God: “I don’t know, in the wrong hands it could-”

Gabriel: “Trust me, Lord, this is a classy idea.”

1. A tasteless, rude, racist woman vs. a tasteless, pretentious, racist man? They both loose.

2. OH PLEASE… like Nirvana wasn’t corporate. Sit down, Kurt. Pearl Jam wins.

3. I never read white people’s take on the Biggie/Tupac feud.

4. Blur sit down. Oasis shut up. No one wins.

5. I never read white people’s take on the Eazy-E/Dr. Dre feud. 

6. Courtney Taylor-Taylor looks like this now. Jonestown wins. 

The tragic thing: This brings us no closer to revolution. Taking someone’s life is supposed to be the last straw… and they’ve been doing it for four hundred years. What has to happen for us to start crying out and demanding our freedom? Apparently not psychological abuse, not imprisonment, not rape, not murder… I implore you, Black people, GET ANGRY. Death should not be the only way a black person can rest in peace.

By Mike Rubin [New York Times article] “This band was punk before punk was punk”

ON an evening in late February at a club here called the Monkey House, there was a family reunion of sorts. As the band Rough Francis roared through a set of anthemic punk rock, Bobby Hackney leaned against the bar and beamed. Three of his sons — Bobby Jr., Julian and Urian — are in Rough Francis, but his smile wasn’t just about parental pride. It was about authorship too. Most of the songs Rough Francis played were written by Bobby Sr. and his brothers David and Dannis during their days in the mid-1970s as a Detroit power trio called Death.

The group’s music has been almost completely unheard since the band stopped performing more than three decades ago. But after all the years of silence, Death’s moment has finally arrived. It comes, however, nearly a decade too late for its founder and leader, David Hackney, who died of lung cancer in 2000. “David was convinced more than any of us that we were doing something totally revolutionary,” said Bobby Sr., 52.

Forgotten except by the most fervent punk rock record collectors — the band’s self-released 1976 single recently traded hands for the equivalent of $800 — Death would likely have remained lost in obscurity if not for the discovery last year of a 1974 demo tape in Bobby Sr.’s attic. Released last month by Drag City Records as “… For the Whole World to See,” Death’s newly unearthed recordings reveal a remarkable missing link between the high-energy hard rock of Detroit bands like the Stooges and MC5 from the late 1960s and early ’70s and the high-velocity assault of punk from its breakthrough years of 1976 and ’77. Death’s songs “Politicians in My Eyes,” “Keep On Knocking” and “Freakin Out” are scorching blasts of feral ur-punk, making the brothers unwitting artistic kin to their punk-pioneer contemporaries the Ramones, in New York; Rocket From the Tombs, in Cleveland; and the Saints, in Brisbane, Australia. They also preceded Bad Brains, the most celebrated African-American punk band, by almost five years.

Jack White of the White Stripes, who was raised in Detroit, said in an e-mail message: “The first time the stereo played ‘Politicians in My Eyes,’ I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. When I was told the history of the band and what year they recorded this music, it just didn’t make sense. Ahead of punk, and ahead of their time.”

The teenage Hackney brothers started playing R&B in their parents’ garage in the early ’70s but switched to hard rock in 1973, after seeing an Alice Cooper show. Dannis played drums, Bobby played bass and sang, and David wrote the songs and contributed propulsive guitar work, derived from studying Pete Townshend’s power-chord wrist technique. Their musicianship tightened when their mother allowed them to replace their bedroom furniture with mikes and amps as long as they practiced for three hours every afternoon. “From 3 to 6,” said Dannis, 54, “we just blew up the neighborhood.”

Death began playing at cabarets and garage parties on Detroit’s predominantly African-American east side, but were met with reactions ranging from confusion to derision. “We were ridiculed because at the time everybody in our community was listening to the Philadelphia sound, Earth, Wind & Fire, the Isley Brothers,” Bobby said. “People thought we were doing some weird stuff. We were pretty aggressive about playing rock ’n’ roll because there were so many voices around us trying to get us to abandon it.”

When the band was ready to record, David chose a studio by pinning the Yellow Pages listings to the wall and throwing a dart; it landed on Groovesville Productions, a company owned by Don Davis, a successful producer for Stax Records. Groovesville signed the band, and in 1974 it began work at United Sound Recording Studios in Detroit, where it shared space with Funkadelic, the Dramatics and Gladys Knight. At the time David was 21, Dannis was 19 and Bobby, still a student at Southeastern High School, was 17.

“They were just so impressive, and the sound was just so big for three guys,” said Brian Spears, who was director of publishing at Groovesville and oversaw their sessions. “I knew those kids were great, but trying to break a black group into rock ’n’ roll was just tough during that time.”

The apparent nihilism of the name Death was also out of step with the times. “Nobody could get past the name,” Mr. Spears said. “It seemed to be a real detriment. When you said the name of the group to anybody, it was like, ‘Man, why you calling the group Death?’ ”

The Hackneys said Mr. Davis brought a tape of Death to a meeting in New York with the record executive Clive Davis. Afterward Don Davis told the brothers that Clive Davis had liked the recordings but not the band’s name; there could be no deal unless they changed it. “That’s when my brother David got a little angry,” Dannis said. “He told Don Davis to tell Clive Davis, ‘Hell no!’ ”

Part of the reason David refused was because he was writing a rock opera about death that portrayed it in a positive light, Bobby Sr. said. “He strongly believed that we could get a contract with another record label,” he added. “We were young and cocky, but David was the cockiest of us all.”

That defiance has become central to Death’s underground legend: what could be more punk rock than telling the suits to take a hike in the name of artistic integrity, even if punk didn’t quite exist yet? But separating fact from lore is tricky after three decades. The Hackneys remember Clive Davis’s label affiliation as Columbia Records, but Don Davis — who initially didn’t recall working with a band called Death — said in a phone interview that Clive Davis was with Arista Records, although he couldn’t remember the specifics of the meeting and if the group’s name was an issue. A spokeswoman for Clive Davis said he had no recollection of the group or of any meeting concerning it.

Death and Groovesville parted ways in 1976. Don Davis produced two No. 1 hits that year, one of which was Johnnie Taylor’s “Disco Lady.” The Hackneys, meanwhile, pressed 500 copies of “Politicians in My Eyes,” backed with “Keep On Knocking,” on their own Tryangle label but found it nearly impossible to get radio play in Detroit. Disco had begun to dominate the marketplace — thanks in part to “Disco Lady” — and control of radio playlists was shifting from local disc jockeys to corporate consultants. Bobby said 1976 “was really a tough year for us,” citing “the disco ebb tide” with particular chagrin. “We just figured nobody wanted to hear rock ’n’ roll anymore.”

The Hackney brothers as the 4th Movement, from left, Bobby, Dannis and David.

As their disenchantment grew, the brothers were invited by a distant relative to visit Vermont. “So we came up here to clear our heads for a couple of weeks,” Bobby said with a laugh. “That was like 30-something years ago.”

“We’re still clearing our heads,” Dannis said.

Performance by Rough Francis

Settling in Burlington, the brothers released two albums of gospel rock as the 4th Movement in the early 1980s. David became increasingly homesick and moved back to Detroit in 1982, continuing to make music until his death. In 1983 Bobby and Dannis formed a reggae band, Lambsbread, which became a familiar presence during Vermont’s late-1980s jam-band boom; eight albums later Lambsbread is still active on the New England college circuit. The two brothers bought a house together east of Burlington in Jericho, built their own recording studio there and raised families. Bobby Sr. and Dannis each have five children.

Bobby’s children were crucial to Death’s resurrection. The Hackneys had never shared the details of their Death experience with their kids. “We had moved on in our lives and thought that chapter was over because we went through so much rejection with that music,” Bobby said. “We just didn’t want to relive it, and I especially didn’t want to relive it again with my children.”

But last year Julian heard the Tryangle single at a party in San Francisco and recognized his father’s voice. Soon after, Bobby Jr. did a Google search that revealed the Holy Grail status of the band’s only release. This news astounded Bobby Sr., who dug the master tapes out of storage last May for the first time in three decades and sat down with Dannis for a listen. The music “literally took our breath away,” Bobby Sr. said.

“We looked at each other, and we said: ‘This is truly some of the best rock ’n’ roll we ever heard. Wow, David was right.’ David knew it, and always believed it, much more than we did.”

Bobby Sr.’s sons were equally impressed. Bobby Jr., a veteran of several Burlington hardcore bands, formed Rough Francis with two brothers and two friends to play Death’s music as a tribute to his family. (The band’s moniker comes from his Uncle David’s nickname.)

“We were just trying to find ways to inform people” about Death’s music, Bobby Jr. said. “When I first heard it, I thought: ‘This can’t be real. People have to know about this. This is crazy!’ I felt like I had found Jimmy Hoffa or something.”

The young Hackneys weren’t the only Death enthusiasts. In August 2007 a record collector named Robert Cole Manis, having heard “Keep On Knocking” on a 2001 bootleg compilation of obscure punk singles, found a copy of the Tryangle single on eBay and acquired it for $400 and $400 worth of rare records.

“It was true love when I first heard it,” Mr. Manis said. “I think the record is just phenomenal. It’s timeless. It’s an amazing document.”

While surfing the Internet last summer, Mr. Manis saw a posting from a friend of Bobby Jr.’s on a punk message board announcing the rediscovery of the Death tapes. Mr. Manis excitedly tracked down the Hackneys in Vermont and helped put them in touch with the Chicago indie label Drag City, which he had worked with on a previous reissue project.

The music is an “undeniable combination of classic and punk rock elements,” said Rian Murphy, a spokesman for Drag City. “You can put the needle down on that record in any given place and just be completely transported.”

The Hackneys and Drag City are discussing reissuing the 4th Movement records too, and Bobby Sr. and Dannis are considering playing some live shows as Death, with the Lambsbread guitarist Bobbie Duncan taking over on guitar.

Death’s newfound acclaim has surprised the Hackneys but, Bobby Sr. said, David had predicted that Death would find fame one day. “David came to me right before he died, and he had some master tapes of ours,” he said. “I jokingly said to him, ‘David, I have enough of our stuff, man, I’m running out of room.’ And he said, ‘Bob, you’ve got to keep all this stuff, the world’s going to come looking for it one day, and when the world comes looking for it, I’ll know that you’ll have it.

“You can only imagine the emotions that I go through in my quiet moments when I reflect on that.”

BY JAMES GREENE, JR. [BLURT.com]

The strange, sad story of punk’s first and almost completely forgotten all-black group began in Philadelphia in 1974 when four guys – Kenny “Stinker” Gordon (vocals), Preston “Chip Wreck” Morris III (guitar), Kerry “Lenny Steel” Boles (bass), and Michael “Spider” Sanders (drums) – came together over a mutual love of acts like the Mothers of Invention and Alice Cooper.  The teens christened themselves Pure Hell and soon realized there was nothin’ doin’ in Philly.  Thus, they moved their act to Manhattan. 

Guitarist Johnny Thunders, who had befriended Sanders in Philadelphia, put Pure Hell up in his band’s New York loft.  Naturally, this location was advantageous for networking, and the band soon found itself on bills with Patti Smith and Television.  They also landed a manager, Curtis Knight (who years earlier had employed a young Jimi Hendrix in his band the Squires).

Like most NYC-based punks of the time, Pure Hell made quite a splash in Europe when they traveled there for a 1978 tour.  Around this time the band released their snappy cover of “These Boots Are Made for Walking” backed with the original rave-up “No Rules.”  The single charted in the U.K., prompting Knight to hurry Pure Hell into the studio again to record their full-length debut, Noise Addiction. 

Unfortunately, before the album was completed, group and manager had a major falling out over Knight’s increasingly nightmarish behavior (including the molestation of an underage fan at a London party).  When it was time to fly back to the States, the band members voluntarily disappeared.  Knight, left high and dry, departed Europe with the Noise Addiction master tapes and Pure Hell’s chances of bigger, broader success.

PH nabbed a new manager and slugged it out for a couple more years before finally calling it a day in 1980.  In the decades that followed, while just about every other band from the Bowery scene became lionized and hailed as true pioneers, Pure Hell faded into obscurity.  They existed only in the memories and on the lips of the few hundred or so people who had seen or known them. 

One person aware of Pure Hell and their trailblazing efforts was Mike Schneider, owner and operator of Welfare Records.  “A friend of mine was playing in a band with an original member of Pure Hell and he told me about the existence of the unreleased [Noise Addiction] recordings,” wrote Schneider in an e-mail to Blurt.  “I tried to contact Curtis Knight back then and had no luck. Eventually I was able to contact his wife in 2005 because she was looking to sell the reels, and I bought them off her then.” Knight passed away in 1999.

Pure Hell’s front man Kenny Gordon was “shocked” to hear Welfare had recovered his band’s long-lost tapes.  “Our history was vague and lost for sure in a void,” the singer in a recent interview.  After receiving the go-ahead from Gordon and the band’s other surviving members (Sanders had died in 2002), Welfare Records remixed, re-mastered, and formally introduced the world to Pure Hell’s Noise Addiction earlier this year.  And what an introduction it was.

These guys pushed the histrionic sound of the Voidoids and the Dolls to a strange, new extreme on Noise Addiction.  A few beats faster and Pure Hell could have easily smoked most hardcore groups.  Still, you can’t deny the rawk rooted in the nasty swagger of cuts like “Hard Action” and the fist-slamming title track.  Mike Sanders’ drumming pops like a freshly starched collar while the guitars bleed a sharp river of wild notes.  Kenny Gordon sneers a nice Iggy impression on the vocals, but he avoids sounding too derivative or hacky. 

In short, Pure Hell and their excavated album are really pure joy, a literal blast from the past that will delight fans of the old school and all us aging grumps who aren’t impressed by much anymore.  “If this album had been released thirty years ago, it would have influenced so many people,” speculates Schneider.  “Who knows how big [Pure Hell] would have become as a band?”

Totally awesome. Not the actual movie, but the fact that from 6 to 12am I watched all four Screams. Back to frickin’ back. I can still hear the screeching violins in my head. How is it that I feel completely refreshed and revitalized after watching dozens of people get brutally murdered before my eyes? The short answer is that the thriller movie experience is pure catharsis. It releases all the pent up aggression I’m not allowed to express and I get to see people act out my unconscious fantasies (poorly). They ran, they jumped, they screamed, they killed; they exercised my muscles while I sat back and ate popcorn! I don’t have a long answer. That one may be too disturbing to explore… Anywho!

WARNING *extremely tiny spoiler alert*

Scream 4 wasn’t as much of a blast as 1 and 2, partly because the focus wasn’t on the thrill of the in-progress murder, it was on the revealed killer (we know who did it by the end of act 2). They broke a lot of Scream ‘rules’, as expected, and updated the 90s analog murders to digital. I don’t like to see iPhones in my Scream series, but the 10 year update was surprisingly smooth. The movie was a too obvious comment on Generation Y’s isolation and selfishness due to overuse of technology (old writer alert), but it was still hilariously self-referential and hokey. SAVED! So go see Scream 4… or else.

This reminds me of when I was little, watching Nick at Night on my bed just before I fell asleep. Sigh… the good ol’ days.

close but no cigar

I never really had an issue with my skin color when I was a child. Sure, I coveted the long, wavy hair of the mixed girls in my class, but I was caramel skinned. This meant that I wasn’t considered as pretty as the light -skinned girls but I could avoid the name calling that was rampant in elementary school (doo-doo stain, black as night, coal) and was light enough to, if I chose, do the name calling without someone pointing out the embarrassing fact that I was almost as dark as the “coal black” I was making fun of. My mother used barbie commercials and my favorite cartoons to teach me what was behind the light-skinned/dark-skinned obsession (something that, as I said, didn’t seem to hurt me much) and I’d reprimand my friends for saying things like “good hair” (though I’d wanted it as much as any other black girl). Succumbing to internalized racism was a grave sin in my household, and I resisted it as much as a black child could. Even when I tanned to a deep chocolate color every year (something that, to me, was evidence of a good summer), hating my skin tone didn’t come up until I was in ninth grade.

Ninth grade. I was cute. I’d always been cute. Up until now I had never looked at myself in the mirror with such distain and anger. It was early in the summer and I had already gotten my deep tan. I hadn’t even had a chance to to show myself off yet. I cried and complained to my mother that the sun had made my skin tone “uneven”. ”Are you sure that’s why you’re upset?” she asked. She knew what I was going through, but not wanting to embarrass me she suggested I put on sunscreen to “even it out.”   I was embarrassed.  Are you really crying because you’re too dark? How could you? What does mommy think? I was shocked that as socially conscious as I was, I fell prey to this thing that causes black people to hate themselves. I felt like the girls I had chastised all my life. Despite my dignity trying to take over,  boys were more important than shame now. I spent the rest of the summer with my friend SPF 50.

Jump to 2011, California. I’m hard pressed to find a black couple anywhere. Black women are alone, black men are with non-black women. I walk past a black man and he starts looking at his cell phone or suddenly the sky becomes very interesting. I AM AVOIDED. It makes me angry, but I am more hurt. Number one, because he thinks that every black woman is so needy that they want to hop on any and every black guy they see. Number two, because his desire for whiteness is so strong that he doesn’t even want to lock eyes with me. No friendly hello. No nod. Not even a accidental glance. I DON’T EXIST. When he is with a non black woman he buries his face in hers when I walk past as if to say, “Don’t even fucking try it. I got a good thing going here so back up.”

Today, again, I am ashamed of myself. Getting annoyed when the sun seems to follow me in the car, frustrated to find that after a day of outdoor fun I have gotten two shades darker. Feeling this way about blackness makes me sad, but I no longer chastise myself.  I’ve wondered why it seemed that no matter how well I dressed, how pretty my hair looked, and how well I did my makeup, my beauty was not recognized, almost like I was pretty in a dark room. The reason? Black beauty is an oxymoron. Most of the time I am an enlightened black feminist who genuinely loves black skin. However, I realize that demanding I change my mind completely and immediately about something as omnipresent as white beauty standards is asking too much of myself. I try, and I sometimes fail. Loving your physical self is hard even for a woman who was taught all her life that black women are beautiful from her beautiful, black mother. Realizing that you have to stop waiting for black men to approve of you and become the revolution yourself, even if that means being without a partner, is even harder.

I don’t know how we do it. No matter how much is stolen from us and how badly we’re beaten, raped, and emotionally abused, miraculously, black love forges on.

But look there! Way in the back! Bearing the weight of all these things, plus ostracism from their own community are gay black people.

I can never imagine how it must feel to believe that you are a walking sin; that a part of who you are, something that you can’t change, is in direct conflict with God’s Law. What a triumph and a relief to discover, and know in your heart, that these things are not true. To know this is to know God’s Love.

Great! We’re over that hurdle, now it’s time to fellowship, right?

Wrong. Most black churches not only condemn homosexuality as a sin, but seem to believe that it is among the worst sins. Separating the holies from the hellbound is sort of a tradition in the Christian church, it hurts me to say . It’s not just that most black Christians believe that homosexuality is a sin, it’s that we have no love in our hearts for the “sinners”. We fear gays like they’re contagious. The further we are away from them, the more “Christian-like” we become. Since Christianity is such a huge part of black American culture, this exclusive attitude not only hurts black gays who want to fellowship, but all gays, since their mothers, cousins, aunts, uncles, grandparents, and friends likely claim some kind of Christian affiliation.

I have to admit that I was once one of those Christians. Homosexuality was not to be discussed, it was to be condemned, and that was that. There was no close association or friendship with gays unless your aim was to convert them. I don’t know how it happened, but gradually I started seeing gays as, well, human. God opened my heart and I started to learn acceptance. Then one of my good friends came out to me. I cannot describe the amount of love that God poured into my heart that day. He turned mere tolerance into an open-armed embrace. His love and compassion was so powerful that I almost couldn’t contain it. God also let me feel the terrible pain of someone so lovely and good who hated herself because of what other Christians had taught her. She’s still struggling today.

We have to band together as one family and eradicate anything that would separate us. The church is ONE body in Christ. God is LOVE in its purest form, and He makes NO MISTAKES ♥

Leave your hair wet when you put the styling creme on. Also, I used the “shampoo” as a leave in. Yep, you can do that…

Blow your hair out just a little. Not so that it’s floppy, but so that it sticks out.

My hair can get very dry, so I made a glycerine mix. I used 25% glycerine and the rest water. I usually put in 40% glycerine but my hair was already really moisturized by the WEN.

I used the balm to braid it.

And here we are! Nice length, REALLY soft.

You can do a lot with it. Even put it up!

Great product!

Radiohead OK Computer: My favorite album of all time, hands down. Beautiful, otherworldly, absolutely perfect.

Interpol Antics: Incredible post punk sound, a la 2004. Great lyrics, sexy vocals. Nothing is lacking.

Interpol Untitled: This album, their first, made me fall in love with them. I’d never heard this sound before, like mist. It was really exiting.

Belle and Sebastian If You’re Feeling Sinister… So pretty! The sweetest little album you’ll ever own, but not too twee. An album full of happiness and a bit o’ sarcasm.

Alanis Morrissette Jagged Little Pill I am woman, here me roar. The songs on this album are really powerful and so is her voice. This is what feminism was to me at age 10.

The Strokes Is This It? You know that feeling you get when you’re about to go down a big hill on a roller coaster? Yeah. If Lou Reed sang lead for The Beetles, this’d be it.

Blink 182 Enema Of The State One of the first albums I ever purchased. I was ten and loved fart jokes, but I also had good taste in music. That’s what this album is. A quality fart joke.

Erykah Badu Baduizm What can I say? Pure neo-soul heaven. Beautiful and clever lyrics. My mom bought us the tape when I was like 9. We wore that thing out.

Amel Larrieux Infinite Possibilities Beautifully arranged songs with a voice as sweet as honey singing them. I don’t find many sopranos singing neo-soul, and it works well.

Jewel Pieces Of You I got this album for Christmas when I was 11. Folk by a young, sensitive Alaskan. You can’t go wrong! It’s good, trust me

No Doubt Tragic Kingdom My mother and I yelling the words to “Spiderwebs” while she drove me to school in the morning is a vivid and cherished memory of mine. This album is so fun! Ska punk at its best.

Lauryn Hill The Miseducation Of Lauryn Hill This is one of those albums that you can let play all the way through without skipping. Her genius is undeniable. Heartfelt. This is real poetry.

Weezer Weezer (The Blue Album) I was absolutely obsessed with this album. Every song is gold. GOLD, I TELL YOU!!  Rivers whines for most of the album, but he is a skilled whiner. It’s as if emo and power pop had a baby. A glorious, angst ridden baby.

The Mars Volta De-Loused In The Comatorium Omar Rodriguez Lopez’s guitar playing alone makes this album one of my favorites. The production is very heavy handed, but as a psychedelic wall of noise with incomprehensible lyrics, it works. The arrangements are really good.

Danny Elfman Nightmare Before Christmas This soundtrack can never be overrated. Danny Elfman’s voice is like silk and the songs are absolutely fantastic!! A perfect musical.

Donnie McClurkin Live In London And More This man is blessed and his songs reflect that. Smooth, powerful voice singing the best praise songs I’ve heard compiled on one album.

Portishead Dummy Ethereal, sexy, and a bit sinister. Beth Gibbons’ haunting voice and the “Bond film” influenced trip-hop beats make you feel like your in a crime underworld!

Kirk Franklin The Nu Nation Project Don’t act funny, you know you used to jam to some Kirk Franklin. As cheesy as his interjections may be (Come on, yall! Uh huh, what what!), the man is musically gifted, and this album was a huge breakthrough in gospel. Songs of praise and guidance that you could do the bounce to!

Smashing Pumpkins Siamese Dream This album has made me cry. It’s apparent that Billy Corgan has an almost spiritual connection to his music. [Tear inducing song: "Luna"]

Smashing Pumpkins Gish This is their debut album; a really good rough cut of what was to come. For an album by a band that hadn’t fully developed their sound yet, it’s pretty amazing.

Sade The Best Of Sade Sade is such a talented and uncompromising artist. She’s also a tortured soul who’s endured a life of love and loss. Her songs are soothing but sometimes so heart wrenching that they’re almost unbearable. Don’t drink while listening…

Sarah McLachlanSurfacing There are few albums that make me feel at home, and this is one of them. Mommy would put this on when it was “calm down” time. Makes me miss her ♥ The songs are so gracefully written and the production so light that it can put you in a coma-like sleep.

Click to hear, right click to download

Secret heart
What are you made of
What are you so afraid of
Could it be
Three simple words
Or the fear of being overheard
What’s wrong

Let em’ in on your secret heart

Secret Heart
Why so mysterious
Why so sacred
Why so serious
Maybe you’re
Just acting tough
Maybe you’re just not man enough
What’s wrong

Let em’ in on your secret heart

This very secret
That you’re trying to conceal
Is the very same one
That You’re dying to reveal
Go tell him how you feel

Secret heart come out and share it
This loneliness, few can bear it
Could it have something to do with
Admitting that you just can’t go through it alone?

Let em’ in on your secret heart

This very secret
That you’re trying to conceal
Is the very same one
That you’re dying to reveal
Go tell him how you feel
This very secret heart

Go out and share it
This very secret heart

“That was like three days ago… OR WAS IT?!”

R.I.P. Oscar Grant

For people with 4a-4b hair that is longer and thicker, this may be your result:

They say that it’s best to use Knot Today, a detangler from Kinky Curly, with the KCCC application. I didn’t buy it because it was to damn high and a sista ain’t got the funds. So! Here’s my result from when I first put it on:

CLICK on them to get a larger view

Here it is a day later:

The thing I do like about the KCCC is that it makes my hair look like a fresh wash n’ go for days! Next time I think I’ll use the custard with a braid or twist -out and see how it goes

Price: 8oz. $17.00, 32oz. $29.00

*Matthew 20:16