Coolie No 1 Video Song Download

Would someone be kind enough to go through and explain the lyrics of this song? Either what the lines mean, if just about the theme of the song in general? I just want to deepen my appreciation of this fantastic track. Thanks!!

The best propaganda in the world is the one that catches on without people realizing that it\u2019s propaganda. Lennon\u2019s Imagine is the perfect example, waxing lyrical about the virtues of communism with saccharine lyrics without even using the word. Closer to home, we had another example. It is an anthem of individualistic neoliberalism, wrapped in one of the most popular songs of the 90s, that went completely unnoticed.

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I am of course talking about the seminal classic Main to Raaste Se Ja Rahaa Thaa - the requiem for unabashed individualistic capitalistic consumerism, a rebel song against society\u2019s shackles and judgement. Samir\u2019s lyrics in the David Dhawan comedy might seem run-of-the-mill, but they are as powerful a critique of society as a social theory lecture by John Stuart Mill. Consider the lyrics:

Why should the individual care if society is unhappy with his actions? Is it the individual\u2019s job to become a product of his environment, or should the environment become a product of him? In fact, that the song is a cornerstone of a movie that is a silent tribute to a meritocracy where the protagonist \u2013 like Karna \u2013 will not let the circumstances of his birth shackle him to his station.

Ranx was born in London on 9 March 1965 and was raised in New York City. His mother is from Jamaica and his father is from Nigeria. He was discovered in 1990 when the lead singer and guitarist of the Toasters, Rob "Bucket" Hingley, heard Ranx's dancehall reggae EP. Joining the Toasters in the early 1990s, he toured and recorded two albums with the band, including Dub 56, which features two songs he wrote.

I discovered this article while researching the history of Shanghai nightlife at Columbia University in the 1990s. It gives the reader of the age an evocative if somewhat orientalist account of Chinese life in the city in the early 1920s, before the jazz age hit the Chinese population of the city like a firestorm. The author's recounting of the Sing-Song girls in the Chinese teahouse is hilarious and also revealing of the attitudes of many westerners towards Chinese culture and music during that age--a combination of curiosity and disdain. The author has the Chinese girls speaking "pidgin" English, which was quite common in westerners' depictions of Chinese speaking English during that period. If you can get past the orientalist overtones, you might find that this is a very valuable account from westerner's eyes and ears of what it must have been like to stumble into a Chinese teahouse and be served by the young Sing-Song girls. The section on coolies is similar and it's hard to say whether the author is being serious or tongue-in-cheek in his lavish descriptions of what the coolies were saying.

In five minutes I learned the reason for that wink, for three girls, dressed in gorgeous silks, appeared at my table. They knelt down on cushions at my feet. Their ages appeared to be about thirteen years, but they were painted and calcimined within an inch of their lives. They were Chinese "Sing-song Girls," the cabaret singers of the Celestial Empire, the geishas of China.

Now, a Sing-song girl's orchestra consists of one player, and each girl has her own accompanist. The "orchestra" of my linguistic singer was a wrinkled octogenarian with rheumy almost sightless eyes who performed upon the squawkiest Chinese fiddle I had ever heard. He played four notes and then the girl began to sing. Her voice was stupendous in volume; it was shrill as the grating of a hundred files; it was as tuneless as the first notes of a rooster, heard by an insomnia-ridden man. How can I describe that song? Imagine a man yodeling a cracked falsetto at the top of his voice and religiously attempting to sing two out of every three notes a half beat out of time and two degrees out of harmony, then permit him to be assisted by vicious interruptions from a pocket edition of a horse-fiddle and you have the tout ensembleof a Chinese cabaret song.

The other two children sang their songs with equally enthusiastic furor. I have been many times told that the Sing-song girls are not children. It has been patiently explained to me that they are never younger than fifteen years of age, and more often their ages average from twenty to twenty-five years. But they are all so tiny; their hair dressed with the long bangs that proclaims the unmarried woman, their flowered jackets and absurdly high-water trousers--all makes them seem like little children, costumed and be-painted for some amateur festival.

After they had finished their song they bowed low to me, and the girl who first sang asked if I would do her the honorable favor of presenting her with my pocket handkerchief and three of my calling cards. I did so.

Leaving the tea-house, I began to retrace my steps back from the native city to my rooms at the Consulate and soon reached the French Bund. Here, I found they were busily loading coastwise and river steamers; for the poor stevedore coolies are never given a holiday even at New Year time.

Like the inward urge of the hound to bay at the moon, it seems that the coolie must sing at his work. It is traditional, persisting tenaciously through countless generations. Each workman is apparently required to utter a definite cry, denoting to what craft of carriers he belongs. Then he must amend that cry for every variation in the load he carries. If he is of the craft of stone carriers, his call will signify the fact, but, if he carries marble on one trip and limestone his next, he must give a different call for each load. These variations are difficult for an untrained ear to detect. After listening to many calls I was able to note a differentiation somewhat as follows:

I remember once inadvertentlv blocking the passage of two coolies bearing a sedan chair. It was a murky night in Suchow and the unlighted excuse for a street was only wide enough for my donkey to pass the chair by dint of considerable manipulation. As I showed no haste to open the passage, the coolies suddenly grew very wroth and began to shout a phrase at me, glowering the while. Being in a teasing mood, I obdurately held my ground. They raised the pitch of their voices and began to shake their fists at me, still repeating the phrase.

I turned to my companion, also perched on a donkey behind me, and remarked that I thought the coolies were swearing at me, or, at least, they were calling me one of their favorite expressions-"Foreign Devil!" My friend knew Chinese; he grinned and gave me the translation of their vicious-sounding phrase:

I had delayed too much time on the Bund to permit of my walking home, so I signaled to a ricksha. That night was fated to be a night of noises, for my ricksha boy, while we were returning to the Consulate, broke into song. Only once since has it been my misfortune to hear a ricksha boy sing, for they are one of the few silent classes of coolies. This outburst, I soon discovered, was caused by too frequent imbibition of hot Chinese wine. He swung an erratic course up the street, narrowly escaping collisions but singing gleefully the while.

At last, his fare, fearing for the fate of his "most honorable neck," poked the coolie briskly in the ribs with a walking stick. This acted as a temporary soberer, the song ceased, and I was glad to note that my progress was considerably improved.

As I listened to the coolie cries I wondered idly of what were those yellow men thinking. Was it of the buying of a wife from Ningpo, the ultimate fate of a father's soul, the tale of a fellow coolie about the great white fox spirit, or, more probably, was it of the heaping bowls of rice, garnished with bits of stewed meat that they would consume in the morning?

"The song 'Husn Hai Suhana' is the song that really made my career in choreography take off. There were a lot of big choreographers at that time, Saroj Khanji, Chiniji. Ramesh Taurani, the producer, wanted them to choreograph this song; not a new choreographer like me, because it was a sure-fire hit song. But David Dhawan and Govinda wanted me to choreograph this song. Somehow they convinced Ramesh Taurani, and he agreed. I put everything I could into the song, everything I'd learnt in my life, and all my energy and enthusiasm. When I finished choreographing it, my dancers and I were waiting for David Dhawan, Govinda and Ramesh Taurani to come and watch the dance. We hadn't eaten all day! We only drank juice. When they saw the dance, they realised it was the correct decision [to hire me]."

"Karisma was wearing shorts for the song. There was a step that required her to move forward on her knees, jump and then land back on her knees. When Karisma's mother Babitaji saw this, she told Karisma she'd have to do it. Karisma said it wasn't possible, but her mother told her if she wanted to be a big star, she would have to do the step. It took half a day, but Karisma did it without knee-pads. Her knees were bleeding. The song was a hit; and it was as a result of its success that I came to be recognised as a choreographer in the industry. For me, because of this, David Dhawan and Govinda are my godfathers."

"Coolie High" by Camp Lo appears to be about living life on the edge while enjoying the finer things in life. The song's hook encourages the listener to come and check out what Camp Lo has to offer, inviting them to relax and let the "sugar love", or opulent lifestyle, flow.

The compelling nature of the beat later attracted several popular US pop stars who scored major Billboard hits with songs recorded on the Coolie Dance rhythm such as Lil Jon and Pitbull, in addition to Nina Skye.

coulee n Also sp cooley, coolie, coolly, coul(e), couley, coulie {Fr coule a flow; ...} 1 Any of var types of watercourse: a A stream bed, often one that runs dry according to the season; also the stream itself scattered, but esp L[ouisiana] [Citations omitted.] b A small bayou or canal in marshland. esp L[ouisiana] [Citations omitted.] A valley or depression between hills. chiefly W[isconsin], M[innesota], M[ontana], [N[orth] D[akoya], W[yoming] [Citations omitted.] d A ravine or valley with sloping sides. chiefly West [Citations omitted.] ... 17dc91bb1f