
article by Lynette Holloway via theroot.com

As reported earlier today, Dr. Dre announced the release of his first album since 1999’s 2001 today on his The Pharmacy show on Apple Music. The album is titled Compton: The Soundtrack and will hit stores on August 7. He confirmed the album is completely different than the infamous Detox project and that it was inspired by the forthcoming N.W.A. biopic, “Straight Outta Compton” (8/14).
For any doubters, Dre has released both the album artwork and tracklist. The LP will feature vocals from Kendrick Lamar, Eminem, Xzibit, Ice Cube, Jill Scott, Jon Connor, Marsha Amrosius, Snoop Dogg and many more. Check out the artwork and tracklist below.

1) Intro
2) Talk About It (feat. King Mez & Justus)
3) Genocide (feat. Kendrick Lamar, Marsha Ambrosius & Candice Pillay)
4) It’s All On Me (feat. Justus & BJ the Chicago Kid)
5) All In a Day’s Work (feat. Anderson Paak & Marsha Ambrosius)
6) Darkside/Gone (feat. King Mez, Marsha Ambrosius & Kendrick Lamar)
7) Loose Cannons (feat. Xzibit & COLD 187um)
8) Issues (feat. Ice Cube & Anderson Paak)
9) Deep Water (feat. Kendrick Lamar & Justus)
10) Jon Connor – One Shot One Kill (feat. Snoop Dogg)
11) The Game – Just Another Day (feat. Asia Bryant)
12) For the Love of Money (feat. Jill Scott & Jon Connor)
13) Satisfaction (feat. Snoop Dogg, Marsha Ambrosius & King Mez)
14) Animals (feat. Anderson Paak)
15) Medicine Man (feat. Eminem, Candice Pillay & Anderson Paak)
16) Talking To My Diary
article by Parfit via ambrosiaforheads.com

If you looked at the children at the edge of Conrad Cooper‘s pool, you’d think you were watching an ad for something. Jell-O, maybe. Or a breakfast cereal kids like. They’re that cute.
They’re lined up on the steps in the shallow end, 10 little ones, ranging from age 2 to 5. The boys are in board trunks, many wearing rash-guard shirts like the weekend surfers they might become years from now. The girls wear bright one-piece suits and two-pieces that show their childish potbellies.
They are a rainbow tribe: black, Asian, white, biracial. And every eye is trained on the large man in the middle of the pool.
Conrad Cooper has been teaching little kids (and some adults) to swim for 20 years now. His business, Swim to Me, operates out of his pool in the View Park neighborhood of Los Angeles. He has taught kids who scream with fright at being put in the water, and adults who never thought they’d ever be able to swim.
His families come from around the corner and across the ocean, because word of his effectiveness travels. “He does not fool around,” parents will tell you, “but it works.”
It’s not a method that works for everyone.
“If you think this is someplace you can come and do monkey-walking by the side of the pool and sing songs … you’re in the wrong class,” Cooper says. A tall brown man with sun-bronzed dreadlocks and Pacific Islander tattoos, Cooper radiates authority, in and out of the water.
To hear audio of this story, click here.
Helicopter parents are politely instructed to find a landing place in one of the comfy chairs that ring the large saltwater pool — and stay there. Parents who want Cooper to teach their children have to promise to abide by his rules: They’re there to support the method, not to comfort their children.
That sometimes comes as a shock to his students.
“After two or three times in the pool with me,” Cooper says, “they recognize, ‘OK, this guy is serious. He’s not taking no for an answer. I’m going to do this.’ ”

If you looked at the children at the edge of Conrad Cooper‘s pool, you’d think you were watching an ad for something. Jell-O, maybe. Or a breakfast cereal kids like. They’re that cute.
They’re lined up on the steps in the shallow end, 10 little ones, ranging from age 2 to 5. The boys are in board trunks, many wearing rash-guard shirts like the weekend surfers they might become years from now. The girls wear bright one-piece suits and two-pieces that show their childish potbellies.
They are a rainbow tribe: black, Asian, white, biracial. And every eye is trained on the large man in the middle of the pool.
Conrad Cooper has been teaching little kids (and some adults) to swim for 20 years now. His business, Swim to Me, operates out of his pool in the View Park neighborhood of Los Angeles. He has taught kids who scream with fright at being put in the water, and adults who never thought they’d ever be able to swim.
His families come from around the corner and across the ocean, because word of his effectiveness travels. “He does not fool around,” parents will tell you, “but it works.”
It’s not a method that works for everyone.
“If you think this is someplace you can come and do monkey-walking by the side of the pool and sing songs … you’re in the wrong class,” Cooper says. A tall brown man with sun-bronzed dreadlocks and Pacific Islander tattoos, Cooper radiates authority, in and out of the water.
To hear audio of this story, click here.
Helicopter parents are politely instructed to find a landing place in one of the comfy chairs that ring the large saltwater pool — and stay there. Parents who want Cooper to teach their children have to promise to abide by his rules: They’re there to support the method, not to comfort their children.
That sometimes comes as a shock to his students.
“After two or three times in the pool with me,” Cooper says, “they recognize, ‘OK, this guy is serious. He’s not taking no for an answer. I’m going to do this.’ ”

The scene backstage last November at the American Music Awards, that annual gathering of pop perennials and idiosyncratic arrivistes, was carnivalesque: Niall and Liam of One Direction toddled about trying to snap a picture with a selfie stick, while Zayn, their bandmate at the time, smoked coolly out of frame; Ne-Yo was there in a leopard-print blazer two sizes too small; Lil Wayne was wandering around, alone, wearing absurd shoes. In the middle of it all, Abel Tesfaye, better known as The Weeknd, remained calm, slow motion to everyone else’s warp speed.
Allergic to these sorts of scrums, he found his way to his trailer to hang with his friends, five or so fellow Canadians, all of them art-goth chic, wearing expensive sneakers and draped in luxurious, flowing black. Tesfaye, 25, was dressed down by comparison, in a black corduroy jacket and paint-splattered jeans (Versace, but still). He stands 5-foot-7, plus a few more inches with his hair, an elaborate tangle of dreadlocks that he has been growing out for years, more or less letting it go where it wants. It spills out at the sides of his head and shoots up over it, like a cresting wave. Casually, Tesfaye did some vocal warm-ups and sat indifferently as his underutilized makeup artist dabbed foundation under his eyes and balm on his lips.

He’d just had his first flash of true pop success: ‘‘Love Me Harder,’’ his duet with Ariana Grande, the childlike pop star with the grown-up voice, cracked the Top 10 of the Billboard Hot 100. He was scheduled to make a surprise cameo here at the end of a Grande medley. Until that song and, in a sense, that moment, Tesfaye had been a no-hit wonder: a cult act with millions of devotees and almost no mainstream profile.
When Tesfaye came out from the shadows midway through Grande’s performance, the crowd screamed. For two minutes, the singers traded vocal riffs and unflinching eye contact, Grande playing the naïf and Tesfaye the aggressor. The performance was quick and sweaty, and seconds after it was over, Tesfaye was already speeding for the exit, stopping only for a quick embrace from Kendall and Kylie Jenner. When he reached the parking lot, a yappy talent wrangler for an entertainment-news show sensed an opportunity and asked for an interview. Tesfaye gave him an amused half-smile and kept walking. ‘‘Hey!’’ the guy shouted in desperation, fumbling for a name before landing on the wrong one: ‘‘A$AP Rocky!’’ Tesfaye turned his head and said, ‘‘C’mon, man,’’ arching an eyebrow, then picked up the pace.
Even though he had just performed for an audience of millions, Tesfaye was still, to many of them, a total stranger. When he began releasing music in 2010 — murky Dalí-esque R.&B., sung in an astrally sweet voice, vivid with details of life at the sexual and pharmacological extremes — Tesfaye chose to be a cipher. The only photos of him in circulation were deliberately obscured; he didn’t do interviews. His reticence was an asset — fans devoured the music without being distracted by a personality. Their loyalty was to the songs and, in a way, to the idea of the Weeknd. He was happy to stay out of the way.

The scene backstage last November at the American Music Awards, that annual gathering of pop perennials and idiosyncratic arrivistes, was carnivalesque: Niall and Liam of One Direction toddled about trying to snap a picture with a selfie stick, while Zayn, their bandmate at the time, smoked coolly out of frame; Ne-Yo was there in a leopard-print blazer two sizes too small; Lil Wayne was wandering around, alone, wearing absurd shoes. In the middle of it all, Abel Tesfaye, better known as The Weeknd, remained calm, slow motion to everyone else’s warp speed.
Allergic to these sorts of scrums, he found his way to his trailer to hang with his friends, five or so fellow Canadians, all of them art-goth chic, wearing expensive sneakers and draped in luxurious, flowing black. Tesfaye, 25, was dressed down by comparison, in a black corduroy jacket and paint-splattered jeans (Versace, but still). He stands 5-foot-7, plus a few more inches with his hair, an elaborate tangle of dreadlocks that he has been growing out for years, more or less letting it go where it wants. It spills out at the sides of his head and shoots up over it, like a cresting wave. Casually, Tesfaye did some vocal warm-ups and sat indifferently as his underutilized makeup artist dabbed foundation under his eyes and balm on his lips.

He’d just had his first flash of true pop success: ‘‘Love Me Harder,’’ his duet with Ariana Grande, the childlike pop star with the grown-up voice, cracked the Top 10 of the Billboard Hot 100. He was scheduled to make a surprise cameo here at the end of a Grande medley. Until that song and, in a sense, that moment, Tesfaye had been a no-hit wonder: a cult act with millions of devotees and almost no mainstream profile.
When Tesfaye came out from the shadows midway through Grande’s performance, the crowd screamed. For two minutes, the singers traded vocal riffs and unflinching eye contact, Grande playing the naïf and Tesfaye the aggressor. The performance was quick and sweaty, and seconds after it was over, Tesfaye was already speeding for the exit, stopping only for a quick embrace from Kendall and Kylie Jenner. When he reached the parking lot, a yappy talent wrangler for an entertainment-news show sensed an opportunity and asked for an interview. Tesfaye gave him an amused half-smile and kept walking. ‘‘Hey!’’ the guy shouted in desperation, fumbling for a name before landing on the wrong one: ‘‘A$AP Rocky!’’ Tesfaye turned his head and said, ‘‘C’mon, man,’’ arching an eyebrow, then picked up the pace.
Even though he had just performed for an audience of millions, Tesfaye was still, to many of them, a total stranger. When he began releasing music in 2010 — murky Dalí-esque R.&B., sung in an astrally sweet voice, vivid with details of life at the sexual and pharmacological extremes — Tesfaye chose to be a cipher. The only photos of him in circulation were deliberately obscured; he didn’t do interviews. His reticence was an asset — fans devoured the music without being distracted by a personality. Their loyalty was to the songs and, in a way, to the idea of the Weeknd. He was happy to stay out of the way.

For mom and blogger Lauren Casper, doing her daughter’s hair is something she thought about even before she brought her baby home. Arsema, now 3, was four months old when Casper and her husband adopted her from Ethiopia. “Prior to her coming home, I had researched as much as I could about black culture and raising black children,” Casper, who is white, tells Yahoo Parenting. “For raising a girl specifically, I was learning how important black hair is in the culture. And while I was well-versed in my own hair, that is obviously very different.”
In an essay posted on Today’s community blog this week, Casper writes about watching YouTube videos and scoping out Pinterest boards to learn to style her daughter’s hair, and the mother-daughter bonding time that has resulted. “As the white mother of a beautiful black daughter, hair care has been a steep learning curve for me,” she writes.
“I want my daughter to love her hair and be proud of the springy black curls that cover her head. I want to be able to care for and style her hair in a way shows I understand that her hair is different and I celebrate her unique beauty.”

Every Saturday evening, Casper and Arsema have their weekly styling sessions. “We do the big shampoo and condition and she picks a style from my Pinterest board,” Casper says. Arsema settles in with a movie on the laptop, while Casper gets to styling. “The shortest amount of time it takes me is 30-45 minutes with the detangling and the parting, even just for braids or puffs,” she says. “The longest we have ever done is two hours – that one stayed in for two weeks.”
Casper says she loves this special mother-daughter time, especially because she’s always loved doing her own hair. “I like doing hair. And when Arsema came home, I recognized I was in over my head for a little while. But it’s fun for me and I wanted to do this with her,” she says. “It’s like when I’m getting ready in the morning and doing my makeup, she pulls up a chair in the bathroom and does lipstick, too. They are fun moments.”
But for this pair, the hairstyling is about more than just getting primped. “I’ve learned from talking to my friends and doing research into black culture that hair is really important. And so I want to do everything I can to celebrate and enter into the culture that my daughter is a part of,” she says. “I realize that I’m still on the outside looking in and will never fully understand, but I want to do everything I can to keep Arsema connected to that as much as possible. I want her to love everything about herself. I want her to love her hair, her skin, and part of helping her love her hair and have that positive body image is caring for it and making sure it’s healthy and that styling it is a fun and a positive experience.”










August 21st
Method Man– The Meth Lab

It’s been a minute since Method Man has released a solo effort. He’s done tons of collaborations but this will be the first album he has put out in a decade. This 5th solo effort proves to be worth the wait.




The ongoing clash between Nigeria‘s armed forces and the Islamist militants Boko Haram has been largely a one-sided affair with the terrorist group seemingly taking the upper hand. Earlier Thursday, the Nigerian Army announced a victory of sorts after reportedly freeing 59 women and children that were held by the heavily armed insurgents.
Nigerian publication The Sun reported from the city of Maiduguri, the largest in Borno State. The state has been a staging ground for some of Boko Haram’s most vicious attacks and the group has repelled much of the Nigerian military’s offensive maneuvers. Their most recent raid, however, yielded favorable results if reports hold true.
From The Sun:
The military has rescued another 59 hostages from Boko Haram hide-outs in Borno State during raids in what appeared like a renewed vigour to end insurgency in the northeast.
Authorities said troops raided two camps at Kashinbiri and Wallmeri, two remote communities in Konduga Local Government in the central part of the state. The area is also few kilometres to SambiSa, a major Boko Haram camp.
A Deputy Director, Army Public Relations and spokesman, 7 Division, Nigerian Army, Colonel Tukur Gusau, said the hostages include 25 children, 29 women and five elderly men.
“Troops of 151 Task Force Battalion conducted operations on Kashinbiri and Wallmeri Boko Haram terrorists camps on Wednesday. During the raids, quite a number of the terrorists were killed, a Landrover and a tipper were recovered. The troops also rescued 59 civilians that were held captive by the terrorist, they are 25 children, 29 women and five elderly men. The camps have been cleared by the troops,” he said at a news briefing in Maiduguri yesterday.
The rescue of the 59 individuals brings the army’s tally this week to 71. It was reported by the Associated Press that 12 women and girls were freed after forces stormed the city of Kilakisa, which sits 55 miles southwest of Maiduguri.
The Nigerian military said it freed hundreds back in March and seized many of the cities held by Boko Haram in the northeastern part of the country. The rebels have increased their number of attacks back at the military, yet with little in the way of considerable gain according to recent reports.
article by D.L. Chandler via newsone.com