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TEENA MARIE ( OOO LA LA LA ) JACKS CRUZEN THE CLUB MIX

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C Reid
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From 1988 my rework remix all programming and editing is done by me

The 35 Best Lesser-Known Artists of the Last 35 Years, Picked by 35 Well-Known Artists

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C Reid
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Yuliesky González – Very Nice

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C Reid
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19


Yuliesky González – Cubanero
Músicos:
Yuliesky González: Trompeta y lider
Tomas Franck: Saxo tenor
Norman Peplow: Piano
Bjarne Roupé: Guitarra
Martin Mattuck: Bajo
Isan Torres: Congas
Tony Moreaux: Timbales
Wiljoph Mounkassa: Batería y percusión
Invitados especiales
Leonid Muñoz: Chequere
Carlos Guillén: Batas
Yohan Ramón: Cajón y maracas
Yaremi Kordos: Coros
Tony Rafael: Coros
Nando del Río: Coros
© Copyright One Wordl Records
Etiqueta: Cuba

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Los derechos de la música que se sube a este canal pertenecen única y exclusivamente a sus creadores, autores, intérpretes y productores. En ningún caso se pretende cuestionar la propiedad de los mismos y mucho menos apropiárselos.
Este canal fue creado sin ánimo de lucro y como tal no está monetizado, ni obtiene ingreso alguno.
El fin primordial de este canal es entretener y promover el sano esparcimiento con este tipo de música. Si cualquier creador, autor, interprete y productor de la música que se sube a este canal solicita el retiro o su eliminación, por favor, envíeme un mensaje y con mucho gusto su solicitud será atendida.

The rights of the music that is uploaded to this channel belong solely and exclusively to its creators, authors, performers and producers. In no case is it intended to question their ownership, much less appropriate it.
This channel was created without profit and as such it is not monetized, nor does it obtain any income.
The primary purpose of this channel is to entertain and promote healthy recreation with this type of music. If any creator, author, interpreter and producer of the music that is uploaded to this channel requests the withdrawal or its elimination, please, send me a message and with pleasure your request will be answered.

Boss : Jass Manak | Bhangra Funk Video | Dansation Dance Studio Mohali India.

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C Reid
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17


Bhangra, Dance, Zumba, Fitness Classes @ Mohali Phase 3b2 & Sector 70.. (9888892718)
DANCE CLASSES FOR KIDS | ADULTS @
DANSATION DANCE STUDIO MOHALI CHANDIGARH 9888892718.

Like Share Comment & Dont forget to subscribe to our channel.

*Find us on Facebook-
www.facebook.com/dansation.in

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www.dansation.co.in

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DANSATION DANCE STUDIO offers dance training to students of all ages and levels. Our dance classes train students in excellent technique, performance, and exposure to a variety of unique dance forms and styles, while also developing the student’s confidence and creativity.
The DANSATION dance programs offer students a high caliber of training in a spiritually and artistically caring environment. Every level of training the students are exposed to is a vital piece in the dance mosaic; it provides specialized training within a logical and cumulative sequence. We value training students through positive reinforcement and through mutual respect. We strive to build outstanding dancers in body, mind, and spirit. Our classes, performances, competitions, examinations, opportunities to travel and exposure to many styles and methods of dance provide our students the opportunities to grow and develop into graceful, strong and confident dancers. Our nurturing and dedicated instructors ensure that students explore their artistry, creativity and natural ability, while instilling strong technique and joy for dance. Our unique and comprehensive approach helps students to reach their highest technical dance potential with grace, regardless of their goals in dancing- even if these dreams include simply wanting increase stamina or acquire steps for agility on a social dance floor.

Mouthwatering Chicken Reshmi Kabab Recipe

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C Reid
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15


Ingredients:
3 chicken breasts
½ cup coriander
¼ cup mint
3 green chilies
1 tbsp lime juice
½ tsp salt
1 tsp garlic paste
1 tsp ginger paste
½ cup plain yogurt
4 tbsp powdered milk
½ tsp brown sugar
1 tsp salt
1 tbsp oil

Instructions:
1. Cut the chicken breast into small cubes
2. Create a paste using coriander, mint, green chilies, lime juice and salt
3. Marinate the chicken with the paste
4. Add garlic paste, ginger paste, plain yogurt, powdered milk, brown sugar, and salt
5. Saran wrap the marinated chicken and set aside for minimum 30 minutes
6. Mix oil to the marinated chicken and put the pieces onto bamboo skewers
7. Grill on a pan for 8-10 minutes on low heat while occasionally rotating
8. Place charcoal in a small bowl and place next to the skewers and cook for 2 minutes with the lid on
9. Remove from heat and serve while hot
10. Ready to Enjoy!

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Macro lens:

View the FULL RECIPE at banglarrannaghor.com
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Issy Wood on How She Got to Know Mark Ronson During a Global Pandemic

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C Reid
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I’m looking through my texts from late last year, when the world was normal, to find out when Mark Ronson and I were first put in touch. In November 2019, I’m introduced by our mutual friend Chloe, and Mark arranges to come to my studio the following week. The day before, I send him a panicked text from my therapist’s office saying that if he was in some way bribed or coerced by Chloe to feign interest in my “music hoby [sic]” then he really didn’t have to come over; he said no, accidentally tried to FaceTime me, apologised.

Mark hasn’t been to the shady end of Whitechapel before, so I give him a brief tour of the yard my studio is in: the drug dealer, the nursery, the call center that becomes a gospel church on Sundays, the accountant. We look at my paintings, talk, he suggests I self-release some demos, then leaves for a diabetes gala.

The overwhelming feeling I have over the next month about Mark, and the strange detour he represents, is that I somehow bypassed the “struggle” we’re told musicians are supposed to go through in their early years. Perhaps you play a family friend’s James Bond-themed bar mitzvah, or a gastropub where somebody was recently stabbed—you get booed, you mercilessly peddle yourself to no avail. Yet here I was with a cheat code, having Mark be the sixth person on the planet to hear the secret songs I make in my kitchen. It was—is—fantastic, and perfect gasoline to pour on the year-round forest fire that is my imposter syndrome.

At the beginning of December of last year, Mark tells me he has a gift, but that it’s stuck in customs. When it finally arrives, a LinnDrum drum machine from the 1980s, Mark has left London and I have to collect the enormous box from Chiltern Firehouse and wheel it home. I write Mark asking how the fuck I plug it in, which wires to use. The laminated label saying MARK RONSON on the machine’s base informs me this isn’t a gift, but a loan.

Learning to use the LinnDrum is painful. I sense Mark’s respect for me hangs in the balance and begin to resent him for lumbering me with such high existential stakes. An instructional YouTube video by a man called Doctor Mix helps. At the time I’d tried to make amends with my estranged father by inviting him for a session with me and my shrink. My dad used the hour to give a verbal PowerPoint presentation about how I’d failed him as a daughter, and it broke my heart. I text Mark three demos off the bat using the LinnDrum: “Out,” “Cortisone,” and “Cry / Fun,” the vocals for all of them made wobbly by intermittent sobbing.

Over the holidays I try constantly to draw parallels between art-world and music-world roles and dynamics; they collapse every time. Almost everybody I’ve met in music is a man, so I couldn’t, for instance, go to anybody at the label with my ever-expanding daddy issues and explain their part in my music to any great extent. In art, I work near-exclusively with women who want to know everything. What is a music producer like Mark, who doesn’t produce any of my music, in art world terms? A gallerist? A restoration specialist? A curator? An advisor? For me, he’s somewhere between a museum director and a kind collector, but that could change.

Shortly after New Year’s, Mark brings a guitar pedal and another drum machine to my apartment, asks if I’d like to sign with his label Zelig, and tells me I should hire a lawyer. We arrange a time to mix the tracks for my EP in February, and I google whether mixing is different from producing.

At a studio in Shoreditch over two days, Mark brutally cuts a verse and chorus from “Cry / Fun” while I eat a Niçoise salad. I decide music studios are oppressive, like airplanes. I bring him a copy of the book I made from two years of blog entries, and he says he intends to be extremely careful with what he tells me in future lest it end up published, which makes me feel like a tabloid journalist. After mixing the EP, we walk to hail cabs and he wishes me a good shabbos. I notice he is wearing very dainty shoes and worry he’ll be cold. I go home, exhausted, and make the song “Insist,” which includes the lyric “I’m not sure what I’m doing here.”

By spring, the pandemic we all thought wasn’t a pandemic is a pandemic, and I begin referencing “my lawyer” in conversation to scare people. I make more songs in lockdown, and send them to Mark. Physical affection in 2020 seems like more and more of an oxymoron and the music is getting more and more sophisticated every time I open my laptop. Mark is camped out just across town, but the restrictions make boroughs feel like separate planets. His distant approval, however, is like caffeine. I make more songs.

In the summer, Mark comes back to my studio, we listen to the new stuff on my fancy speakers, and he gives an occasional thumbs up to moments he likes. He hooks me up with a Juno-106 and says synth is the one thing missing from my kitchen orchestra. I endure the same teething problems with the Juno as I had with the LinnDrum, I play the keys like a Boomer typing on a Macbook, and the looming pressure of MARK RONSON stickers haunts my dreams. When COVID is calmer, Mark and I eat those vegan burgers that bleed at his house, and I have to correct several mistakes he’s made on Saturday’s New York Times crossword puzzle. It is the first time in our weird relationship that I feel more powerful than him, and I’m still dining out on that.

Issy Wood’s new EP Cries Real Tears! is out now



Farewell to Odessa in NYC, Closed During the Pandemic

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C Reid
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Odessa, East Village, first opened in 1994.
Photo: James and Karla Murray

This year, we have devoted New York’s annual “Reasons to Love New York” issue to a celebration of the go-tos that have closed since the pandemic struck. A wake for the places that defined our lives here — that gave us community and let us try on new identities in return for our money. The bars where we came together for after-work drinks, the boxing gym where everybody thinks they’re in an action movie, the gallery that trusted you to build a cloud, the coffee shop where you were left alone to read, the restaurant with the full bar where you’d find yourself trying to eat after an all-night bender, the place that was so of its moment that it became a relic and then (deservedly) an icon. All gone. And sadly, probably, more to come before the city returns to its purpose: a place of gathering. We’ll be sharing these tributes all week on Curbed.

Odessa Cafe Bar, on Avenue A in the East Village, closed in 2013. It had been there for nearly 50 years when it was rent-hiked out of business, and it was old and dark and divey and cool. You could picture Joey Ramone dropping in for a beer or five after a show in 1977. I went there from time to time. But it was not my Odessa, nor was it Michelle’s.

Our Odessa was not at all cool. It was the late-night coffee shop next door, opened in 1994 by the bar’s owners as the East Village began to get less dangerous (in both good and bad ways). It was overlit and under-chic: green marbled Formica, vinyl booths, and abrupt middle-aged staff serving stuffed cabbage, blintzes, and kielbasa as well as the usual diner fare to the neighborhood’s dwindling population of Ukrainians.

Michelle lived three blocks away on East 4th Street. I lived uptown in a duller neighborhood, so I often came downtown to meet her, usually at Odessa, usually over pierogies. We had met in college and had been friends but were not super-close. In New York, though, that had changed. When we first started hanging out, she was virtually the only person I knew here outside my workplace, and although she was more social than I, I don’t think she knew many people yet either. There were two (landline) calls a day between us, sometimes three, sometimes just while we were watching TV. Endless, shapeless conversations about music, about work, about the people we were dating (or failing to), about what Cynthia Heimel had written in the Voice that week, about some Saturday Night Live joke or other. (“LMNOucus” was one.) I got a low-level magazine job; she got a mid-level social-work job. Much later, she went to law school. I wrote a book. We stood up and read poems at each other’s weddings. More pierogies at Odessa, over and over, mixing it up with the occasional omelet. We fought and stopped speaking a couple of times, but it didn’t stick. She cultivated a sideline in stand-up comedy; I went to the bringer shows. Her marriage broke up. She met someone new, a good guy from California named Ryan who moved to New York to be with her. He didn’t really know from pierogies, but he took to them immediately.

And then she got sick. “Rectal cancer,” she told me, “the funniest of all cancers.” During our first phone conversation about it, she’d said, “Yeah, but I probably won’t die,” and for a long time that seemed true. A couple of years of treatment followed, down and up and back down. Only the very last time we got together — not at Odessa, though it was within sight of it — did I grasp that she was really in trouble. She was gone a few weeks later, in August 2012, age 44. The next time I went to Odessa, it was with Ryan on his own. He moved back to California a few months after that. After which I no longer found myself at Odessa much.

But a couple of years ago when I was working on another book, I had to interview a guy who lived a few blocks from Michelle’s old place. When he said, “Where should we meet?” I responded reflexively. Didn’t have to think twice. It required no thought or reservations or long in-joke phone calls ahead of time. It was just there, and now it isn’t. Another of those lines has gone dead.

*This article appears in the December 7, 2020, issue of New York Magazine. Subscribe Now!

Class 50 Film Studies Classical Hollywood Cinema/Classical Narrative Cinema -B.A Eng.Litt.Sem 5.

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C Reid
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2

Class 50 Film Studies Classical Hollywood Cinema/Classical Narrative Cinema -B.A Eng.Litt.Sem 5.

Film Studies-Classical Hollyiwood Cinema B.A Eng.Litt.Sem 5

Vanessa Bryant Celebrates Daughter Bianka’s 4th Birthday

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C Reid
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Vanessa Bryant celebrated the life of daughter Bianka, who turned 4 on Saturday (Dec. 5). The mother-of-four shared a heartfelt tribute on behalf of the entire Bryant family, including her late husband Kobe Byant and daughter Gianna, both of whom were killed along with seven others in January in a helicopter crash. 

“Happy 4th Birthday Bianka! We love you sooooooo much. You bring so much sunshine to our days,” Vanessa wrote on social media according to PEOPLE magazine. “God bless you baby girl. Love, Mommy, Daddy, Nani, Gigi and Koko.”

RELATED: Vanessa Bryant Celebrates Daughter Capri’s First Birthday

Bryant hosted a Cinderella themed birthday bash for Bianka, celebrating with friends, including Ciara and Lala Anthony.

“Celebrating The Birthday Princess BB’s 4th Birthday! We love you so much,” Ciara wrote on her Instagram. “What a magically fun day!”

“Celebrating BB’s birthday today with Vanessa Bryant & Ciara,” Anthony captioned on her IG. “Beautiful Cinderella party for a beautiful princess.”

Natalia Bryant  also wrote a special birthday wish to her little sister.

The celebration occurred just one week after Bryant honored her husband on the 21st anniversary of the day they met. “Love at first sight 11/27/99 #21,” she wrote on Instagram. Vanessa and Kobe Bryant tied the knot two years later.



LATEST NEW RELEASES, RECOMMENDATIONS, & PRE-ORDERS — WEEK OF December 6, 2020 — Aestas Book Blog

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BOOKWORM NEWS:

  • Stay for Me by Corinne Michaels goes live at midnight!! — “Hollywood taught me everything I know about relationships—except how to be in one… I’ve always known the truth—I’m no one’s hero. Until I’m forced to move back [home] for six months, and she offers me a chance to prove otherwise. She’s everything I never knew I wanted, but can’t have. Her broken heart, perfect face, and adorable children turn my world upside down. Instead of preparing for my next leading role, I’m directing a middle school play.  All to make her smile.  The more time I spend here, the more I want to stay. Build a life in this town that I swore I’d leave—for her. But when the world comes crashing down around us, I’m forced to decide if staying for her is the right choice or if leaving is better for the woman I love.”

  • Steele by Sawyer Bennett goes live at midnight!! — “I might be one of the older players on the [team], but I like to think that also makes me one of the wisest. Or at least I used to. Turns out, I’ve been a bit selfish. I’ve been married to hockey and my team for years, which hasn’t left much time for my actual wife. Now I’m juggling a separation I never wanted, the pressure of being a single dad to our teenage daughter, and the career I sacrificed it all for. While my game on the ice might be on fire, the game in my personal life is clearly lacking, as evidenced by the fact I just saw my wife on a date with another man. If I have any hope of saving the family I love, I need to re-prioritize, and fast. So it’s time for me to get back to fundamentals, just like I did when I learned how to play hockey. I’ve never backed down from a challenge, and romancing my wife is a challenge I am very much looking forward to. Time to put on my game face, because I’m in it to win it.”

  • From Our First by Carrie Ann Ryan goes live at midnight!! — “They have been keeping a secret, though not just from their group—also from each other. Getting married when they were barely adults wasn’t in the cards when they made their plans for their future. Divorcing one another amidst pain and heartbreak wasn’t either… Years have passed, wounds have scabbed over and scarred, but their anger remains. If the two can open themselves to the impossible, they might be able to take that second chance. Only they’ll also have to fight their fears, the lies between them, and the desire they thought long gone. Except they aren’t alone in their secrets, and if they aren’t careful, they may just be taking them to their graves.”

  • Two Truths and a Lime by Elizabeth Hayley goes live at midnight!! — “They have weathered many storms together over the course of their relationship, but things are looking up… But if they’ve learned anything from their escapades, it’s that good things don’t remain untested. And that’s exactly what happens when someone’s actions threaten to destroy both her dream career and everything he’s trying to build… Their relationship sprang from a lie, detoured around heartache, and almost crashed and burned, but the toughest test of all lies ahead. Can they unravel the many silly yarns they’ve spun to make love last? Because at this stage in the game, there is only one truth that matters: a future together.”

More details below…

WEEKLY NEW RELEASES RECAP

LATEST BOOK SALES

UPCOMING BOOK RELEASES

BOOKWORM STORE

WHAT KIND OF BOOKS ARE YOU LOOKING FOR?

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Let me know if there are any other books you’re loving right now too!!

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