San Diego based Producer Es Nine and Denver based Emcee A.V.I.U.S. both from the powerhouse collective, Prime Element have shifted gears and taken on a new direction.  They have created a new group of old and called it, "Under The Shade."  The name of course is deeper than some would acknowledge and with careful thought and consideration they chose this name because of the true meaning behind it.  Under the Shade or being cool, calm and collected, with no worries is the foundation of the crew's creativeness.  They have decided that no matter the time, age or destination, to take the road with positivity and the eagerness to create classic music. The music will not only be consistent with the duo's passion for hip-hop, it will also be in the same realm of the heroes they looked up to and were inspired from.  By not following the trends and the new age sounds of the industry, Under The Shade plans on sticking to its game plan and continues to lead the world to the music they love to make, Classic Hip-Hop. 

NB: If for some unlikely, bizarre reason, you follow me DO NOT be offended if I don't follow back. I try to follow back everyone who follows me (if I like what you're about (I've had some very odd follows recently - my account is predominately psychedelic and my own burblings, why would I be interest in an account which is mainly K-pop...?!) but I'm at my limit and I don't have the energy at the moment to have a clear-out. 

Oh and, no, I'm NOT interested in buying followers/likes/plays. If you're not genuinely interested and/or an actual human, please kindly - and with extreme prejudice - fuck off. Spammers WILL be reported and blocked. 

I've no idea why I've just upgraded, waste of money really (and I've not got much to waste) - nobody wants to hear my bollocks. I guess - and this is stupid, I know, but if someone hears what I do, and thinks it's okay(ish) they might want to help me to stay existing (yes, I know that's ridiculous). The people who've told me I'm good were likely just being diplomatic. 

Today was my birthday(15/05/2022)and, as of today I've been detained 420 days (yes, could really do with it too). My physical and mental health have been completely destroyed. I guess that, if this place finishes me off, this account will at least let the world know I existed. This is what happens to autistic people in the UK - we're locked up and forgotten. I am literally in fear for my life here (I have hyperacusis, means I'm extremely hypersensitive to noise), I live - exist - in terror, 24/7. The only way I can describe this is hell. There's a lad here who slams his door 24/7 and for the past week I've had to contend with the schizophrenic lass kicking my door in every night. I have given up trying to get help, I'm now too sick and weak to try anymore. I'm severely malnourished, weak from hunger, and severely chronically ill. Nobody cares. I'm rarely given food, and when I am it's inedible. Staff tell me that it's "more than" their "job's worth" to stop him banging. Evidently they view their jobs as more important than my life - but I'm autistic and, in the UK, the life of a neurodiverse person is worth less than that of a neurotypical (I'd go as far as to say it's worthless). 

This is NOT a care home, this is a detention centre. 

The average lifespan of an autistic person is between 36 and 54. I'm 45. Unless there's anyone in the UK who reads this who can help me, I'm not going to make 46. 

Everything I upload here (unless stated otherwise) is my own BS, just what comes into my head when I'm listening to people who can actually do stuff. It's all completely unedited. 

Thank you to all those people, infinitely more talented than me, who have at least made this a teeny bit bearable.

🤗With all my love🤗

Sarah
☮️❤️🧡💛💚💙💜☮️

One of the defining moments in the paralegal profession in Ontario happened in the late 1990's. Sandy Hutchens, the first person to receive the P.L.L. (Paralegal Litigator) designation from the Canadian Paralegal Association, became the first (and so far only) paralegal in the province of Ontario to be granted permission to appear before the Divisional Court and the Court of Appeal, representing tenants in landlord and tenant dispute matters. In a career spanning more than two decades, Sandy Hutchens has conducted 3000 landlord and tenant trials, representing both tenants and landlords; and thousands more before the Small Claims Court and Traffic Court. He represented The Paralegal Association of Canada at the Cory Commission on licensing of paralegals in the Province of Ontario. (see http://www.lsuc.on.ca/media/analysiscorysreport.pdf). In addition, he has the distinction of having 631 reported decisions in the Ontario Court of Justice, including the Landlord and Tenant Board in the province of Ontario where he represented a party in these decisions.

With a particular passion for righting wrongs, Sandy Hutchens has helped hundreds of battered women gain custody of their children and obtain restraining orders against their abusive husbands. And as the president of Tenant's Rights Company Inc., he served as a Commissioner of Oaths for the Province of Ontario for swearing affidavits.

An avid chess player, and a crisis counselor in his spare time, Sandy Hutchens enjoys hockey, basketball, soccer and reading. He resides in the Greater Toronto Area with his wife and children.

I began writing in April '19 as a therapeutic tool leading up to and during admission to a psychiatric hospital to receive treatment for PTSD, depression and anxiety caused by a violent and abusive start in life. I continue to write from my room on the ward, my work is raw and a little dark but honest, with a few lighter ones to challenge myself. These were taken from a 50 piece collection called Sic(k), using the double meaning to represent my current situation. As this volume is complete I have commenced work on Still Sic(k) as a second part, hopefully to reflect a stronger theme of recovery as my treatment continues. I also have a smaller collection of commissioned pieces and 'gifts' for friends and family.

Fired at forty. It was a belated birthday present from the owner of the contract embroidery firm I worked for. I had spent the evening before defending one of my staff against the tirade of the boss’s irascible wife: an unconscionable act that needed to be dealt with, swiftly. And so it was the following morning I found myself back at home, before my wife had even left for work. I stood there, without job, title, high five-figure salary or security, and fearful of telling her the news. Without hesitation, my wife affirmed, “This is the best thing that could have happened to you. You were miserable in that job. We’ll figure it out”. Pause, catch breath….wow.  The doors that life opens and closes are rarely the ones we are expecting.

I grew up in a rigid, academically-oriented environment. I always found school easy, piano practice difficult, and longed to play baseball and work on motors. My mother would have none of that. Sports and manual labor would lead to a lack of focus on the important things: things that would lead to a well-paying and, of more significance, a well-respected profession. As she grew up a poor Missouri farm girl during the depression, I can hardly fault her for that perspective.

At age twelve, bored with the tedium of piano music I could not emotionally relate to, I began teaching myself to play the guitar. For the next several years, I picked out the songs from the sixties and seventies that I loved: the piercingly beautiful harmonies of Simon & Garfunkel, the questioning tenderness of Cat Stevens and the rough and flowing melodies of Gordon Lightfoot.  Along the way, I became addicted to the power-chord fun and frenzy of AC/DC and the original and quirky musical approach of Jethro Tull. Through all this, I began to develop an appreciation for certain aspects of classical music. I enjoyed the wonderful melodic drive of Telemann, and almost every symphony of Haydn’s I came across.  Bach’s Brandenburg Concertos appealed to me also, although I have since lost my taste for the very mathematical preciseness of those six pieces. Curiously, I found myself disliking almost any classical piece played on the piano.

Nothing else had appeared on the horizon after high school, and it was now time for me to grow up. So, to please my parents, I took my valedictory honors and scholarships and headed off into my gleaming future at University of Missouri-Columbia as a Navy ROTC cadet, certain of nothing other than garnering more accolades and respect that increasingly meant little to me. My first year at college passed uneventfully. I made the grades, wore my cadet uniform, and performed across the board as expected. I was even selected to be the Navy ROTC representative in a recruiting picture that hung in the main university visitor building, where prospective students and their families would come to see what campus life might hold.  The only memory I have retained of that building is that the glass door in front of that photograph was happily unlocked the day I decided to abscond with the picture for my scrapbook.

I began second year much as the first, embracing life in a matter-of-fact, humdrum manner.  One day in early February of 1974, I was walking a dear friend back to her room on campus. We were discussing music, in particular a Neil Diamond song which ended with a very pretty solo piano piece. (Odd for a pop song.) She was telling me how much she enjoyed that, and when we arrived at her dorm, I sat down at the lobby piano and picked out the music. This was nothing out of the ordinary as far as I was concerned, but her reaction was immediate and enthusiastic. “How did you do that?” she exclaimed. “That was wonderful! You are wonderful!”  Still feeling nonchalant about it, and not fully understanding her amazement, I kissed her good night and trudged back across campus to my own room. Along the way, I felt her words sinking in, deeply. “Probably just my ego needing to hear that”, I reasoned, and promptly fell asleep. 

The next morning was a Saturday and I awoke with, what? Noise, no… something in my head, and not just something, but music. It was not the song from the night before, but hundreds of instruments all sounding together in a frenetic rush of harmony and energy. I was aware of all sounds and melody lines simultaneously. I lay on my bed unable to move, or not wanting to, for fear of stemming the deluge flowing through me. After an hour or so, I got up, ignored all my studies and plans for the day, and headed back to that same piano. I sat down and played for two hours, and it was all music I had never played before. I finally pushed the lid closed, completely exhausted, empty, and happier than I can ever remember being.  The consummate “all A’s” student began missing classes for the first time ever and searching out any available piano on campus, with always the same result: playing for a minimum of an hour, and all new music. The upcoming integral calculus exam no longer held sway over my time and study.

Several weeks and many piano sessions later, a student at one of the dorms approached me and said she had recorded an hour of my musical wanderings, and had been studying while listening to it. She graciously gave me a copy. My first recording! As I listened to it later, I found myself quietly thinking, “There’s some good stuff here”. I even heard technical sections with a certain level of expertise that I was not aware I could play. I nervously sought out one of the music professors, the resident composer, and asked if he, his tweed jacket and goatee could listen and give me an appraisal. I came back a week later for the verdict. He said it was rambling and disorganized, but despite that, exhibited real talent. My angry and rebellious self heard only his first words, and I stormed away, severely disappointed. “Just what I expected from Professor Tweed-Jacket!”  I have long since realized that he was being honest, and that he was right.

The maelstrom of music and emotion I was experiencing during this time quickly swept away all vestiges of my life and relationships, and left me free, full of fears and alone. I dropped out of school, abandoned my scholarships, and took a job as a dishwasher to the astonishment and dismay of both parents and friends. Throughout the next twenty years, I performed in several different bands while working a wide variety of jobs. These usually involved hard physical labor, which I discovered I loved. I unloaded fishing boats in Alaska, drove forklifts and delivery trucks, worked in a state mental institution and any number of warehouses. I eventually arrived at the level of general manager, a position I held for five years before the axe fell in 1994. With the amazing moral support of my wife, I took the leap and began playing professionally in the autumn of that year. It was then that I encountered for the first time a deeply moving relationship with the grand piano. In her highest form, she is a black-as-coal, nine-foot beast of thunder, elegance and tears.

I found paying work as a pianist quickly enough that I was able to release my first CD one year later.  I now have four recordings of my own and have keyboard credits on a fifth, a Native American Flute album called “Courting The Heart Of The World” by my friend, Saggio. I have sold 56,000 copies of my CD's.  Now sixty, and twenty years into my life’s work, I am more in love with the mystery of music than ever. I awake every morning unsure of quite a lot, yet I grow increasingly less fearful and more excited at the possibilities inherent in not always knowing. Against the wisdoms and remonstrations with which the first nineteen years of my existence were imbued, I am learning to embrace the lack of certainty as the deeper and truer nature of life, and the key to living it fully.


I will let my music speak for who i am. What i stand for will be conveyed through my sounds and they will resonate throughout the universe. 

My style is genre hopping with a focus on upbeat, ambient, textural synths. I really just make music that sounds interesting to me.

All i can truly say is that the music i produce is merely a bi-product of artists and sounds from past & present.

After all, we are all products of our environment.

Just smile and remember that we're all living in the same house, only we're just looking through different coloured windows.

Regards,

Hero Shade 

@dlou214972469
$dlou214972469
@blockknowledgeTv 

Gwyneth Aliya is following