Serabella
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New children’s letters to Newtown have been posted on our Tumblr page: “You are not alone, you are never alone.” Check out the full project...
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The Supermarket Apocalypse Is Upon Us
The big blizzard set to hit the Northeast is already showing its face as snow begins falling this...
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(via dreadhoneys, aneducatedguess)
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Thank you, Patti Smith.
Another beautiful shot of Quvenzhané Wallis from her photo shoot with Milk Made. Watch the Academy Awards tomorrow night to find out if Quvenzhané becomes the youngest person to ever win the award for Best Actress for her part in the film Beasts of the Southern Wild. To read more about the day that Milk Mad got to spend with the lovely Miss Wallis, click here.
Photo By: Koury Angelo
Love her!
The Fader.
Can someone explain how Baauer’s Harlem Shake became a YouTube meme (seemingly out of nowhere)? This song has been out for awhile now. Is this a harbinger for bro-trap?
A few days ago, when we/NPR Music asked you all out there on the internet which songs or artists were getting you through the winter, a couple of you mentioned Kendrick Lamar and his new album Good kid m.A.A.d. city. So, for your weekend reading, a long exploration (but one well-worth reading) in the L.A. Review of Books of Lamar and hip hop and memoir and Toni Morrison and David Foster Wallace and opportunity in the United States today.
Kendrick Lamar is close enough to Watts in proximity to understand its despair, close enough to the civil disobedience of the 1992 riots to understand their rage, to understand that there is no exit. He is young enough to idolize the golden age of hip-hop, innocent enough to engage in shameless hero worship, a fan enough to put Mary J. Blige and MC Eiht on his album. But he is also old enough to know that nobody followed Tupac’s body to the morgue. That a bullet fractured one of Tupac’s fingers, fingers often used to so brazenly flip off the world. Lamar is wise enough to know that, in hip-hop, the jig is up on a lot of things (overstated capitalism, the battering of women), and he isn’t flashy — he calls himself the black hippie. His abundance is his talent. And yet, because of his murdered uncle, his fretful grandmother, and the gang-raped girl whose voice he occupies in the same way De La Soul did Millie’s, Lamar is not just a wandering preacher in town to be angry at the locals and their chaos.
“So what set Dilla apart? Why has his brand of virtuosity proved so captivating to the jazz crowd?
For one, Dilla was a sort of human musical encyclopedia. In his studio, he sorted thousands of vinyl records, many of them jazz, into specific sections and kept them alphabetized so that he could dig up the right sample as soon as inspiration arrived. He didn’t just rely on his collection, either. He was always ready to pick up a guitar or a bass, or saddle up behind the drum kit, or hammer out chords on the keyboard.
-via NPR
The voices on “Respiration” have become part of my mental weather. They have been as steady to me as the night and the air; we know a song has hit a special mark when it can bear such incessant repetition. “Respiration” is a song about New York, where I live: love for the city, wisdom about the city, an inventory of the city, a celebration of nighttime in the city. It is poetic in the best possible sense: it gives exact language to intuition.
Cannot stop listening to this.
