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It lets anyone create
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Lily Isn’t a Drone — It’s A GoPro That Follows You Around Lily is a brand-new drone coming to market that makes drone photography easier than anything else out there.That’s because the drone is made to follow around its user completely automatically — no controller necessary — tracking a GPS wristband and following commands issued from a smartphone app. The drone takes off and lands right in the palm of your hand. The camera is built right into the drone, and shoots video at up to 1080p.
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Archaeologists have discovered a Ming Dynasty tomb at a
construction site in Nanjing, in China, revealing the skeleton of a woman named
Lady Mei, along with brilliant gold treasures. Here's a look at the gold
treasures and Lady Mei's tomb. [Read the full story on Lady Mei's
tomb] Archaeologists in Nanjing, in China, have unearthed a Ming Dynasty
tomb that belonged to Lady Mei. Inscribed stone epitaphs found in the tomb say
that she died in the year 1474 at the age of 45. Within the tomb archaeologists
found fantastic gold artifacts inlaid with gemstones. This image shows a gold
hairpin with a flame design. The diameter of the hairpin is 11.2 centimeters
(4.4 inches). It still has six sapphires and six rubies on its outer layer while
there is a large ruby at center.
A pair
of gold bracelets found in the tomb. Both of them are about 7 centimeters (2.8
inches) in diameter. The bracelets have flower designs and the gemstones are a
mix of sapphires, rubies and turquoise
This
gold hairpin is decorated with a mix of sapphires and rubies. The hairpin is
14.2 centimeters (5.6 inches) in width and its weight is 148.7 grams (more than
5 ounces).
A
fragrance box with gold chain. It is decorated with lotus petal decorations and
seven characters written in Sanskrit. The remaining gems include four sapphires,
five rubies and one turquoise.
A gold
hairpin in the shape of a chrysanthemum (flowering plant). It has a large ruby
at center and a mix of smaller sapphires and rubies on its petals. The diameter
at the largest point is 11.7 centimeters (4.6 inches). The total weight of the
artifact is 218.2 grams (more than 7.5 ounces).
Two
gold hairpins with branches and tendril patterns. The hairpin at left has three
sapphires, three rubies, one crystal and one turquoise. The one at right has two
sapphires, four rubies and one cat’s eye stone.
A
gold hairpin with a seven petal lotus design. A large ruby gemstone is still
preserved at center. The
brick tomb was excavated in 2008 by archaeologists from Nanjing Municipal Museum
and the Jiangning District Museum of Nanjing City. Their report was initially
published, in Chinese, in the journal Wenwu and was translated into English and
published in the most recent edition of the journal Chinese Cultural Relics. This image
shows a black and white image of the tomb’s exterior. The tomb has a vaulted
roof. By Owen Jaris. With many thanks to Live Science All
Photo Credits: Courtesy of Chinese Cultural Relics. Follow Live Science @livescience, Facebook & Google+. Related posts on archeology:
The early 1980s were a transitional time for American music. The punk
world had already deconstructed rock and roll, and pop music made a
seismic shift toward disco a few years before. West Coast bands like the
Byrds, Buffalo Springfield, Poco, and the Flying Burrito Brothers had
bridged the divide between rock and country a decade or two earlier.
And, while in retrospect those groups offered the first benchmark of
Americana, the origins of that form were yet to be fully vetted. Not
surprisingly, it didn’t take long for something new to brew in the
Golden State, especially in the teeming night spots of L.A. There,
innovative outfits like X, Los Lobos, Green on Red, the Long Ryders, and
the Blasters were finding fertile ground for their unlikely blend of an
insurgent attitude and ‘60s folk-boom sensibilities. These bands
were revolutionary for their time, sounding as if the Ramones had
suddenly developed a hankering for jamming with Gram Parsons around a
campfire, and the Rolling Stones and Willie Nelson agreed to call the
tunes. At the time, the scene was referred to as cowpunk and, given
California’s traditional free-spirited symbiosis, it was allowed plenty
of room to flourish.
This was the landscape into which a young
Dwight Yoakam sauntered when he opted to explore the ever-shifting
opportunities of Los Angeles. Until that time, Yoakam’s travels had
taken him through the heartland, far afield of more daring circumstance. He
was born October 23, 1956, in Pikeville, Kentucky – by all accounts a
perfect place to foster the music he’d make later on. But his family
soon moved to Columbus, Ohio, where he was raised. His parents named him
Dwight David Yoakam, an all-American name at the time, but he insists
it was not chosen in honor of then-President Eisenhower. “My father’s
name was David,” he explains. “On the other hand, my uncle would always
call me Ike.”
They Didn’t Call It Country
Yoakam’s first
musical inclinations steered him toward rock and roll, and he played
with a couple garage bands while in high school. Later, Yoakam spent a
brief stint at Ohio State University, but ultimately decided to pursue a
career as a recording artist instead, and moved to Nashville to seek
his fortunes as a singer. At the time, Music CIty was basking in the
afterglow of the Urban Cowboy phenomenon. Songwriters who could
extend the country crossover and push at the parameters of the
mainstream were the ones who succeeded. Yoakam quickly decided it wasn’t
the vibe he was looking for. In an instant, he changed course and
headed to California. There, he finally felt at home. “In 1978,”
recalls, “I went to the Whiskey and saw the Blasters and Robert Gordon,
and that was all it took to inspire me to play the rock clubs. Over the
next couple of years, when I moved to the San Fernando [Valley], I was
playing the hillbilly clubs. When [producer/guitarist] Pete Anderson and
I got together in 1980, I was playing this bar called the Corral in the
Valley. It was this blue collar, classic Urban Cowboy
audience. I had the sense that something was about to shift. … Country
music – my version and the way I was doing it – allowed me to have all
these great players on my early demos. David Mansfield played fiddle and
mandolin, Terry McGee was playing guitar, and all these other great
musicians were contributing.” With his self-released debut EP, Guitars, Cadillacs, Etc. Etc.,
Yoakam established a touchstone by which all his future endeavors would
be measured. That EP had a reckless, rock and roll attitude to be sure,
a stance that was decidedly in sync with the cowpunk scene. In sync,
but not entrenched. “Guitars, Cadillacs, Etc. Etc.
didn’t have cowpunk on it,” Yoakam points out, looking back. “It was
neo-hillbilly music. But we were in that [cowpunk] scene and it allowed
us to present that traditional hillbilly music. They didn’t call it
country because what we were doing was more raucous.” Mic
Harrison, leader of Knoxville, Tennessee’s revered roots-rock band the
High Score, remembers how hard it hit him. “I grew up listening to
country music my folks would play, but I didn't care for it. [Then,] in
1986, a couple of country records came out that changed my mind. One of
which was Guitars, Cadillacs, Etc, Etc. It had great songs,
great vocals, and Pete Anderson absolutely blew my mind on guitar. It
made me realize I could love AC/DC and someone like Dwight Yoakam at the
same time.” Yet, even though Yoakam had struck a nerve, no one
knew quite what to call his music. “When we finished the sessions,” he
remembers, “I said to the engineer, ‘It’s so hillbilly, they’re going to
call it rock and roll.’ A couple years later, in the fall of ’84, I
opened for Nick Lowe at the Hollywood Palace over on Vine Street, and I
remember Bonnie Garner, who was running RCA at that time, saying ‘I
don’t know, it’s awfully rock and roll.’ So my prediction came true. “When
Pete and I began to play together in ’82,” he adds, “he and I would get
fired from the country nightclubs. I was kicking off my set with Bill
Monroe, ‘Hear Me Calling,’ but they wanted to hear the current,
contemporary hits like Kenny Rogers. I was a man without a country or a
radio station.” Fortunately, he wasn’t alone. With his preference
for low-slung cowboy hats and embroidered denim jackets, people figured
him for a contemporary country artist anyway. He aligned himself with
the sound of Buck Owens and Bakersfield, but his cool posturing set him
apart. Country music saw him as rock and roll; rock and rollers saw him
as country. Yoakam bridged both worlds. “When ’83 rolled around,”
he continues, “there was a scene that emerged with bands like Lone
Justice, Los Lobos, and all these other bands that were made up of punk
players who were attempting to interpret country music. We were able to
walk in and say, ‘Did you mean this?’ and then I’d do my version of
hillbilly music. There was a sense that we were on the precipice of the
moment, and that the door would open and allow me to do this for a large
audience. It made me realize I could have the success … [and] how and
where it would lead.”
“Honky Tonk Man” in a Rock and Roll World
The formal
christening of Americana was still years away, but Yoakam was clearly on
to something. Success came quickly. His remake of Johnny Horton’s
“Honky Tonk Man” became the first country music video to get played on
the then-fledgling MTV. Remembering how big of a deal that early success was, Pete Anderson told the Dallas Observer’s
Darryl Smyers in a 2011 interview, “I'm really proud of the music we
made. We worked really hard and made our stand. We were one of the few
Nashville acts to record in California. I think the label just sort of
tolerated us because we sold records. … They figured as long as we were
selling records, they would leave us alone. And we ended up selling 20
million records.” Yoakam, too, is grateful for the freedom and
support that Warner Brothers gave him at the start of his career. “I am
fortunate that I was signed to a label that allowed an artist to
maintain their bearing in terms of intuition, no matter what,” he
remarks. “The first time I met [Warner Bros. president] Lenny Waronker
was at the 1986 record release show for Guitar Cadillacs, Etc. Etc.
… He called me the next day, after he introduced me to John Fogerty and
Emmylou Harris the night before, and said, ‘You don’t know me other
than meeting me last night. I’ve listened to this record and I saw you
in person last night. The only advice I have for you is that if –
anytime throughout your career – if anyone tells you to do something
that’s against your instincts or intuition, do not do it.’ I think
that’s a pretty impressive thing for the president of a major record
label to tell one of his artists.” Yoakam took that advice to heart and it paid off quickly. He re-released Guitars, Cadillacs, Etc. Etc. on Warner Brothers and followed it with a string of super successful LPs – Hillbilly Deluxe, Buenas Noches from a Lonely Room and If There Was a Way – all within the span of the next four years. Each
of those efforts immediately captivated country critics and audiences
alike. To date, he’s garnered 17 Grammy nods, all in the country music
category. “Country radio embraced ‘Honky Tonk Man’” he says. “They
embraced Guitars, Cadillacs, Etc. Etc. They embraced the next
albums and gave us several hits, including ‘Little Sister,’ ‘Old Ways,’
and ‘Streets of Bakersfield.’ They didn’t embrace me as an artist but
they embraced the tracks because they worked for the format, and it
allowed them to embrace a disparate audience at times.” With the
willingness of country radio to feature artists who were slightly askew
of the traditional tears in their beers sentiments – newcomers Steve
Earle, Lyle Lovett, and kd lang chief among them – it was quickly
becoming clear to mainstream audiences that a roots-related movement was
taking form. This had a lot to do with attitude and willingness to
stand on the shoulders of pioneers like Bob Dylan, Gram Parsons, Emmylou
Harris, John Fogerty, and Chris Hillman, albeit in limited measures.
Seizing on those sentiments, Yoakam managed to bolster his standing with
rock audiences, touring with bands such as X and Husker Du, covering
songs by Queen, the Clash, the Grateful Dead, and Cheap Trick, and
collaborating with artists who might have otherwise seemed far afield of
his rootsy origins -- Beck, Kid Rock, and ZZ Top, to name a few. “We
were doing what Americana became,” Yoakam says, looking back on that
slow evolution. “I was part of this other scene. … I remember when I was
playing a string of dates in London and Dave Edmunds and Nick Lowe came
out one night. They got it. They knew what Americana was before we had a
term for it, as evidenced by the music they were making with Rockpile
and Brinsley Schwarz. Then in 1991, I met Mick Jagger when he came to my
show at the Hamersmith Odeon. We had a rock audience there that night.
He brought along Ron Wood, and again, those guys got it. They realized
that it was something that transcended a genre boundary. As many
people as “got it,” and as much as country radio backed him up, clearly,
that initial embrace also had its limitations. Yoakam cannot only
readily recount his string of successes, but also the failures. “I had a
run of about 18 Top 20 commercial country radio singles,” he explains.
“The album Buenas Noches from a Lonely Room had two very quick number
ones, but other things off that album didn’t work for them. The greatest
hits album didn’t work at all at country radio in 1989. I had two more
hits in ’88, but nothing in ’89 and nothing in 1990. Then If There Was a
Way came out and we had four top five singles from that album. Then
there was a bit of a lull until ’93 when “Ain’t That lonely Yet,’ ‘A
Thousand Miles From Nowhere’ and ‘Fast as You’ all charted. “I’m
really fortunate and lucky to be able to continue doing this and have
this much fun doing it,” he adds, having replayed the list of his ups
and downs. “But I never thought about it too deeply. I might have had
more of those Grammys if I had. I’ve had success, but it’s always
relative. … The last person I want to bore is me, and that’s a strength
but probably a weakness as well. I don’t want to be bored musically, and
I don’t think anybody wants to be. I want to be inspired.” So,
as the ‘90s progressed, radio’s infatuation began to taper off. With his
cowboy hat, tight jeans, and penchant for posturing onstage, Yoakam was
beginning to be seen by some as a bit of a novelty act. A string of
albums in the late ‘90s and early oughts – A Long Way Home, dwightyoakamacoustic.net, Tomorrow’s Sounds Today, Population Me, Blame the Vain, and a soundtrack, South of Heaven, West of Hell were well-received critically but failed to match the success of his earlier outings. Meanwhile,
the rise of Americana, the very style he had helped pioneer, was
beginning. Naturally, Yoakam was quick to see its potential. “The
whole Americana environment and the whole sub-genre that it is, is one
of the healthiest things that could have happened to American roots
music,” he declares. “Any form of American music that has that
singularity about it, that has to do with the larger scope of American
culture, the admonition to ‘Go west, young man, go west’ is, in a bigger
sense, at the heart of what this country is all about. ... [And] that’s
what Americana is, at its best.”
A Man of Contradictions
In his book Dwight Yoakam: A Thousand Miles from Nowhere,
author Don McLeese writes, “One of the many contradictions that makes
Yoakam such a provocative artist is that his loquacious reality is so at
odds with the brooding image of the noir cowboy who keeps his
visage hidden beneath his cowboy hat and his thoughts to himself,
preserving that lip curl for his singing. He’s a flamboyant, even
electrifying performer, but one never gets the sense that he’s revealing
too much of himself beneath those flashy outfits with jeans so tight
they seem painted on his swiveling hips. Away from the stage, Dwight has
no such flash or airs. And he has no qualms about revealing himself as a
balding guy with a few wrinkles and a bit of a paunch.” To
underscore that point, when Yoakam was late for our interview for this
article, his explanation was: “They put way too much on the schedule
with no window.” The reason for cramming all his press appointments into
one day, he said, was because he had been on jury duty and this
particular day happened to be a court holiday. Had he offered a more
glamourous explanation, it might have been more in keeping with his
Hollywood image. Then again, like McLeese wrote, that seems to be
Yoakam: devoid of pretence once he’s off stage. An artist determined to
connect, regardless of his audience. It’s that contradiction
McLeese alluded to, one that not only dictates the disparity of his
style – that of a singing cowboy who somehow found acceptance with the
punk rockers and insurgents before scoring points with the country
crowds – but also a man who sometimes seems determined to keep the world
guessing. The aloof aura that Yoakam exudes onstage couldn’t be more
removed than the man with whom one engages in conversation. He’s more
than merely talkative; he’s engaging, intelligent, personable, and
astute. When I mention my upcoming move to Marysville, TN, Yoakam takes
time to offer his thoughts about the destination and even provides
lessons on proper Southern pronunciation. Even more amazingly, despite a
full day of press and the publicist’s warning about holding to a time
limit, the interview lasts more than an hour and a half, mainly becuase
Yoakam has a keen desire to express himself. “I feel from time to
time that I’ve changed,” he admits, displaying his typically unbridled
honesty. “Ignore the man behind the curtain.”
Beyond Bakersfield
Three years ago, Yoakam burst back onto the scene with 3 Pears.
The disc came seven years after his last album of original material,
and marked his return to Warner Brothers following a stint on New West
Records, as well as other one-off independent affiliations. It also set
the stage for a resurgence of sorts. Critics hailed 3 Pears as a
return to form, with Stephen Thomas Erlewine of AllMusic declaring it
to be “as fresh as any music he's ever made, and one of his very best
albums. “Yoakam,”
he continues, “has decided to delve deeply into the spirit of the '60s,
looking beyond Bakersfield and adding some serious swatches of pop
color throughout the album. Certainly, this is steeped in the thick
twang that's been at the heart of Yoakam's music since the start, but he's attempting more sounds and styles here than at any time since 1993's This Time. This is an album where one song in no way predicts what comes next. Yoakam
has surprised by digging deeper into every one of his obsessions,
creating a record that captures the careening, adventurous spirit of the
'60s without ever feeling doggedly retro.” Barnes Newberry, who
hosts the popular Americana program “My Back Pages” on mvyradio.com,
further expounds on the difficulty of trying to peg Yoakam with any
particular style. “Is he country, honky-tonk, or rock? Dwight Yoakam
defies specific categorization. In his early days he called his music
‘hillbilly,’ but he has been almost chameleon-like in that he can cross
genres with ease on his many albums and in live concerts. I think a
loose tag, such as neo-traditionalist, with a foot in Bakersfield
[country] as opposed to Nashville [country] and another in rock might
better describe what he is able to do.” “If that’s the case, it’s
gratifying,” Yoakam says in response to those reviews. “I once wrote a
song called ‘I Want to Love Again’ and it really wasn’t about romance.
It was about music. It said, ‘I want to love again, feel young again,
the way I did when it was true.’ It wasn’t about the business of it. It
was about the excitement of it, and the inspiration of it.” For all the retro posturing however, it was Yoakam’s collaboration with Beck, who helped produce a pair tracks on 3 Pears,
which turned the most heads. Simply put, Yoakam was back. While his
allegiance to classic form was still unwavering, his desire to explore
the reinvention that’s so crucial to the changing face of the new
Americana was propelled forward as well. To the artist, it’s a stirring
and grandiose concept, one that has to do with far more than the music. “You
can have someone like Robert Plant step up and say, ‘I’ve got that in
my genes. It’s from the Irish, Scottish, Welsh folk traditions,’” Yokam
muses. “There’s a great book called The United States of Appalachia
that discusses [how] the culture evolution of the United States is
pretty much tied in the micro and the macro version of that mountain
chain … Americana is that. It was those people, who against the
king’s command, came across the ocean, crossed that mountain range and
forged off … and said there’s land we’re going to settle, and [we’re
going to] create our own life and our own music. And that’s what
Americana music is. It’s its own music. From Bessie Smith and Nina
Simone to the Stanley Brothers, who were hard proponents of the
Appalachian music and its cultures. Americana is Route 66. It’s that
road that took us way out west"
Second Hand Heart
Yoakam’s new album, Second Hand
Heart, continues his career-long transition, finding his present stacked
so heavily on his past. Heavily invested in the most pronounced rock
rhythms he’s served up in his career, it finds songs such as “She,”
“Liar,” and “Dreams of Clay” taking cues from the Stones, Credence
Clearwater, and even the Clash. “The Big Time” offers up blues
and boogie while the twang of honky-tonk still rings through “Off Your
Mind.” Still, the most surprising song in the set is the one that
epitomizes the genuine dichotomy of Yoakam’s posture – that is, his
revved up version of the traditional standard “Man of Constant Sorrow,”
reinvented as a full-tilt rocker. “There’s a certain immediacy to this album that has something in common with Guitars Cadillacs , Etc. Etc.,”
Yoakam suggests. “On this album, you can hear my take on cowpunk,
especially on songs like ‘Liar’ and the cover of ‘Man of Constant
Sorrow,’ which is kind of like our version of Bill Monroe meets the
Ramones. I told the band, ‘let’s do our version of Ramones/Clash – let’s
jack it up like we’re drinking moonshine on a ridge top in a Chevelle
SS.’ ‘Even Believe’ and ‘She’ also have that that kind of recklessness. I
don’t choose the songs,” Yoakam adds. “They choose me. That’s what it
felt like with this record. They kind of call on me. All I know is,
knock wood, I need to be grateful. And really, really appreciative to
have to opportunity to do the music I want to make.” The kinds of
songs that have found him may shift in style depending on circumstance,
but one thing is clear: Yoakam’s ability to push at the parameters, to
reinterpret the sound of classic country and make it palatable for a
rock and roll audience has contributed to both its growth and its
broader definition. Americana might still have prospered if Yoakam never
came along, but it’s doubtful that it would have embraced such a broad
reach. Yoakam remains fully aware of his contribution to the process but
he’s also well aware of the bigger picture. Americana music, he
explains, “is a reckless abandonment and a wonderfully elegant musical
journey. The term is rightly applied. It is what America can be. It’s
about imagination and ambition, and a gaze towards the unknown that
takes you right to the edge of disaster at times, but ultimately leads
to a brand new world of discovery. The thing about Americana that [its
musicians] have in common is our independence. The irony is what we have
in common, as I heard Billy Joe Shaver say a couple of weeks ago, ‘What
we all have in common is our differences.’ What a genius, brilliant
kind of comment. That truly is Americana. Whether it’s Old Crow Medicine
Show or the Black Keys, they all kind of meander through the Americana
camp. We all wander out through the wilderness and come back to camp
occasionally.” Yoakam has reason to be grateful, not only for the
fact that he was welcomed back to the camp, but that he was allowed to
find his own way in and out of it. He clearly finds it gratifying. “No
matter who it was,” he says, “my manager, my record company, my fans –
they always left me to my own devices, and I had fun doing it. That’s
all I can ask for.” By Lee Zimmerman With many thanks to No Depression
