#urdu rap
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"INSAAN BHI KYA CHEEZ HAI EK MEIN WAFA NAHI AUR DUSRE KO WAFA KI UMEED HAI."
erjgkfjgfkjhkjtrdtkhrhyjtdf
#gumaan#talha anjum#young stunners#dhh#spotify#desi#desi hip hop#desiblr#desi shit posting#being desi#desi tumblr#desi culture#desi teen#03#desi tag#desi lyrics#hindi lyrics#urdu rap#urdu lines
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alag hi hai agar manzile toh kyu na alag hi rakhe hum raaste?
but
aisi zindagi ka kya jo tum zindagi mein ho ke meri zindagi na ban sake?
#downers at dusk#tu hai kahan#talha anjum#AUR#as much as i try the desi cliches catch up to me#tum meri kitabo ki tarha ho#saamne ho liking band ho#eugh#desi#desiblr#urdu music#urdu music lowkey bussin though#why didn't nobody tell me thsi#you should have told me urdu music was this good#sigh#even anuv jain is jsut#now i sound like a desi swiftie#fuck#desi aesthetic#urdu rap#urdu
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How broken was Talha Anjum when he wrote;
Hum pehle aashiq tou nahi hain jaaneman,
Yeh ishq kha gaya bari jawaniyaan
#talha anjum#young stunners#urdurap#urdu words#urdu writers#urdu#urdu poetry#rap artist#rapculture#deep quotes#deep poetry#deep words#song lines#urdu lines#urdu adab#rekhta#fav#urdu shayari#indian poetry#poetry#sad poetry#dark academia#light academia#spilled ink#spilled writing#original writing#pakistani aesthetics#song lyrics#music lyrics#desiblr
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If you like urdu raps then it's for you
#desi tumblr#desiblr#desi shit posting#spotify#desi things#rant#desi academia#indian tumblr#poetry#love#artists on tumblr#spotify playlist#raat ke 3 baje aur haath mei sharab#alcohol#3 am songs#songs#rap songs#urdu raps#urdu lines#urdu shayari#urdu literature#Spotify
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urdu/hindi-speakers 🤝 arabic-speakers
using yaani, bas, khalaas in every other sentence
#tbh i don’t know how widespread use of khalas is generally but my family uses it 🤷♀️ the other two definitely#i didn’t realise how much arabs actually said these until i started hearing all the reports in arabic#also? was listening to arabic rap and could’ve sworn i heard them say kamina 💀 arab mutuals feel free to tell me what it means because if#thats the same as urdu that’s hilarious#m
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Hey I saw your matchup things and they are so cool!! could I please get one!! I'm 4'11 and weigh 110 I'm a lil chubby I love cats and speak 5 languages (German, Japanese, Urdu, Punjabi, Russian) Pakistani, Jap My hair is very poofy and curly !! its not super long it just looks big and its down to my chest I have an attitude but im reserved and quiet most of the time I have big giant thigh head curhsers because of my dad (wham) I'm academically challenged in most subjects, but physics is my pursuit. I'm very good at it and proud My fashion style outside is cute baggy clothing or smth, but if we are in a relationship for long enough and at HOME, its very revealing clothing (smallest shorts ever and a skintightttt t-shirt) I listen to metal, rap, electric
I'm an extremely cuddly lover, but I know how to take things slow if they aren't comfortable with it (projecting) (but im touch starved what the freak)
<333
🤔I'll pair you with...
Keegan P. Russ ☠
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I think Keegan would be your match
You two would be different sides of the same coin
More times than not Keegan is quiet
However, if you try to start a conversation first he will talk
And if you keep talking, finding things to talk about, he'll never want to stop
I feel like you two would become best friends
And then one night, you had a dream about him
It was innocent, though
Just hanging out like normal
But in the dream, you two were soooo close
Holding hands
You ignored it until you dreamed of Keegan kissing you
You had developed a crush on him but didn't want to ruin what you both had
Keegan was observant
He noticed how you were acting
"Hey, what's wrong?"
"...nothing"
"You don't need to lie. I know something's bothering you."
"Nothings bothering me, I'm just... thinking"
"About what?"
Should you tell him?
Would you risk telling him how you felt for him?
You thought about the times when you fell asleep beside him watching a movie, how he comforted you with hugs when you've had a bad day
He's been there by your side
He was a good friend, a best friend
And you really wanted to be more than that
You couldn't stop thinking and daydreaming about him
It was driving you crazy
"I... uhm, it's just..."
You was getting tongue twisted
You tried again
"I like you, a lot, Keegan."
You gave a pause
"And I understand if you don't feel the same. I just didn't want to regret not saying anything."
You didn't look at him as you said all of this
After a short moment of silence you looked over to Keegan
A smile formed on his lips
"Took you long enough"
You were confused
"Huh?"
He told you that one of the Ghosts noticed the way you looked at him, blushing whenever he would look your way
"If you waited any longer, I was going to tell you myself"
Needless to say you two are now dating
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#//hope you like your match ^v^7~♡#ask#request#call of duty matchup#cod matchup#match up#matchup#call of duty ghosts#cod ghosts#cod keegan#call of duty keegan#keegan russ#keegan p russ#keegan russ x reader#keegan x reader#iheartchv
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BAATCHEET By:- Kaman
youtube
This track is a storytelling song that resonates with the raw emotion of a son to his father, Kaman crafts a message in the song so beautifully that every young boy could resonate with the lyrics.
Language :- Hindi/Urdu
Genre:- Rap/Hip-hop
Country:- India
Also Available On:- All Streaming Platforms
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ZAKIR SETHUPATHI - the poet
Stats --
FULL NAME: Zakir Aamir Sethupathi
AGE & DATE OF BIRTH: 28 -- January 8th
OCCUPATION: rapper, translator, interpreter
ASSOCIATE OF DEAD HAND
GENDER & PRONOUNS: cis-man, he/him
SEXUALITY: Bisexual, Biromantic
LANGUAGES: mother tongue: Hindi, Urdu fluent: Arabic, Spanish, English, Russian, Punjabi, Gujarati conversational: Japanese, Cantonese learning: Portuguese, Mandarin, Bahasa Malay
RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Single ( crushing on Anchali )
FC: arpan kumar chandel aka King
Biography --
Zakir was sixteen when he moved from New Delhi to New York City hoping to find a richer more full-filling life there. He hoped to become a famous rapper. He grew up the oldest son of a Muslim and Hindu couple, with little prospect in life other than continue his father's business. His uncle - a friend of his father rather than his actual uncle - told him stories of America, of New York City, and the American Dream.
He got into crime because he needed funds and connections to gain his fame. He's known for making songs in which he fluently meshes languages and meanings together, rapping under the alias Baagee. However, a lot of his time is spent translating for Dead Hand or using his understanding of languages to decipher coded messages.
He's been releasing songs steadily during the past five years, and has been an official associate of Dead Hand for three years.
Timeline
Headcanons --
He's a polyglot; he speaks multiple languages and easily picks up new ones. Currently he's learning Portuguese, Mandarin & Bahasa Malay. He's however always interested in learning more.
He addresses anyone his age with either habibi/habibti ( ‘my dear’ or 'my love’ in Arabic ) or bhai/bhen ( 'brother’/'sister' in Hindi / Indic language ), and anyone older than him as auntie or uncle. Does this consistently and with respect.
Despite his mastery of languages, Zakir still has a distinct accent when speaking in Russian, English or Spanish.
He produces his own music.
He's a romantic, friendly and charming, and a little afraid of violence. Will always portray the role of a diplomat in a conflict.
Zakir was raised in a Muslim and Hindu household, though neither him nor his siblings got much of a choice which religion they wanted to follow. As a result he still follows a lot of rules from Islam and participates in all its religious days, including Ramadan.
He doesn't drink or smoke - though he on occasion uses the drugs available at El Anhelo, and has his way to say why those aren't as bad.
He has an augmentation in his eyes, installed just before he moved to the United States by a street engineer. Because it was a prototype, he's had to get it checked out several times. It essentially works as a video camera: he can zoom in, zoom out, rewind, slow down, and speed up. As well as choose to save certain moments to his phone to view later. Because his eyes are more sensitive now, he wears sunglasses or tinted glasses almost all the time.
wanted and established connection can be found here.
Slang --
Some slang Zakir might use and its meaning:
Yaar: friend/buddy/dude, addressing someone.
Arre yaar: addressing someone while expressing disappointment, surprise, or frustration.
Mashallah: 'God has willed it'
Inshallah: 'if God wills'
Wallah: 'I swear', said very often, presume Zakir never lies when he says this, as it's a sin.
Yallah/Chalo/Vamonos: Let's go!
Alhamdulillah: 'Praise to God'
Subhanallah: 'Glory to God'
Māśūqa: sweetheart, used for Anchali
Chai: Zakir never says tea
Jhakaas: Awesome!
Mast: excellent or fantastic
Bhai __ hai?: he uses this in restaurants mostly when he wants something quickly.
Theek hai: ok or it's okay
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SILY's Top Albums of 2023
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BY JORDAN MAINZER
Another year of settling into "the new normal" in the music world, for better or for worse, still brought us great records. The underground NYC hip hop scene burst with creativity. Rock and Roll Hall of Famers reinvented old songs. Stalwarts of experimental music, contemporary jazz, and modern-day blues released their career bests. Even archivists had their day. Below are 16 great albums released last year and 6 more honorable mentions no less worthy of inclusion--I just didn't have time to write about them.
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Armand Hammer - We Buy Diabetic Test Strips (Fat Possum)
It's all in the title: on their sixth album, billy woods and E L U C I D navigate through a society where not only is shit that should be free, expensive, but a secondhand market encourages hustlers to make a profit. Amidst capitalist corruption and individualism, the threat of an AI takeover and close calls getting caught with drugs, both emcees face the bleakness while occasionally imagining a better world. As always, the victories are small, but mighty: good weed ("Woke Up And Asked Siri How I'm Gonna Die"), morally righteous laundromat owners ("When It Doesn't Start With A Kiss"), the freedom to bask in schadenfreude ("Niggardly (Blocked Call)"). And yes, it takes a lot for two slow lurching wordsmiths to rise above production from the likes of JPEGMAFIA, DJ Haram, and EL-P, always-inspired samples ranging from E-40 to Sun Ra and Japanese rock band Ghost, and features from Pink Siifu, Junglepussy, and Moor Mother. But they deftly connect the dots from centuries ago to now, presenting societal dysfunction as a core component of our country and world. "George Washington's heart a frozen river, boy / Opps in the backwoods, slave teeth in the mouth when he say ni**a," woods raps, as if to shock you out of complacency and make you numb to the horrors at the same time.
Arooj Aftab, Vijay Iyer, & Shahzad Ismaily - Love In Exile (Verve)
It's hard to believe that Love In Exile, the first collaboration between singer Arooj Aftab, legendary jazz pianist Vijay Iyer, and multi-instrumentalist Shahzad Ismaily, was recorded live with minimal overdubs. Then again, it's clear there's something special brewing within the trio, who first performed together in 2018. That is, the way in which each performer enters and exits and weaves within another is as natural as it is stunning. On Love In Exile, Aftab sings in Urdu--the sound of her words mattering just as much if not more than their meaning--and Iyer plays piano and electronics, Ismaily bass and Moog. The result is an interplay between beauty and dissonance, minimalism and swells of noise, intimacy and grandiosity. Iyer's piano seems like it's increasingly sure of itself on opener "To Remain/To Return" as Aftab's smoky voice resembles a soulful, mournful reed. Ismaily's bass is slow-lurching and rounded throughout, the steady presence that only so much ripples on songs like "Eye of the Endless" as Aftab and Iyer provide contrast in timbre. Love In Exile is the type of album born out of a moment; yet, it gives seemingly endless pathways in which to get lost.
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Arthur Russell - Picture of Bunny Rabbit (Audika)
Throughout Picture of Bunny Rabbit, Arthur Russell’s voice is as much of an instrument as his bowed cello, fading in and out on “Not Checking Up”, “Telling No On”, and “Very Reason”. The mysterious aura of Russell comes from both not knowing what’s out there and, on the music we do know exists, being unable to tell what he’s saying or what instruments he’s using. A rubbery whooshing pervades “The Boy With a Smile” and “In The Light of a Miracle”. The 8-minute title track sees dissonant cello disintegrating in real time, unfurling like tape over feedback squalls to the point where it sounds like a MIDI version of a guitar solo. At the same time, Russell always knew when to surface. The harmonica on “The Boy With a Smile” creates a rootsy tactility, the controlled chaos of his string playing yielding free percussion. Russell’s vocals rapidly shuffle on “In The Light of a Miracle”, though they’re as clear as ever, contrasting his sticky cello, plainly borrowing rhythms from Indian classical music.
Read the rest of our review here.
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billy woods & Kenny Segal - Maps (BackwoodzStudioz)
The prolific billy woods’ second album with beat mastermind Kenny Segal is centered around touring, inspired by the idea that the road–or the lack of home–is, in itself, home. On Maps, places where people reside are as constantly changing as the landscapes that pass as you’re on the highway. It’s the perfect fodder for woods’ neuroses and pessimism, the low thoughts that occur when you have too much time on your hands but still can’t make sense of your surroundings. He’s constantly searching for stimuli–weed, food, drinks–to distract himself from the human condition. Like the titular “Houdini”, Woods escapes, even if temporarily.
Read the rest of our review of Maps here.
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Bob Dylan - Shadow Kingdom (Columbia)
It wasn't just Taylor Swift rerecording their own catalog in 2023. As part of the soundtrack to Alma Har'el's 2021 film Shadow Kingdom: The Early Songs of Bob Dylan, the Bard himself gave us his new versions of old tracks, mostly his Dylan's 60s heyday, save for a new instrumental. Notably, it's his Dylan's record with a band with no drums or percussion, and it's a mystery who played on it, as there are no official credits. It's also his first album of new studio recordings since 2020 opus Rough and Rowdy Ways, so naturally, he leads off with a reflective "When I Paint My Masterpiece". In general, his arrangements are more gentle, from the swirling harmonicas and trailing strums of "Queen Jane Aproximately" to the bluesy, tempo-changing "I'll Be Your Baby Tonight". "Tombstone Blues" comes across like a spooky tale, slowed down, as opposed to the ramshackle stream of consciousness of the original, while the eerie and mournful "What Was It You Wanted" is a revelatory adaptation of the late 80's classic. And "Just Like Tom Thumb's Blues" shuffles along with a calypso groove, almost as if it's a tribute to the late Jimmy Buffett. He may not be doing it to regain the rights to his own songs, but on Shadow Kingdom, Dylan asserts that there's value in revisiting old friends.
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Drive-By Truckers - The Complete Dirty South (New West)
The Complete Dirty South is us an opportunity to listen with 2023 ears to a 2004 album that’s truer than ever. The rich still get away with doing illegal things (“Where the Devil Don’t Stay”), increasingly intense weather patterns still devastate the poorest of communities (“Tornadoes”), and government austerity policies still force people to work longer hours, for lower pay (the incendiary “Putting People on the Moon”.) When Patterson Hood sings, “Motherfucker in the White House said a change was comin’ round / But I’m workin’ at the Walmart, Mary Alice in the ground,” it’s the much more realistic, downtrodden version of “Meet the new boss, same as the old boss,” a sharpshooting lyricist’s analysis of the devastating consequences of incrementalism, let alone inaction.
Read our preview of two Drive-By Truckers solo shows from December.
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GOLD DIME - No More Blue Skies (No-Gold)
With No More Blue Skies, Andrya Ambro, the former half of No Wave-inspired Brooklyn indie rock duo Talk Normal has delivered the most distilled statement of her artistry to date. Combining her classical training and ethnomusicological studies as a drummer with the hammering intensity of her live performance, the album is a examination of contrast, an exercise in presenting ambiguous questions and smashing them to see if any answers lie within.
Read our review of GOLD DIME's career-best.
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jaimie branch - Fly or Die Fly or Die Fly or Die ((world war)) (International Anthem)
Though the late trumpeter and composer jaimie branch’s third album Fly or Die Fly or Die Fly or Die ((world war)) is a final statement, it’s even more effective as an eternal one. It begins with keyboards that sound like church organs, an eerily somber sonic manifestation of irrevocability. As Chad Taylor’s rolling drums enter, branch gives us one of her trademark trumpet blares, as if to announce, “I’m here.” She wasn’t one to spend much more time announcing her presence, though–the track segues into an Afro-Latin style jam, clacking percussion and horns in line with Lester St. Louis’ nervy bowed cello. ((world war)) from then on spends most of its runtime just the way branch liked it, in a groove, with some breaks along the way to remind us of the urgency of the moment.
Read our review of Fly or Die Fly or Die Fly or Die ((world war)).
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Jason Isbell & the 400 Unit - Weathervanes (Southeastern/Thirty Tigers)
Over the past few years, Jason Isbell’s had a lot of time to think. Pandemic and lockdown-induced isolation made us all spend a bit more time between our ears, and for Isbell, it was his experience on set for Martin Scorsese’s Killers of the Flower Moon that yielded even more alone time. These spaces in between catalyzed the creation of Weathervanes. Like Isbell’s best records, Weathervanes tackles many areas of life, from getting older and grappling with regret and depression to existing in an increasingly fraught and vulnerable world. What makes it succeed most is the extent to which he relied on his collaborators to make it, purportedly inspired by watching none other than Scorsese seek out the opinions of others while filming Flower Moon.
Read our preview of Isbell & the 400 Unit's show in Joliet last March.
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JPEGMAFIA & Danny Brown - Scaring the Hoes (AWAL)
JPEGMAFIA's called SCARING THE HOES a “practice album,” made with the SP-404–no Pro Tools–after learning it for a year. It certainly has that loose quality you’d think, alongside the exact amount of chaos you’d expect from the debut full-length join-up from him and Danny Brown. Of course, Peggy finds kinship in the deep cuts and the underground, from the underappreciated Bun B to old soul and funk, Japanese pop, and gospel. The samples and production are inspired. At the same time, Peggy knows he’s your favorite Twitter follow’s favorite rapper, so the title itself, referring to something a Very Online Man would say who thinks his taste is too esoteric for women, is tongue-in-cheek. “How the fuck we supposed to make money of this shit?” Peggy asks on the title track. “You wanna be an MC? What the fuck you think, it’s 1993?” The only thing better than effortless tempo changes, switches on a dime from maximalism to dreamy instrumentation, is self-awareness of his own idiosyncrasies. Bonus points for “God Loves You”, which juxtaposes a guttural, spirited gospel sample with the filthiest lyrics on the album.
Read our preview of Pitchfork Music Festival 2023, containing JPEGMAFIA, here.
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Matana Roberts - Coin Coin Chapter Five: In The Garden... (Constellation)
On the 5th of their 12 planned Coin Coin albums, saxophone master Matana Roberts tells the story of an ancestor who died after complications from a self-inflicted abortion. Though it's a tragic story, Roberts reclaims the narrative and casts it as part of a wider tale of institutional racism, sexism, and classism. Songs with spoken word are interspersed throughout instrumental expressions of sounds as tangible as tin whistle and as abstract as synth, structures at times free and at times delving even into rock, let alone jazz bops. Each detail of story included is clearly intentional, meant to paint a picture of Roberts' ancestor while portraying their story as not unique. Roberts' spoken word--closer to voice acting, even--is incredible, as they repeat in varying levels of genuineness, "Well, they didn't know I was electric, alive, spirited, fired and free / My spirit overshadowing, my dreams to bombastic / My eyes too sparkling, my laughter too true." Their saxophone is expressive, yet mournful, providing motifs of lamentation and hope at once. On the penultimate "for they do not know", Roberts layers and repeats the album's main refrain, "My name is your name, our name is their name / We are named / We remember, they forget," as if to emphasize the prevalence of their ancestor's story throughout history. And closer "...ain't i...your mystery is our history" juxtaposes Western and African traditions, pointedly demonstrating that the evils brought upon their ancestor are rooted in colonialism and Western hegemony rather than a standalone calamity.
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Robert Finley - Black Bayou (Easy Eye Sound)
Seven years into his improbable comeback, Robert Finley views his role as a singer and entertainer as twofold: meeting the audience at the heart while simultaneously giving them advice, telling them the barebones truth when other authority figures won’t. On Black Bayou, he reckons with ideas of homesickness and loneliness, lust and love, selflessness and salvation. Buoyed by longtime collaborator Dan Auerbach of The Black Keys, Finley wrote all of the songs in the studio, and his familiarity with his supporting cast of musicians resulted in songs that were both efficiently recorded and emotionally acute. Kenny Brown’s guitar winces with longing on “Livin’ Out A Suitcase” as Finley’s tired of traveling. On “Waste Of Time”, a song that sees Finley taking pride in rural living even if it means missing out on opportunities provided by cities, the buzz-saw guitars and Jeffrey Clemens’ clattering percussion yield a perfect maximalism to go along with Finley’s claims that, yes, there’s still a lot to digest right outside your doorstep.
Read our interview with Finley about Black Bayou here.
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Sunny War - Anarchist Gospel (New West)
Sunny War battles self-destruction throughout Anarchist Gospel; in the lead-up to its release, she spoke about her music representing a battle between that side of herself and the one trying to make things better. On “New Day”, she uses the language of addiction to wax on love, hurt, and obsession: “Believing in magic can be tragic / I’m love’s junkie, I’m love’s addict.” One of the record’s true standouts is “I Got No Fight”, where pained guitars and screaming organs exemplify Sunny’s desire for the days to end, depression that buzzes like a fly in her ear. On the gorgeous country tune “His Love”, she sings of an unhealthy relationship, “His love fades, my love grows,” and the timbres of her voice and the instruments similarly diverge, her lurking deep vocal register contrasting the spryness of the backing vocals, guitars, and pattering drums.
Read our review of Anarchist Gospel.
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Various Artists - Tell Everybody! (21st Century Juke Joint Blues From Easy Eye Sound) (Easy Eye Sound)
For the better part of the past decade, Dan Auerbach's Easy Eye Sound recording studio and record label has showcased some of the best in contemporary blues music, from various regions across the country and spanning sub-genres. Tell Everybody!, the label's latest compilation, makes the case that a current crop of songwriters, vocalists, and instrumentalists are making essential wartime-style juke joint blues numbers. It's comprised of alternate versions of songs from past Easy Eye Sound albums (Jimmy "Duck" Holmes' version of "Catfish Blues", Leo Bud Welch's glistening "Don't Let the Devil Ride"), posthumously released offerings from idiosyncratic legends like James Gang/Pacific Gas & Electric/All Saved Freak Band guitarist Glenn Schwartz, and strong statements from up and comers like Detroit Dobro-drummer duo Moonrisers, Chicago's Gabe Carter, and Kentucky picker Nat Myers. Auerbach even finds room for new songs from himself and The Black Keys, who sound better than they have in years by embracing the drippy psychedelia of their early material on "No Lovin'". And performing the title track (and baring teeth on the cover) is Robert Finley, whose daughter Christy Johnson delivers smooth gospel backing vocals to contrast Auerbach and Kenny Brown's searing guitars, the multi-generational sound of past, present, and future.
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Wednesday - Rat Saw God (Dead Oceans)
“Hot Rotten Grass Smell”, the opening track to Wednesday's incredible Rat Saw God, immediately juxtaposes country guitars with shoegaze squall. Songwriter/vocalist/guitarist Karly Hartzman references Smog’s “The Well” before turning inward to a bleak vision: “Your closet froze after you left / Except the people who took your shirts / Closed off your door with yellow tape / Saw myself dead at the end of a staircase.” The song ends with a sudden cut to field recordings of peepers. Heartbreak, anxiety, life, death, both the natural environment and the concrete depression of the South. It’s all there for Hartzman’s poetry, and no moment is too small or too ordinary for worship.
Read our review of Rat Saw God.
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Willie Nelson - I Don't Know A Thing About Love: The Songs of Harlan Howard (Legacy)
Part of me thinks living legend Willie Nelson would rather continue paying tribute to his forebears than do anything else. The late Harlan Howard essentially gave Nelson his first break after hearing some original tunes, signing him to the Pamper publishing imprint in the early 60's. Of course, last year, Nelson would go on to celebrate a 90th birthday and be inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, while Howard, who passed away in 2002, is still mostly known behind the scenes, writing songs that would become immortalized by Buck Owens, Waylon Jennings, Ray Charles, and Brenda Lee. So leave it to Nelson to present Howard's best songs, with minimal arrangements, to emphasize the brilliance of his songwriting, the devastating simplicity of lines like "I'm about as helpless as a leaf in a gale." Nelson leads a stellar backing band through blues stomps ("Excuse Me (I Think I've Got A Heartache)", a screaming version of "Busted") and plaintive and empathetic waltzes ("Life Turned Her That Way"), exemplifying a three chords and the truth philosophy appropriate for all moods and experiences.
Honorable Mentions:
Bob Dylan - The Bootleg Series, Vol. 17: Fragments - Time Out Of Mind Sessions 1996-1997 (Columbia/Legacy)
The Clientele - I Am Not There Anymore (Merge)
Daniel Bachman - When The Roses Come Again (Three Lobed)
Danny Brown - Quaranta (Warp)
Gazelle Twin - Black Dog (Invada)
Lonnie Holley - Oh Me Oh My (Jagjaguwar)
#album review#armand hammer#arooj aftab#vijay iyer#shahzad ismaily#arthur russell#billy woods#kenny segal#bob dylan#drive-by truckers#gold dime#jaimie branch#jason isbell#jpegmafia#danny brown#matana roberts#robert finley#sunny war#easy eye sound#wednesday#willie nelson#the clientele#daniel bachman#gazelle twin#lonnie holley#fat possum#audika#new west#international anthem#constellation records
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Learn Urdu in Three Days, Djinn Guarantee
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~~~
A skewed little fairytale I wrote a few years ago, with the grubby British Empire as the baddies.
There's actually a whole book with 11 more of these kinds of stories [No Fairy Fairy Tales // Cyan of Mogh], if anyone's bored enough.
~~~
The modern city of Quetta may seem calm and tranquil today, yet nearly two centuries ago, it was a hotbed of British skulduggery, anarchist pushback and a foetal form of Indian rap poetry.
Unfortunately, the British were the dominant of these three strains at that time, and had avaricious [and watery] eyes on the opium fields of neighbouring Afghanistan. To position themselves, they built up the small outpost of Quetta into a bustling mega city full of gambling dens, tea houses and English as a Second Language Centres. As was common practice in their other colonies, they utilised the latter as a tool to make locals bow to their pasty rule, encouraging all learners to begin conversations with, ‘well, I dare say…’ and end them with, ‘an excellent idea, Master.’
It was a cunning, albeit generic plan, and worked well until, one day, the Commissar of the region came into an early morning conference and started spouting fluent Urdu.
‘Is that French?’ asked one of his peers.
‘… … … …’
‘German?’
‘… … … … … …’
‘My god, it’s not one of those bush tongues, is it?’
‘… … … … …’
The string of Urdu was endless and the Commissar was immediately taken, with a bag over his head, to the nearest BRITS ONLY clinic, where the doctors used the latest cutting edge medicine bucket to submerge his head in ice water for two hours.
Alas, it produced mixed results. The Urdu did stop, but so did the Commissar.
‘I suppose I’ll have to take over the post,’ said the bored and unemployed Lord Tippington, putting a glove over the deputy Commissar’s mouth. ‘At least until the next guy arrives.’
‘What shall we tell the people?’ asked Tippington’s aide, Corporal Kabal.
‘Nothing. Which ones?’
‘The residents of Quetta. They may be concerned about their dear leader.’
‘Ah, good point. Tell them he died as he lived, with ten Afghans at his feet.’
‘Sorry, Sir?’
‘Now, the matter of his strange tongue. I want to know what that gibberish was and where he picked it up from.’
‘It was Urdu, Sir, the regional language.’
‘Wah, you mean he went native?’
‘I don’t think so. Most locals have extremely low tolerance for that kind of thing, especially from whiteys as they tend to hog the narrative. In fact, a lot of the anarchists would cut out his tongue the moment he attempted hello in Urdu, let alone, I’ve been thinking of joining you.’
‘Then find me the real reason. And fast.’
‘Yes, Sir.’
‘And shoot anyone who uses whitey. It’s hurtful.’
‘Understood.’
~~~
Corporal Kabal ventured out into the streets and alleys of Quetta and tried his best to accomplish the task given to him.
However, it was tough.
Despite being an Urdu speaker himself, no one wanted to talk to him. Some even called him an Oreo. Others spat at the ground by his feet, and then spat at his feet too when they saw that they’d missed.
All in all, it was a depressing experience, which is why he took a break after the first forty minutes, ducking into a random teahouse and instantly falling in love with the waitress serving him biscuits.
‘How have I never seen you before?’ he asked, his hand reaching for hers.
‘Poor eyesight?’
‘Ha, you joke even though you are a] a girl, b] a waitress and c] both combined.’
‘What do you want, Oreo?’
‘Ah, I see. Based on your attitude and the way you’re glaring at me, I will assume you are an anarchist. Ordinarily, I would take you in for questioning, but that would mean the other guards getting a turn too, therefore, I will, as an alternative, take you as my mistress. Starting now, in that store room over there.’
‘Sorry, pig, I’ve already got a partner.’
‘Who? Where?’
‘If I were you, I’d leave before they do the same thing they did to the last guy who tried to manoeuvre me into the store room.’
‘And what would that be?’
‘Fluent Urdu, of course.’
Corporal Kabal froze, then slowly put the pieces together. The Commissar must’ve somehow come to this place, in brownface and turban no doubt, seen the beauty of the waitress and…been taught instant Urdu? No, it was too strange. There must be some drug they had, something that polluted the mind…
Standing up to full height, Kabal told the waitress he would be back promptly then left.
‘There’s no rush,’ she answered, eyes flashing lilac.
~~~
An hour later, with six heavily sunburnt, colonial guards propped up behind him, Corporal Kabal re-entered the tea house and told the waitress to bring out her boyfriend or be whipped naked on the spot.
‘Not in the store room?’
‘Insolent wench. I will do it myself.’
Kabal grabbed the whip from one of the men then charged over to the waitress and ripped off her shirt.
Unfortunately, there was another one underneath, so he tried the same thing again, and again, and again, and again, until he threw his hands up in despair and cried, ‘woman, where is your skin?’
‘In a secure place,’ she replied, moving over to the counter and pouring out some tea from a purple vase.
As soon as the last drop was out, the whole room rapidly filled with dense, purplish steam, and the six guards started to cough uncontrollably. Kabal put his sleeve over his mouth, but he, too, couldn’t stop it seeping through, and soon enough he had joined them.
‘High enough yet?’ asked the waitress, as the mist finally began to clear.
‘What on Earth kind of tea was that?’ shouted Kabal, moving forward and seizing her by the wrist.
‘Urdu, please.’
‘… … … … …’
‘That’s better.’
‘… … … … … …?’ asked Kabal, putting his fingers to his lips in shock as the wrong language kept coming out.
‘Don’t be ashamed,’ the woman said, patting him on the shoulder. ‘It’s your native tongue.’
‘… … … …’
‘And those fine men you brought along, they now have a new language to impress people with.’
Kabal turned, confused at her words, and listened as the six British guards shouted at each other in note perfect Urdu.
‘… … … …’ he said, spinning back round and grabbing her throat.
‘Don’t worry, it is permanent.’
‘… … …!’
The waitress smiled and gently removed Kabal’s hand from her throat, then led him past the chairs and into the store room.
‘A second gift, for your persistence.’
~~~
A day later, Corporal Kabal stood in front of Lord Tippington, the dark stain from his crotch wound bleeding out for the third time onto his military trousers.
‘What on Earth happened to you, man?’
Kabal opened his mouth and paused…then shut it tight again.
‘Well? Speak!’
He shook his head, a tear rolling down his eye.
‘Speak or I’ll have you shot for insubordination.’
Looking at the two guards standing cold-eyed at the door, Kabal took a deep breath and then spoke.
‘… … … … … …’
‘Excuse me?’
‘… … … … … …’
‘Not you, too.’
Kabal nodded, realising that after living in Quetta for seven years, Lord Tippington hadn’t even bothered to learn basic Urdu words like want to, have to, woman, attack etc, and that the only way out of this was to hope he had enough brains to ask for a translator.
~~~
It turned out to be a forlorn hope, as Corporal Kabal was taken for bucket therapy at the local clinic, while Lord Tippington himself decided to investigate the matter of the mysterious Urdu outbreak.
After walking around the local British sector and barking arbitrarily at indentured servants, he finally took the advice of one of his aides, and retraced the steps of Corporal Kabal during the previous day.
Before long, he found himself in the same teahouse, sitting in front of the same waitress, telling her matter-of-factly that, although he couldn’t house her, or take her back to England at any point, he would keep her as a plaything until she either turned thirty or her breasts started to sag.
‘A finer offer you will not find,’ he boasted, picking up the purple cup and sipping some of the tea within.
‘Sounds great apart from the details,’ she replied, winking at one of the four guards standing behind.
‘An English speaker too. Excellent. It’s settled then. And unless my eyes mistake me, that is a store room back there, is it not?’
‘Store room, theory lounge, castration chamber…’
‘Yes, yes, stop blathering nonsense and get inside. I’ll give you two minutes to remove the grubby work uniform then I’m coming in.’
‘How about some ethnic tea first?’
‘No need for formalities, we’ve already made the arrangement. You have your prize.’
The waitress nodded and walked off into the store room, closing the door behind her. Lord Tippington sat down and ordered one of the guards to count out two minutes, then started muttering to himself. It wasn’t clear exactly what he was saying, but some snippets leaked out, such as her fault, not mine and it’s bigger with the lights out.
When the two minutes were up, Lord Tippington rose to his feet, told his guards not to hover near the store room door and walked forward to his erotic rendezvous.
As soon as the door was closed behind him, the same steam from the day before drifted out from the counter and covered the room. The four guards coughed and fumbled around with their weapons and finally cried out, ‘what the hell happened?’ in flawless Urdu.
‘… … … … …?’
‘… … … … …’
‘… … … …’
The conversation continued, all four men wandering around the teahouse in shock and bafflement at each other’s words, until finally they remembered their boss was in the store room and decided the best course of action would be to ask him.
Yet, as they approached the store room, the door opened suddenly and the waitress emerged, a line of rope clutched in her hand.
‘Ah, gentlemen…I’d like to show you my new pet,’ she said in her native Urdu, tugging on the leash and bringing the dog forward. ‘I’ve just been training him in the Education Centre.’
All four men gasped as they looked into the eyes of the dog and…those same eyes…were the spitting image of Lord Tippington’s…right down to the greasy yellow residue in the corner pockets.
‘Would you like to give him a rub?’
~~~
Weeks after the disappearance of Lord Tippington, a new Commissar finally arrived at the city of Quetta and immediately set to solving the puzzle of the Urdu speaking guards.
As far as he’d been told, a small, out-of-the-way teahouse was the common link between all the victims, though neither his predecessor nor his subordinates had thought to use a translator on the poor souls in order to get firmer intel.
‘I want to know exactly who works there and what it is they do before anyone else steps foot inside, is that clear?’
The new aide nodded and left, taking eight guards with him.
‘Now for some tea,’ said the new Commissar to himself, pulling on the nearby string.
A few seconds later, the door opened and a serving woman walked in, carrying a tray with two cups and a purple jug that already had steam rising out of it.
‘By god, that was quick,’ said the Commissar, staring first at the jug and then the cleavage behind it as the woman bent down to pour.
‘Tea is my life, Commissar,’ she replied, a glint of purple in her eyes.
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It's that time of the year:
"Dunya lagi hovi hai eid k mahool main, aik hum jo teri deed k mahool main."
#eidulfitr#eid mubarak#eid#eidvibes#eidthings#urdu#urdu lines#urdu adab#urdu sher#urdu shairi#sher o shayari#aesthetic poetry#aestethic#rap music#jj47#urdu poetry#rekhta#urdu shayari#urdu stuff#pinterest#writer and poets#writer community#quotes#affection#desiblr#desi indian#desi tumblr#urdu language#music lyrics#hindi poetry
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#luxury#tax#qatar#quotes#lifestyle#k#tailor#tv#memes#kolkata#Q#quiz#qotd#Wow#work#win#winter#wedding#WWE#explore#eat#explorepage#etsy#E#ETH#reels#red#rap#run#R
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Zakir felt the comfort growing, aware of his body, yet also out of his head. It was an experience he’d gladly suggest to anyone, if only because it gave him an option to deal with his anxiety, to deal with the horrors of his own mind. She melted into him and he felt how much he needed it, as if the warmth of another person’s body unlocked a need he didn’t know he had. It pulsated through him.
He accepted the truth telling part of it, perhaps because he was so used to telling the truth to begin with. His father had always taught him that Arabic was a language of truth, he was not allowed to lie in it. Allah would not allow lies to be told. And he’d believed it all his youth, he would never lie when he spoke in Arabic, meaning he could never keep anything a secret from his father. He was allowed to tell white lies in Urdu and in Hindi, but if his father spoke in Arabic, and asked him something, he was supposed to tell the truth.
As a result, it was rare that Zakir did not respond with truth to any question. “I’ve been good,” he whispered to her, nudging her closer with how soft his voice was. English came easily, any language came easily, perhaps because he did not worry like he normally would, about how he sounded, about whether he used the right words. “Extremely busy, but good. Shows every weekend, a few free-style sessions during the week, though I’ve never been too stellar at those, they more often ask me for beats than for raps,” he said. Even those were words that would usually be reserved for his inner monologue, but he didn’t worry now. Why would he worry? “And a lot of translation work, but it’s validating.” He paused, took a deep breath. “But comfortable… it makes me feel that there will be an end to it, a crossing I’ve yet come to, a fork in the road awaiting me. Do you ever feel like that?”
Dilan had her regulars: the clients who'd come back, wanting more from her. She would deliver happily, giving them anything they asked of her, whether that was to guard their secrets or calm their mind. Sometimes even more. She was used to giving all of her to the strangers that walked these halls and it kept her afloat, a luxury that hadn't been afforded to most of her life.
Her hand pressed against his chest, the faint beat of his heart against her fingertips, "I think so too," she smiled at his own as her body melted into his, "it just takes some time, you know." The pills offered here were miracles packed into tiny little packages. Now it was easier than every to rid every bad feeling you might have with a small shake of the bottle. It wasn't something that Dilan had delved in too deep, but she could see the change of those who walked into this building.
"How have you been since the last time I saw you?" As the pill worked through his system, the only thing that would slip past his lips were complete and utter truths, even if they were words that she would have never expected. Sometimes the truth would be harder to swallow than any lie ever could.
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Kabhi kabhi aye soch
Jo hua wo theek hee hua hai
-Talha Anjum
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Ye Dil samandar is par
Maujon ka bara bojh.
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RAJA-DHEET HAIN RAP SONG | PROD. YUNG VENXM | Dreamers RAJA | NEW RAP SO...
#hip hop#rap#desi hip hop#hindi rap#urdu rap#motivational rap#rapmusic#new rap music#new rapper 2021#new rap
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