Christina Aguilera is back, baby.It’s been a long six years since Legend X graced us with her underrated album Lotus (#JusticeForYourBody), and fans have been left wondering if we’d ever get new music from the Grammy Award-winning singer-songwriter.
But today, like a phoenix from the ashes, the voice of a generation has risen with a brand new single titled Accelerate. It’s an entirely new sound for Christina, and features guest spots from rappers Ty Dolla $ign and 2 Chainz. We’ve also been blessed with a Zoey Grossman-directed music video for the new track, which sees the 00s pop legend back at her provocative best, as she’s doused with a mysterious goo, laps milk from a glass, and dons black cross nipple pasties. Watch the video for Accelerate below.
If that’s not enough new #content for all you fighters, Christina has also announced the release of her sixth studio album, Liberation, and it’s coming very soon – 15 June, to be exact.
As well as Dolla $ign and 2 Chainz, the new release will feature a track with Keida and Shenseea titled Right Moves, and a previously leaked song Fall In Line, which we now know is the much-rumoured duet with Demi Lovato. See the album’s full track-list and artwork below.
0 Comments
Big Boi blows into Studio A at his Stankonia recording facility on the west side of Atlanta wearing a black hoodie, black-and-white striped pants and shiny red high-tops, carrying two Amazon boxes and a Chik-fil-A bag. “Oh, hell yeah,” he says, tearing into the boxes and pulling out an assortment of decorative patches: snakes, stars, Chinese dragons. “These work. This shit’s going to be dope.”The patches will adorn Big Boi’s stage gear for the upcoming third leg of his tour supporting his most recent album, Boomiverse, kicking off May 17. Released last June, Boomiverse is Big Boi’s third solo outing since OutKast, the pioneering rap duo he started in 1991 with André 3000, was essentially put on ice in the mid-2000s.
Over the course of a decade and a half, OutKast’s determined eclecticism, pop smarts, vivid wordplay and trunk-rattling Southern beats helped turn Atlanta into rap’s “third coast,” the genre’s white-hot creative center. But Dré gradually lost interest in hip-hop, leaving Big Boi to carry the torch for the group (and answer perpetual queries about potential reunions). Within OutKast, Big (born Antwan Patton), 43, was seen as the sharp-tongued street ballast to Dre’s exotic bohemian. His solo career has often felt aimed at correcting that reductive perception. He has made dirty G-funk (“Fo Yo Sorrows” with George Clinton), set tongue-twisting rhymes atop psychedelic pop (“Shoes for Running” with Wavves), sung earnest lamentations over acoustic soul (“Descending” with Little Dragon) and concocted an entire EP with indie-pop group Phantogram. With its straight-ahead rhymes about women, cars and cash, Boomiverse has a more back-to-basics vibe, but stealth pockets of weirdness remain, including “All Night,” a jangly confection co-written/produced by Dr. Luke, which appeared in a recent series of Apple ads. Originally put out on Epic, the album, which hit No. 8 on Billboard’s Top Rap Albums chart, will be rereleased later this year by Hitco, the new label founded by Antonio “L.A.” Reid, who originally signed OutKast. At Stankonia today, Big Boi’s compact frame buzzes with enthusiasm. As he giddily unpacks a chicken-nugget meal, his assistant, Shea, needles him: He’s supposed to be on a diet. “Chicken is allowed on the weekend!” he protests. It’s Thursday. “I missed a day,” he says with a grin. Shea asks whether his newest pet, an imposing eagle owl named Simon, is at the studio today. (He is.) “It’s fresh as hell,” says Big. “I wanted a bird, but I wanted a big bird. An owl is cool as fuck.” Big’s got the sharp wit and cool, confident bearing of the guy at a party who knows he has the best stories to tell, along with a work ethic that -- after selling close to 20 million albums in the United States, according to Nielsen Music (between his own solo work and OutKast’s) -- it’s safe to say he hardly needs, but which fits with the earthiness that has always attended his celebrity. Here in Atlanta, it’s not uncommon to see Big tucking into a plate of hash browns at a local Waffle House, or checking on the pups at the bulldog kennel he founded over 20 years ago. He still goes to the studio every day, even as he has become an investor in startups like Ring, a video doorbell and security service acquired by Amazon earlier this year for $1 billion. And he’s taking on meatier acting roles, including a supporting part in the remake of the blaxploitation classic Superfly, out June 15. Big Boi could be forgiven for treating his career as an extended exercise in legacy grooming; instead, as was evident in our lengthy conversation, he’s still driven to explore new territory without losing touch with hip-hop’s mainstream -- a superstar with something to prove. You’ve now made almost as many solo albums as you ever made with OutKast. Did it take a minute for you to figure out who you were apart from OutKast? Absolutely. When you’re a part of something that big, it’s hard for people to distinguish you apart from that. No matter what I do, I’m OutKast until the day we die. To get people reacquainted with me has been challenging but also gratifying. Do you feel you’re underappreciated as a solo artist? They know. And if they don’t, then they’re still learning. With every record, it’s “Holy shit, you sound like you’re still hungry.” The affiliation with the group is like the throne I sit on. The role I played [in OutKast], that shit was a yin and yang. And right now, you getting all yang! You getting some yang in tha thang! Back in 2010 I talked to L.A. Reid, and he said, “As long as I have a job, Big Boi will always have a record label.” It seems now that as long as he’s got a label, you’re ready to be his artist. We have a lot of history. He’s the guy that gets it. I don’t have to explain the music. I was only at Epic because he was there. At this point I don’t even need a label, but me and L.A., what he do and what I do goes hand in hand. For a minute I’ve been kind of doing things on my own. I’ve been kind of following Reid from Jive to Def Jam to Epic to now Hitco. I think we’re going to rerelease Boomiverse under this new outfit, with three or four new records, because we didn't get a fair shake. We put too much time into that shit, and we’ve got so many songs we want to put visuals to. When he left Epic, it was following a sexual harassment claim. I don’t know nothing about that. But did it give you any pause in terms of aligning yourself with him again? Our bond is family. Anything that is sensationalized, I don’t know shit about none of that shit. You’ve been politically vocal in recent years. When you look at what’s happening in the country, do you think you have a role to play as an artist? Yes. If Donald Trump can be the president, anybody can be. So, shit, Oprah Winfrey, King T’Challa from Black Panther, Rosie Perez, Steve Harvey -- it’s a popularity contest. People just got to be mindful: Put somebody in there that’s going to help you, not just tell you what you want to hear. That’s a pimp: “Bitch, we’re going to take over the world. You’re going to go down here and sell some pussy, and we’re going to take over.” He talks a good game, but you’ve got to be careful who you follow. At some point you even mentioned running for mayor of Atlanta one day. Whenever they legalize marijuana and make it clean, I’d be the governor, Killer Mikewould be the mayor or vice versa. [Laughs.] That’s years down the line, but it’s not a stretch. I’m all about community, family and helping people. That’s why I would do it: to bring the poverty rate down, help the homeless, build community centers and give kids a chance to focus on what they’re doing in the future. For now, you’re playing a mayor onscreen in Superfly. Were you a fan of the original film? I come from a family of hustlers, so we grew up on that shit: Superfly, The Mack, Dolemite. They called and were like, “We’ve got a role for you: You’re going to be the freaky, corrupt mayor of Atlanta.” I was like, “Hell fucking yeah!” Right now they’ve just got to match the music to the film. Because the original was really driven by the soundtrack. Future is curating the soundtrack. You’ve known him for a while, right? Yeah. He came up in the Dungeon [the early-2000s Atlanta hip-hop collective named for producer Ric Wade’s basement studio]. I remember him from when he went by “Meathead.” He was just all about the music. The Dungeon was like the Xavier School [for Gifted Youngsters, from X-Men]. Everybody was special in their own way. A lot of the people you came up with in Atlanta have moved away, but you’ve stayed. Why? I’ve traveled around the world, but there’s no other place I could live. Except for Jamaica. I love Jamaica. But the vibe here -- there’s no reason for me to go nowhere else. We’ve got a mayor named Keisha! Can you beat that shit? I live by the Chattahoochee River. It’s peaceful. Not to mention the cost of living: For a house in L.A. that might cost you $10 million, you can get it here for two or three. Are you a fan of Atlanta, the show? I love it. Donald Glover is killing it. I like that you never know what each episode is going to be about -- when you do that, it keeps motherfuckers on the hook for what you’re going to do next. The episode with Katt Williams and the alligator? That shit was fucking crazy! Actually, I [produce] a cartoon called Hotlanta Waxx that they put in the barbershop episode. I gather you don’t need the money at this point, so what motivates you to still work at the pace you do? The music. I always want to hear what I’m going to do next. I thrive off music. If I don’t listen to music, I’m like a plant without sunlight: I get down. So I’m always trying to search for what’s next. Are you competitive? Yeah, but my only competition is myself. Where I’m at now, I’ve done so much and covered so much ground, I just want to outdo myself and not rely on past records. I want to sound like something else other than what I’ve already done. I read that maybe a year ago you had dinner with Kate Bush. Is [working with her] the great white whale for you? It's the only thing I haven't done that I'm trying to get done. She is like my top two artists of all time. Bob Marley; Kate Bush. I had dinner with her. We talked about our kids and hopefully making music one day. To be listening to her from middle school and then to be a grown man, sitting, drinking almond cognac with Kate Bush in London was like, oh my God, amazing. What about her spoke to you as a teenager in Georgia? The sound; what she was saying in the music. The production was fucking out of here, man. Her whole albums were stories. I'd ride my bike to school, push play, and by the time I got to school I was at the end of an album. I rode a long-ass way. Her voice was like the voice of an angel. It was like going to see The Wizard of Oz, almost. Is it important to you that young people are feeling your music too? Yeah, you want them to. My kids have been instrumental in helping turn me on to new shit. My daughter turned me on to The Weeknd. My sons turned me on to Young Thug. They’ve been my secret A&Rs for a long time. Do they listen to anything that you just can’t get with? They’ve got pretty good taste. A lot of that shit, though, I can’t get all the way into. I’m like, “What’s he saying?” If you look at what popular hip-hop was in 1992, 1993, and what it is now, it’s almost like two different genres of music. It’s not about who can rap the best anymore; it’s about who’s making the best jam. The shit might be the simplest shit in the world, but motherfuckers will sing it word for word. You don’t have to be rappity-rap-rap rapping all the goddamn time. I listen to, say, XXXTentacion and think, “Is this really hip-hop?” That’s not a dig. But to call that and what Nas does the same genre feels simplistic. Hip-hop is the culture, rap is the genre. Hip-hop is beats, rhymes, graffiti, style. Rap is just rapping. Kurtis Blow was rapping. James Brown was doing some rapping, too. I’m not one of them hip-hop purists. I fuck with everybody and everybody fuck with me, as long as it’s got feeling. The XXX guy, I’ve seen one video where he was really talking about something. It’s like, “Oh, you’re not tricking me. You’re a smart guy.” So some of that shit is just flash. You’ve always loved touring. How have you changed as a live performer? With [OutKast producers] Organized Noize, the way they trained us, we had to run around the block hundreds of times, reciting our rhymes -- so at a Big Boi show, you’re not going to hear Big Boi rapping over recorded lyrics. I do motherfucking miles and miles on the bike, rapping, to keep that breath control. Whatever the crowd gives us, we give it back: 90 minutes of cardio, dancing, gyrating, giving them that yang! I fucking tore my patellar [knee] tendon onstage, slinging yang. Popular hip-hop is, by nature, young people’s music. Is it hard to find your place within that as a 43-year-old dad? Hell no! My kids keep me young. My face look young. I got a strong back. It’s about how you feel. We started when I was a teenager. Now I look at it like getting different degrees in music. I’m still a student because I’m always trying to learn new ways of making music and breaking boundaries. When you stop is when you get old. In blues and soul, artists seem to get better with age. Why shouldn't we have rappers in their 60s? Well, I don’t know about that... If you in your 60s and you ain’t got to where you want to with some rap music, you better try something else! [Laughs.] I mean, 60s? [Pauses.] You know what? Never motherfucking say never. by David Peisner Big Boi blows into Studio A at his Stankonia recording facility on the west side of Atlanta wearing a black hoodie, black-and-white striped pants and shiny red high-tops, carrying two Amazon boxes and a Chik-fil-A bag. “Oh, hell yeah,” he says, tearing into the boxes and pulling out an assortment of decorative patches: snakes, stars, Chinese dragons. “These work. This shit’s going to be dope.” The patches will adorn Big Boi’s stage gear for the upcoming third leg of his tour supporting his most recent album, Boomiverse, kicking off May 17. Released last June, Boomiverse is Big Boi’s third solo outing since OutKast, the pioneering rap duo he started in 1991 with André 3000, was essentially put on ice in the mid-2000s. Over the course of a decade and a half, OutKast’s determined eclecticism, pop smarts, vivid wordplay and trunk-rattling Southern beats helped turn Atlanta into rap’s “third coast,” the genre’s white-hot creative center. But Dré gradually lost interest in hip-hop, leaving Big Boi to carry the torch for the group (and answer perpetual queries about potential reunions). Within OutKast, Big (born Antwan Patton), 43, was seen as the sharp-tongued street ballast to Dre’s exotic bohemian. His solo career has often felt aimed at correcting that reductive perception. He has made dirty G-funk (“Fo Yo Sorrows” with George Clinton), set tongue-twisting rhymes atop psychedelic pop (“Shoes for Running” with Wavves), sung earnest lamentations over acoustic soul (“Descending” with Little Dragon) and concocted an entire EP with indie-pop group Phantogram. With its straight-ahead rhymes about women, cars and cash, Boomiverse has a more back-to-basics vibe, but stealth pockets of weirdness remain, including “All Night,” a jangly confection co-written/produced by Dr. Luke, which appeared in a recent series of Apple ads. Originally put out on Epic, the album, which hit No. 8 on Billboard’s Top Rap Albums chart, will be rereleased later this year by Hitco, the new label founded by Antonio “L.A.” Reid, who originally signed OutKast. READ MOREBig Boi & Andre 3000 Reunite at USA's 'Unsolved' Premiere At Stankonia today, Big Boi’s compact frame buzzes with enthusiasm. As he giddily unpacks a chicken-nugget meal, his assistant, Shea, needles him: He’s supposed to be on a diet. “Chicken is allowed on the weekend!” he protests. It’s Thursday. “I missed a day,” he says with a grin. Shea asks whether his newest pet, an imposing eagle owl named Simon, is at the studio today. (He is.) “It’s fresh as hell,” says Big. “I wanted a bird, but I wanted a big bird. An owl is cool as fuck.” Big’s got the sharp wit and cool, confident bearing of the guy at a party who knows he has the best stories to tell, along with a work ethic that -- after selling close to 20 million albums in the United States, according to Nielsen Music (between his own solo work and OutKast’s) -- it’s safe to say he hardly needs, but which fits with the earthiness that has always attended his celebrity. Here in Atlanta, it’s not uncommon to see Big tucking into a plate of hash browns at a local Waffle House, or checking on the pups at the bulldog kennel he founded over 20 years ago. He still goes to the studio every day, even as he has become an investor in startups like Ring, a video doorbell and security service acquired by Amazon earlier this year for $1 billion. And he’s taking on meatier acting roles, including a supporting part in the remake of the blaxploitation classic Superfly, out June 15. Big Boi could be forgiven for treating his career as an extended exercise in legacy grooming; instead, as was evident in our lengthy conversation, he’s still driven to explore new territory without losing touch with hip-hop’s mainstream -- a superstar with something to prove. You’ve now made almost as many solo albums as you ever made with OutKast. Did it take a minute for you to figure out who you were apart from OutKast? Absolutely. When you’re a part of something that big, it’s hard for people to distinguish you apart from that. No matter what I do, I’m OutKast until the day we die. To get people reacquainted with me has been challenging but also gratifying. Do you feel you’re underappreciated as a solo artist? They know. And if they don’t, then they’re still learning. With every record, it’s “Holy shit, you sound like you’re still hungry.” The affiliation with the group is like the throne I sit on. The role I played [in OutKast], that shit was a yin and yang. And right now, you getting all yang! You getting some yang in tha thang! Back in 2010 I talked to L.A. Reid, and he said, “As long as I have a job, Big Boi will always have a record label.” It seems now that as long as he’s got a label, you’re ready to be his artist. We have a lot of history. He’s the guy that gets it. I don’t have to explain the music. I was only at Epic because he was there. At this point I don’t even need a label, but me and L.A., what he do and what I do goes hand in hand. For a minute I’ve been kind of doing things on my own. I’ve been kind of following Reid from Jive to Def Jam to Epic to now Hitco. I think we’re going to rerelease Boomiverse under this new outfit, with three or four new records, because we didn't get a fair shake. We put too much time into that shit, and we’ve got so many songs we want to put visuals to. Big Boi blows into Studio A at his Stankonia recording facility on the west side of Atlanta wearing a black hoodie, black-and-white striped pants and shiny red high-tops, carrying two Amazon boxes and a Chik-fil-A bag. “Oh, hell yeah,” he says, tearing into the boxes and pulling out an assortment of decorative patches: snakes, stars, Chinese dragons. “These work. This shit’s going to be dope.” The patches will adorn Big Boi’s stage gear for the upcoming third leg of his tour supporting his most recent album, Boomiverse, kicking off May 17. Released last June, Boomiverse is Big Boi’s third solo outing since OutKast, the pioneering rap duo he started in 1991 with André 3000, was essentially put on ice in the mid-2000s. Over the course of a decade and a half, OutKast’s determined eclecticism, pop smarts, vivid wordplay and trunk-rattling Southern beats helped turn Atlanta into rap’s “third coast,” the genre’s white-hot creative center. But Dré gradually lost interest in hip-hop, leaving Big Boi to carry the torch for the group (and answer perpetual queries about potential reunions). Within OutKast, Big (born Antwan Patton), 43, was seen as the sharp-tongued street ballast to Dre’s exotic bohemian. His solo career has often felt aimed at correcting that reductive perception. He has made dirty G-funk (“Fo Yo Sorrows” with George Clinton), set tongue-twisting rhymes atop psychedelic pop (“Shoes for Running” with Wavves), sung earnest lamentations over acoustic soul (“Descending” with Little Dragon) and concocted an entire EP with indie-pop group Phantogram. With its straight-ahead rhymes about women, cars and cash, Boomiverse has a more back-to-basics vibe, but stealth pockets of weirdness remain, including “All Night,” a jangly confection co-written/produced by Dr. Luke, which appeared in a recent series of Apple ads. Originally put out on Epic, the album, which hit No. 8 on Billboard’s Top Rap Albums chart, will be rereleased later this year by Hitco, the new label founded by Antonio “L.A.” Reid, who originally signed OutKast. READ MOREBig Boi & Andre 3000 Reunite at USA's 'Unsolved' Premiere At Stankonia today, Big Boi’s compact frame buzzes with enthusiasm. As he giddily unpacks a chicken-nugget meal, his assistant, Shea, needles him: He’s supposed to be on a diet. “Chicken is allowed on the weekend!” he protests. It’s Thursday. “I missed a day,” he says with a grin. Shea asks whether his newest pet, an imposing eagle owl named Simon, is at the studio today. (He is.) “It’s fresh as hell,” says Big. “I wanted a bird, but I wanted a big bird. An owl is cool as fuck.” Big’s got the sharp wit and cool, confident bearing of the guy at a party who knows he has the best stories to tell, along with a work ethic that -- after selling close to 20 million albums in the United States, according to Nielsen Music (between his own solo work and OutKast’s) -- it’s safe to say he hardly needs, but which fits with the earthiness that has always attended his celebrity. Here in Atlanta, it’s not uncommon to see Big tucking into a plate of hash browns at a local Waffle House, or checking on the pups at the bulldog kennel he founded over 20 years ago. He still goes to the studio every day, even as he has become an investor in startups like Ring, a video doorbell and security service acquired by Amazon earlier this year for $1 billion. And he’s taking on meatier acting roles, including a supporting part in the remake of the blaxploitation classic Superfly, out June 15. Big Boi could be forgiven for treating his career as an extended exercise in legacy grooming; instead, as was evident in our lengthy conversation, he’s still driven to explore new territory without losing touch with hip-hop’s mainstream -- a superstar with something to prove. You’ve now made almost as many solo albums as you ever made with OutKast. Did it take a minute for you to figure out who you were apart from OutKast? Absolutely. When you’re a part of something that big, it’s hard for people to distinguish you apart from that. No matter what I do, I’m OutKast until the day we die. To get people reacquainted with me has been challenging but also gratifying. Do you feel you’re underappreciated as a solo artist? They know. And if they don’t, then they’re still learning. With every record, it’s “Holy shit, you sound like you’re still hungry.” The affiliation with the group is like the throne I sit on. The role I played [in OutKast], that shit was a yin and yang. And right now, you getting all yang! You getting some yang in tha thang! Back in 2010 I talked to L.A. Reid, and he said, “As long as I have a job, Big Boi will always have a record label.” It seems now that as long as he’s got a label, you’re ready to be his artist. We have a lot of history. He’s the guy that gets it. I don’t have to explain the music. I was only at Epic because he was there. At this point I don’t even need a label, but me and L.A., what he do and what I do goes hand in hand. For a minute I’ve been kind of doing things on my own. I’ve been kind of following Reid from Jive to Def Jam to Epic to now Hitco. I think we’re going to rerelease Boomiverse under this new outfit, with three or four new records, because we didn't get a fair shake. We put too much time into that shit, and we’ve got so many songs we want to put visuals to. While still unconfirmed by police and autopsy reports, the possibility of Avicii’s death by suicide brings to light an important issue faced by musicians and creatives: mental health is important, and many are suffering more than you might think. Each troll comment or mean spirited post on an artist’s page may seem like so little to you, but to the artist, it might be all they think about that day.
Their lives seem glamorous and, sure, getting to travel all around the world seems like an amazing opportunity. But what you don’t see are the hours spent on planes and in airports alone, the empty hotel rooms, the constant jetlag, the neverending demand from fans for more music, more tours, more merch, more more more… This morning, Kaskade posted an open letter on his blog, addressed to those who are carrying despair and sadness within their hearts, to those who are having a bad day, week, or even year. “How many people in our lives do we look past daily or weekly or even once-in-a-lifetime who need us to look AT them,” he questions. “How many of them just need to hear that we get it, we have struggles too that don’t ever make it to our Instagram feed. What can we do better?” The conversation is an important one, and one that needs to be had. Mental health isn’t some stigma or taboo that isn’t to be talked about. Everyone is dealing with something, even if it’s not immediately visible on the surface, so take that into account before you make a mean comment or judge someone prematurely. You can read Kaskade’s letter below: The week after Tim Bergling’s death, I spent a lot of time at my studio, but wasn’t really making music there. It was a week-long conversation that happened with everyone who came through. With DJ’s, producers and industry people all adding to the thread. I’ve heard many stories and had the chance to sit with my own experiences. I was told that suicide rates have been rising dramatically over the past decade and it just makes me wonder. How many people in our lives do we look past daily or weekly or even once-in-a-lifetime who need us to look AT them? How many of them just need to hear that we get it, we have struggles too that don’t ever make it to our Instagram feed. What can we do better? My chance to have that conversation with Tim is gone. I didn’t know what he needed, and likely wouldn’t have been able to give it to him even if I did. But my opportunity to lift up friends, acquaintances and family members who are wrestling to get through every day because they are doing hand-to-hand combat with anxiety, depression, both, or some combination of problems that simply leave them feeling they are not enough is still here. And right now it feels important that we acknowledge these people and maybe go ahead and admit that we are those people. I can relate to feeling that this life is too much and that I am not enough. Can’t you? To those who are feeling lost right now: I am so sorry for the despair you feel. I cannot carry your despair for you and I cannot fix it. But I can let you know that the pictures of perfection we are all forced to reckon with on every online platform and every surface real life interaction are not real. They are a fraction of a picture, not even a corner piece to a puzzle. Everyone around you has been lost, is lost or will be lost while here on our planet. While that doesn’t change your burden, it is important you understand that you are not less than. You are not defective and you are not broken. At your worst, in the darkest time friend, you are not broken. You can still put your face to the sun, you can reach up to the sky and twist your mouth into a smile. And when you do that, while you are here doing your best even if the only thing you can do is fake a smile to the universe – it is enough. It’s time to feel passionate about kindness. It’s time to turn kindness inwards, and to stop comparing ourselves to the lies we see online and take the moments we need to give ourselves what we need. Ask for help, take that extra beat with a hug that feels restorative and let the tears go when they need release. Listen to music that makes you cry and dance and laugh. Be brave enough to share how you feel with a friend. Feel the entire spectrum that lives inside, because we are designed to feel more than perfection. We are here to struggle, persevere and live through every day that’s given to us. More importantly, we are here to grow and become better which doesn’t always translate to immediately feeling happier. It can take years. But we are built for this. I don’t have a cure for depression, anxiety and the ills of the world. But if my thoughts of Tim over the last few days have led me anywhere, it’s to this place: fight like crazy for the things that restore balance. Help others in their fight. I salute those who have persevered in their struggle to stay in this world, I know it is exhausting. I am so extremely sad for those who have lost that fight. I won’t let this sadness go unanswered, though. I commit to keep my eyes open and to give love, kindness and compassion to those who need it, including myself. Will you do the same? by MATTHEW MEADOW R. Kelly's manager has blasted feminists attacking the singer, insisting he's on their side and a planned boycott of his music is "unjust".
The soul star is the focus of a campaign led by stars and activists behind the Time's Up movement, demanding an investigation into sexual abuse allegations against him. Members of the anti-harassment and equality organisation's Women of Color committee, who include the director Ava DuVernay, TV mogul Shonda Rhimes and the actress Jurnee Smollett-Bell issued a statement on Monday (30Apr18) requesting authorities look into long-standing accusations levelled against the R&B star. "We demand appropriate investigations and inquiries into the allegations of R. Kelly's abuse made by women and their families for more than two decades now," their statement read. "And we declare with great vigilance and a united voice to anyone who wants to silence us - their time is up." Kelly has been the subject of under-age sexual allegations for years, and was acquitted on child pornography charges in 2008, but last year (17) the families of two women and several former associates accused him of coercing young women into becoming his sex pets. In a BBC documentary a former girlfriend also alleged he had admitted grooming a 14-year-old girl. The 51-year-old singer has denied the claims. The stars have also backed a social media campaign with the hashtag #MuteRKelly seeking to prevent his music from being played and calling for concerts to be cancelled - and now his management team is firing back. "R. Kelly supports the pro-women goals of the Time's Up movement," a statement reads. "We understand criticizing a famous artist is a good way to draw attention to those goals - and in this case, it is unjust and off-target. "We will vigorously resist this attempted public lynching of a black man who has made extraordinary contributions to our culture." But the Time's Up movement activists are refusing to back down. "Together, we call on the following corporations and venues with ties to R. Kelly to join us and insist on safety and dignity for women of all kinds...," a statement reads, listing Kelly's label, RCA, Ticketmaster, Spotify and Apple Music and the Greensboro Coliseum Complex in North Carolina, where Kelly is booked to perform on 11 May (18). The #MuteRKelly campaign began last year (17). Camila Cabello has spoken out about her battle with OCD.
Obsessive-compulsive disorder is a mental condition where people may feel the need to perform particular routines repeatedly, or have certain thoughts repeatedly which they are unable to control. Camila often has to contend with the latter element of the disorder, but is now in a place where she feels equipped to deal with the challenges it brings. "OCD is weird. I laugh about it now," she shared in an interview with Cosmopolitan. "Everybody has different ways of handling stress. And, for me, if I get really stressed about something, I’ll start to have the same thought over and over again, and no matter how many times I get to the resolution, I feel like something bad is about to happen if I don’t keep thinking about it." The Havana hitmaker was unaware of her condition for some time, but learned how to "step back from it" once she knew what she was up against. "I feel so much more in control of it now. To the point where I’m just like, 'Aha! OK, this is just my OCD,'" the 21-year-old explained. "I’ll ask my mum a question for the fourth time and she’ll be like, 'That’s OCD. You’ve got to let it go.'" Camila has gone on to enjoy a successful solo career since she departed Fifth Harmony in 2016 - who recently decided to take an indefinite hiatus - with her self-titled debut album reaching number one in the U.S. charts. And the Cuban-American songstress is still enjoying the benefits of working alone. "I loved making all the decisions, because the product was something that was fully representative of me," she smiled. "It's like making yourself coffee or breakfast. It tastes better than going to a restaurant, because it's yours, because you made it. That's what it felt like for me." |
Karlito YaYoBringing You the Best Global Music Gossip. Archives
January 2024
Categories |