article by Yesha Callahan via theroot.com
article by Yesha Callahan via theroot.com
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.
“It’s Showtime!”
Pharrell Williams continued his incredible run of musical accomplishments on Tuesday, by being named to the Apollo Theater’s Board of Directors. The multi-talented producer joins a list of 32 that includes New England Patriots owner Robert Kraft, Quincy Jones, John D. Dempsey of Estee Lauder, and many more.
Skateboard P made his debut on the famed stage on June 3, which was streamed live as part of a digital series, Unstaged. The project was directed by Spike Lee and sponsored by American Express, and seemed to open new doors for hollowed grounds. The global reach of Pharrell’s performance coincided with the technological upgrades that the venue is going through, as part of a $20 million dollar initiative for its 21st Century Apollo Campaign.
The singer/songwriter stated that he’s excited to preserve and expand upon the Apollo’s legacy in American culture. In other words, he’s “Happy.”
article by via theurbandaily.com
The clip, entitled “Cherishing Life’s Special Moments,” seeks to raise awareness about the importance of speaking with your doctor about prostate cancer.
Prostate cancer is the second most common cause of cancer death for men in the United States, affecting one in six men, according to PCF. In the U.S. alone, 2.5 million American men and their families are currently living with prostate cancer.
“As a father, I cherish the special moments in life and understand how they can fly by in an instant,” said Quincy Jones. “Prostate cancer has affected dear friends and family of mine, so I am honored to be part of this campaign with Stand Up To Cancer and the Prostate Cancer Foundation to reinforce how incredibly important it is for men to talk to their doctors about prostate cancer.”
“I was excited to shoot this PSA with my father,” said Rashida Jones. “We have to protect the men we cherish, so please talk to your fathers, your grandfathers, husbands, brothers and sons and make sure they speak to their doctors about this disease and how to reduce their risk.”
“Men are 40 percent less likely than women to have visited a healthcare provider in the past year…But talking to one’s doctor about prostate cancer is critically important,” said Stand Up To Cancer President & CEO Sung Poblete, PhD, RN. “We are thrilled to have the father and daughter pair of Quincy and Rashida Jones spread that message through this PSA, and hope it empowers men to speak with their doctors about prostate cancer and when screening is right for them so they can make informed decisions.”
To learn more, visit StandUp2Cancer.org or PCF.org.
article via thegrio.com
Legendary producer and musician Quincy Jones was born 80 years ago today. Jones, known as “The Dude” or sometimes simply as “Q,” is an American music impresario. He brought black music to the forefront of popular culture through his long career as a conductor, producer, arranger, composer and performer.
Jones’ career began in 1956, when he toured as a trumpeter for the Dizzy Gillespie Band. For years, he dedicated his energies to performing jazz. His work as a film composer began in 1964, when he scored his first of 33 motion pictures. He would go on to compose scores for films like The Color Purple, The Wiz and In the Heat of the Night.
His work has spanned media platforms as the composer of TV themes like Sanford and Son, producer of shows like The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air, and the founder of VIBE magazine. Jones has won an astonishing 27 Grammy Awards in his career and shows no signs of slowing down.
article by Donovan X. Ramsey via thegrio.com
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Quincy Jones Creates Music Ed Application “Playground Sessions”
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Quincy Jones wants to improve our children’s music education and so the famed composer-producer has partnered up with app creator Chris Vance to launch Playground Sessions. The application will teach users how to read and play piano music with tutorials from pianist David Sides. Adults and children will receive real-time feedback as they attempt to master any of the 70 popular songs from artists like Beyoncé, Justin Bieber and Katy Perry included in the program. There’s “such a need for this,” Jones said. “The concept is brand new. I have been praying for this for a long time. It has a learning concept similar to Rosetta Stone. I’m blown away by this.”
NBC has given a pilot order to a reboot of the 1967 detective drama “Ironside” to star Blair Underwood, reports Deadline.com.
The new version, written by Mike Caleo and produced by Universal TV, centers on a tough, sexy and acerbic police detective (Underwood) relegated to a wheelchair after a shooting who is hardly limited by his disability as he pushes and prods his hand-picked team to solve the most difficult cases in the city.
According to Deadline, NBC’s pickup hinged on Underwood playing the lead. The “LA Law” alum’s casting stems from a development/talent holding deal he signed with Universal TV in August. The actor recently starred in A Streetcar Named Desire on Broadway and his series credits also include NBC’s “The Event.”
The original “Ironside” series, from Universal TV, ran on NBC from 1967 to 1975 with Raymond Burr as the paralyzed Chief of Detectives. The show’s opening, seen below, featured theme music by Quincy Jones.
[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6feZRsYJS58&w=420&h=315]
article via eurweb.com