
You have to go on and be crazy. Craziness is like heaven.
Jimi Hendrix

You have to go on and be crazy. Craziness is like heaven.
Jimi Hendrix
Sorry for the delay on this; it was released a year ago. Not really sure how it slipped through the butt crack, but 2010 can be the year of The XX in the US. Procure XX by The XX immediately. Need an extra nudge? This one is Karl Lagerfeld approved.
Their sound, brimming with dichotomies, is at once familiar and new, atmospheric and intimate, feminine and masculine. Think Cat Power paired with Pete Yorn singing over Radiohead, and then subtract fifteen years. The XX is sadly one of the few examples I can think of where a male and female vocal pairing strengthens rather than diminishes the overall sound.
Strong composition and musicality backs up the interesting vocal arrangements. The XX ain’t no one trick pony; the whole record is worth your time. The down tempo vibe may annoy some, but critics need to puff a doobie and relax. This is the good shit. 
This is a perfect record for a nascent love affair, but don’t waste it on just anyone.
LEO

Find a way to shine your light on someone who needs it.
VIRGO

Be careful not to overheat.
LIBRA

Embrace the change.
SCORPIO

Throw out all your calculations.
SAGITTARIUS

Your obsequious flirting undermines your sincerity.
CAPRICORN

You owe someone an apology.
AQUARIUS

Find a way out of your head.
PISCES

Don’t waste your time feeling guilty.
ARIES

Your polished demeanor can make you unsympathetic.
TAURUS

Challenge your assumptions.
GEMINI

For you, anticipation is the worst part.
CANCER
Time to regroup.
To say I was looking forward to this show would be an extreme understatement. Reveling in both Horehound and Sea of Cowards, and harboring a huge lady boner for Mz. Mosshart, obtaining tickets to The Dead Weather topped my priority list this summer.
High expectations usually come with deep disappointment, and you wouldn’t be reading this if I didn’t have a few criticisms. Sound issues vexed the performance with Mosshart’s vocals too low and the bass too loud. Multitasking presented a challenge for Jack who struggled to simultaneously drum and sing, with the vocals suffering over the drumming (in case you were wondering). At times they were sloppy and muddy sounding.
Dean Fertita fucking rocked on lead guitar, with his clean, inventive, beautiful musicianship. Alison looked a little thin. Her choice of long sleeved shirt in the intense heat raised my eyebrow, but she growled, implored, screeched, and exquisitely harmonized, proving she’s as well-rounded a vocalist and frontwoman as you can find. Her eye contact will improve when she harnesses her power and gains more confidence. She and Jack shared a mic and a intimate moment on Will There Be Enough Water?, and Alison drew out an achingly gorgeous vulnerable quality she usually keeps under wraps. Expect to see much more from her unless she falls prey to the cliched pitfalls of the lifestyle.
The true glowing talent is Jack White. His starshine undeniably illuminates the entire room. The term genius should not be thrown around willy nilly, lest it lose its meaning, but here it truly applies.
These musicians obviously inspire each other and love working together. There is genuine, palpable affection among them. Overall, a stellar rock show.
Summertime brings on an itch for the amusement park, rather than actually interact with children, visit Adventureland. No movie better encapsulates the airbrushed corn dog nostalgia of the local crappy fun park of your childhood.
Obviously, I’m obsessed with Martin Starr, so as a selling point let’s start with him. He somehow manages to slip a Gogol reference into every role he plays. Where Martin Starr goes, I follow. Unlike those God-awful Twilight movies, Stewart doesn’t make me want to gouge my eyes out in her performance as Em.
In addition to the stellar cast, this movie has an excellent soundtrack including The Cure, Crowded House, and The Velvet Underground.
Sia’s new record has a little something for everyone. Clap Your Hands and You’ve Changed are dope up-tempo dance tracks. Bluesy Be Good To Me will appeal to the bawdy broads. Fans of the vulnerable earnestness of Breathe Me will relate to I’m In Here. She even dusts off Oh Father, and sangs it better than Madonna ever has or ever could.
Sia had the good sense to keep all the best stuff for herself instead of putting it into Aguilera’s embarrassingly incompetent Bionic. Christina could take a cue from Sia’s vocal creativity and self-restraint.
Sia possesses one of the most distinctive and resonant voices in modern music. Don’t miss her vocal luminosity on this well-rounded record.
“Part of what makes me good at my job is because I was built physically for it. You gotta to be hearty, you gotta be able to like stage dive and fight off big ass fucking guys. You gotta be able to like play topless and feel like a fucking Amazon. That’s what I love.”
“I can’t remember not wanting to be famous. All I could see is was that I would be famous and then everything would be fair.”
“It was the summer I was 18. I saw Faith No More playing with Gun Club and they had a crap singer, and I had a wedding gown on, and I looked so fucking cool and I knew it, and I demanded to be in their band, and then I broke a bottle over my head. That is the legend. I can’t recall.”
“That’s how inappropriate. I was so raised in a cave; I read a poem about incest trying out for the New Mousekeeters.”
“I didn’t ask to be hated. I just don’t mind being a bitch.”
“My band’s called Hole. It’s not called little hole, it’s not called big hole, it’s not flapping noni, it’s not called tiny rosebud, it’s not called Barbie pussy. It’s called Hole, o.k.”
Oh Robyn, I’ve really missed you. I wore your eponymous album out. Finally, you are back with Body Talk Pt. 1, and it was worth the wait mama!
Robyn swaggers through Dancehall Queen with astonishing credibility (especially considering she’s Swedish). Dancing on my Own continues her previous album’s theme of abandonment and loneliness. Robyn mixes humility with confidence which reflects the honesty of her writing and keeps her likable.
For those of you craving a clear-toned disarming ballad, try Hang With Me. There are plenty of beats with attitude for the dancers, and even a traditional Swedish song sung as a dulcet lullaby.
Body Talk Pt. 1 has eight delicious tracks that serve as a tasty appetizer to additional offerings slated for later this summer. Until then, I’ll be keeping this on heavy rotation. 
Tack för den vackra musiken Robyn!
Let’s face it, most models turned musicians make pretty shitty records.

Remember Naomi’s gem, Baby Woman? Yeah, I know, it was huge in Japan.
How could we forget Tyra’s embarrassing single Shake Ya Body, for which she shot a video on ANTM?
Even the models who put out semi-successful records have never been taken very seriously.
Like Milla Jovovich…
…and even Carla Bruni.

Karen Elson’s debut solo album, The Ghost Who Walks, has a southern, gothic, bluesy, atmospheric sound from a bygone era. It is no surprise this record came from a vintage store owner; she captures a lush sense of nostalgia.
Don’t let the model thing dissuade you, if you like Jenny Lewis or Norah Jones, give The Ghost Who Walks a listen. 