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SEE VIDEO BY TOPIC: Get Out of My Life, Woman Bass Cover - Lee Dorsey

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After her childhood in a secretive cult founded by her grandfather, New Zealand woman Lilia Tarawa risked hellfire and damnation to escape.

In this book extract, she shares a slice of her life at Gloriavale Christian Community. On the west coast of the South Island of New Zealand, a religious cult named Gloriavale Christian Community closed itself off from the rest of the world in Founded by the self-styled and self-named Australian religious leader Hopeful Christian — who was convicted and jailed on three charges of indecent sexual assault of a young woman in — the strong community was run according to a strict and oppressive interpretation of fundamental Christianity.

Women had to cover their heads, show no flesh so as not to tempt sin from the menfolk, do all the domestic work, submit to their husbands and birth as many babies as they could. Eight years ago, Lilia Tarawa — granddaughter of Hopeful Christian — escaped with her family into what she had always believed to be the evil, wicked world. This is an extract from her memoir about her life in the cult.

I lifted my desk lid and removed the thick King James Bible that had been issued to me. It was an old book that had been rebound in the community print shop. I stroked the dull-red cover and held the book to my nose. I loved the musty smell of the pages. Pages rustled for a brief moment before Nathan began in a clear voice. The boy beside Nathan picked up the next verse. After each of us had read aloud, Peter finished the chapter. There was a godly order established in the church — the highest power was God and then Church leaders.

Husbands were to submit to the church and wives must submit to their husbands. Children came last and were expected to obey their parents who served the Lord. He began to pray for our salvation and we clasped our hands and bowed our heads. He thanked God for the wonderful place the leaders had built for us and prayed that we would be saved from the lusts of the world.

We had two more classes after that and I was impatient for them to finish. Peter dismissed us and we tore down to the field, with Jubilant messing around as always and making us laugh at his jokes. We had to play soccer without keeping score, which I thought was stupid because the whole point of sport was to win.

The long dresses were so frustrating to run in but I tackled the football off Jubilant anyway. Our teacher for the session was Nathaniel Constant so I knew to be careful not to make him angry because his fuse was extremely short.

He kept on with the jokes, kicking the ball to the wrong player — anything for a laugh. Nathaniel yelled at him, then he yelled again. It only took one more smart remark before his temper erupted. Get up to the main building. Jubilant grumbled and left the field, but not without throwing a last snide comment. Nathaniel tore after him, caught up and kicked him, then bashed him across the head. The game halted and the class watched, stunned into silence as Nathaniel kicked our classmate again and then again.

He forced him to walk and kept smashing him across the head and kicking him for the entire 30 or so metres to the main building. Jubilant was sobbing and trying to protect himself as he stumbled up the road. Even though the church taught that it was godly for disobedient children to be beaten, this was so wrong.

I was only 11 years old but as I stood there, helpless and watching, my hands to my throat, I knew with every fibre of my being that this was wrong. We were numb from the shock of what had happened. All of us left the soccer field and returned to the classroom. That evening I poured it all out to Mum. Both of us waited to see what punishment the men would give Nathaniel.

Nothing happened and he continued teaching us. I was disgusted. The leaders called it godly, but I thought it was abuse. Some leaders not only encouraged violent beatings but scolded parents who were lenient. This was a church that preached non-violence and was anti-war, yet it saw fit to punish their young for minor errors. Some men took this literally, using weapons like polystyrene pipe to beat their sons. Certain other members rebelled against the impositions and refused to treat their children badly, and I witnessed loving relationships between many parents and their children.

A wife would, in strict confidence, show me her young children, who had horrific marks on their legs, bottoms and backs where her husband had beaten them. Rage boiled in my chest when I saw those poor children suffering.

I vowed to unleash the fury of hell if any husband of mine ever laid a finger on a child of ours in malice. One quiet morning I was in the high school with my head down studying, as were my 30 other classmates.

I was having trouble with a difficult maths problem and bit my lip in deep concentration. Suddenly a loud noise jolted me out of focus. We looked up from our books, all of us startled.

It was Shepherd Fervent bursting into the room. Fervent was dragging his son Willing by the collar of his shirt and he yanked him to stand before the class. I cringed. Fervent puffed out his chest and threw back his shoulders.

His balding head caught the light from the window and he smoothed down the sides of his oily hair. His other hand held a limp leather strap. Fervent was going to make an example of Willing? Willing stared at the ground and mumbled an apology for being disobedient to his father. I felt a sliver of hope. Maybe the apology was enough to clear him? Fervent spat a lecture of how godly parents beat their children to submission.

In that moment I wanted nothing more than to kill Fervent. To my eyes he was scum of the earth. Willing looked shocked, but obeyed his father. Fervent took a wide stance and drew the strap back over his head. He moaned and whimpered with pain. With all his strength he whipped the poor boy again, and again, and again.

Bile rose in my throat and I turned away from the appalling scene. Fervent was a pig and no man of God. My knuckles turned white and I gripped the desk in fury. How dare that man — a leader — treat a child this way? I shut my eyes to block out the horror and covered my ears. Please make it stop. I stared at the pencil groove on the edge of my desk, and my eyes burned with unshed tears. Fervent left his humiliated son standing at the front of the room. The room was deathly silent. When the overseeing teacher gave him a curt nod, Willing stumbled to his desk and buried his sobs in his hands.

The class ended and I stumbled to the lockers in a daze. From that moment I had nothing but love and compassion for Willing. I was popular and loved at school because I was a gifted student of high-status birth so I did my best to include him in my social circles. An exclusive group of us would meet in the evenings to play basketball or soccer.

We were the misfits and the ones who thought outside the box. Willing hung out with us and I developed something of a crush on him which I dared not tell anyone for fear of punishment. What I believed was that all children deserved love. Babies were a big part of life in Gloriavale. Grandad was very fond of bragging that we had the biggest families in New Zealand. A favourite sermon of his was to preach about how lucky we were to have been conceived by Christian parents.

The fruit of the womb is His reward. Some of the women could knit a whole garment in just a few hours. Childbirth was highly celebrated and parents were expected to prepare their children for the practicalities of having a large family. We birthed our children at home. There was no need to visit a medical institution for something that was a purely natural part of life.

God had promised us that women who continued in holiness and faith would be saved in childbearing. But if there were problems with a birth then a birthing mother would be taken to Greymouth hospital. The district midwife made regular visits to pregnant women and attended the births to ensure nothing went wrong. He was fine once the midwife got him breathing.

Get out of My Life Woman

Go to Songsear. Looking for a country song. Sort of slow, very melodic. Male artist. Chorus includes 'just let me in' and another line is 'the pain and depression possibly suffering?

Buy Me A Coffee. Search for another track Lee Dorsey.

In this business, there are two subjects that will boost your page views like nothing else: Game of Thrones and Taylor Swift. One of them is a massive, multi-million-dollar enterprise filled with violence and betrayal, and the other airs on HBO. And, outside the legions of fans who eat up everything she puts out, no take on her ever stays solid for long. She was a precocious teenager, and the ultimate embodiment of white privilege.

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If you've never read all the lyrics to certain songs or you've only heard them in passing, there's a chance you have no idea what they are actually about. Many of the most misunderstood or misinterpreted songs have a catchy hook, killer chorus, and memorable melody, which can sometimes be a recipe for distraction where intended messaging is concerned. It's about the love-hate relationship with the media and how sometimes the pain is pleasurable," Rihanna told Vogue in , according to The Sydney Morning Herald. And it was a very personal message that I was trying to get across. It's probably better that they just think it's a love song at this point. In a interview with the now-defunct Musician Magazine , Stipe said the song is "lyrically very straightforward. A lot of people get hung up on thinking the Goo Goo Dolls' song is a beautiful track about love, but the lyrics tell a much more complicated story. They're trying to figure out if they're going to keep the baby or if she's going to get an abortion or if they're just going to run away," the band's front-runner John Rzeznik told Billboard in Everybody grew up way too fast.

Top 10 Allen Toussaint Classic Rock Covers

De op 2 oktober overleden Tom Petty was een groot rockzanger. Zonder religieuze muziek was er geen popmuziek geweest, zoveel is zeker. Niet veel Amerikanen spreken een tweede taal. Daarom zal een Amerikaan niet snel in een andere taal dan het eigen Engels zingen. Elvis Presley werd op 8 januari geboren in Tupelo, Mississippi.

After her childhood in a secretive cult founded by her grandfather, New Zealand woman Lilia Tarawa risked hellfire and damnation to escape.

A guide for music: compositions, events, forms, genres, groups, history, industry, instruments, language, live music, musicians, songs, musicology, techniques, terminology , theory, music video. Music is a human activity which involves structured and audible sounds, which is used for artistic or aesthetic, entertainment, or ceremonial purposes. A more comprehensive list is given by stating the aspects of sound: pitch, timbre, loudness, and duration.

Lee Dorsey - Ride Your Pony – Get Out Of My Life, Woman

Select a track from spotify. Added by Bastien. Detailed search. Added by wally creek.

My intention in writing the Classic Cuts series is to write probably and approximately once a week on a classic recording from the blues or blues-rock, because I love writing about music and especially about the classics. For the first installment of the series, I had some trouble deciding between whether to choose a Paul Butterfield Blues Band tune or one by Robert Johnson, the great Delta blues giant who is one of the most influential artists of the twentieth century. In the end, I went with the Butterfield Band, not for any other reason than I am particularly enjoying this recording right now and I just wanted to basically sing its praises. But this album as a whole is a masterwork and every tune on it deserves its own place in the history books of blues and rock. Despite the presence of phenomenal guitarist Mike Bloomfield in the band, and there are great guitar fills on the track, the main solo is executed with subtle sophistication by pianist Mark Naftalin. Meticulously melodic and ruthlessly rhythmic, the solo-turn perfectly captures the conflicted but aggressive nature of the piece.

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In a career that spanned nearly 60 years, Allen Toussaint was one of the most respected names in the music business. His death on Nov. In the '70s, he helped define funk thanks to his production work with the Meters, who served as the house band at his Sea-Saint Studios and on his solo albums. In the last 10 years of his life, he moved back into the spotlight, tirelessly performing in clubs and at festivals around the world -- including an annual appearance at the New Orleans Jazz and Heritage Festival -- and getting the acclaim he deserved. And he did it with a cool, elegant style and demeanor that was entirely his own.

Aug 29, - Women had to cover their heads, show no flesh so as not to tempt sin from “Get out! Leave! Now! Get up to the main building. Go!” Jubilant.

If you are, Gary John Bishop has the answer. I am wired to win. I got this.

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I liked her older books better. The characters in this one were almost unlikable and the fascination with "lady chinos" in the first half of the book was tiresome. As autumn begins I find myself in need of hot chocolate in book form, so I read another Marian Keyes. This one was charming, warm and funny in her typical fashion with some interesting themes and

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Allen Toussaint died Monday night at the age of 77, but it will take awhile to fully appreciate his legacy. The multi-talented songwriter, producer and musician, who helped define a sound in New Orleans in the s and s through his work with Irma Thomas , Lee Dorsey and, most notably, The Meters , worked with hundreds of artists in various capacities over his year career. He's recorded albums with Elvis Costello and Eric Clapton , had his songs covered by the Rolling Stones and Glen Campbell , played keys on albums with Paul McCartney and Paul Simon , arranged horns for The Band and, most recently, has seen his work revived as hip-hop has dug into his career. To celebrate Allen Toussaint's continuing legacy, Billboard takes a look back at 10 of the New Orleans native's songs and productions that have been sampled in hip-hop.

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