2015 World Cup Theme Song Download

[Stephani Kapnick]

Peepand the Big Wide World's Theme Song is written by Eggplant Music & Sound Design and preformed by Taj Mahal. It is played at the start of every episode as an opening of the show Peep and the Big Wide World. An instrumental version of the theme song plays during the credits with a different tune.

The theme song video begins with the sun being shown, before the camera moves down and shows Peep's egg rolling down the hill. It hits a little stone before getting to Chirp's Bush. Chirp sees the egg, and jumps onto it, before hitting the ground.

She then briefly watches it before following it to Quack's pond. Quack is then seen with his bottom and feet above water, before he shows his head and spits some water out. The egg then knocks Quack's hat off of his head, and sits on his hat for a while. Quack sees it and puts his hat back on, while knocking the egg off.

Chirp jumps on top of Quack's head to cross his pond, and then we see the egg hatching. Peep comes out and says "Peep!" and Quack and Chirp look at him. A blue frame suddenly appears on screen, and a circle closes. The circle then opens, and Peep, Chirp, and Quack are thrown offscreen. The show's logo is then shown and Peep, Chirp, and Quack run to their spots and look at the audience. Then, text that reads "with Joan Cusack" appears on-screen.

Maxie's WorldThe logo of the series.ComposersHaim Saban and Shuki LevyMusic SupervisorAndrew DimitroffLyricistJoellyn Cooperman"Maxie's World" is a theme song featured as an intro to every episode of the animated children's television show of the same name.

The Busy World of Richard Scarry Theme Song is a theme song from the Canadian animated TV show The Busy World of Richard Scarry. It is performed by Sonja Ball (Huckle), Keith Knight (Lowly), and voiceover artists. It appears in every episode.

The intro starts with the Paramount logo shifting into an artistic drawing of an identical mountain to the one on the logo. Lowly is riding a Applecopter. A mouse is riding a airplane with a flag. A flag pops up with the Canadian animation studio's name (Cinar ["Cookie Jar" in later prints]). The whole view of Busytown was shown. Lowly sings some parts. Mr. Fix-it hammers. Huckle's parents are waving goodbye. Huckle rides a bicycle and throws the newspaper to Mr. Frumble, ripping his pajamas. Mr Frumble's hat flies. Murphy looks both ways and whistles. Hilda rollerskates and falls down with fruits. Bananas drives the car and sees the fruit. The bug sees the fruit. The trio are fishing. The characters are singing. Mr. Fix-it finally fixes the clock. The show's logo appears.

The Cheers theme song \u2014 officially titled, \u201CWhere Everybody Knows Your Name\u201D \u2014 began as another song written by songwriting duo Gary Portnoy and Judy Hart Angelo for a Broadway musical called Preppies. The song, \u201CPeople Like Us,\u201D made its way to TV producers Glen and Les Charles, who were looking for the perfect theme song for their new NBC sitcom set in a local bar in Boston, Massachusetts. Like most great songs, the lyrics went through a few revisions before it reached its final form, but Portnoy and Angelo\u2019s work eventually paid off; both TV Guide and a Rolling Stone magazine reader\u2019s poll selected \u201CWhere Everybody Knows Your Name\u201D as the greatest television theme of all time. Cheers, for its part, went on to run for 275 episodes over a span of eleven seasons, and gifted us our most famous TV mailman (tied with Newman from Seinfeld) in Cliff Clavin.

The song is classic soft rock: the opening piano figure, the subtle synth pads, Portnoy\u2019s multitrack vocal and the soprano sax stand out as the defining features that evoke the early \u201880s, in all their moussed glory. It is the aforementioned lyric at the opening of the refrain, however, that truly transcends time. In just 10 words, Portnoy and Angelo captured the yearning we have for the familiar and plainly spelled it out in one catchy, rhyming couplet.

I can vaguely recall sitting on the couch and watching Cheers with my parents as a kid; its humor and subject matter went far over my head, so it didn\u2019t resonate with me at the time. The idea that adults would go to a designated place just to talk to other adults for fun seemed incredibly farfetched to me, a child that put a premium on new toys, new activities, and new episodes of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. Similarly, although I understood the point of its theme song, I couldn\u2019t grasp the weight of it. \u201CWhere everybody knows your name\u201D sounded a lot like school, and that was the last place I wanted to go.

It was only in getting older and moving to New York City that Portnoy and Angelo\u2019s lyrics began to ring true. I was a newcomer in an unforgiving city, attempting to carve out a career for myself as a musician while being saddled with the dual burdens of student loan and high interest credit card debt. In the city, my story was common to the point of cliche; I was the proverbial starving artist. Stopping into the bar at the end of the road by my apartment always provided me with a bit of encouragement, however \u2014 not because of the alcohol, as I wasn\u2019t much of a drinker, but because of the people. In there, I was Scott, the guy that does the piano mashups. I didn\u2019t know the regulars all that well, and they didn\u2019t really know me, but it didn\u2019t matter much. After a long day of trekking to and from subway stops in the blistering cold, it was always good to see their faces.

A great neighborhood bar allows native residents to keep their traditions alive, while still allowing newcomers to weave themselves into the fabric of the community. For those that are far from home, the regulars offer a warm, familiar respite far from the fluorescent lights of a cold, corporate work environment. For those born and raised nearby, welcoming newcomers into the fold allows for cultural exchange and enrichment. It is truly a win / win situation. In fact, if it weren\u2019t for the razor-thin profit margins and bureaucratic confusion that comes with opening such an establishment, it might even be a win / win / win \u2014 that last \u201Cwin\u201D being a well-deserved one for the owner of such a bar.

It took the recent pandemic for the ever-important neighborhood pub to truly get the recognition it deserved, however. As we vacated public places and huddled online \u2014 working remotely; attending disastrously ineffective \u201CZoom School\u201D classes; streaming Netflix series that seemed to manifest spontaneously out of social media algorithms \u2014 we felt in ourselves a deep sense of loss that was, at first, quite difficult to pinpoint. We still saw our family and the friends closest to us, we still continued working and raising children\u2026but that vague, gaping hole remained, nonetheless. Finally, it hit us: there was something about losing touch with the folks that we hardly knew \u2014 the barista at the local coffeeshop that always knew our order, the co-worker over in accounting that always wore the funny ties and cracked jokes in a oft-misguided attempt to boost morale, the crinkly old man at the bar that always removed his Stetson when he came in and carried photos of his grandkids to show us \u2014 that made us lose our sense of belonging.

As it turns out, our so-called \u201Cweak ties\u201D are the glue that allows us to feel connected to a larger community outside of our close friends and family. Our interactions with our weak ties are rarely more than superficial \u2014 a friendly smile or some casual riffing about the weather, perhaps \u2014 but they offer us some reassurance that we have some friendly fellow travelers as we make our way through the world. This reassurance is not only essential for the health of our communities at large, but for the health of our close friendships and romantic partnerships, as well. Different relationships and categories of friendship exist to fulfill different needs, and when we try to consolidate multiple social roles into just one person, the burden is often too heavy for them to bear.

In the neighborhood bar we have the purest instance of weak ties: a room full of those fellow travelers, here not for a long time, but for a good time. Folks that remember us, even if they\u2019ve never seen us illuminated by daylight. Folks dealing with problems that may be different from our own, but of equal weight, nonetheless. We know their names and faces, and sometimes very little else \u2014 but that\u2019s all we need. We feel a kinship with them, and they, with us, as we chatter aimlessly and order rounds and watch the sports highlights in tacit affirmation of one another.

There are some that believe that our future lies online; that our analog world has already fused with the digital, and that our next step lies in further exploring this new realm of the metaverse. They tend to downplay the importance of in-person anything \u2014 school, work, concerts \u2014 believing that, at some level of technological advancement, a simulated reality will be indistinguishable from the real thing. I don\u2019t believe any of this to be true. I certainly don\u2019t wish it to be true, either.

Don\u2019t get me wrong; I am extraordinarily grateful that modern technology allows us to see family members thousands of miles away, to connect and share ideas across oceans and deserts, and to connect with others, even in our most isolated moments. I\u2019ve taken advantage of this to great effect as both a musician and a human being. But modern technology is no substitute for the real thing, and we shouldn\u2019t pretend that any amount of technological doubling will ever get us to a time where it is.

I don\u2019t want to live in the world where our weak ties exist only as online avatars; where the messiness of the outside world is smoothed over with a 3D modeled perfection; where its denizen live in peaceful isolation, pacified by an endless drip of digital Soma. I want to live in the world where our experiences are imperfect but visceral; where we wear our emotions on our face, instead of on our status updates; where our weak ties are at a distance yet still tangible. A world where we lift up our fellow travelers merely by coexisting in the same place; that mythical place we long for, where everybody knows your name.

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