Finally a product we can all get behind. Who doesn’t want a super serious adhesive in their tool bag?

Eva Mendes teams with Will Ferrel’s love child, Funny or Die, for a bit of tongue-and-cheek about your interest in seeing her sex tape. She’s also, conveniently enough, starring as Will Ferrel’s wife in the new movie The Other Guys. I always applaud a woman who can be both funny and sexy so effortlessly. Kudos, Ms. Mendes. Read the rest of this entry »

The Smoking Section has never been guilty of doling out 5 Cigarettes in a single sitting. Nor is the TSS factory machined to give Cig ratings to any singers whatsoever. But gosh darn if Janelle Monae hasn’t put forth a solid argument for the decimation of our office common law. Read the rest of this entry »

Of course there was no alcohol. Not at 3 a.m. Not around cushy velvet chairs and a marble stage polished to a high gloss, second only to the brass pole in the middle. Not at this wholly protested strip club down the street from my apartment. This establishment tucked beneath the Los Angeles highway, and that was city-council flounced with my crunchy granola friend.

But there were women. And there were tiny costumes covering the bits the audience would surely see once the songs came on and the girls took the high-gloss stage to climb and twirl the brass pole. And there was a thick stack of ones placed in my hand with a “have fun” from my roommate.

“How?” I wondered. “How do I have fun here?” Not because I didn’t think fun was possible, but because I was a rookie of epic and gender-specific proportions.

The sugar and spice of R&B came on for Candy, who took off what small scraps lay between her and God, and I placed a few neatly creased Washingtons on side of the stage. Read the rest of this entry »

Pet Peeves: left-lane-hang-out highway drivers; folks who think that if you open a candy wrapper slower, it’s quieter; great emcees who don’t put out music.

Here’s a man with amazing flow and talent abound, who hasn’t even nicked the surface of what the industry could be to and for him. Read the rest of this entry »

It’s no small feat for a publication to expose a government official on the sort of grand and salacious scale that finds that official on the losing end of a pink slip. Today, Rolling Stone — the ever-shrinking mainstream music magazine of choice — became the Washington Post of 2010 and its reporter our Woodward/Bernstein. Read the rest of this entry »

The Game may not be able to release his R.E.D. album — which is highly anticipated by himself and some of yous — anytime soon. According to The Hollywood Reporter, he’s being sued by the good folks who say they discovered him. Read the rest of this entry »

Singer, rapper, trumpeter, and host of the best party in Los Angeles. What more could one man be? Hilarious, friendly, smart, humble… yeah, he’s all of those things too. Even in a city chock full of talent, Aloe Blacc laps the competition with cool strides that raise the question of whether anyone is even in his race. Read the rest of this entry »

Chocolate or vanilla. Beatles or Stones. Pac or Biggie. Of all the contentious match-ups, perhaps the greatest in my circle is D’Angelo or Bilal. Not “who is better?” but rather “who would you put on your album?” Read the rest of this entry »

Summer done dirty is a boozy bender at a bar with about as much luster and authenticity as cubic zirconium. Fat, over-processed versions of formerly precious co-eds take high-angled pictures that will one day make it to Facebook as testament to how young and fun they can still be and still are. Multi-layered tinks and clanks of beer bottles in bins and shot glasses in the air, and these 30-year-old bottle blondes squeal when they hear 2 Live Crew or Bon Jovi come on over the sticky dance floor. A reminder of yesteryear. Read the rest of this entry »

The line is long as f#ck. Unless you have women with you. If you have women with you, it’s pretty much a done deal. Right to the front of the line with you and two of your loveliest ladies.

The girls walk on either side of you, one on each arm. Walk up to the front of the line where Dom-the-Dime greats you with a smile and a nod. Walk on through the purple-flowered pergola and you hear from a dude in the line left in your wake say “So that’s what it takes. I see how it is.” Read the rest of this entry »

Short of Hamlet holding a human skull and pondering the meaning of life, I’ve understood absolutely zippy Danish in my life. Until now. Read the rest of this entry »

If April showers bring May flowers, then May campaign ads bring out a swath of good ol’ boys with a touch of crazy.

With primary elections just around the corner, inner-party campaigns are swinging for the fences. Candidates on the same sides of battle lines are laying into each other about who is more American, whose voting record is more attune to party issues, and who could more accurately represent the constituency. Or, if you’re Dale Peterson — Alabama Agriculture Commissioner GOP candidate — you’re just trying to make sure thugs and criminals aren’t keeping voters in the dark about just how much money an Ag Commish controls. How much money, you ask? Five billion dollars, that’s how much. Read the rest of this entry »

The other day we posted the new Mayer Hawthorne video for “One Track Mind.” It garnered a few responses about the concept of the video and our man Mayer’s way with Soul.

And then Maurice commented. And he said what some of you may have thought when you saw this video, or when you heard a couple of his other singles… Read the rest of this entry »

Oh yes. He went there.

It requires a serious pair of brass balls to take an MJ track with the certified King Of Pop seal and let your own beat lay claim. Samples and mash-ups are to be expected, but to just take on the song as a whole is nearly outlandish in concept. Outlandish, I say! Balderdash. Poppycock. Read the rest of this entry »

This song is like every conversation she ever had with him. And so she put it at the end of a mixtape as the sweet, slightly desperate punctuation mark on a soundtrack that screams, “Please love me.” The mix stays in her purse on the off chance she’ll one day find the nerve to give it to him. A scenario plays out a million times in her head — she hands the mix to him under the awkward pretense of “I thought you’d like it,” or “Just cause,” hoping he’d get the hint by the final track. Read the rest of this entry »