Adele Full TrackPosted: (1 days ago) 216 - Save the Rat Pack / Save the Fiddler Crab on the RoofThe Wonder Pets travel to Las Vegas to assist three performing Rats who are having trouble working together on their song and dance routine. The Wonder Pets journey to a small village in old Russia to save a fiddler crab. •The Wonder Pets travel to Las Vegas to assist three performing rats who are having trouble working together on their song and dance routine.
13 Hold My Mule Shirley Caesar Full Track 11 Barok Main Mica Levi & Oliver Coates Full Track Church of Misery Full Track Cookin’ on 3 Burners Full Track A Tribe Called Quest Full Track 2 You Want It Darker Leonard Cohen Full TrackWe the People.
Vaudeville acts, for instance, had tunes for just about every major immigrant group: the Italian number, the Yiddish number, the Irish one, the Chinese. + Spit Out the Bone Metallica Full TrackA strange thing you learn about American popular music, if you look back far enough, is that for a long time it didn’t much have “genres” — it had ethnicities. 24 Your Best American Girl Mitski Full Track 19 Trolley Song Cécile McLorin Salvant Full Track 17 Side to Side Ariana Grande Full Track 15 Copper Canteen James McMurtry Full Track
Even when it was played in a condescending ethnic-joke burlesque of who those people actually were — even when it was pretty aggressively racist — the notion remained: Different styles sprang from different people. You had your “Latin” numbers, your Hawaiian ones, your “Asian” songs — light ethnic pastiches laid out cheerily, like an international buffet that serves falafel one day and schnitzel the next, never too bothered about how accurate the recipes are.There was a simple notion behind all this stuff, and it was the belief that music, like food, came from someplace, and from some people. A nation that considered itself very space-age and worldly enjoyed quaint spins on sentimental Italian music (“That’s Amore” and its pizza pies) and Trinidadian calypso songs about hard, simple labor (“Day-O” and its bananas). This was how we reckoned with our melting pot: crudely, obliviously, maybe with a nice tune and a beat you could dance to.Sometime in the 1950s, the mainstream saw its last great gasp of this habit. And of course there were the minstrel shows, in which people with mocking, cork-painted faces sang what they pretended were the songs of Southern former slaves.
The rest of us do the same. Artists have to figure out whom they’re speaking to and where they’re speaking from. Maybe decades ago you could aim your songs at a mass market, but music does not really have one of those anymore. Not the fine details of genre and style — everyone, allegedly, listens to everything now — but the networks of identity that float within them. Activists sing a country song for a restaurant chain that once fired gay employees, when Leonard Cohen revisits his childhood religious inheritance?This is what we talk about now, the music-makers and the music-listeners both.
The moment was poignant because it was earnest: Adele stood just a few feet in front of the woman she called her “idol” and spoke of how “Lemonade” had empowered her and “my black friends.” This was the sort of candor you usually have to wait for Kanye West to deliver, only with none of West’s biliousness, recrimination and, however myopic, sense of history. At the Grammys, “25” won album of the year, and a poignant portion of her acceptance speech was a tribute to Beyoncé, whose album “Lemonade” broke the cultural Richter scale — and didn’t win any of the big awards. Down here, on earth, where her third album, “25,” made Adele the top-selling artist of 20, she has that realness we say we value in the people we elevate to stardom last month, during the Grammys telecast, she cursed as she interrupted a laconic version of George Michael’s “Fastlove” in order to get the tempo right.But even Adele knows that loving Adele is complicated. When a chorus brings her voice to its cruising altitude, it’s like you’re up there, flying with it. ♦Nitsuh Abebe is a story editor for the magazine.Loving Adele shouldn’t be that hard.
But when it’s just me and Adele — very good Adele, catchy-as-hell Adele — the triggers lock. And isn’t whaling pop’s whole point?Yes, certain cultural institutions have a habit of setting traps that trigger trauma. Some of the hooks, though, could catch a whale. That’s the future of music: recognizing, in the present, that you’re permanently indentured to the past.Setting aside its enormous sales, “25” is not the artistically catholic landmark that “Lemonade” is but an old-fashioned record, built around the bloom and flare of Adele’s singing. But it has become obligatory for white artists who do (and who win prizes for it) to pay a public contrition tax to their black peers, whether it’s Adele to Beyoncé or, three years earlier, Macklemore texting (then publicizing) an apology to Kendrick Lamar for having won (with Ryan Lewis) the Grammys in the rap category. She was living it.Black people have never been necessary to make black music.
Then comes The Voice, at a low smolder, the smoke still rising from a crater of disillusionment. The plink is married to a kick drum’s heartbeat. O.K., cool.” Then comes the rhythmic plink of a guitar Lindsey Buckingham might have picked. (Why doesn’t this woman make more fast songs?)It starts with her saying, “Just the guitar. I must have danced to this song 200 times, in blocks of repeats. It makes you mad that we put a political price tag on this kind of perfection.
The swelling repetitions are chillingly churchy. Treat her better,” she sings, going up a note and adding an extra, addictive breath to “lover.”Is this a black song? It moves in dance-hall time. “Send my love to your new lover.
All I want to do when I hear it is call her Ishmael.♦Wesley Morris is a critic at large for The Times and a staff writer for the magazine.It wasn’t an email from God, but it was close. This song makes me feel ridiculous for reacting to institutional biases that pressure us into calling Adele a trespasser. In other words, “Send My Love” sets out to catch a whale. I love this song because it makes me feel strong — as strong as singing “We gon’ slay” any time Beyoncé does. It’s in the pews, the rafters and the aisles.
The other is the High Holy Days prayer Hineni — literally, “Here I am” — a personal entreaty to God, the worshiper asking plaintively for mercy. One is the Kaddish, recited by mourners after the death of a loved one. Some of the words Cohen had given them to work with were familiar they were borrowed from two of Judaism’s holiest prayers.
0 kommentar(er)
