscious. While Emma and her parents hug, he calls David, "Grandpa", which the latter joyfully acknowledges before embracing him as well. Henry is scared for his adoptive mother when he hears that Dr. Whale is leading a mob to Regina 's house and begs Emma and the others to stop it.

After doing so, a Wraith released by Mr. Gold begins hunting down Regina, to which a magic hat is used to transport it into a portal, though Emma and Mary Margaret are also sucked in.

In the aftermath, Henry walks in with Ruby to see his adoptive mother strangling David. He calls Regina an evil queen upon hearing what happened to Emma and Mary Margaret and refuses to see her again until they come back.

Henry leaves with David and begins living in the apartment. Outside the town hallHenry waits with Ruby for David. When he arrives, Henry tries to cheer him up, but fails because Leroy runs in and reveals that if anyone leaves Storybrookethey lose all their memories of the Enchanted Forest forever.

He goes home with David and tries to help him with his speech in boosting the town residents' morale and calming the chaos, but then David runs off to seek out Jefferson to find a way to rescue Emma and Mary Margaret. Henry goes with Ruby to the meeting at the town hall, but David never shows up. Instead, Regina terrorizes the townspeople with her new-found magic until Henry grudgingly agrees to return home with her.

Locking himself in his room, he attempts to escape out the window, but Regina blocks him with a barrier spell. Frustrated over being imprisoned, Henry accuses her of making him feel crazy because he knew, while the curse was still intact, the truth about the Enchanted Forest and the people in it.

Wishing to make amends, she offers to teach him magic as much can be gained from it, but Henry declares he'd rather not become like her. Realizing she is making her son unhappy, Regina allows Henry to leave with David. She only wishes for him to be with her if he wants to and not by force.

Regina promises Henry that she will strive to be worthy of his love and promises him that she will redeem herself.

After departing with David, they head to the diner where Henry tells Marco of his son 's true identity. Regretfully, David doesn't want him to get involved and would rather he just attend school like an average boy. Henry is walked to the school bus, but he only pretends to get on. Once David is out of sight, he runs off to find the owner of the portal hat, Jeffersonwho tells him about Regina's vault that may contain magic. Noticing Jefferson's troubled state, Henry urges him to find his daughter, Paige.

Over the phone, Henry invites Regina to lunch at the diner. When she accepts and leaves her office, he breaks in to steal keys to the vault and unlock a box only for poisonous vipers to rear up at him. Luckily, he is quickly rescued by David who was informed by her after Henry stood her up and figured out what he was up to.

Henry apologizes for disobeying him since he misses Emma and Mary Margaret very much. David comforts him, and the two leave the vault. Later, while Henry sits in Emma's car, David hands him a wooden sword as they start a sparring match.

Henry hangs out in the mines watching David and the dwarves mining for fairy dust. The plan is to find fairy dust, and use it on Jefferson's hat with possible transportation to and from the Enchanted Forest. Ruby brings lunch in a basket, and Henry takes a muffin. At the stables, David shows Henry his new pony, telling him that he will need to take care of the animal and earn its trust before he can ride it.

Henry starts to groom his pony, and David leaves the stables to tend to other matters. He continues to groom him for some time until a recently resurrected Daniel arrives and scares the pony; making it rear and bolt out of the stables in fear. Henry asks him to stop because he is scaring the horses, but then, seeing the blood on Daniel's hands, he offers to help him. This triggers a bad memory in Daniel's mind, and he grabs Henry's Run The Jewels - The Shift (5) - Run The Mixtape (Cassette) and lifts him off the ground.

David arrives in time to save Henry and tells him to run. During a terrifying nightmare, Henry wakes up screaming and is comforted by David. He tells David of seeing a room without windows and doors covered in blood red curtains with flames in the room, in addition to a female figure on the other side of the room who was observing him.

David calms Henry down by lighting a candle to soothe him. Unbeknownst to either, Henry's nightmare closely mirrors that of another person. Henry is still having nightmares. David catches him trying to stay up by drinking coffee.

He reassures Henry that everything will be fine and that he will watch over him, but when he has his nightmare and wakes screaming, it is Regina who comforts him. Henry wonders why she's there instead of David, and she informs him that David got an emergency call and was forced to leave. Henry discovers a burn on his hand, and in a panic realizes that his nightmares are real.

Regina calls Mr. Gold over, who kindly gives Henry a necklace that lets him control his actions in the nightmare. The next time he goes to sleep, he is visited by a depressed David, who fears informing Henry he might never see Emma and Mary Margaret again due to Albert Spencer burning the hat out of revenge. Meanwhile, in his nightmare, Henry is delighted to discover that the necklace works, which allows him to put the fires out.

He sees a woman and tells her that his name is Henry and that she should not be afraid. When an asleep Henry revisits the Netherworld, the same woman, Aurora, is there and tells Henry she is with his mother and grandmother and that they need his help.

Before she can tell him how, he wakes up. Frantically, he tells Regina and David the news. Amidst the good news, he tells Regina that they need help from her mother. Henry agrees to contact Aurora again in the netherworld. Regina and David sit by his bed as Mr. Gold tells Henry that the key to stopping Cora is the squid ink found in Rumplestiltskin's Cell. While in this nightmare, Henry tries to tell Aurora about the squid ink, but she cannot hear him and is sucked away.

He wakes up and they ask him if he delivered the message. He says that he was not able to tell her. Regina notices a burn on his arm Run The Jewels - The Shift (5) - Run The Mixtape (Cassette) refuses to send him back as the dreams are physically scorching him.

Gold uses magic to heal Henry's arm. David, too, does not want to send Henry back and instead asks to be put under the sleeping curse. Later, Henry watches as Regina combines the magical ingredients to form a sleeping curse for David. He asks her if she has stopped using magic. Regina admits to using magic on Daniel, and that she is trying to use it to help. Henry is pleased by this. Regina hands the curse to Mr.

Gold who dips it into a needle. David asks Mr. Gold how to find Mary Margaret and he does not know. His finger is pricked, and David falls under the sleeping curse. I think it was Horsemouth [Leroy Wallace] playing a little melody. You mean the world to me. It never press a lot but it a good song. It sound good. It could have sold a lot if I had press more.

That was a nice one too. DJ version. A: [laughing] Jim Screechy mean when a man coming up on you dodging. Hide and seeking. Not coming up full to you. Chat behind your back. So me say never do them thing deh. A righteous Rasta man never deal with that. Me and Scratch mostly used to put things together by-clipping through things that happening and take things from it. We do Colombia Colly and then we do a lot more songs, which is where I gone and do my thing from then.

And just hang on until now. He lift up my eyes onto the hills from whence come my help. I have come from Jah which made heaven on earth. By his protection the sun shall not smite me by day nor the moon by night. My group. And later for Rupie Edwards me and Joe Higgs sing it and he say him write it. I saw a canoe passing, which him row with two stick.

The old-time canoe, they row them with stick. Me used to love the sea Sunday morning time. Where it come from. They only sing it. And gone home. And the Congoes record it and say it is them write it.

I have a lot of songs that I write which I never get credit for because I never know much about performing rights. But the rights of them, the original work, is mine. But we do some great works at Upsetter studio. Nuff songs. Nuff song that people create them not even know where it come from.

Scratch always had enough words. He called me Jah Lion. But he called me Jah Lion different from Jah Lloyd…. This interview was first published in The Beat in DanceCrasher would like to thank Mike Turner for giving us the opportunity to reproduce it.

Respect to Jah Lion. Francis began his singing career with the Mediators in the mids. At the end of the decade, he recorded for Rupie Edwards and Lee Perry. For a while, Francis became their record salesman, frequenting the studios and getting closer to King Tubby, with whom he studied the technical aspect of music. In the early 70s, Pat Francis started producing and founded his Teem label. On the refined rythm of Ain't no sunshine, Jah Lloyd performs an ample and energetic toast while the second side features a masterful version of the legendary trombonist Vin Gordon with the superb Rebel Rock.

Great music. Muddy Ibe is legendary with his unique way of rendering his highlife. He lives on. The dada is full of music, inspiration, composition and admonition. His genres include highlife, country, folks and world music. He had a unique voice that set him different from other highlife artists. He always talked about enemy pursuing him in his song. Igbo highlife artists who had disagreements would use music to sub each other back in the days.

Captain Muddy Ibe was a great man. Valentino says it with flowers at Paris Fashion Week show Valentino gave its pared down fashion audience a taste of real Parisian life on Friday. Alex Jones loses lawsuits over Sandy Hook 'hoax' conspiracy A Texas judge has found Infowars host and conspiracy theorist Alex Jones liable for damages in three defamation lawsuits related to his claims that the Sandy Hook Elementary School shooting was a hoax.

In his dad's footsteps, Michael Gandolfini finds his own way Michael Gandolfini's face is thinner. John Richardson's final Picasso book arrives in November Few books have been more anticipated among art lovers. Marie Osmond takes singing career in new symphonic direction The coronavirus pandemic brought the world to a halt. Instead, these disembodied voices and half-recognizable sounds suggested only a kind of vague, inchoate melancholy—the sadness of dead media, a gesture of mourning for a past whose outline was already fading from memory.

Hopelessness is a tremendous, terrifying reflection on the perils of drone warfare, our digital panopticon, the continued degradation of the planet Earth, and patriarchal violence. In these horrifying, beautiful songs, ANOHNI presses crisis to flesh—and as this decade wore on, they became more and more relevant. Throughout Hopelessnessthese become powerful symbols of American carnage. Hopelessness crystalised the environmentalist pop ANOHNI had made for years with Antony and the Johnsons into piercingly sharp, graceful protest songs for our present and future dystopias.

And like true performance artists, siblings Karin and Olaf Dreijer knew that the legitimacy of their message hinged on their willingness to obliterate themselves. Even coming from a group that had, over the previous decade, forsaken neon-bright indie-pop for black-light techno-goth and impenetrable operatic dronescapesShaking the Habitual marked yet another radical act of self-negation.

The shadowy electro provocateurs were reborn as an animalistic, post-apocalyptic industrial act making an ungodly clang from presumably short-circuiting synths and burnt-out oil drums bashed by human bones. In retrospect, the album functioned as a punishing boot-camp drill to prepare us for the difficult conversations, legislative battles, and bad-faith disinformation wars that rage today.

Pause for a moment to remember Decemberand think of the people you knew who were alive then, now gone. The older you are, the more names will come to mind. And the next 10 years will bring more names still—possibly many more. Death is real. But inside the minutiae are truths that exist independently of Elverum. His story starts to feel like yours. Within the span of one month inA Tribe Called Quest fans went from never expecting music from the group again to mourning Phife Dawg to preparing themselves for a new album.

Beyond all of this, the album momentarily returned Phife Dawg to us, his voice showing no rust despite the years.

Despite the desires of her label, Sky Ferreira refused to be molded into the next coy pop princess. As a result, her debut album was locked in purgatory for years, until she put her own modeling money toward financing it. Throughout it, she owns her emotional complexities, moving coolly from optimism to frustration to a Lynchian brooding that the director himself later put to good use. Working alongside producers including Ariel Rechtshaid and Justin Raisen, she fashions these raw sentiments into sparkly synth-pop and grungy, kohl-lined gems.

Night Time, My Time is testament to the power of singing for oneself. Then, now, and forever, love makes people go a little crazy. Throughout Return of the Ankhher only proper album of this decade, she offers up conflicting desires with the unfiltered realness of a drunk dial.

She pines for a long-distance love with lusty teenage angst. She laughs about fucking around on a besotten boyfriend. The first thing Lemonade delivers is wrath: Infidelity has ruptured not just marriage but a whole life.

But then everything builds to something more profound, more complete: a prayer about how love can fracture the self. Lemonade feels like an exercise in dissonance, the act of holding two warring ideas in your head and in your heart: You can love someone but also hate them, adore your father and also resent him, want to cry and twerk at the same time.

It exalts the mundane as profoundly spiritual: being black, being a woman, feeling confused, feeling grief, trying to forgive, feeling sexual. In all those, together, is the healing. But instead, Charli began to construct her own little weird pop utopia from the ground up, turning to the squelchy, hyper-synthetic sounds of producers like A.

Throughout, she solidifies her mastery of the strange, wonderful new pop world she continues to build. About halfway through ApocalypseBill Callahan describes a scene in which a man, sitting alone in a boat, fires a flare gun into the sky. As the flare rises, the man can see everything. When it comes back down, it sets his boat on fire. The boat goes down—the man, too, in all his contradictions.

If anything, the mood is one of lightness, of calm, of finally being released from the illusory responsibilities of being all the things the man thought he was. Coming after more than a dozen albums, Apocalypse feels like an ascendance: His voice is lower, his music more rustic but more psychedelic, too. The stone-faced man who seems to know all, and in denim, no less. Then again, so is life. David Bowie was sometimes accused of being calculating, and that trait served him triumphantly when it came to stage-managing his exit as an artist.

From its daring music to its perfect title, from its stunning artwork to its startling videos, Blackstar was a magnificent farewell to his audience. Unlike his preceding album The Next DayBlackstar betrays zero concern for radio play or other worldly metrics of success.

The title track is one of the strangest and strongest things Bowie ever made. Melding classic flamenco techniques with trap and the stylistic instincts of the Instagram generation was postmodern, to say the least. A lesser musician might not have weathered the criticisms—she still seems to be figuring it out—but El Mal Querer was one of the most exquisite albums of the decade. By lateDev Hynes had established himself as the go-to vibey songwriter of the moment. His tracks with Solange and Sky Ferreira established a new sound in pop, merging slinky guitar with full-on lamentation and heartbreak.

These bummer jams, spiked with extra catchy catharsis, succeeded because they felt realbut Hynes had yet to fully capitalize on his talents as a solo artist. That changed with Cupid Deluxe. After Cupid DeluxeHynes further opened his sound: His subsequent albums are deeper, more complex, and more adventurous.

But they never sounded as undeniably funky. But the song, like Staples himself, is not interesting primarily as an exercise in social chaos. Instead, U. Precise in imagery but hazy in structure, the songs evoke places and moments the way Vernon remembers them: unreliably and romantically. People get mixed up with the landscapes: He whisper-sings about bones and nature in the same breath, painting images of a human frame breaking the curvatures of the sea.

She turned in 72 songs for this project; 12 made the cut of the standard release. She gave us more key changes than we ever thought we needed. And she blew with a late-anthropocene gusto, quivering and shaking around words, interpreting by the syllable. After the majestic ballads and clear-eyed heartache of her third album, Bury Me at Makeout CreekMitski returned with a louder and gnarlier indie-rock record rife with distortion and thrashing guitar riffs.

Hurt still radiates from its pores, but so does the sound of struggle. Here, Mitski is experiencing a second coming-of-age, a metamorphosis from young woman into adult. She is grappling with how the world sees her and who she wants to be in it. As always, Mitski is tremendously talented at working through her feelings, but on Puberty 2the exhilaration comes not from catharsis, but from marinating in emotional conflict. On their fifth album, Deerhunter linger in the dark recesses of the mind.

FKA twigs is already so fully developed as an artist that her voice—wispy, breathy, disarmingly operatic—can sometimes be overshadowed by her astonishing performances. LP1her first full-length, alluded to the expansive visionary she'd soon become, twisting her nimble voice over a textured palette of glitchy beats and sweeping synths. LP1 often sounds mournful, upended by her propensity for minor keys, and a notion of sexuality that was widely ascribed to its songs that may not have been explicitly about sex.

This interpretation may have been partly because of how twigs carries herself—a generously candid musician and sinewy dancer—but is also attributable to the complex ways she delves into such topics as autonomy, aloneness, and sensuality in a holistic sense. Lead single "Two Weeks" may have been a break-up song lyrically, but the way she dives into it—vocal cadences interplaying with triple-time bass—elevates it into something like a triumphant prose poem to herself.

Released in a crowded year for British experimental electronics, twigs' sense of drama pushed the landscape of heady dancefloor tracks into a blissfully corporeal space. But after branching off from the collective, he grew into the role of jazz poet, with an expanded circle of friends influencing him.

Here, Earl digs deep, heals, and completely comes into his own. Now the folkier corners of indie rock are filled with auteur singer-songwriters who are trying to be both timeless and out of time, intimate-seeming yet often fleshed out by a smoky full band, angsty like punk and sad like old country.

Spurred by a breakup but ultimately about much more, Burn Your Fire for No Witness is self-help by way of total emotional whiplash. A lesser singer would have delivered the line with more earnest hope, but Olsen knows that lurking behind every step forward is a dark night of the soul waiting to strike. Hearing In Colour feels like listening to the dissection of a heartbeat—skittering anxieties mirrored in the snares, the warm glow of love reflected in steel drums, camaraderie sampled via musical voices of the past.

She sings with pathos in every creak of her voice, catharsis in every sigh. It took her a long time to release CTRL —derailed by label politics, three totally different versions existed before this one emerged.

Because of that, maybe, the album is such an accurate soundscape of the false starts, rough drafts, and dashed expectations of growing out of your twenties. A noted fan of story songs, Musgraves knows that sometimes, the story is as simple as how flowers look on the walk to the bar. Dan Bejar made a masterpiece out of a comedown, a glassy-eyed look at a world starting to collapse. Underneath the listless arrangements, Bejar settles into his bon vivant character. Nero fiddled; Bejar chilled.

Beach House are nothing if not devoted to a mood. On their first two records, that atmosphere was one of lo-fi wistfulness, but on Teen Dreamthe Baltimore duo amplified their dream pop to the logical next step: grandiose, sweeping songs that are more My Bloody Valentine than Mazzy Star.

It has all the jaggedness of something stitched together by hand but none of the attendant imperfections. It moans and whimpers and bludgeons and exhales, all in perfect time. You can practically hear Double Cup sweat. Norman Fucking Rockwell! In between, she takes on wide-lens topics—climate change, gun violence, depression, death—with effortless cool. She even manages to seamlessly fit in a Sublime cover.

Her indelible pop melodies are strung together with the grace of a tragic ballet. Lana worked on the record with Jack Antonoff, a producer known for encouraging pop artists to indulge their most theatrical, bombastic sides. Somehow, despite all of these harrowing details, you can play good kid, m. It is a morality play that resists easy lessons, a sermon that embraces pleasure. Every autobiographical rap album that came after it walks in part in its footsteps. It makes his personal history feel almost allegorical, and even more powerful for it.

As that gurgly, disorienting sound pulses and convulses for 15 seconds, it feels like a laser is cutting a hole through spacetime. Kanye emerges from this portal as confident as ever, but he sounds angrier, uglier.

His rapping is crude and labored; the rhymes are vulgar and the images are incendiary. Soul—the fulcrum of his past music, in design and affect—is supplanted by bitter, horny electricity. It feels as if Skynet sent a Terminator back in time exclusively to hip-thrust and shout obscenities in the town square. Inthe theater of Kanye scorching his public image was already a familiar show, but Yeezus felt like a plot twist because of its intensity. From the writing to the producing to the mixing, Kanye and his corps of writers and producers insist on provocation.

Stripped down by executive producer Rick Rubin, the sound bed is just as bristling: the low-end hits like a tsunami, verses spazz into glitchy screams, wormholes to the chipmunk soul of Old Kanye materialize then blip out, digital effects swirl and explode like fireworks.

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Return Of The Son Of Woof-Woof - The Silencers (4) - Cyclerific Sounds (CD, Album)

Hello darkness, my old friend, I've come to talk with you again, Because a vision softly creeping, Left its seeds while I was sleeping, And the vision that was planted in my brain Still remains Within the sound of silence.

In restless dreams I walked alone Narrow streets of cobblestone, 'Neath the halo of a street lamp, I turned my collar to the cold and damp When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of a neon light That split the night And touched the sound of silence.

And in the naked Return Of The Son Of Woof-Woof - The Silencers (4) - Cyclerific Sounds (CD I saw Ten thousand people, maybe more. People talking without speaking, People hearing without listening, People writing songs that voices never share And no one dared Disturb the sound of silence. Silence like a cancer grows.

Hear my words that I might Return Of The Son Of Woof-Woof - The Silencers (4) - Cyclerific Sounds (CD you. Take my arms Album) I might reach you. And the sign flashed out its warning In the words that it was forming. And the sign said, "The words of the prophets are written on the subway walls And tenement halls And whispered in the sounds of silence.

December 23, at pm. Anonymous says:. August 1, Album) pm. February 3, at pm. Rex says:. February 4, at pm. February 27, at pm.

March 12, at am. May 7, at am. April 7, at pm. Mia Doe says:. April 16, at am. PA says:. June 9, at pm. Mike D. August 20, at pm. August 25, at am. Leave a Reply Cancel reply Your email address will not be published. Comment Name Optional. Search Search for:.

But his words do not touch them at all. Instead, the people pray and worship the neon signs. The poem can be interpreted as a bitter Album) towards the materialistic tendency of the people in the modern world. People have forgotten the real meaning and value of life. They are running after material prosperity and physical luxury. They work hard and earn a lot. They accumulate a lot of wealth and things but this does not make them happy. Rather they are moving further and further away from true happiness because they have ignored the true goal of life.

They debate and quarrel about worthless Return Of The Son Of Woof-Woof - The Silencers (4) - Cyclerific Sounds (CD. They listen to or watch meaningless things. This is what the poet probably means by talking without speaking and hearing without listening.

The Neon signs or hoarding boards have taken the place of the Holy Scriptures. People listen to or see what these advertisements say and work accordingly. They have neither their own voice nor their own choice. They are obliged to choose among a few goals put forward by the industrialists. When such materialistic waves are dominant, the voice trying to remind people what their goal should be is always subdued defeated.

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