This company has recently been added on Expopedia, the tradefair service finder. Visit our website for more information.

Grass Roots
Giesshübelstrasse 62b
8045 Zurich (Switzerland)
More information about Grass Roots …

An overview of the available activities for Grass Roots …

• Events / exhibition organisation

Understanding the philosophical underpinnings for the Culture of Death is key to building a Culture of Life and a Civilization of Love. We’ll take a look at these philosophical Roots on a consistent basis.

Pope John Paul II writes in Veritatis Slendor (The Splendor of Truth):

“32. Certain currents of modern thought have gone so far as to exalt freedom to such an extent that it becomes an absolute, which would then be the source of values. This is the direction taken by doctrines which have lost the sense of the transcendent or which are explicitly atheist. The individual conscience is accorded the status of a supreme tribunal of moral judgment which hands down categorical and infallible decisions about good and evil. To the affirmation that one has a duty to follow one’s conscience is unduly added the affirmation that one’s moral judgment is true merely by the fact that it has its origin in the conscience. But in this way the inescapable claims of truth disappear, yielding their place to a criterion of sincerity, authenticity and “being at peace with oneself”, so much so that some have come to adopt a radically subjectivistic conception of moral judgment.

“These different notions are at the origin of currents of thought which posit a radical opposition between moral law and conscience, and between nature and freedom.”

Mrs Angela Goodborn, Manjula’s gynaecologist and pre-natal specialist at New Cross Hospital in Wolverhampton, had been listening to us for the past hour. And to me for the past 10 minutes.

Looking at our harried faces, she came around the desk and put an arm around each one of us and said, “this is normal Jim, Manjula. Nuclear families are prone to an increase in the number of squabbles they get into during a pregnancy, despite their obvious love for each other; blame it on the hormones”.

After a pause, she continued, “And the phenonmenon that you are referring to Jim, of you continuing to put on weight while Manjula is pregnant, is something we commonly refer to as ’sympathetic pregnancy’, where the caring husband eats to give his wife company, and in the process continues to gain weight as well. However, let me warn you Jim that you need to be careful. Otherwise, at the end of term, Manjula will deliver and almost immediately lose a significant part of the weight that she has put on. You on the other hand, will not. The reason why I am sharing this with you, is that I see a number of cases where this leads to even more misunderstandings and differences later on.”

After a while, we stood up, bade our good byes and walked out. On our way home, as advised by Dr Goodburn, we stopped by at West Park. Dr Goodburn had said, “whenever possible, take a stroll in the park. It will relax you”. And so, we were here. We were good patients, Manjula and I. Of course we had had no option but to.

Early on in the pregnancy both of us had realised that while we had seen many babies being born and growing up around us when we were young, we really knew nothing about pregnancy and childbirth. Even more alarming to us was the fact that there was no mother, aunt, sister or family midwife to turn to with our questions or even for emotional support. All these roles and more had to be taken up by the good Dr Goodburn as Manjula passed through – as we were later told - a rather difficult pregnancy.

Where she couldn’t help however was in helping us resolve an ongoing debate and subject of deliberation through most of the 10-months that we waited for our first born to appear. Out identity. And what would be his / hers.

“I want a boy, not a girl”, said Manjula vehemently. “Girls, my mother always would share, are like treasures that families nurture and hold in their custody for someone else to enjoy. A son, on the other hand, never goes away. He stays yours forever.”

“That doesn’t really make sense, Manjula. Besides, I am really not interested in having a son who will carry forward the family name. Look at yourself, haven’t you chosen to continue to carry your maiden name even after you have gotten married? Have I ever complained about that? Besides, I have always dreamt of having a little girl who I could call my own. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

“I haven’t chosen to keep  my maiden name, it’s just that your family has decided to change the spelling of Ghose to Ghosh, which linguistically and culturally is incorrect. While the former is a Kulin Kayatha, the second is used by people who are engaged in the sweat-meat selling business. I don’t see why I should embrace something that you are not, and which I definitely will not be!”, Manjula affirmed.

However, it ran somewhat deeper than that. The reasons given by her not to have a girl were closer to her reality and understanding of the truth than to anything else. Manjula silently but resolutely held on to her past. Her reality. Her maiden name. And the fact that, 19 Baithukhanna 2nd lane, now a far off place, in a far off land, continued to be her home in every discussion we had, and would have in the future.

For now, what followed, was two parallel sets of purchases for almost everything we considered necessary as we prepared for the new member of our family: bedspreads, pillows, clothes, diapers, dolls, rattles, even a pram. Everything I would buy was pink. Everything she would buy was blue. We even had a list of 20 alternative name between us, 10 of either gender. Everthing I would put up over the weekend in what would become our child’s room would by Friday, change completely in colour scheme and decor. In this one instance, neither of us heeded the advice given to us by Dr Goodburn, “Don’t be in a rush. You should wait for the child to come, and then decide on these things. You should thank God that all the tests have so far shown that the child is perfectly normal”.

That wasn’t the only thing that came between us. It was toward the end of the eighth month, when Manjula and I were everyday counting moments, hours and days toward holding our newborn in our arms that she said, “Soumya” – the fact that the rest of the world called me Jim, didn’t really matter to her – “will our child really know that he is an Indian? Will he learn to speak Bengali like we do or will he grow up to be someone who will never know that he is an Indian? Someone who has never been to India, never known our culture, our religion, our festivals, our relationships, out ties…will we never go home?”

“She, Manjula, she not he”, I said referrring to our longstanding debate. “Our daughter will be British. She will carry a British passport, receive the finest English education and grow up to study at Oxford or Cambridge. Our daughter will be a lady”, I beamed.

“But what about my other questions, Soumya? What about India?”, she said, with her eyes filling up with tears as she looked up and searched my face for an answer.

I didn’t really have a convincing answer then, and I don’t think I have one now, after Manjula has gone. The question of our roots, of our identity as people, as members of a family and as Indians continued to lie unanswered between us for many, many years. And when we did think we found the answer, we realised that it was as far from the truth as when we started on our quest. But for more of that later.

For the moment, I gently wrapped my arms around them and softly carressing her hair, kissed her tears away. “Shush, or our baby will be sad. Remember what Dr Goodburn says, ‘She can now feel your hunger, taste your happiness and wallow in your pain and sadness’. Now, we don’t want our daughter to be unhappy do we? We will worry about such things as her identity later. There’s plenty of time. Besides, her first and foremost identity will always be that she is our daughter. Manjula and Soumybrata Ghosh’s daughter. Everything else is secondary.”

Here’s this track from 04_QwertyMusique_MononuclÇose_Nip_Wety, WATA DOPE BEAT! The vidz an experiment i created…enjoy. =¡=

I’ve gotten some requests, um urging me to post on the Traditional German Christmas Season and its Traditional German Seasonal Activities (copyright pending 2009).  Do you think that’s too bulky of a title to merit copyrighting?  I suppose I could shorten it to TGCSaiTGSA.  Yes, I think that might be wise.  We here at wingandnest don’t want to spawn any cultural confusion. 

In any case, it is Christmas (Merry Christmas!  Fröhliche Weihnachten!  God Jul!), and here I sit on my couch with my computer on my lap.  Normal day.  Except today, you’ll have to picture me almost lost within a glorious jumble of absolute rubbish: new toys, old toys, Christmas chocolates, ornaments that have “fallen” from the tree, assorted coffee mugs, torn shreds of paper, some coats and two sleepy fatcats.  Well, the fatcats aren’t rubbish.  But they are fuzzy and blend in quite well. 

There are a lot of traditional Christmas traditions* that I have taken over from my own girlhood:  Swedish Krydd bread, ginger cookies, and celebrating our small family gift giving on Christmas morning.  

*…wow, I’m on a roll with the catchy wording today.  What’s next? “Fun Winter Funstuff?” 

But that’s not what you’re interested in!  You want the German stuff!  Get on with the OOOMPA-OOOMPA music already!  Here, for your reading pleasure, is my definitive list of TGCSaiTGSA: 

1. The German Weihnachtsmarkt. (Christmas Market)  It is a matter of pride in Germany: is your town big enough to have a Christmas market?  Because if not… man, you must live in the middle of nowhere.  Despite the fact that even most small towns have dinky, sad little Christmas markets, most people travel – sometimes great distances – to pack themselves into the crowds of similarly minded market-goers like sausage in its casing and peruse the wares being sold in the big cities, like Hamburg and Munich.  Not to be outdone, I went to Hamburg with my posse.  Here they are, fabulous every one…

they're all laughing at me for taking pictures of everything like a tourist.

The markets are temporary, yet the stands that are set up look sturdy, like little cabins with open fronts and lots of evergreen boughs and lights decorating the facades.  Here, look: 

Hamburg Weihnachtsmarkt, Wednesday morning. Already lots of people.

At the Weihnachtsmarkt, you can stand around getting drunk on mulled wine in the middle of the day without anyone noticing.  Mmm… in Germany, Christmas is permissive.  You can also buy all kinds of bewildering things, from high-quality, hand-made stuff… 

booties! made you look!

to totally chinzy crap… 

colorful is the new classy

to irresistable fried foods, baked goods, roasted chestnuts… yeah, I think it’s safe to say that the Traditional German Christmas Market is at least 90% about eating and imbibing, preferably if it’s any combination of warm, sweet, fattening or alcoholic.  Look! 

Oh yes, these are the best french fries to be had, anywhere, ever.

warm, carmelized roasted almonds

those are filled with marshmallow fluff.

Oh yeah, they're deep-frying something in there for sure

the only semi-healthy thing I ate all day! Roasted chestnuts, man. Starch.

 The Christmas market is a blast, no matter how much worthless crap they are shilling, because it is about friends.  It is the place you go with your good friends to ring in the Christmas season, to stand around and enjoy the cold with your hands wrapped around something warm, a place to bring children to gape at all the colors and crafts and toys.  It is also cool because, for every stand selling worthless ugly plastic, there is another one that sells really lovely, handcrafted wooden toys, or jewelry, or handmade soap.  If there’s one thing I love about my Germany, it’s the Weihnachtsmarkt. 

 2. Advent.  In Germany, advent – or the celebration of the four Sundays leading up to Christmas – is still a big deal, and is observed even in families that don’t generally go to church.  Almost everyone has an advent wreath… 

third advent Sunday

and each Sunday, one more of the four candles is lit.  People get together to have Christmas tea (usually some form of red fruit tea with cinnamon and orange, although there are hundreds of variations) and cookies.  In any home with children (and in many without), you’ll also find an advent calendar.  They come in all shapes and sizes, from individually hand-wrapped little presents on a long piece of red yarn to pre-packaged playmobil pirate-themed calenders.  Joshua got one of both, lucky piggy; his godmother Katrin sent him the playmobil one, not knowing that Bine, his grandma, had just gotten done wrapping 24 little packages and hanging them on strings.  In general, Germans seem to be really into the anticipation of Christmas.  I’d always thought that Americans took the prize in that category, but with all of the day counting, candle lighting and little presents – they even celebrate Nikolaus on Dec. 6th, a day celebrating St. Nicolas… NAT-ur-ally by way of getting chocolate and small presents in your (theoretically polished) boots – I think that Germany might take the cake.  Although I’ve never experienced Christmas in Rumania, so I could be mistaken, I suppose.  It’s happened before, according to Martin.  But then, Martin’s been wrong about me being wrong, so… grain of salt. 

3. The three days of Christmas.  Today is not Christmas Day, as many of you might erroneously think.  Today is the first day of Christmas.  Wait, wait – let me back up and explain.  Germans celebrate their main Christmas festivities on what we call Christmas Eve, or “Holy Night” (Heiligabend), as they refer to it.  It’s the day with most of the church services, pageants, choir concerts and the obligatory Big Feast.  After dinner, the children of the house hide until the presents have been brought out.  When all the presents have been placed in their proper spot – which is not usually under the tree, but rather on a small table – they have to sing outside the door to the living room until their parents end the torture and let them dive into their gifts.  This set up can be fairly harrowing for the kids.  They have to eat a long meal with multiple courses and then are forced to sing Christmas carols.  I have the feeling that some kids might not be able to handle the inner turmoil.  We had presents BEFORE dinner, oh yes.  Here, look! 

FIRETRUCK!

everyone was very civilized

see how Joshua is not having a meltdown?

I only got this crappy picture of our tree. Sigh.

So there’s Heiligabend and then there’s the first AND second day of Christmas.  I’m not sure what the second day of Christmas is all about – isn’t Boxing Day in Britain also the day after Christmas?  My theory is that the Germans are brilliant when it comes to… well, a number of things, really – but they’re also really good at figuring out ways to get more paid holidays.  Bavaria has the most with thirteen days off, most of them religious.  This always strikes me as odd, since Germany is not particularly church-going or devout.  

Alright – my definitive list is not done, but I have most definitively run out of time to write, so I’ll have to continue tomorrow, on the second day of Christmas.  Hey – everyone will have the day off, it shouldn’t be a problem, right? 

25th December 1962 – our first Christmas together. I rolled over onto my back on the rug. The fire-place was roaring its welcome warmth into the room. Welcome, as this was one of the coldest winters that the UK had seen in the past couple of decades. The cold snap had been so bad that the water had frozen in the pipes and all one could see was a blanket of dark, slushy white.

I looked over at Manjula lying asleep on the bed and smiled. She was everything that I had wanted. Happy, patient, fun loving, uncomplicated and caring – all the virtues that I once had, but which had started to fray at the edges after a decade of bachelorhood in the UK and nearly a decade of unnecessary hardship at home. She offered me the constant balm that my heart and soul ready needed, and had yearned for all these years.

Yes, Manjula had lived up to her childhood promise. She was the first child of the conservative Ghose family who had ridden an aeroplane and travelled alone: had learnt a foreign language; started working; and most importantly, had taken the bold step of coming away from the warm cocoon of protection that her home had provided all these years. This was not an easy decision. I should know. I had been through the same journey myself. But when she was coming away some six months after we had married, long after I had come way to rejoin my work, all I could share with her was the assurance that everything would be okay. That I would make it okay.

Many years later, I learnt that my parents were not as confident as I was. In fact, my mother still recalled the conversation she had had with Manjula on the eve of her departure to the Old Blighty.

“Soumyabrata”, my mother had said calling Manjula aside, “is a wonderful person. But he has been alone for many years. And people do really need companionship when they live alone. We really don’t know what Soumya might have gotten himself into; how he lives or what he does. It is for you to carve out your own destiny. Consider this journey equal to your diving into a deep, dark, bottomless pool. If you negotiate the currents successfully, you will come out trumps and everyone – including us – will love you; if you do not, don’t come back to tell us that we hadn’t warned you.”

Manjula, had listened to these words of advice very intently. After a while, she had smiled and turned away. Her faith – in God, in her Karma, in me and most crucially herself – was something, she was sure, would pull her through whatever the challenge. And it did. She travelled from Kolkata to Cairo. From Cairo to Geneva. And from Geneva to London all on her own. For a 21-year old girl who had never gone down to the corner-shop alone, this was indeed astounding.

What was equally astounding was the fact that I never heard her complain or refer to this conversation. Not once. Never in the 46 years that we were to be married.

She also didn’t tell me that her parents, till the evening before she walked out of the safety of her house, reasoned with her, pleaded with her and virtually begged her to reconsider her decision to walk into the unknown. But Manjula, was never one to back out of a committment.

Shaken out of my reverie by the sound of her voice softly asking me a question, I looked at her as she said, “Soumya, are you happy you married me?… For a moment there you looked quite lost, unhappy, very far away…”

I thought for a moment and looked around at what had been a bachelor pad for many years. The furniture was now polished and shiny, flowers adorned the mantlepiece, a photograph of the two of us sat on the sideboard and smiled back at us. My life now had a purpose. And, I felt warm, happy and content.

“Yes, why do you ask?”

She thought for a while and said, “I just wanted to know. The women here are so pretty. You could have married any one of them. Why did you decide to go all the way back to India and choose me?”

She was right. There were many girls whom I could have married – Dorothy, Pauline, Charlie and Maria – but I chose not to. Each time I was with them, each time I thought of getting serious and possibly settling down, I thought of my future; my children, who would never know their country, their grandparents, their identity. Me. I thought of all my colleagues who I had seen retire and move into old age homes abandoned by their children, and often by their spouse. And I yearned for what I had seen growing up. Joyful ties between generations. Sharing. Caring. And a bond that seemed to last forever, between the partners and their progeny….but I couldn’t share this with her. Not yet.

I looked at Manjula and smiled, “because, it was destined”.

One of the first movies we had watched together soon after we were married was ‘Balika Badhu’ or the ‘Child Bride’, a wonderful tale based on a story by Sarat Chandra Chattopadhyay. I remember sitting there in the darkness, with my mother sitting between us, telling myself that it was only a matter of time before Manjula and I could spend as much time together as we wanted – with no interruptions. And no barriers between us. I also remember being accused of cradle snatching by my friends once they knew that there was a 17-year age gap between us. Manjula never allowed me to feel this or for it to get in our way.

Neither of us knew then that the coming of spring would bring with it glad tidings of great joy. Manjula was soon to be declared heavy with child. And I, the nomad, would suddenly find a whole new purpose to my life.

It was on one of those heady days soon after the news had been broken to us that I came home and handed Manjula the keys to our new house.

“Here, take this, this is yours!”

“What is this, Soumya?” She asked.

“Keys silly! keys to your new house; our new house. Yours and mine and our little angels!.” I was sure she was a girl.

The days, weeks and months that followed seemed to pass in a rush. True to her upbringing, Manjula slowly but surely had helped put our lives on even keel and 87 Norfolk Road, Pennfields, Wolverhampton, Staffs suddenly became the centre of our lives. We settled down - or so I thought – we bought a car, I moved to a new job, we gained our British nationality and consequently, gave up our old lives in preference to the new.

We looked forward with expectation to every new day. The stirrings of the past, the pain and anguish that had seemed to have become a part and parcel of my existence, had melted into nothingness. Manjula had brought me back full cirle. And life was good.

Beautiful young people are accidents of nature, but beautiful old people are works of art. ~ Eleanor Roosevelt

Sarah & Emily, 1998

I see proof of these words and this idea daily in my own family. I have two of the most magnificent daughters one could ever wish for in a single lifetime. Each one is beautifully diverse in their uniqueness and quest for the essence of life in its fullest. Blossoming year after year as a spring flowers do, gaining confidence from season to season. Intelligent, vibrant, inquisitive, creative – they are goal oriented and achievers, yet in chorus able to consume life’s elixir in harmony with all things good.

Gus & Mable, 1990

At the other end of the continuum, my grandparents were among the original artwork born out of the depression era dust-bowl. Worn and weathered from knowing nothing but hard work and struggle their entire lives, they stood with those who were both open handed and without a doubt open armed. Formal education was unfamiliar to these exhausted souls, but wisdom fraught with experience was abundant. They left their mark on society through the lives they touched, through the lives they guided, the way they knew how, by the sweat and toil of the brow, the perseverance, and by the honest, trustworthy, dependable character traits they imparted on those fortunate enough to have with them, crossed paths.

Santa came through today fresh from South Africa. Over some milk and cookies, he put me on this dope band he has on repeat in the sleigh: the originally Johannesburg based BLK JKS . Snooping around the Secretly Canadian website- the label that also signed the currently hot Yeasayer, I came across this cut Molalatladi (meaning, Rainbow). The song elucidates what BLK JKS band bio describes as an “entangling of  township blues, fringe jazz and renegade dub — into the DNA of prog”. I get excited thinking about the kind of live show these guys must throw down (hint hint Seattle promoters) . Cop their album After Robots at Secretly Canadian, and be easy with that egg-nog….

Here is the recently released video for Molalatladi

He held one end of the long thread in his left hand, between his thumb and his index finger. Tightly. As if his life hung by it.

I have been away for a while. And I have been away in a way that I haven’t been away before. On my return, folks have been impressed, surprised and even suspicious about my being away for twenty days. Mostly, because I did not do what we do before we go away for a while. Social norms are such.

I did not make a big announcement of my absence of my being away. I did not tell anyone where I was going. I did not say why. I did not say how. I left my laptop behind. I left my phones behind. I even left my camera behind. I went alone. I didn’t drive. Apart from single-cell powered wrist-watch, I did not take anything electronic with me. Or anything that could transmit or receive. Except my mind. And I used it mostly as a receiving device.

He knew the thread was red, before he slowly closed his eyes. With the index and the thumb of his right hand, he held the thread, leaving just about an inch of the red thread between what he held in his left and right hands. The left hand still tightly holding one end, he started moving his right hand away, along the thread.

It is not that I was sorely missed during these twenty days. I mean, I know I have been missed by some, but nothing in this world came to an earth-shattering stop while I was away. In my world, their world, or the world. But curiosity was apparently increasing with amoebic complexity. Information and knowledge is so over-rated, we think we might actually devolve into Neanderthals, if we didn’t know. Like the commonly used, Oh-if-you-were-on-Facebook/Twitter/RSS-you-would-know statements that we often make.

When I came back, one question prevailed. Where did you go?

I answered: various places. The most disappointing answer I ever gave, I felt, looking at their expressions.

As he ran his pinch along the thread, he felt the texture of the weave of the thread. After a while, the texture and the pull made tunnelled grooves between his fingers, the friction giving way and the thread passing through without resistance.

Most of them were not happy with my answer. The destination — a geographical lock of a latitude and longitude that has been named something, is what we are all used to knowing. That creates a map, an image and a story; instantly in our heads. Maldives, for example. Or Las Vegas. Goa? Varanasi. Phuket, even. These are pre-packaged impressions of the nature and characteristics of “where”. It is often this clarity that we seek when we talk of travel. The destination has to be a tangible surface in this world. All travel experiences thereafter, use this destination as a point of reference.

The feeling of the thread passing through his fingers was an experience that he sought. He didn’t seek the other end of the thread. Though he knew he would eventually reach the end of the thread, that was only an indicator of the end of the experience. Nothing more.

Leon: story of a hitman that takes a 12 year-old under his wing, trains her up and slowly becomes more human in the process. Leon’s pretty complex: made out to be one of the most badass men in the history of cinema in the action scenes, yet comes across as quite coy and simple in others. Gary Oldman’s intense villain is a bit over-acted. The original score dominates many of the scenes and despite being set in New York it’s unmistakably French & has loads of cheeky trademark Besson bits. My favourite aspect of this film is that it plays on the peculiarities and mystique of hitmen / assassins: they come from nowhere, vanish into thin air, can take out swat teams and bodyguards… and scope out every new location. Upon re-watching this for the first time in years it wasn’t as awesome as I remember, hasn’t really aged well (totally 80s) and the plot’s full of massive holes, not to mention severe bouts of police malpractice. It can’t really pass as an action flick because there’s only two action scenes, and as mentioned the story’s pretty flawed. What’s left is a piece of trademark Besson fantasy that’s good, but seems to enjoy an uncannily large ‘best film ever’ reputation.

Score: 7.5/10

just a test of pwd protecting a file

I knew as soon as I heard David Rodigan’s voice that this mixtape was going to be good.  He would never vouch for any sound system that’s less than the best, right?  Exactly.  This is musical fire.

Soulforce is from Krefeld, Germany.  They are bad (as in good), and they’ve been hard at work since 2005.  This mix, which was first heard on the Köln radio station WDR / Funkaus Europa, is a collection of their favorite songs from the last four years.  If you’re like me, by the time you hear the second track you’ll be scanning the internet for full versions of all these songs.

Soulforce – Essential Mix Vol. 1 (right click, save as).

1. Mitch – SoulForce Special
2. Keith & Tex feat. Shabba Ranks – Dukku Dukku (SoulForce RMX) (Fizzle)
3. SoulForce feat. Skarra Mucci – Gimme Di Lovin ` (Fizzle)
4. Delroy Wilson feat. Buju Banton – Good, Better, Best (SoulForce RMX) (Fizzle)
5. SoulForce feat. Tippa Irie – All This Music (Fizzle)
6. Shabba Ranks – Dancehall Ram (SoulForce RMX) (Fizzle)
7. Top Cat – Gal A Look Nice (SoulForce RMX) (Fizzle)
8. Top Cat – Gallist (Prime Time)
9. Busta Rhymes & Will.I.Am – I Love My Bitch (SoulForce RMX) (Reggae Remix)
10. Busta Rhymes – NY Shit (SoulForce RMX) (Reggae Remix)
11. SoulForce feat. Tippa Irie – All The Time (SF Digital)
12. Lt. Stitchie – Real Life Story (SoulForce RMX)
13. SoulForce feat. Ill Inspecta – See Wi Shine (SF Digital)
14. Cobra – Thug Anthem (SoulForce RMX)
15. Cutty Ranks – Limb By Limb (SoulForce RMX)
16. Mims & Cham – Why We Hot (SoulForce RMX)
17. Lil Wayne – A Milli (SoulForce RMX)
18. Lil Wayne – Lollipop (SoulForce RMX)
19. Lil Wayne – Fireman (SoulForce RMX)
20. Kardinal Offishal – Belly Dancer (SoulForce RMX)
21. Kardinal Offishal – T Dot (SoulForce RMX)
22. Buju Banton – Champion (SoulForce RMX)
23. Ace Of Base feat. Buju Banton (SoulForce RMX) (Reggae Remix)
24. SoulForce feat. Ward 21 – The Power (Fizzle)
25. Major Jazer feat. Santigold & Mr. Lex – Hold The Line (SoulForce RMX)
26. Drake – Forever (SoulForce RMX)
27. Gucci Mane – I`m The Shit (SoulForce RMX)
28. Tippa Irie – Whole Heap A Style (SoulForce RMX)
29. Ms. Thing – Pum Pum Law (SoulForce RMX)
30. Beenie Man – King Of The Dancehall (SoulForce RMX)
31. Mr. Vegas & Lexxus – Taxi Fare (SoulForce RMX)
32. Sean Paul – Territory (SoulForce RMX)
33. Ronny Trettmann – SoulForce Wochenende
34. Luddy – Militarry Man (SoulForce RMX) (Dancehall Killer)
35. Assassin – Step Pon Dem (SoulForce RMX) (Dancehall Killer)
36. Assassin – Do It If U BAD ! (SoulForce RMX) (Dancehall Killer)
37. SoulForce & Lexie Lee – Buss The Remix Ya
38. Elephant Man – Joke Gal (Cutacombo RMX) (Reggae Remix)
39. Mad Stuntman – I Like To Move It (Jr. Blender RMX) (Champion Sound)
40. Mr. Vegas – Hot Fuck (SoulForce RMX)
41. Dizzee Rascal – Stand Up Tall (SoulForce RMX)
42. Sizzla – I`m With The Girls (SoulForce RMX)
43. Jay Z – Encore (SoulForce RMX)
44. Jay Z – Dirt Off Your Shoulder (SoulForce RMX)
45. Dizzee Rascal – Jus A Rascal (SoulForce RMX)
46. Kool Savas – King RMX (SoulForce RMX)
47. Kool Savas – Mona Lisa (SoulForce RMX)
48. JR & PH7 feat. Guilty Simpson – Top Rank (SoulForce RMX)

During the holidays all the movies you haven’t seen in years are on, not to mention all the new movies coming out for the vacationing crowds. Two movies (one in each category) have resonated with me for two very different reasons this season. One is a classic romantic, Sweet Home Alabama. I don’t know why, but watching that movie while at home makes for weird connections. Especially the quote that you can have “roots and wings at the same time”. This has my mind reeling because having roots AND wings is kinda hard. Take it from me! I love the big D… it’s a blast and my friends and life there are awesome, but nothing beats home and family. It’s become a 2010 Resolution for me to work on getting a little more established in both!

The new movie or should I say, EXPERIENCE was seeing Avatar. A true journey that Cameron takes us on (seeing in in 3D is a MUST to let the movie be a true experience for you). There are a lot of philosophical conversations that can derive from this flick. The parallels of “mother nature”, environmental destruction tied into the “network” of people. I’m going to have to process this movie for a few days, but there are some definite future posts on this one!

Hey all,

I took up a part-time weekend job with Pro Flight Aviation as an instructor. They are based out of Renton airport in Renton, WA. They are a small, part 61 school with a few single and multi engine airplanes and a maintenance shop. The owners interviewed me and were very nice.

The ground interview with Diane was laid back and consisted mainly of company history and straightforward HR questions. Resume verification, What types of instructing I did, etc…

The flight portion with her husband Bernie, who is the Chief Pilot and the Head of Maintenance, was equally as laid back. Performed some maneuvers and different types of touch and go’s. I was pretty nervous, as the last time I flew an airplane was in April. I did okay though.

It’s been a hectic (but great) last couple of days. I stumbled across the ad, replied, and was interviewing and flying soon enough. I am getting my checkouts done tonight and tomorrow night and hopefully I’ll be ready to work by this upcoming weekend!

The end of this year has brought me a lot of personal grief. However, it also seems to be the time for second chances for yours truly – both personal and in business. After a lot of nervousness about the job situation, I got a second chance in my former career, drafting, and am quickly moving up in my field. I am also getting a second shot with instructing and will get paid to fly again!

I won’t get into personal, but I intend to not mess ANYTHING up this time around!

-

Tree roots. And no, I’m not that female in Jaane Tu Ya Jaane Na who plays a stupid game called ‘What’s this?’.

For those in the restaurant, hotel and retail sectors, the next 75 days are surely exciting and nerve wracking.  Hundreds of thousands of guests will descend on Vancouver, Squamish and Whistler and everyone will be spending money.  How will you serve them?  What will you do to standout?  What if it’s too busy and you can’t handle the rush?

In 2002 I was so fortunate to help manage a Roots store in Park City Utah during the Olympics.  This retail location (1 of 5 in the area) was small, under 1500 square feet, but due to a smash hit product; we had lineups of about 500 people waiting to get into the store from 10am daily until close at midnight.  The store was processing over 5000 shoppers each day, and hundreds of thousands of dollars in receipts, which lasted for more than two weeks!  How did we manage all those shoppers and what did we do to make the Olympic spirit come alive?

1. We made it Fun!  Since 300 to 500 people were standing outside at any given time, in the cold, we decided to make it enjoyable. Using a bullhorn we told jokes, sang songs, and handed out hot chocolate.  I would page lost shopper “Hugh Jass” or announce that the Official Olympic Thong underwear had sold out.  Sure it’s sophomoric and off-color, but people loved it.
2. We Celebrated being Canadian.  Since the store was sort of a beacon for Canadianness we embraced it.  We taught Americans how to speak Canadian: add eh to the end of your sentence, how to pronounce toque, what a toboggan is.  Again, you may think that’s sophomoric and stereotypical, but visitors told us repeatedly that our store was a highlight of their Olympic experience.
3. Put Athletes First. If an athlete came by we went out of our way to let them know how much we admired their competition at the games.  We invited them into our store, gave out gifts and made a fuss over their families.  I heard at other venues athletes were shutout and/or families were given a hard time. Why?  Isn’t the whole point of the games ultimately for the athletes?
4. Innovate, Innovate, Innovate.  Our smash hot product was a hat. We were selling tens of thousands of units daily. There was a no-fly zone around Salt Lake for private aircrafts, so we hired a Learjet and packed it full of Garbage Bags filled with hats (you can’t put boxes on a Learjet, the small fuselage limits capacity, but you can stuff it full of bags). We landed the Learjet 2 hours north of Salt Lake in Ogden Utah and trucked the bags of hats in after midnight. It worked very well.
5. Acknowledge screw ups, apologize and move on.  If something goes wrong, and it usually will when you’re trying to host a world class event with hundreds of thousands of guests, then just apologize and move on.  People are amazingly forgiving but hate to be ignored.

That’s it. Have a terrific Olympic Games and remember to have fun.

I borrowed the idea from a friend to compile an annual mix CD this year. But in slight departure from the convention set by my friend, my “2009” mix fails to really include songs that are actually from 2009. And in a further, more enthusiastic, departure from her idea, I have gone ahead and given a long list of reasons for this (see ‘album notes’).

This CD actually exists in the world outside cyber space as a real, tangible object you can hold in your hands, so suspend disbelief, close your eyes, and try with all your mite to just picture what it could look like as you click on the link and enjoy the miracle of sound…

My 2009 in Song!

1. Here comes the sun – The Beatles
2. Next Lifetime – Erykah Badu
3. Looking for the heart of Saturday – Tom Waits
4. Lovely Day – Bill Withers
5. If you don’t think – Tammy Mongomery
6. Heavy Cross – The Gossip
7. Rumours – Capital Letters
8. Another Day – Jamie Lidell
9. The sun goes down (Extended version) – Level 42
10. Helicopter – M.Ward
11. One of these days – Eilen Jewell
12. Three is the magic number -  Bob Dorough

http://rapidshare.com/files/323674400/My_2009_In_Song.zip

‘My 2009 in song’ album notes – Yes, that’s right, album notes! On a personal, homemade, mix cd. Now you know how much I care…

1. This was one of the first songs I listened to on my newfound Ipod  (a surreptitious gift from the universe, keenly spotted by The Yang one day in the park) and it made me gleefully happy. The sweet voice and feeling of the song create the exact same mood as the sun beginning to peek out after a grey rainy morning, or a long cold winter.

It is unsurprisingly then, to learn that this is exactly what inspired the song. It was written by George Harrison in response to English winters that feel never ending. Funnily enough, John Lennon is nowhere to be heard on this number.

2. Having owned this song for years, it wasn’t until one nondescript day in 2009 that I paid the lyrics any mind. They tell a slightly poignant story, beautifully. Making the childlike notion of ‘next lifetime’ sound so simplistic that it is altogether alluring.

The film clip, which whimsically depicts this notion of reincarnating lives and souls, was actually directed by Erykah Badu, the ‘first lady of Neo-Soul’.

3. On a cold winter’s night, huddled by the heater, warmed by red wine and conversation with The Yang, Tom Waits sang this one to me at his sing-song best, noticeable for its slight departure from his signature gravelly growl, hauntingly beautiful in its melody and melancholy.

Music critic Daniel Durchholz once described this trademark growl as sounding “like it was soaked in a vat of bourbon, left hanging in the smokehouse for a few months, and then taken outside and run over with a car.”

4. Another song that after being unassuming for years, decided to put its hand up and say ‘look at me, look at me’. And so I did, and it was beautiful and uplifting.

Earth, Wind and Fire producer, Skip Scarborough, wrote the music for this song. Bill Withers was so taken by Skip that he became the inspiration for the lyrics – “Skip was a very nice, gentle man. The way Skip was, every day was just a lovely day. If I had sat down with the same music and my collaborator had been somebody else with a different personality, it probably would have caused something else to cross my mind lyrically”.

5. I doubted over the inclusion of this one, but something about the rocky, punchy rhythm, and the attitude of expression – the backhanded way she tries to tell someone she loves them, just reminded me of how I communicate to The Yang.

This song was actually written by James Brown for Tammy Montgomery, who is better known for her duets such as ‘Ain’t No Mountain High Enough’ with Marvin Gaye. In 1967 she collapsed on stage, falling into the arms of her rumoured lover, Marvin. She died shortly after from a brain tumor at the age of 24.

6. I heard this song in a shopping centre and it just stuck in my head. I had no idea of the name of the song, or who was even singing it, but one night I got on the internet and did some searching around the one line and riff that had lodged in my brain, and I found it! I was so proud of myself for tracking it down, and I felt weirdly connected to the wider world because now I was into Top 40 music.

This album is produced by omnipresent, superstar producer Rick Rubin and is the long awaited follow up to Standing In The Way of Control, the title track of which made headlines when Ditto said it was written in response George Bush’s stance on same sex marriage – “I wrote the chorus to try and encourage people not to give up. It’s a scary time for civil rights, but I really believe the only way to survive is to stick together and keep fighting.”

7. This song literally does.not.stop. coming up on random on my Ipod. Insistent on talking to me, telling me its heartbreaking story, all the while sounding so sweet while it does it.

It’s by Capital Letters, who, back in 1979, were the first homegrown group to be released on the now legendary Greensleeves label, but sadly, and strangely, they fell off the rader after delivering this extremely successful album, which is called “Headline News”.

8. I consider this an all time favourite ‘happy song’. Perfectly composed with bumping brass and horns and gospel backing chorus to put a bounce in your feet and a smile on your face. It’s impossible to listen to it and not feel good.

Now that Jamie Lidell is a soul-pop sensation (he has had great commercial success with last two albums, and Elton John is said to be a fan) much is made of his glitchy, experimental, electronic underground past. But, Lidell says, “I made Muddlin Gear (his first album) for a friend and it was tailored to his tastes. The fact that it now represents me is funny, really, because at the same time I had a soul band called Balzac, very similar to my band now”.

9. One day while listening to The Yang’s radio show, I learnt that this was one of his fav songs of the day. He said he kept finding himself playing it at sunset at his gigs down on the harbour, and that today, he would give us a treat and play the extended version. I fell in love with the song, and with The Yang all over again for loving this kooky disco tune with some geeky guy doing far out funky.

This would prove to be the first UK Top Ten hit for Level 42, who had a long, up-and-down career through the 80s and 90s. They gained a lot of their fame from Mark King’s (founding member, bass player and singer) “percussive slap-bass” guitar technique, that was the driving groove behind many of the band’s hits. King actually picked this style up from watching American funk players that came into the London music store in which he worked.

10. A stand out track on Transfiguration of Vincent, this has a really great foot-stomping tempo that makes it one of the only upbeat songs on the album.

The album itself was received with pretty muted reviews, with many believing his best work lays in his other releases. One blogger, although conceding that ‘Helicopter’ is a stand out track, went on to say that it was a straightforward song with a “melody line lifted straight out of Paul Simon’s Graceland”.

11. Eilen Jewel had to make an appearance here, for it was in 2009 in which revealed herself to me. She has a wonderfully rich sound, a unique ‘ye-olde’ treasure to find in these modern manic times.

This is from her third album that includes what was previously excluded on her other albums – the influence of the likes of Elvis Presley, Buddy Holly, the Animals and the Kinks. These influences are lovingly blended into her roots, blues, country, folk sound.

12. “A man and a woman had a little baby / Yes, they did  / They had three in the family, / That’s a magic number.”  If this doesn’t perfectly, and beautifully, capture my life in 2009, I don’t know what does.

The creator of this tune is somewhat of a bebop, jazz legend, and was one of the few vocalists to record with Miles Davis. This track is the result of Bob and his pals whipping up a little counting and multiplication magic (as part of a now famed educational animation series from the 70s) and was actually sampled by De La Soul for their own  ‘The Magic Number’ track.

via: nahright

Sandwiches are the sets they play before and after commercial breaks on Late Night.

In honor of making 1000 of those original compositions, Questlove liberated 22 of them on twitter and All The Way Live compiled it into an EP.

The Roots – Sandwiches EP

also. click on the twitter above, then click on the swift.fm link and listen and read the descriptions to each track…questo really knows music and it’s so interesting to see what inspires him and how it makes him feel and think.

peace, and be well rounded love.

“keep a green tree in your hear and perhaps a singing bird will come.”

-chinese proverb

Thinking deeper about the meaning behind my band, Irene & Reed’s debut album, Closer to Home, I’ve come to the conclusion that album isn’t just inspired by the Midwest home I grew up in and the memories I shared with friends and family during that time, but it’s also about physical roots — my ancestry. With a genealogist father, a German mother and a background in journalism (hence, having participated in many interviews) myself, I’ve earned an inquisitive mind. Naturally, asking my family about where they’re from and trying to make connections from their lives to my own makes sense.

Genealogists start researching their roots by interviewing family members about their past experiences and about relatives who have since passed on. Where and when were they born? To whom were they married? How many children did they have? That’s the gist of it. Census collections in library archives can fill in details from there, as can birth, marriage and death certificates. But the best knowledge comes via oral tradition — stories passed along from generation to generation. I’m lucky my dad has done the hard work for me, as collecting those details can be challenging and time-consuming. But I’m proud to know what’s behind me. If I didn’t know, I’d be lost.

I have a painting from 1942. It was given to my German grandmother during World War II by a man I believe may have been sent to a Nazi death camp. The painting has chipped and faded over time. It’s a landscape of a few old houses in a country village. Although it doesn’t say much, it’s a glimpse into a time during which my family lived and struggled, just as others did during the war.

Over the years, I’ve noticed how proud I am of my German heritage. Though 100 percent American and true to the red, white and blue, the soles of my feet are from Berlin, where so much history lies. It’s one of the first points of conversation I find myself falling into when I meet someone new. “I’m half German,” I say. “I lived there as a child, and my first word was in German.” It’s not just an ice-breaker; it’s a point of pride, as if I’m a little special because I’ve got ties to mysterious places and stories. I guess it’s just the child in me speaking up — like “Show and Tell.” But, knowing my roots has made me feel whole. It gives me a grounding in life and a society I can relate to in some ways. I don’t envy the hardships my grandparents endured during the war, for I know they were probably much stronger than I would have been then. But I am grateful for their experiences and their achievements, which kept the family alive and prosperous.

So, Closer to Home, in some ways, means “closer to Germany” and “closer to America” and closer to my ancestors. I take just as much pride in my dad’s side of the family, mind you. His relatives were great farmers, teachers and travelers. They had adventures and great loves, just as I have in my life. I’ve written stories and poems in tribute to them all. Maybe one day I’ll follow in his footsteps and take on the genealogy duties for my family. I know if I did, he’d be so proud.