‘Thriller 40’ Celebration (Streaming Parties!)
Happy Anniversary to the best-selling album of all time, Michael Jackson’s “Thriller!” From Nov 18th to November 23rd, (6 pm to 11 pm EST), streaming parties will be happening on StationHead in celebration of the groundbreaking album! To celebrate and stream with fellow MJ fam, please download the StationHead app from your app store.
If you’re unfamiliar with the StationHead app, it’s very easy to use and a lot of fun! Once you’ve downloaded the app, you’ll be prompted to connect a Spotify or Apple music premium service — and if you don’t have a premium account, you can always download a free trial!
Please note: It’s very important to have a premium Spotify or Apple Music service or you won’t be able to hear the music and your streams will not count toward the music charts.
In today’s world of music, streaming plays an important role in getting an artist to chart! And wouldn’t we love for Michael’s classic album to chart in the Top 5 after its initial release date in Nov of 1982? Yes, of course, we would! So, please download the StationHead App and stream with us! The Streaming parties are a lot of fun! You’re able to chat with other fans and request songs all while enjoying Michael’s music! And the most awesome thing about StationHead is that for every listener a DJ has, the track being played counts as a stream! So, let’s say when the song, Thriller is played and a DJ has 100 listeners, it counts as 100 streams!
If lots of Michael Jackson fans participate in these parties, it’ll help get Michael to the top of the charts (along with buying the actual record and radio airplay of songs that’s on the album.)
The way an artist charts today on Billboard and every other music chart is different than it was years ago. Whereas back in the day, people physically walking into a store to buy an album/song was the way to go — things are now more digital! Yes, actual albums and single sales still count but so does streaming! A lot of today’s music artist’s fans stream their music in large numbers — and many of the streaming parties for those artists have 500+ people in them! That’s a lot of streams in such a short length of time!
As we’ve seen with the #ThrillerChallenge, we can stream and get Michael high up on the charts! And though we didn’t make our goal, Thriller still reentered the charts at #26 on the Billboard Hot 100 Chart!
So please, stream with fellow MJ Fam to celebrate Thriller40! Streaming parties will be held from Nov 18th to Nov 23rd, 6 pm to 11 pm EST.
For more information, please visit the “Thriller 40 Challenge” website at: Stationhead Streaming Parties For ‘Thriller 40’ - Thriller 40
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There was too much distraction for coherency. The noise vibrated his skull, enveloping every corner with a painful buzz. Each sound they encountered was eleven times louder than what his eardrums could handle — double that, triple. The casual chit-chat that echoed the shelter could’ve very well been detonating bomb, clangs and bangs from the kitchen staff cooking far away and out of sight causing him to twitch and jolt with aggravation.
The smells only made it worse. His nostrils burned with smells he’d never encountered, tangling his stomach into a tight, aggressive coil. If an ant crawled across the shelter, he swore he could pick up on their scent.
Every nerve, every sense his body was capable of — it was heightened beyond human limitations, surpassing even the most feral of animals.
It was too much. And with each step they took further into the building, Norman’s irritation only grew.
“…anyway, nah, this is ‘cause the city totally botched a water line replacement a few days ago. They shut off our pipes for a while — Mrs. P said it should be back by the weekend. We can get you a shower then. I think we got some of those, like — those wet wipes somewhere, though. Maybe we can get some of that, uh…dirt…off of you.”
While Dylan seemed to know exactly where he was going, weaving in and around cots like it was second nature, Norman stumbled behind his every step — bumping into beds and nearly tripping on strangers feet along the way.
“Fire,” he managed to croak, each forward step an ordeal for his weak and buckling knees. The people he passed met him with scowls and muttered curses, their outstretched legs and broad shoulders obstacles he could scarcely avoid, adding to the discordant rhythm of his steps.
And yet, if he had a mirror, Norman would’ve seen that he blended right in with them. Ash and soot darkened his Caucasian skin into a messy canvas of black, and the tattered, oversize clothes that hung off his frame were more fibers of fabric than they were actual attire.
The heat of his own body had done too much damage to even the thickest of wool coats he could find.
“Yeah, yeah, right, man. You said there was a fire,” Dylan recalled, every bit of his tone coated in casualness. He bent down to pick up a discarded blanket that had fallen off a cot, genially tossing it onto the nearest empty bed as they kept walking. “Do you have anyone we could call for you? Friends, maybe family?”
Norman kept looking as they kept walking, never once letting his head rest in one place as he took in his surroundings.
The people were nameless, most of their faces blended together as one. And though he knew he’d been walking for some time, his legs still ached tremendously, as if the distance across the shelter outmatched the hundreds of miles he’d already trekked.
It wasn’t until he saw a young kid sitting off to the side that his eyes finally locked in place. His head no longer swiveled or turned, but rather slightly cocked to the side — looking at the boy straight ahead with glaze of confusion overlapping his green irises.
The longer he stared, and Norman deduced the kid couldn’t be out of his teens — early twenty at the utmost best. A lost child compared to the much older folks that filled the shelter, most holding triple the amount of wrinkles that etched deep into Norman’s face.
This boy was far too young for even a single crowsfeet to dent his skin. The bags underneath his young eyes were only due to the hardships he’d encountered, and with a heavy cotton blanket wrapped around his shoulders, he sat quietly in the corner. Watching wordlessly as the people moved all around him.
For a moment — just a split second that came with the blink of his eyes — Norman saw the flames of blazing fire dance before him. They twisted and twirled like ethereal ballet dancers on an otherworldly stage, swallowing the young boy in front of him. Crimson and orange swirls flickered with each capricious pirouette, hiding the figure from view — burning him whole.
Another blink, and the fire was gone.
“My son.”
The words didn’t sound like they came from him. It wouldn’t be the first time, but the burn in his throat — no different than the burn that throbbed the heels of his feet — spoke his reality long before he registered it.
And still, Dylan spoke with a casualness that fell out of place.
“Ah, cool, so you got family. That’s more than most these people.” Dylan kicked a wad of trash to the side as they approached the far end of the shelter. “Let’s get you out of these smokey duds, then we can make some calls. Sound sick?”
Norman shot his head around, his neck whipping so fast the crack was audible against the meaningless chit-chat occurring around them. Dylan had walked a few feet ahead, but not far enough that they couldn’t regard each others gaze.
“Yes.” Norman nodded, firmly. “Sick. Fix it.”
That’s what he was supposed to do.
Right?
Yes. Right, because something wasn’t right.
He needed…
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