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Dai Dai doesn’t pull people in because it’s “better than Waka Waka” People keep asking if this song beats Waka Waka. That’s the wrong question. Waka Waka has been alive for 16 years. Dai Dai has lived one summer. Comparing them is like comparing an old house to one...

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🌷🦋 Love Music 🎶 & Dance 💃🏻🕺🏻

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15,495 görüntüleme • 2 gün önce •via X (Twitter)

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🎶 The Song Still Hasn’t Surrendered. The late afternoon light was soft, the crowd stretched all the way to the horizon, and she simply held the microphone and sang. No dancing. No elaborate production. Just that quiet, clear voice and eyes fixed somewhere beyond the front rows. That video still circulates today. More than twenty years have passed. Musical trends have come and gone. Entire generations have grown up with completely different sounds. And yet every time “White Flag” plays from that Live 8 performance, people still stop, go quiet, and sometimes… feel their eyes sting. Why? The song begins with a stark admission. “I know you think that I shouldn’t still love you / Or tell you that.” She knows the other person doesn’t want to hear it anymore. She knows she caused enough damage. She even understands the logic of “it’s over, so let it go.” Then the chorus rises: “I will go down with this ship And I won’t put my hands up and surrender There will be no white flag above my door I’m in love and always will be.” A white flag is the universal symbol of surrender. Dido flips it. She refuses to surrender her own feelings. Not because she still hopes for a reunion. Not because she’s clinging. Simply because the feeling is still there, and she can’t — and won’t — pretend it has disappeared. Some people once heard this as a song about unhealthy attachment. Listen more carefully and it becomes something simpler and more honest: a refusal to erase what is still true. Dido wrote it after the end of her engagement. Years later she admitted that hearing the song still brings the old emotion back. The track doesn’t try to explain or heal anything. It just records a very real state of being: still in love, even when there’s no way back. That’s what has kept “White Flag” alive. It doesn’t belong to one generation. A twenty-year-old hears it and recognizes a feeling they just lived through. Someone in their forties or fifties hears it and remembers the times they faced the same choice. Feeling has no age. It only has moments when it’s still present and moments when it has faded. Dido’s voice makes that even clearer. She never needed big vocal fireworks. Soft breath, slow melody, every line delivered like a private conversation. Even standing in front of hundreds of thousands of people at Live 8, the song still felt intimate. In the middle of a global event about poverty and justice, she brought something small and personal onto the stage. That contrast made the emotion cut sharper. There’s a detail most people don’t know. Right after she walked off the Hyde Park stage, Dido got into a helicopter. She flew straight to the Eden Project in Cornwall to perform again at the Africa Calling show, then flew on to Paris for a third performance — all in the same day. Three stages, three cities, a few short hours. She wanted to do what Phil Collins had done at Live Aid in 1985, only more ambitious. While the world watched a historic concert, Dido was still moving between flights, carrying the same song about refusing to let go. Today that Live 8 video still gets millions of views. Some people say they listen to it alone in the car. Others connect it to someone they lost. Many simply write: “I don’t know why, but it still gets me every time.” No further explanation needed. The song speaks for itself. Looking back at that moment in 2005, Dido wasn’t trying to move the audience. She just stood there and sang exactly what she felt. No exaggeration, no polish. That honesty is what carried the song further than any trend. More than twenty years later, “White Flag” is still here. Not because it’s perfect. But because it’s true. Do you still carry any “white flag” of your own?
3:57

🎶 The Song Still Hasn’t Surrendered. The late afternoon light was soft, the crowd stretched all the way to the horizon, and she simply held the microphone and sang. No dancing. No elaborate production. Just that quiet, clear voice and eyes fixed somewhere beyond the front rows. That video still circulates today. More than twenty years have passed. Musical trends have come and gone. Entire generations have grown up with completely different sounds. And yet every time “White Flag” plays from that Live 8 performance, people still stop, go quiet, and sometimes… feel their eyes sting. Why? The song begins with a stark admission. “I know you think that I shouldn’t still love you / Or tell you that.” She knows the other person doesn’t want to hear it anymore. She knows she caused enough damage. She even understands the logic of “it’s over, so let it go.” Then the chorus rises: “I will go down with this ship And I won’t put my hands up and surrender There will be no white flag above my door I’m in love and always will be.” A white flag is the universal symbol of surrender. Dido flips it. She refuses to surrender her own feelings. Not because she still hopes for a reunion. Not because she’s clinging. Simply because the feeling is still there, and she can’t — and won’t — pretend it has disappeared. Some people once heard this as a song about unhealthy attachment. Listen more carefully and it becomes something simpler and more honest: a refusal to erase what is still true. Dido wrote it after the end of her engagement. Years later she admitted that hearing the song still brings the old emotion back. The track doesn’t try to explain or heal anything. It just records a very real state of being: still in love, even when there’s no way back. That’s what has kept “White Flag” alive. It doesn’t belong to one generation. A twenty-year-old hears it and recognizes a feeling they just lived through. Someone in their forties or fifties hears it and remembers the times they faced the same choice. Feeling has no age. It only has moments when it’s still present and moments when it has faded. Dido’s voice makes that even clearer. She never needed big vocal fireworks. Soft breath, slow melody, every line delivered like a private conversation. Even standing in front of hundreds of thousands of people at Live 8, the song still felt intimate. In the middle of a global event about poverty and justice, she brought something small and personal onto the stage. That contrast made the emotion cut sharper. There’s a detail most people don’t know. Right after she walked off the Hyde Park stage, Dido got into a helicopter. She flew straight to the Eden Project in Cornwall to perform again at the Africa Calling show, then flew on to Paris for a third performance — all in the same day. Three stages, three cities, a few short hours. She wanted to do what Phil Collins had done at Live Aid in 1985, only more ambitious. While the world watched a historic concert, Dido was still moving between flights, carrying the same song about refusing to let go. Today that Live 8 video still gets millions of views. Some people say they listen to it alone in the car. Others connect it to someone they lost. Many simply write: “I don’t know why, but it still gets me every time.” No further explanation needed. The song speaks for itself. Looking back at that moment in 2005, Dido wasn’t trying to move the audience. She just stood there and sang exactly what she felt. No exaggeration, no polish. That honesty is what carried the song further than any trend. More than twenty years later, “White Flag” is still here. Not because it’s perfect. But because it’s true. Do you still carry any “white flag” of your own?

Music over time🎻

12,562 görüntüleme • 25 gün önce

we all dream of those big wins in life the 100x, the multi-million dollar trade, or even just 10x of what you started with in 7 days i’ve been fortunate enough to experience a few of those over the past few years, and the reality is when you do win big, it doesn’t feel like it at all it hits for a split second, and then your brain just normalizes it it's a part of how to get there in the first place, but makes it a lot easier to lose it if you don't have the right guardrails in place and in that exact moment, you being even keeled doesn’t mean the number in front of you isn’t life changing it is this is where you have to slow down a bit, breathe, settle your mind don’t just roll it into some bullshit take some off the table, step away for a few days if you have to, funny enough, blowing let's say 10k of it on a beautiful trip to tokyo will save you so much because once you actually process what just happened, your future self will thank you for it the truth is, even if you think you’re going for a certain number, the moment you hit it, you’ll want more and more, and more anyone who's been in the same position will tell you the exact same thing ironically the people that win are addicted to winning and if you ask the same people in a year after that big win, what they regret and where are they proud of themselves? they will tell you they regretted rolling it over and giving some/all back or they are proud for switching back on the switch all of this is real, but it’s also exactly how i imagined it would feel years ago before it ever happened manifest your life, the feeling not just the number everything happens twice, first in your mind, then in reality
0:21

we all dream of those big wins in life the 100x, the multi-million dollar trade, or even just 10x of what you started with in 7 days i’ve been fortunate enough to experience a few of those over the past few years, and the reality is when you do win big, it doesn’t feel like it at all it hits for a split second, and then your brain just normalizes it it's a part of how to get there in the first place, but makes it a lot easier to lose it if you don't have the right guardrails in place and in that exact moment, you being even keeled doesn’t mean the number in front of you isn’t life changing it is this is where you have to slow down a bit, breathe, settle your mind don’t just roll it into some bullshit take some off the table, step away for a few days if you have to, funny enough, blowing let's say 10k of it on a beautiful trip to tokyo will save you so much because once you actually process what just happened, your future self will thank you for it the truth is, even if you think you’re going for a certain number, the moment you hit it, you’ll want more and more, and more anyone who's been in the same position will tell you the exact same thing ironically the people that win are addicted to winning and if you ask the same people in a year after that big win, what they regret and where are they proud of themselves? they will tell you they regretted rolling it over and giving some/all back or they are proud for switching back on the switch all of this is real, but it’s also exactly how i imagined it would feel years ago before it ever happened manifest your life, the feeling not just the number everything happens twice, first in your mind, then in reality

۟

23,017 görüntüleme • 4 ay önce

Shakira reveals how she got Burna Boy to feature on the World Cup song "Dai Dai" "Once I had the song, I felt that I really needed a male vocal, a male voice on the song. I don't know, because the World Cup carries a big male energy" "So I was like, 'Who can give me that very masculine voice that I want in this Afrobeats setting?' Because this song is very Afrobeaty. But it also has some Caribbean sounds and a little bit of R&B" "And I've always loved Burna. I've always wanted to do something with him. So I called him. I'm like, 'Hey, are you down to do this?' And he's like, 'Yeah, why not?'" "I was waiting for 20 days for him to send something, and I'm like, 'Okay, maybe he's not going to do it.' But then he came through. He sent his magic, and it was just absolutely perfect" "I was so obsessed with having Burna on this track, and I'm so glad that I got him"
1:12

Shakira reveals how she got Burna Boy to feature on the World Cup song "Dai Dai" "Once I had the song, I felt that I really needed a male vocal, a male voice on the song. I don't know, because the World Cup carries a big male energy" "So I was like, 'Who can give me that very masculine voice that I want in this Afrobeats setting?' Because this song is very Afrobeaty. But it also has some Caribbean sounds and a little bit of R&B" "And I've always loved Burna. I've always wanted to do something with him. So I called him. I'm like, 'Hey, are you down to do this?' And he's like, 'Yeah, why not?'" "I was waiting for 20 days for him to send something, and I'm like, 'Okay, maybe he's not going to do it.' But then he came through. He sent his magic, and it was just absolutely perfect" "I was so obsessed with having Burna on this track, and I'm so glad that I got him"

Buggy

652,921 görüntüleme • 1 ay önce

President Trump just gave an answer that will go down in the history books when Peter Doocy asked why assassination attempts keep happening to him. “We’ve changed this country and there are lot of people that are not happy about that.” TRUMP: “Well, you know, I’ve studied assassinations and I must tell you, the most impactful people...” “The people that do the most...you take a look at the people, Abraham Lincoln...the people that have gone through this...the people to do the most...the people that make the biggest impact, they’re the ones that they go after.” “They don’t go after the ones that don’t do much because they like it that way.” “And when you look at the people that have either...whether it was an attempt or a successful attempt, and they’re very impactful people just take a look at the names there.” “And I hate to say I’m honored by that but I’ve done a lot.” “We’ve taken this country and we were a laughingstock years and now we’re the hottest country anywhere in the world.” “We’ve changed this country and there are lot of people that are not happy about that.”
1:22

President Trump just gave an answer that will go down in the history books when Peter Doocy asked why assassination attempts keep happening to him. “We’ve changed this country and there are lot of people that are not happy about that.” TRUMP: “Well, you know, I’ve studied assassinations and I must tell you, the most impactful people...” “The people that do the most...you take a look at the people, Abraham Lincoln...the people that have gone through this...the people to do the most...the people that make the biggest impact, they’re the ones that they go after.” “They don’t go after the ones that don’t do much because they like it that way.” “And when you look at the people that have either...whether it was an attempt or a successful attempt, and they’re very impactful people just take a look at the names there.” “And I hate to say I’m honored by that but I’ve done a lot.” “We’ve taken this country and we were a laughingstock years and now we’re the hottest country anywhere in the world.” “We’ve changed this country and there are lot of people that are not happy about that.”

Overton

57,936 görüntüleme • 4 ay önce

Dolly Didn’t Recreate “What’s Up?” — She Lived It. You know this song. But you’ve probably never heard it feel like this. The first notes arrive like a memory you didn’t ask for. That familiar rise, that restless question hanging in the air. Then Dolly Parton’s voice steps in, and something quietly shifts. The melody is the same. The feeling is not. When 4 Non Blondes released “What’s Up?” in 1993, it sounded like a generation talking to itself in real time. Linda Perry’s original vocal carried urgency, confusion, and a kind of raw, youthful demand: what’s going on? It was restless, slightly unhinged, and completely alive. The song didn’t offer answers. It just refused to look away. Dolly does not try to recapture that heat. She doesn’t chase the original’s rebellion or mimic its edge. She takes a song already heavy with emotion and places it inside a completely different musical body — older, more weathered, still pulsing with life. The arrangement breathes differently. The phrasing lands with more space. The voice that once sounded like a young woman shouting at the world now sounds like someone who has already walked through a great deal of it. That is the real pivot. Dolly is not covering Linda Perry. She is not trying to become her. She brings something the original version could never contain in the same way: the weight of time. Her voice no longer belongs to someone just beginning to ask the question. It belongs to someone who has asked it for decades and still has not put it down. Linda Perry’s presence makes that transformation even sharper. She is not a guest added for nostalgia. She is the person who first gave the song its shape, now sitting beside another artist who has given it a second life. One voice carries the memory of how the song was born. The other carries the memory of a long life lived around it. Together they create a strange and moving conversation across years. The result is not a better version. It is a different one. 4 Non Blondes made “What’s Up?” sound like a question shouted from the middle of the storm. Dolly makes it sound like a question that has survived a lifetime. The familiar chorus still arrives. The words have not changed. What has changed is the person asking them. That is why this version lingers. It does not replace the original. It does not compete with it. It simply proves that some songs are strong enough to keep growing. They wait. They find new throats. And when the right voice arrives — one that has already lived enough to understand the cost of the question — the song does not just return. It deepens. You still recognize every line. You just hear it from farther down the road.
0:55

Dolly Didn’t Recreate “What’s Up?” — She Lived It. You know this song. But you’ve probably never heard it feel like this. The first notes arrive like a memory you didn’t ask for. That familiar rise, that restless question hanging in the air. Then Dolly Parton’s voice steps in, and something quietly shifts. The melody is the same. The feeling is not. When 4 Non Blondes released “What’s Up?” in 1993, it sounded like a generation talking to itself in real time. Linda Perry’s original vocal carried urgency, confusion, and a kind of raw, youthful demand: what’s going on? It was restless, slightly unhinged, and completely alive. The song didn’t offer answers. It just refused to look away. Dolly does not try to recapture that heat. She doesn’t chase the original’s rebellion or mimic its edge. She takes a song already heavy with emotion and places it inside a completely different musical body — older, more weathered, still pulsing with life. The arrangement breathes differently. The phrasing lands with more space. The voice that once sounded like a young woman shouting at the world now sounds like someone who has already walked through a great deal of it. That is the real pivot. Dolly is not covering Linda Perry. She is not trying to become her. She brings something the original version could never contain in the same way: the weight of time. Her voice no longer belongs to someone just beginning to ask the question. It belongs to someone who has asked it for decades and still has not put it down. Linda Perry’s presence makes that transformation even sharper. She is not a guest added for nostalgia. She is the person who first gave the song its shape, now sitting beside another artist who has given it a second life. One voice carries the memory of how the song was born. The other carries the memory of a long life lived around it. Together they create a strange and moving conversation across years. The result is not a better version. It is a different one. 4 Non Blondes made “What’s Up?” sound like a question shouted from the middle of the storm. Dolly makes it sound like a question that has survived a lifetime. The familiar chorus still arrives. The words have not changed. What has changed is the person asking them. That is why this version lingers. It does not replace the original. It does not compete with it. It simply proves that some songs are strong enough to keep growing. They wait. They find new throats. And when the right voice arrives — one that has already lived enough to understand the cost of the question — the song does not just return. It deepens. You still recognize every line. You just hear it from farther down the road.

Music over time🎻

63,572 görüntüleme • 11 gün önce

Orwell said the most dangerous thing is not guns. It is when people start changing the meaning of words so they can change how you think. That warning is hitting different right now. In Yemen, muwalad was never a nice word. It was used for kids of Yemeni fathers and African mothers, a lot of them from African lines, people who got treated as less Yemeni for generations. No full belonging. No full citizenship. Just the label. Now some people are trying to clean the word up and dump it on Somalia. Suddenly it became half Somali half Arab, like that is what it always meant. Most of them were never Somali. Ethiopia, Eritrea, Kenya are right there. Somalia is just the easiest target because it is the weakest link in the Horn and the history is easier to rewrite online because Somalis are busy with each other than to watch out for their interests. This is not hate. It is just noticing the pattern. Look at these new Banaadir pages, accounts and videos. A lot of them are run by people who don’t even come from that history. They are changing names, mixing stories, and acting like this new version was always the truth. That is how it starts. First the word. Then the memory. Then they tell you who you are.
10:14

Orwell said the most dangerous thing is not guns. It is when people start changing the meaning of words so they can change how you think. That warning is hitting different right now. In Yemen, muwalad was never a nice word. It was used for kids of Yemeni fathers and African mothers, a lot of them from African lines, people who got treated as less Yemeni for generations. No full belonging. No full citizenship. Just the label. Now some people are trying to clean the word up and dump it on Somalia. Suddenly it became half Somali half Arab, like that is what it always meant. Most of them were never Somali. Ethiopia, Eritrea, Kenya are right there. Somalia is just the easiest target because it is the weakest link in the Horn and the history is easier to rewrite online because Somalis are busy with each other than to watch out for their interests. This is not hate. It is just noticing the pattern. Look at these new Banaadir pages, accounts and videos. A lot of them are run by people who don’t even come from that history. They are changing names, mixing stories, and acting like this new version was always the truth. That is how it starts. First the word. Then the memory. Then they tell you who you are.

Abla عبلة

37,158 görüntüleme • 14 gün önce

Shakira admits that her children wouldn't even exist if it wasn't for a single song she recorded in 2010 "It's crazy why I have this connection with football that seems unbreakable" "my history with football goes back to 2006 when I performed at the first World Cup with Wyclef. Performed Hips Don't Lie" "again on 2010 which is when I met the father of my kids who was playing during that World Cup" "that's why I call my kids the Waka kids because... I think they were born because of that song. That song took me to the World Cup" "on 2014 I was pregnant with my little one and all of my fans like they saw me perform and they're like Shakira's pregnant. And I was like a month pregnant, or like two months maximum" "So every World Cup there's something really magical. And I think this one it's gonna be all about bringing people together in this very sensitive moment in time socially and politically"
1:05

Shakira admits that her children wouldn't even exist if it wasn't for a single song she recorded in 2010 "It's crazy why I have this connection with football that seems unbreakable" "my history with football goes back to 2006 when I performed at the first World Cup with Wyclef. Performed Hips Don't Lie" "again on 2010 which is when I met the father of my kids who was playing during that World Cup" "that's why I call my kids the Waka kids because... I think they were born because of that song. That song took me to the World Cup" "on 2014 I was pregnant with my little one and all of my fans like they saw me perform and they're like Shakira's pregnant. And I was like a month pregnant, or like two months maximum" "So every World Cup there's something really magical. And I think this one it's gonna be all about bringing people together in this very sensitive moment in time socially and politically"

Rixlerr

1,534,915 görüntüleme • 1 ay önce

The Most Powerful Part of “The Sound of Silence” Isn’t the Singing. It’s What Happens Between the Words. Dana Winner’s voice is the first thing you notice. Clean. Warm. Held in place. For a minute I listened the way you listen to a good singer: waiting for the next note to land. Then I stopped doing that. The interesting part was not the note. It was the gap after it. That is the odd job this song has always had. It is packed with language and still keeps pointing at the place language does not reach. People talk. People look up. People sit in the same room. Nothing crosses. Winner does not act that idea out. She does not darken the vowel to prove she understands loneliness. She leaves the line where it is and lets it cool. The melody has air around it. The words sit. You can walk into them if you want to. You can also look away. I looked away and landed somewhere private. A message I drafted and never sent. A talk I kept moving to next week. A moment that did come, and I still said the safer thing. That is a quieter kind of isolation than an empty house. You can have company and still fail to get across the few feet between two chairs. Her voice matters because of where it stands. She does not sound swallowed by the quiet. She sounds just outside it, looking in. The sound is beautiful. The thing it is looking at is not. That mismatch is what makes the performance slightly hard to sit with. You come for the tone. The song keeps turning your face toward the cheaper fact: how often we speak and how rarely we arrive. The world around the song has changed. Distance collapsed. A voice can travel farther in a second than it used to travel in a week. None of that fixed the smaller problem. Being reached is not the same as being heard. Being heard is not the same as being taken in. So the song does not survive because it predicted a mute planet. It survives because it still describes a noisy one, full of people missing each other by inches. Sometimes the silence between two people is not empty. It is the sentence neither of them would risk.
3:31

The Most Powerful Part of “The Sound of Silence” Isn’t the Singing. It’s What Happens Between the Words. Dana Winner’s voice is the first thing you notice. Clean. Warm. Held in place. For a minute I listened the way you listen to a good singer: waiting for the next note to land. Then I stopped doing that. The interesting part was not the note. It was the gap after it. That is the odd job this song has always had. It is packed with language and still keeps pointing at the place language does not reach. People talk. People look up. People sit in the same room. Nothing crosses. Winner does not act that idea out. She does not darken the vowel to prove she understands loneliness. She leaves the line where it is and lets it cool. The melody has air around it. The words sit. You can walk into them if you want to. You can also look away. I looked away and landed somewhere private. A message I drafted and never sent. A talk I kept moving to next week. A moment that did come, and I still said the safer thing. That is a quieter kind of isolation than an empty house. You can have company and still fail to get across the few feet between two chairs. Her voice matters because of where it stands. She does not sound swallowed by the quiet. She sounds just outside it, looking in. The sound is beautiful. The thing it is looking at is not. That mismatch is what makes the performance slightly hard to sit with. You come for the tone. The song keeps turning your face toward the cheaper fact: how often we speak and how rarely we arrive. The world around the song has changed. Distance collapsed. A voice can travel farther in a second than it used to travel in a week. None of that fixed the smaller problem. Being reached is not the same as being heard. Being heard is not the same as being taken in. So the song does not survive because it predicted a mute planet. It survives because it still describes a noisy one, full of people missing each other by inches. Sometimes the silence between two people is not empty. It is the sentence neither of them would risk.

Emotion & Music

15,311 görüntüleme • 15 gün önce

Your faith was forged in people who would rather be exterminated than assimilated. A soft version of it, eager to be liked and desperate to fit in, is not the thing they died to hand you. So stop striving to be liked. Stop angling to be loved by a world that drove your fathers into the snow. That world would think no better of the gospel today than it did in 1838. Stop trying to file down every peculiar and glorious edge of the Restoration until the world finally finds you acceptable. It never will. And the wanting of its approval is the slow death of everything your people bled to preserve. I am thinking of the proclamation on the family, and of how many have quietly gone looking for a way around it. Some say it aloud now. Some march under the world's Pride banners and tell themselves it is only love. They have done the quiet arithmetic and concluded that if they give the world this one doctrine, the world will finally stop hating them, finally let them belong, finally call them good. It does not work that way. It has never once worked that way. Understand what the world actually hates, because it is not a single teaching about marriage that it cannot abide. It is the claim. It is the unbearable, scandalous claim that the keys of the priesthood were restored to the earth, that there is a prophet who speaks for God, that this and no other is the authorized house of the Lord. That is the offense. That is what it cannot forgive. You could surrender every doctrine the world finds distasteful, one after another, and you would not buy a single hour of peace, because the thing it objects to is not your position on this or that. It is that you claim to hold the authority of heaven, and it intends to see that claim humbled. The doctrine is only the doorway it is pushing on. The house is what it wants. Embrace the truth. Embrace the battle that has always come with it, because there has always been a battle, and there is one now. It is the oldest war there is, good against evil, light against the dark, and you were born onto its field whether you wished to be or not. You did not inherit a museum. You inherited a war, and a banner, and a people who never once surrendered it. You are a Mormon. The blood of the persecuted is in you, and the truth they died for is in your hands. You are not tourists. You are not spectators. You are the heirs of warriors, and the line they held is now yours to hold. So plant your feet on the ground they bled for. Lift the banner they would not drop.
2:53

Your faith was forged in people who would rather be exterminated than assimilated. A soft version of it, eager to be liked and desperate to fit in, is not the thing they died to hand you. So stop striving to be liked. Stop angling to be loved by a world that drove your fathers into the snow. That world would think no better of the gospel today than it did in 1838. Stop trying to file down every peculiar and glorious edge of the Restoration until the world finally finds you acceptable. It never will. And the wanting of its approval is the slow death of everything your people bled to preserve. I am thinking of the proclamation on the family, and of how many have quietly gone looking for a way around it. Some say it aloud now. Some march under the world's Pride banners and tell themselves it is only love. They have done the quiet arithmetic and concluded that if they give the world this one doctrine, the world will finally stop hating them, finally let them belong, finally call them good. It does not work that way. It has never once worked that way. Understand what the world actually hates, because it is not a single teaching about marriage that it cannot abide. It is the claim. It is the unbearable, scandalous claim that the keys of the priesthood were restored to the earth, that there is a prophet who speaks for God, that this and no other is the authorized house of the Lord. That is the offense. That is what it cannot forgive. You could surrender every doctrine the world finds distasteful, one after another, and you would not buy a single hour of peace, because the thing it objects to is not your position on this or that. It is that you claim to hold the authority of heaven, and it intends to see that claim humbled. The doctrine is only the doorway it is pushing on. The house is what it wants. Embrace the truth. Embrace the battle that has always come with it, because there has always been a battle, and there is one now. It is the oldest war there is, good against evil, light against the dark, and you were born onto its field whether you wished to be or not. You did not inherit a museum. You inherited a war, and a banner, and a people who never once surrendered it. You are a Mormon. The blood of the persecuted is in you, and the truth they died for is in your hands. You are not tourists. You are not spectators. You are the heirs of warriors, and the line they held is now yours to hold. So plant your feet on the ground they bled for. Lift the banner they would not drop.

Kirk Rollins

30,483 görüntüleme • 2 ay önce

Why This Dance Clip Grabs You Before You Think The feeling comes first. Not admiration. Not analysis. A small jolt in the body, as if the beat has already decided you are part of the room. That is the emotion this clip creates. It is not sadness and it is not nostalgia. It is the pleasure of being pulled in. Watch long enough and you stop judging the dancers. You start wanting the same release they have: to stop holding yourself in, to let the music use your shoulders, to stop performing competence and just move. People are drawn to that because modern life trains the opposite. We sit. We keep gestures small. We watch other lives through a screen and rarely enter them. A class like this offers the opposite contract. You do not need to be the best. You only need to join the pulse. Belonging without an interview. Strength without a speech. The pull is also honest. The dancers are not selling mystery. They are sweating, dropping their weight, repeating a phrase until it becomes shared. That repetition is comforting. The brain likes a pattern it can enter. Once the pattern is clear, the viewer’s body starts rehearsing it from the chair. Attraction begins there: not “they are impressive,” but “I recognize this and I want in.” There is vanity in it too, and there is no point pretending otherwise. People want to look alive. They want to feel desired by the moment itself. But underneath the vanity is something plainer. Humans are built to move together. A crowd in time feels safer than a crowd in chaos. That old fact still works on a phone screen. So the clip does not win because it explains dance. It wins because it wakes a hunger most people forget they have: to stop watching and be carried. Has a video ever made you restless in that same way—not impressed, just ready to stand up?
0:23

Why This Dance Clip Grabs You Before You Think The feeling comes first. Not admiration. Not analysis. A small jolt in the body, as if the beat has already decided you are part of the room. That is the emotion this clip creates. It is not sadness and it is not nostalgia. It is the pleasure of being pulled in. Watch long enough and you stop judging the dancers. You start wanting the same release they have: to stop holding yourself in, to let the music use your shoulders, to stop performing competence and just move. People are drawn to that because modern life trains the opposite. We sit. We keep gestures small. We watch other lives through a screen and rarely enter them. A class like this offers the opposite contract. You do not need to be the best. You only need to join the pulse. Belonging without an interview. Strength without a speech. The pull is also honest. The dancers are not selling mystery. They are sweating, dropping their weight, repeating a phrase until it becomes shared. That repetition is comforting. The brain likes a pattern it can enter. Once the pattern is clear, the viewer’s body starts rehearsing it from the chair. Attraction begins there: not “they are impressive,” but “I recognize this and I want in.” There is vanity in it too, and there is no point pretending otherwise. People want to look alive. They want to feel desired by the moment itself. But underneath the vanity is something plainer. Humans are built to move together. A crowd in time feels safer than a crowd in chaos. That old fact still works on a phone screen. So the clip does not win because it explains dance. It wins because it wakes a hunger most people forget they have: to stop watching and be carried. Has a video ever made you restless in that same way—not impressed, just ready to stand up?

Emotion & Music

27,729 görüntüleme • 17 gün önce

my new song “BREAKDOWN.” is out on the 21st of June!!! 🖤🖤🖤 I wrote this poem because it’s been the hardest year for my mental health. In my life I’ve always never felt good enough, it’s just the thing that’s eaten me up. For as long as I can remember i have felt constantly afraid of how quickly my head can turn dark. It’s always been so hard to fight the darkness that i inevitably have. A lot of people will say it’s a phase and it will go away. But it doesn’t and the reality of the situation is I have to find strategies to deal with it. To put it plainly the things I don’t like about myself will probably never change, people tell me one day I’ll come-to terms with them one day but I want that day to be FUCKING NOW. This song is a message to myself to try and exist alongside my insecurities and my darkness by grounding myself and remembering what is real in life and the world is so much bigger than me. Try and get out of your head and notice the world around you, notice the things and people around you. Connect with them, the chances are they probably feel the same. Don’t let the bullshit inside your head consume you. It just wastes precious time. Remember what is real. Help people, be kind, help the world, help yourself. If you think you can’t do it, you can. You can get through this, trust me. Use this poem in a mornin to get u out of bed, use it when youre about to back out of something last minute, use it when you’re at your darkest. It’s got a little bit of light in it. Don’t forget to put your feet in the grass … Mind
0:55

my new song “BREAKDOWN.” is out on the 21st of June!!! 🖤🖤🖤 I wrote this poem because it’s been the hardest year for my mental health. In my life I’ve always never felt good enough, it’s just the thing that’s eaten me up. For as long as I can remember i have felt constantly afraid of how quickly my head can turn dark. It’s always been so hard to fight the darkness that i inevitably have. A lot of people will say it’s a phase and it will go away. But it doesn’t and the reality of the situation is I have to find strategies to deal with it. To put it plainly the things I don’t like about myself will probably never change, people tell me one day I’ll come-to terms with them one day but I want that day to be FUCKING NOW. This song is a message to myself to try and exist alongside my insecurities and my darkness by grounding myself and remembering what is real in life and the world is so much bigger than me. Try and get out of your head and notice the world around you, notice the things and people around you. Connect with them, the chances are they probably feel the same. Don’t let the bullshit inside your head consume you. It just wastes precious time. Remember what is real. Help people, be kind, help the world, help yourself. If you think you can’t do it, you can. You can get through this, trust me. Use this poem in a mornin to get u out of bed, use it when youre about to back out of something last minute, use it when you’re at your darkest. It’s got a little bit of light in it. Don’t forget to put your feet in the grass … Mind

YUNGBLUD

66,786 görüntüleme • 2 yıl önce

🚨 “YOU WERE LIED TO” Millions didn’t take the vaccine out of fear for themselves. They took it to “protect others.” To protect parents. Grandparents. The vulnerable. That was the message. Repeated relentlessly. “Stop the spread.” “Protect your loved ones.” “Do your part.” But now? Voices are emerging saying that claim was never properly proven — and may never have been true in the way it was presented. If that’s the case, then this isn’t a misunderstanding. It’s a breach of trust on a global scale. Because people didn’t just make a medical decision — they made a moral one. And they made it based on what they were told. The real question now isn’t just what happened… It’s why people were so certain when the evidence wasn’t.
1:00

🚨 “YOU WERE LIED TO” Millions didn’t take the vaccine out of fear for themselves. They took it to “protect others.” To protect parents. Grandparents. The vulnerable. That was the message. Repeated relentlessly. “Stop the spread.” “Protect your loved ones.” “Do your part.” But now? Voices are emerging saying that claim was never properly proven — and may never have been true in the way it was presented. If that’s the case, then this isn’t a misunderstanding. It’s a breach of trust on a global scale. Because people didn’t just make a medical decision — they made a moral one. And they made it based on what they were told. The real question now isn’t just what happened… It’s why people were so certain when the evidence wasn’t.

Jim Ferguson

22,972 görüntüleme • 4 ay önce

"F1 has become very popular. what do you think about this change?" lando: "formula one in 2019 was just a very closed sport. you really didn't see much about the people, the drivers, the mechanics, the engineers. you really just saw the show on tv. you saw the racing, and really that was about it. now formula one is a lot more open. there's a lot more fans in the races and paddock. everything i do now, people see. it's on tv, netflix, different series, youtube, it's on every piece of social media, which allows it to grow in a much better way. and i think you see some more fans now that love the people, they love the drivers. they can understand more and relate more to the personalities of each driver in formula one. because it was a very male dominated sport. now most of my fans actually are female and that's an amazing thing that we're able to attract and bring in a younger generation, because they are the future of formula one, and also more variation. so it's a pleasure to be part of that journey"
0:54

"F1 has become very popular. what do you think about this change?" lando: "formula one in 2019 was just a very closed sport. you really didn't see much about the people, the drivers, the mechanics, the engineers. you really just saw the show on tv. you saw the racing, and really that was about it. now formula one is a lot more open. there's a lot more fans in the races and paddock. everything i do now, people see. it's on tv, netflix, different series, youtube, it's on every piece of social media, which allows it to grow in a much better way. and i think you see some more fans now that love the people, they love the drivers. they can understand more and relate more to the personalities of each driver in formula one. because it was a very male dominated sport. now most of my fans actually are female and that's an amazing thing that we're able to attract and bring in a younger generation, because they are the future of formula one, and also more variation. so it's a pleasure to be part of that journey"

ray

28,864 görüntüleme • 2 ay önce

When a Cover Doesn’t Try to Beat the Original Some covers chase the original. The best ones stand close enough to it that you remember why the song mattered in the first place. Covering a song this familiar is harder than it looks. The melody is already inside people. They know where the breath should fall, where the voice should hold back, where the emotion is supposed to tighten before it breaks. Get any of that wrong and the new version doesn’t just sound different - it sounds like a mistake. The challenge isn’t hitting the notes. It’s earning the right to stand in the same room as the original. The soul of the original isn’t the hook or even the lyric. It lives in the restraint. In the space between phrases. In the moment the singer almost says too much and then doesn’t. That tension is what makes the song feel alive rather than merely well-written. The melody itself is deceptively simple. It doesn’t need decoration. Push it too clean and it becomes polite. Push it too raw and it loses its shape. The line has to keep its original curve while still carrying the breath of the person singing it now. That’s where the vocal in this version finds its strength. The singer doesn’t impersonate the original voice. He lets the performance get a little jagged, a little physical. Some phrases sit right on the edge of control. That slight roughness is not a flaw. It is the sound of someone inhabiting the song instead of reciting it. The emotion here is not soft nostalgia. It is compressed energy. You see it in the coat, the stance, the way the body leans into a line before the voice does. The feeling is not trapped in the microphone. It moves across the stage. That is why the performance feels close even on a screen. What this cover changes is the temperature of the song. The original often feels contained, almost cool. This version is warmer, tighter, more present. The band plays with precision but not distance. The singer doesn’t float above the arrangement. He stands inside it. The song doesn’t become bigger. It becomes nearer. What cannot be lost is the original’s sense of hold-and-release. Lose the silence before the rise, and you lose the song. Lose the discipline underneath the emotion, and all you have left is volume. Technique can impress. Restraint is what makes people stay. So the real question is not whether a cover should surpass the original. It is whether it can make you hear the original more clearly - and still feel like something is happening right now.
5:32

When a Cover Doesn’t Try to Beat the Original Some covers chase the original. The best ones stand close enough to it that you remember why the song mattered in the first place. Covering a song this familiar is harder than it looks. The melody is already inside people. They know where the breath should fall, where the voice should hold back, where the emotion is supposed to tighten before it breaks. Get any of that wrong and the new version doesn’t just sound different - it sounds like a mistake. The challenge isn’t hitting the notes. It’s earning the right to stand in the same room as the original. The soul of the original isn’t the hook or even the lyric. It lives in the restraint. In the space between phrases. In the moment the singer almost says too much and then doesn’t. That tension is what makes the song feel alive rather than merely well-written. The melody itself is deceptively simple. It doesn’t need decoration. Push it too clean and it becomes polite. Push it too raw and it loses its shape. The line has to keep its original curve while still carrying the breath of the person singing it now. That’s where the vocal in this version finds its strength. The singer doesn’t impersonate the original voice. He lets the performance get a little jagged, a little physical. Some phrases sit right on the edge of control. That slight roughness is not a flaw. It is the sound of someone inhabiting the song instead of reciting it. The emotion here is not soft nostalgia. It is compressed energy. You see it in the coat, the stance, the way the body leans into a line before the voice does. The feeling is not trapped in the microphone. It moves across the stage. That is why the performance feels close even on a screen. What this cover changes is the temperature of the song. The original often feels contained, almost cool. This version is warmer, tighter, more present. The band plays with precision but not distance. The singer doesn’t float above the arrangement. He stands inside it. The song doesn’t become bigger. It becomes nearer. What cannot be lost is the original’s sense of hold-and-release. Lose the silence before the rise, and you lose the song. Lose the discipline underneath the emotion, and all you have left is volume. Technique can impress. Restraint is what makes people stay. So the real question is not whether a cover should surpass the original. It is whether it can make you hear the original more clearly - and still feel like something is happening right now.

🌷🦋 Love Music 🎶 & Dance 💃🏻🕺🏻

84,998 görüntüleme • 10 gün önce

It’s hard to believe “Beautiful Life” started with someone not wanting to leave. Jonas Berggren wrote it on New Year’s Day in 1994, while he was in the Canary Islands. The song most people remember as pure 90s sunshine came from the last evening of a trip: a good week with friends, a hotel lobby, a sunset, and that slightly sad feeling that arrives when you already know you have to go home. He said the melody just appeared — melody, bass, even a flute line in the chorus, all at once. He hummed it so he wouldn’t forget. On the late flight back to Sweden he kept humming. That detail changes the way the record sits in your ear. “Beautiful Life” is bright. It moves. It is almost impossible to hear without picturing the video’s colors and that slightly over-the-top energy Ace of Base did so well. But there is something warm underneath the rush, like someone trying to stay inside a good hour a little longer than the hour will allow. Berggren had just watched “The Sign” hit No. 1 in America. You might expect the next song to sound like a victory lap. This one doesn’t. It sounds closer to a person looking at a beautiful evening and thinking, I wish this didn’t have to end. John Ballard helped finish the lyrics. Denniz Pop and Max Martin helped build the track at Cheiron. Near the end, gospel voices lift the song — a small group of singers stacked until they sound much bigger than they are. It is the moment the record stops insisting and starts opening. Not a sermon. More like the feeling of a night that is already becoming a memory while you are still in it. That is probably why the song still works. We have all had places we didn’t want to leave, last evenings that were better than they should have been, and weeks that felt complete only when they were almost over. “Beautiful Life” caught one of those hours and put a beat under it. Thirty years later, the sunshine is still what you notice first. The leaving is what makes it linger.
3:01

It’s hard to believe “Beautiful Life” started with someone not wanting to leave. Jonas Berggren wrote it on New Year’s Day in 1994, while he was in the Canary Islands. The song most people remember as pure 90s sunshine came from the last evening of a trip: a good week with friends, a hotel lobby, a sunset, and that slightly sad feeling that arrives when you already know you have to go home. He said the melody just appeared — melody, bass, even a flute line in the chorus, all at once. He hummed it so he wouldn’t forget. On the late flight back to Sweden he kept humming. That detail changes the way the record sits in your ear. “Beautiful Life” is bright. It moves. It is almost impossible to hear without picturing the video’s colors and that slightly over-the-top energy Ace of Base did so well. But there is something warm underneath the rush, like someone trying to stay inside a good hour a little longer than the hour will allow. Berggren had just watched “The Sign” hit No. 1 in America. You might expect the next song to sound like a victory lap. This one doesn’t. It sounds closer to a person looking at a beautiful evening and thinking, I wish this didn’t have to end. John Ballard helped finish the lyrics. Denniz Pop and Max Martin helped build the track at Cheiron. Near the end, gospel voices lift the song — a small group of singers stacked until they sound much bigger than they are. It is the moment the record stops insisting and starts opening. Not a sermon. More like the feeling of a night that is already becoming a memory while you are still in it. That is probably why the song still works. We have all had places we didn’t want to leave, last evenings that were better than they should have been, and weeks that felt complete only when they were almost over. “Beautiful Life” caught one of those hours and put a beat under it. Thirty years later, the sunshine is still what you notice first. The leaving is what makes it linger.

Music over time🎻

31,881 görüntüleme • 8 gün önce

They were talking about a 5:30 a.m. load-out. Then somebody counted them in, and the room changed. That little detail is what makes this clip interesting to me. There is no big story being acted out, no expensive set, no attempt to make the song look like something it isn't. You are watching people in a studio talking about getting the gear out at 5:30 in the morning, and then, almost casually, they start playing. For a few seconds it feels more like work than performance. Then Timothy B. Schmit starts singing, and suddenly the whole thing makes sense. “I Can't Tell You Why” has always sounded like a song that is trying not to disturb anybody. Even when the words are about a relationship that is falling apart, the music doesn't push the argument forward. It seems to sit in the room and wait. The bass doesn't hurry. The drums don't demand attention. Schmit's voice is soft enough that you almost have to lean toward it. Maybe that's why the studio setting suits it better than a traditional music video would. There is something very believable about hearing a song this restrained from a group that spent years making records with very little room for mistakes. You can see the machinery of the session around it: people talking, instruments waiting, the practical business of making a record. And then the song arrives without announcing itself. I like that. A lot of music videos from that period tried to turn a song into a little movie. This clip does something almost opposite. It leaves the song alone. You get the sense that these musicians could have been there at an unreasonable hour, tired, surrounded by cables and equipment, and someone simply said, “Let's do it.” Then they count. And Schmit sings about something people often struggle to explain even when they have plenty of time to explain it: why two people who still care about each other can keep hurting each other. There isn't always a clean reason. Sometimes the relationship has simply reached a place where knowing what is wrong doesn't tell you how to fix it. That is probably the most honest thing about the song. It doesn't solve the problem. It doesn't even pretend to understand it completely. It just stays with the question. And maybe the 5:30 a.m. conversation belongs in the song more than we realize. Everyone eventually has to pack up and leave. The equipment gets loaded. The lights go off. Another night's work is finished. But before they go, there is this small piece of music that refuses to behave like a job that can simply be checked off a list. Someone counts four beats. They play. For a few minutes, nobody needs to tell anybody why.
4:40

They were talking about a 5:30 a.m. load-out. Then somebody counted them in, and the room changed. That little detail is what makes this clip interesting to me. There is no big story being acted out, no expensive set, no attempt to make the song look like something it isn't. You are watching people in a studio talking about getting the gear out at 5:30 in the morning, and then, almost casually, they start playing. For a few seconds it feels more like work than performance. Then Timothy B. Schmit starts singing, and suddenly the whole thing makes sense. “I Can't Tell You Why” has always sounded like a song that is trying not to disturb anybody. Even when the words are about a relationship that is falling apart, the music doesn't push the argument forward. It seems to sit in the room and wait. The bass doesn't hurry. The drums don't demand attention. Schmit's voice is soft enough that you almost have to lean toward it. Maybe that's why the studio setting suits it better than a traditional music video would. There is something very believable about hearing a song this restrained from a group that spent years making records with very little room for mistakes. You can see the machinery of the session around it: people talking, instruments waiting, the practical business of making a record. And then the song arrives without announcing itself. I like that. A lot of music videos from that period tried to turn a song into a little movie. This clip does something almost opposite. It leaves the song alone. You get the sense that these musicians could have been there at an unreasonable hour, tired, surrounded by cables and equipment, and someone simply said, “Let's do it.” Then they count. And Schmit sings about something people often struggle to explain even when they have plenty of time to explain it: why two people who still care about each other can keep hurting each other. There isn't always a clean reason. Sometimes the relationship has simply reached a place where knowing what is wrong doesn't tell you how to fix it. That is probably the most honest thing about the song. It doesn't solve the problem. It doesn't even pretend to understand it completely. It just stays with the question. And maybe the 5:30 a.m. conversation belongs in the song more than we realize. Everyone eventually has to pack up and leave. The equipment gets loaded. The lights go off. Another night's work is finished. But before they go, there is this small piece of music that refuses to behave like a job that can simply be checked off a list. Someone counts four beats. They play. For a few minutes, nobody needs to tell anybody why.

Emotion & Music

16,567 görüntüleme • 7 gün önce

Steve Jobs on how to build a great brand After re-joining Apple in 1996, Steve Jobs announced the “Think different” campaign with the following statement: “To me, marketing is about values. This is a very complicated and noisy world. We’re not going to get a chance to get people to remember much about us. No company is. So we have to be really clear on what we want them to know about us.” He cites Nike as one of the greatest jobs of marketing the universe has ever seen: “Remember, Nike sells a commodity—they sell shoes! And yet when you think of Nike, you feel something different than a shoe company. In their ads, they don’t ever talk about the product. They don’t ever tell you about their air soles and why they are better than Reebok’s air soles. What does Nike do in their advertising? They honor great athletes, and they honor great athletics. That’s who they are, that’s what they are about.” Marketing guru Seth Godin also used Nike as an example of great branding in a blog post a few years ago: “If Nike announced that they were opening a hotel, you’d have a pretty good guess about what it would be like. But if Hyatt announced that they were going to start making shoes, you would have NO IDEA WHATSOEVER what those shoes would be like. That’s because Nike owns a brand and Hyatt simply owns real estate.” Jobs goes on to explain how the Apple team arrived at the “Think Different” campaign: “Our customers want to know who is Apple and what is it that we stand for. Where do we fit in this world? What we’re about isn’t making boxes for people to get their jobs done—although we do that well. We do that better than almost anybody, in some cases. But Apple is about something more than that. Apple at the core—its core value—is that we believe people with passion can change the world for the better… And that those people who are crazy enough to think that they can change the world are the ones who actually do.” He continues: “And so, what we’re going to do in our first brand marketing campaign in several years is to get back to that core value. A lot of things have changed. The market is in a totally different place than it was a decade ago, and Apple is totally different… the products and the distribution strategy and the manufacturing are totally different. And we understand that. But values and core values—those things shouldn’t change. The things that Apple believed in, at its core, are the same things that Apple really stands for today.” Apple’s “Think Different” campaign was designed to honor those people who have changed the world. And as Jobs so eloquently put it: “Some of them are living. Some of them are not. But the ones that aren’t, you’ll know that if they ever used a computer, it would’ve been a Mac. The theme of the campaign is ‘Think Different.’ It’s honoring the people who think different and who move this world forward. And it is what we are about. It touches the soul of this company.” If you’re looking to create a great brand, I’d start out by asking: what are your core values and what does your company honor?
6:48

Steve Jobs on how to build a great brand After re-joining Apple in 1996, Steve Jobs announced the “Think different” campaign with the following statement: “To me, marketing is about values. This is a very complicated and noisy world. We’re not going to get a chance to get people to remember much about us. No company is. So we have to be really clear on what we want them to know about us.” He cites Nike as one of the greatest jobs of marketing the universe has ever seen: “Remember, Nike sells a commodity—they sell shoes! And yet when you think of Nike, you feel something different than a shoe company. In their ads, they don’t ever talk about the product. They don’t ever tell you about their air soles and why they are better than Reebok’s air soles. What does Nike do in their advertising? They honor great athletes, and they honor great athletics. That’s who they are, that’s what they are about.” Marketing guru Seth Godin also used Nike as an example of great branding in a blog post a few years ago: “If Nike announced that they were opening a hotel, you’d have a pretty good guess about what it would be like. But if Hyatt announced that they were going to start making shoes, you would have NO IDEA WHATSOEVER what those shoes would be like. That’s because Nike owns a brand and Hyatt simply owns real estate.” Jobs goes on to explain how the Apple team arrived at the “Think Different” campaign: “Our customers want to know who is Apple and what is it that we stand for. Where do we fit in this world? What we’re about isn’t making boxes for people to get their jobs done—although we do that well. We do that better than almost anybody, in some cases. But Apple is about something more than that. Apple at the core—its core value—is that we believe people with passion can change the world for the better… And that those people who are crazy enough to think that they can change the world are the ones who actually do.” He continues: “And so, what we’re going to do in our first brand marketing campaign in several years is to get back to that core value. A lot of things have changed. The market is in a totally different place than it was a decade ago, and Apple is totally different… the products and the distribution strategy and the manufacturing are totally different. And we understand that. But values and core values—those things shouldn’t change. The things that Apple believed in, at its core, are the same things that Apple really stands for today.” Apple’s “Think Different” campaign was designed to honor those people who have changed the world. And as Jobs so eloquently put it: “Some of them are living. Some of them are not. But the ones that aren’t, you’ll know that if they ever used a computer, it would’ve been a Mac. The theme of the campaign is ‘Think Different.’ It’s honoring the people who think different and who move this world forward. And it is what we are about. It touches the soul of this company.” If you’re looking to create a great brand, I’d start out by asking: what are your core values and what does your company honor?

Startup Archive

338,105 görüntüleme • 2 yıl önce

For Bosnia and Herzegovina, last night’s victory hits different. It wasn't just a ticket to the World Cup. It's a quiet, fierce reclamation of everything they once tried to take away: our identity, our right to exist as a people and a country, our very lives and land. We still live our history. In the 1992–1995 war, Bosnians faced a systematic campaign of destruction. Over 100,000 people were killed. Entire towns and villages were cleansed. The siege of Sarajevo, the capital, lasted 1,425 days, the longest in modern history, with civilians shelled daily while the world watched. And then Srebrenica: in July 1995, more than 8,000 Bosniak men and boys were slaughtered in genocide. It wasn’t random violence. It was calculated to break our spirit and remove any trace of a sovereign, multi-ethnic Bosnia and Herzegovina. They wanted no Bosnia. Some voices even today deny the genocide or question whether this country should exist at all. That’s why, when the national team wins, it feels like our country exhales a breath it’s been holding for thirty years. The players on the pitch aren’t just athletes; they’re sons of survivors, children of refugees, men who carry the stories of parents who buried loved ones or rebuilt homes from rubble. When the stadium erupts with “Bosna! Bosna!”, it’s not only celebration. It’s defiance. It’s proof that we refused to disappear. Last night’s win, whatever the score, whatever the opponent, became one more chapter in that story of survival. For a moment, the pain of the past doesn’t vanish, but it steps aside so joy can breathe. Our children are singing, our flag is flying high. That’s why it hits different. Football, for us, has always been more than a game. It’s memory. It’s resistance. It’s love for a country that refused to die. And every victory like last night’s reminds the world, and reminds us, that Bosnia and Herzegovina is not a footnote in history. It is a living, breathing, scoring, celebrating nation. Love from Sarajevo! | #FIFAWorldCup #BosniaAndHerzegovina #BIHITA #Dzeko #FootballTwitter
0:37

For Bosnia and Herzegovina, last night’s victory hits different. It wasn't just a ticket to the World Cup. It's a quiet, fierce reclamation of everything they once tried to take away: our identity, our right to exist as a people and a country, our very lives and land. We still live our history. In the 1992–1995 war, Bosnians faced a systematic campaign of destruction. Over 100,000 people were killed. Entire towns and villages were cleansed. The siege of Sarajevo, the capital, lasted 1,425 days, the longest in modern history, with civilians shelled daily while the world watched. And then Srebrenica: in July 1995, more than 8,000 Bosniak men and boys were slaughtered in genocide. It wasn’t random violence. It was calculated to break our spirit and remove any trace of a sovereign, multi-ethnic Bosnia and Herzegovina. They wanted no Bosnia. Some voices even today deny the genocide or question whether this country should exist at all. That’s why, when the national team wins, it feels like our country exhales a breath it’s been holding for thirty years. The players on the pitch aren’t just athletes; they’re sons of survivors, children of refugees, men who carry the stories of parents who buried loved ones or rebuilt homes from rubble. When the stadium erupts with “Bosna! Bosna!”, it’s not only celebration. It’s defiance. It’s proof that we refused to disappear. Last night’s win, whatever the score, whatever the opponent, became one more chapter in that story of survival. For a moment, the pain of the past doesn’t vanish, but it steps aside so joy can breathe. Our children are singing, our flag is flying high. That’s why it hits different. Football, for us, has always been more than a game. It’s memory. It’s resistance. It’s love for a country that refused to die. And every victory like last night’s reminds the world, and reminds us, that Bosnia and Herzegovina is not a footnote in history. It is a living, breathing, scoring, celebrating nation. Love from Sarajevo! | #FIFAWorldCup #BosniaAndHerzegovina #BIHITA #Dzeko #FootballTwitter

Ika Ferrer Gotić

30,746 görüntüleme • 5 ay önce

A 45-Year-Old Song Still Stops People Cold Lucy Thomas did not try to modernize Woman in Love. She trusted it. The song was written in 1980 by Barry and Robin Gibb and first recorded by Barbra Streisand. It is a ballad about a woman who will do anything to pull someone into her world. The emotion is simple. That is why it is dangerous. If the singer overacts, it turns syrupy. If she underplays it, it disappears. Lucy does neither. Her official video has passed 10 million views for a reason that has little to do with trends. The arrangement stays close to the original: slow build, a chorus that opens like a confession, no frantic cuts, no concept piled on top of the melody. The camera stays with her face and her voice. You are asked to listen. What people keep noticing is the instrument itself. The lower register is warm and slightly smoky. The high notes rise without strain. She does not shout to prove power. She places the line and lets it land. That control is what makes older listeners compare her to Streisand without treating the comparison as a contest. They are not saying she replaced the original. They are saying the song still works when someone actually sings it. The comments tell the rest of the story. People in their sixties, eighties, even nineties write that they knew the Streisand version when it was new, then found themselves pulled back in. Younger viewers hear the same track as if it had just been written. That overlap matters. A hit does not survive 45 years because it was famous once. It survives because the feeling inside it did not expire. This is the opposite of a “updated classic.” Lucy does not dress the song in current production so it can pass for new. She treats it as finished work. The MV’s warm light and unhurried pacing reinforce that choice. Nothing distracts from the vocal. Nothing begs for a trend cycle. That is also why the performance feels connected to a larger idea about music. Songs that last are not locked to the year they were released. They wait for the right interpreter. Streisand gave Woman in Love its first life. Lucy Thomas gave it another without erasing the first. A golden voice helps. Restraint helps more. She sings as if the lyric still costs something. That is why an old Bee Gees melody, carried by a young English singer on a quiet set, can still make strangers stop scrolling and stay until the last note.
0:45

A 45-Year-Old Song Still Stops People Cold Lucy Thomas did not try to modernize Woman in Love. She trusted it. The song was written in 1980 by Barry and Robin Gibb and first recorded by Barbra Streisand. It is a ballad about a woman who will do anything to pull someone into her world. The emotion is simple. That is why it is dangerous. If the singer overacts, it turns syrupy. If she underplays it, it disappears. Lucy does neither. Her official video has passed 10 million views for a reason that has little to do with trends. The arrangement stays close to the original: slow build, a chorus that opens like a confession, no frantic cuts, no concept piled on top of the melody. The camera stays with her face and her voice. You are asked to listen. What people keep noticing is the instrument itself. The lower register is warm and slightly smoky. The high notes rise without strain. She does not shout to prove power. She places the line and lets it land. That control is what makes older listeners compare her to Streisand without treating the comparison as a contest. They are not saying she replaced the original. They are saying the song still works when someone actually sings it. The comments tell the rest of the story. People in their sixties, eighties, even nineties write that they knew the Streisand version when it was new, then found themselves pulled back in. Younger viewers hear the same track as if it had just been written. That overlap matters. A hit does not survive 45 years because it was famous once. It survives because the feeling inside it did not expire. This is the opposite of a “updated classic.” Lucy does not dress the song in current production so it can pass for new. She treats it as finished work. The MV’s warm light and unhurried pacing reinforce that choice. Nothing distracts from the vocal. Nothing begs for a trend cycle. That is also why the performance feels connected to a larger idea about music. Songs that last are not locked to the year they were released. They wait for the right interpreter. Streisand gave Woman in Love its first life. Lucy Thomas gave it another without erasing the first. A golden voice helps. Restraint helps more. She sings as if the lyric still costs something. That is why an old Bee Gees melody, carried by a young English singer on a quiet set, can still make strangers stop scrolling and stay until the last note.

🌷🦋 Love Music 🎶 & Dance 💃🏻🕺🏻

21,410 görüntüleme • 5 gün önce