The Hearts Playlist: The Game!

 

Grab a pencil (and maybe your iPod) and guess which "heart song" each cartoon represents. Start with the LEFT COLUMN, then the RIGHT. It’s harder than you think — just like my own cold, callous heart. For all 10 answers and a cool jukebox, GO HERE.

(By the way, sorry about the Harry Connick Jr. intrusion on the answers page. He shuts up eventually.)

Illustrations by the great Steve Madden

DALY TV: All four Jonas Brothers wish you a Happy Valentine's Day

 

Actually, the following TV spot has nothing to do with the JoBros -- well, other than that it features me, and I once fondled Joe Jonas' shoulder in a very romantic way. Instead, it's a riotous rundown of Valentine's Day concerts in Tampa Bay. Once again, John Thomas of ABC Action News (once called "the Shaun Cassidy of the Great White North") and yours truly (once called "the John Candy of the Eastern Seaboard") have a rip-snortin' good time helping you pitch the woo. HERE'S THE CLIP. ENJOY!
 

SD at the SB: Pete Townshend's windmills help power the Who's sturdy Super Bowl set

 

MIAMI GARDENS -- Much like a sly ol' football coach playing up a star's "injury"... only to unleash him healthy and hellbent come gametime, the Who's Pete Townshend has been moaning lately that he's too old to pull off his classic "windmill" manuever.

But during his band's 12-minute Super Bowl gig at Sun Life Stadium Sunday -- a set that started static but grew louder, looser --  the 64-year-old gunslinger busted out that guitar swipe so many times, I thought his arm would sail into the stands.

At the end of "Who Are You," one of five songs referenced and riffed, Townshend was windmilling so hard (and putting some nice raw tone into his licks), he could have powered small nations. Not to be outdone, singer Roger Daltrey, 65, whip-cracked his microphone like a lion tamer. The Brits didn't move much, but they weren't dead, either.  

When the Who was announced as this year's intermission entertainment, there wasn't a whole lot of excitement about the pick. Heck, I interviewed Roger Daltrey about it, and even he wasn't all that stoked. "I'd be more honored if it was a soccer match," he said with a laugh.

But although they didn't come close to topping classic halftime sets put in by Prince and U2, the Who made for a chummy sing-along. Playing over a strobing sunburst, and with requisite pyro smoking up the joint, the band (featuring Ringo's kid on drums) opened with a rather tepid "Pinball Wizard." "Baba O'Riley" was an old folks wasteland at first, but Daltrey saved the finale with boozy harmonica.

Then it picked up: "Who Are You" was gritted up, the stadium sounding like a sea of owls as it hooted the chorus. And a snippet of "See Me, Feel Me" was the perfect slow-tempo setup for the closing thunder of "Won't Get Fooled Again." Did Daltrey pull off that guttural shriek? Yes he can. Did Townshend windmill until the very last moment? And how. Not too shabby for a broken old man.
 

SD at the SB: So I'm hanging with Ashton and Demi on the Super Bowl sidelines...

MIAMI GARDENS – So there we were, the three amigos, hanging on the Super Bowl XLIV sidelines of Sun Life Stadium: Ashton Kutcher, Demi Moore and yours truly. Okay, there might have been a few others in our vicinity, and neither actor had any idea I was there. But as the paparazzi jammed Nikons up their noses, I tried to bogart the snaps, leaning in, grinning big.

And why not? The pregame sidelines of the Big Game are utterly ridiculous, stuffed with cheerleaders and journos and lookie-loos. Oh, and stars. Lots of stars. Waiting to get onto the field, I was passed by Brad Pitt, who cried out "Saints, baby!" to the slobbering press. Gloria Estefan buzzed us in a golf cart. Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes took the most thrilling escalator ride ever.

It was so much ridiculous, stoopid fun, I pretty much forgot why I was there in the first place. Oh yeah, the singing. Here are a few dizzied thoughts on the pregame music.

(By the way, it should be noted that as I write this, "Playboy" star Kendra Wilkinson is in the suite next to the press box. She's purrrty.)

A ROYAL MESS: When it was first announced that Queen Latifah was hired to sing "God Bless America," my initial hope was that she would rap it. Crazy? Maybe. But that would have been a lot more inspired than her hammy, clunky take on Sunday. It obviously caused her such discomfort, the 39-year-old ripped her earpiece out almost instantly. Was she lip-syncing? Probably. But while her vocal was fine, her gesticulating bordered on the mime-ish.

UNDERWOOD UNDERSTATED: Dressed like an extra from a 1970s sci-fi flick, Carrie Underwood kept things simple and spare with her rendition of the national anthem. I thought I heard her hitch her breath, which means that she was singing live. Could it be? Probably not. The NFL leaves little to chance save the final score of the game itself. Carrie was probably pre-recorded. Whatever the case, kudos to her for relying on subtle inflection instead of belting. Or, you know, miming.  
   
DAUGHTRY’S HOT ’DO! Wallet-chained rocker Chris Daughtry and classic-rock soulster Steve Winwood performed hourlong pregame sets outside the stadium at the NFL Tailgate Party. Daughtry’s set was particularly interesting, if only because the former “American Idol”-ist is now Chia-headed. Yep, the Bald Wonder is sporting dark brown fuzz on his infamously smooth melon. At one point, Daughtry complained of the gusty weather, “This wind is messing with me!” It wasn’t clear, however, if that was because he’s now far less aerodynamic.

My view of Super Bowl XLIV, Press Box

 

My BlackBerry camera sucks; my Super Bowl seat doesn't.

I take the field to woo Underwood at 5:45 p.m. 
 

SD at the SB: A mess o' fun at South Beach

 

SOUTH BEACH – The weeklong celebration of Super Bowl XLIV spread out all over South Florida, from the journalistic masses shlumping through Fort Lauderdale (that's me) to the Diddy-obsessed pretties strutting through twinkly Miami.

But the epicenter of the mania was on neon-lit, art-deco-divine Ocean Drive in South Beach. And it was a loud, dirty, dizzying mess.

You’ve seen the pictures of the bethonged and the surgically enhanced. You’ve seen Miami Vice and Bad Boys. But those postcard-familiar images had been invaded, Average Joes mixing with High-Heeled Janes.

Yes, the mojitos still went for $19-a-trough, and there were plenty of Bentleys cruising for oohs and ahhs. VIP tents fluttered at the Clevelander; the throngs waiting outside Prime One Twelve -– one of the most coveted tables in town -- made for a swell GQ photo shoot.

But put it this way: Half the crowd in South Beach looked like Mariah Carey; the other half was more Drew Carey. Sports, booze, mayhem: great equalizers all.

On Friday night, as a hard rain slanted sideways, Nelly Furtado and Pitbull gave a free show to tens of thousands of dirty bare feet on the beach. A few yards away, a preacher tried to save souls, but his chant of “God fire!” was met with bellows of “Who dat?” bursting from invaders in soggy Reggie Bush jerseys.

Whatever air space was left was filled with Cuban jazz and techno thump. A steady throng of cheap cutoff shorts and pricey cut-low tops wandered up and down the street, watching and being watched, no sense of destination.

“It’s phenomenal,” said Ben Genard, 25, who road-tripped from New Orleans to cheer his crew. He wore a strand of thick white beads around his neck. He couldn’t stop smiling. “This is kind of like home, lots of crazy people. At home, though, you spend a lot of money for the best chefs, the best food. Here, you seem to spend a lot of money simply because where you are.”

Genard didn’t have a ticket to the Big Game, but he couldn’t miss this. With a grin, he pulled out his iPhone and cued up a video. It was the scene inside the Superdome, the final ticking seconds of the Saints victory over the Minnesota Vikings in the NFC Championship Game. For all the sinful din in South Beach, for all the jubilant teens and wailing zealots and thump!thump!thump! of mixing genres, you could still hear his tiny phone, the cathartic realization of Tough Town about to travel to Versace Town.

And now, here they were, from Bourbon Street to Ocean Drive.

And those mojitos tasted sublime.

SD at the SB: Who needs football when you have Snoop Dogg and Adam Sandler?

(I think my BlackBerry is linty. If you'd like to see more fuzzy pix of Adam Sandler and David Spade, go to Facebook RIGHT HERE.)

FORT LAUDERDALE – It’s certainly no secret that the Super Bowl is more about spectacle than it is about sport. But you have no idea how much pop culture truly transcends athleticism at this event until you’re given some media access.

Last year’s what-the-hell? moment for me occurred while standing on the sideline at RayJay just before the start of Super Bowl XLIII. I was mere feet from the Arizona Cardinals kicker booting pigskins into a practice net. I almost wanted to tell security I had no right being there. Almost. Instead, I called friends.

"Dude, I could totally steal the ball!!!"

But that wasn’t the weird(est) part. I can’t remember the kicker’s name, but I do remember that a chittering gaggle of Kardashians stood even closer to that highly trained athlete, a man preparing for the Biggest Day of His Life. D-list celebs and dopey music critics mingling with players? They should have Tased us!

(By the way, with Kim K. dating Saints star Reggie Bush, imagine the Kardashian access for this Sunday's Super Bowl. Keep an eye out. Khloe might be returning punts.)

On Friday, I stumbled into a what-the-heck? moment immediately. A great chunk of the media center is made up of sprawling Radio Row, where painfully loud broadcast dorks set up shop. If you’re a football fanboy – or, for that matter, madly in love with Jim Rome -- it’s head-spinning heaven. Look left, there’s Derrick Brooks; look right, there’s Cowhead.

When I walked in, flashbulb-popping mobs were scrumming from table to table. Who was drawing such slobbering crowds? Brett Favre? Tom Brady?

Nope. Try Adam Sandler, Chris Rock, Kevin James, David Spade and Rob Schneider, all of whom were promoting upcoming ensemble flick Grown Ups. Never mind that Schneider is the size of one of Warren Sapp’s forearms or that Spade can’t throw a spiral (I’m guessing): Sports journos, normally a cool-than-thou group, followed them around with Beatlemaniac zeal.

The comics spewed the same gags into every microphone. “Hey Kevin, who are you rooting for in this Super Bowl?” “The Jets,” James deadpanned. “I always go with the Jets.” “Hey David, who else is in your movie?” “Salma Hayek,” Spade said. “And her breasts!” Rock added to great huzzah.
 
Decked out in velour Lakers warmup togs, Snoop Dogg also drew a thick crowd, which chortled every time the rapper talked about “the Snooper Bowl.” And there was still buzz from Jamie Foxx showing up earlier and gawking at Miss America Caressa Cameron.

But I still can’t figure out why people were slavishly lining up to pose with the dude who plays the Miller High Life beer man. Especially since former football stars Ricky Watters and Ken Harvey stood nearby, unbothered and waiting for adoration. Oh well. Who wants to chat up a former Pro Bowler when there are so many stars around? 

SD at the Super Bowl: Getting sexy in Miami

 

Hey Pop Lifers, I head down to Miami (well, mostly Fort Lauderdale, where the press hotel and Media Center and presumably Sexy Party Time are located) at the crack o' dawn Friday. I'll be blogging on all the shenanigans and posting saucy pix on Facebook -- including fun-loving snaps of my car breaking down on Alligator Alley and me getting dragged screaming into the swamp by a 10-foot reptile. (Go here for all alligator snaps and related Facebook chicanery.) I'll also run columns in Sat, Sun and Mon's newspaper. Last year, my sideline access at the Big Game was great -- a little too great during the Springsteen set, as NFL security would be unhappy to tell you. I'll try to post a helluva lot more pix this year, including a shot of the warm, reassuring kiss Carrie Underwood and I share before she sings the national anthem. Oh, Forever Fiancee, don't worry: It's for work, baby.

The Homework Playlist (or: I hate penguins)

 

My oldest daughter just turned six. Kid Lulu is in kindergarten, tucked cozily between the paste-eater and the nose-picker. She “sort of” believes in fairies; she “oh yeah” believes in Santa. She spends most of her time daydreaming about popsicles. She attends a Pinellas County magnet school chockful of ragin’-liberal rainbowness. We love it. We do. However... my daughter, who not-so-long-ago wanted to be a raccoon when she grows up, has more homework than an MIT grad student rocking genomics. I’m not complaining; I knew the Faustian bargain from the start. But just last week, I had to help Lulu construct an explanatory penguin habitat focusing on survival and self-defense. I spent $35 at Michael’s buying all manner of faux icebergs, aqua glitter and region-appropriate critters. This thing was like the flippin’ Avatar of dioramas! That same week, she also had to create an accompanying treatise on how we, as a people, can help preserve Antarctica and its chief avian species. So I helped her create a left-wing, SUV-drivers-are-going-to-hell global-warming poster that would make Al Gore sob into his Prius. When all was said and done, when the projects were handed in, I asked Lu what she learned about penguins. And in a high-pitched voice, she shrieked: “They’re so cute!!!” Indeed they are.

Homework, Corbin Bleu
Alphabet St., Prince
My Run In With Spelling, Kathy Griffin
The Math, Hilary Duff
The Eraser, Thom Yorke
Do It Again, Steely Dan
Cut Cut Paste, Tokyo Police Club
Glitter in the Air, Pink
Teacher, Teacher, .38 Special
Why Does My Head Hurt So, Isobel Campbell
Penguin Attack, GWAR
 

BOOM BOOM WOW: Black Eyed Pea Will.i.am sounds off on Obama, Michael Jackson and the newfound power of Fergie's humps

 

For reasons that will be immediately apparent, this interview with Will.i.am is one of my all-time favorites. Not just for where it went down, but for the candor and quotability exhibited by the Black Eyed Peas frontman. Will and his record label were worried about the Obama stuff, but as you'll read, his tough grading of the president -- a man he supported with creative zeal -- is honest and fair. If you live in Tampa Bay, check out the newspaper version in Thursday's Weekend section. It looks fantastic. And remember, the Peas will be at the St. Pete Times Forum in Tampa on Feb. 10. Without further ado, HERE'S WILL.I.AM.  

Alicia Keys, Sean Daly to fall in love when she plays Tampa's St. Pete Times Forum March 28

Touring behind her newish Element of Freedom album (here's my review), incandescent R&B star Alicia Keys will toy with my heartstrings when she plays Tampa's St. Pete Times Forum on March 28. Tickets go on sale 10 a.m. this Saturday, Feb. 6, and can be bought at the Forum Box Office or through Ticketmaster, 800-745-3000 or ticketmaster.com. I'm away on a travel story all that weekend, but by the power of planes, trains and automobiles, I will make it back in time for true love to blossom.

Music Super Bowl: Indiana vs. Louisiana!

    VS.

Okay, Pop Lifers, let the games begin!

Who claims the better musical legacy: Indiana or Louisiana?

At first, it seems like a romp, right? After all, New Orleans is the birthplace of music: Louis Armstrong, Sidney Bechet, Jelly Roll Morton, Louis Prima, Mahalia Jackson. Then you have the Meters, the Neville Brothers, the Dixie Cups, Dr. John, Lil Wayne, Master P, Juvenile. If you spread out to greater Louisiana, you add Tim McGraw and Hank Williams Jr. 

With Indiana, you initially think of John Mellencamp. But remember, you also have Michael Jackson, Janet Jackson...TITO JACKSON! Cole Porter, Hoagy Carmichael, John Hiatt, David Lee Roth. And of course, a man named William Bailey who became...Axl Rose.

Pick a state! One vote each! Add your own faves as argument!

The Commodores "Nightshift"

The Commodores |MTV Music

I heard this 1985 babymaker in Publix while shopping for anti-freeze and popsicles at 7 a.m. The place was suspiciously crowded, and yet I'm fairly certain I was the only human in there. It was like a Gary Larson cartoon. Anyway, this might be the most awesome song of all time -- although that might be the anti-freeze talking. "Jackie! Hey, what you doin' now..."

The return of Jeff in Cuba...in Germany

 

For all of you loyal Pop Lifers, here's a note I just received from fan fave (and fave fan) Jeff in Cuba, the longtime GITMO hero who has since relocated to the Old Country. (He looks good, doesn't he?) There's been much talk of his disappearance, but it looks like JiC could be blogging again...with a vengeance!

OK, OK, go ahead and bust my chops with obscure Eddie & the Cruisers allusions. I deserve it. But allow me to point out that retiring, changing careers and moving the entire family to a foreign country was more than a little bit disruptive, and it's taken me a little time to get back into the swing of things. But I am ready to wade back into the fray!

My pop culture lens is little different these days thanks to my exposure to German media (Nena still makes the headlines!) and British television. But give me a little time and I'll shake off the rust and get back into the game.

Everything here is going well. We've got a nice house on the outskirts of a small, 1,200-year-old farming village. My new job is fun, and since I'm no longer in a position of any real authority, it gives me more time with the family. We're enjoying the change in weather (the village sledding hill is about 75 yards out our back gate, and the kids have been loving it), but I've about had my fill of winter. Germany is in its longest stretch of continuous snow in thirty years and my freshly-transplanted Caribbean blood can't take much more.

I'll see you on the blogs,

Jeff in Cuba

 

NEW SONGS: Gorillaz, M.I.A, Corinne Bailey Rae

 

Man, it's been a dead sea for hot new music lately, but finally we have signs of life. Paper Planes freedom fighta M.I.A. offers up the air-siren swirls of Space Odyssey, from a new album to be released in the spring. (LISTEN) Blur's Damon Albarn and his zombie simians (+ guests Mos Def and Bobby Womack) trip out on Stylo, from upcoming album Plastic Beach, due March 3. (LISTEN) And Brit soulster Corinne Bailey Rae, whose album The Sea was released this week, mourns the loss of her husband on I'd Do It All Again, which is lovely and bleepin' brutal. (LISTEN) 

Ch-ch-cherry bomb! 'The Runaways' trailer

Forget Sex and the City 2. In a perfect world, The Runaways will be the preferred Grrrls Night Out flick of the spring and summer. At least the music will be a helluva lot better. Circa 1975, scream teens Joan Jett (played by Twilight's Kristen Stewart), Cherie Currie (Dakota Fanning, who I thought was 11 years old) and Lita Ford (Scout Taylor-Compton) became unlikely punk-pop progenitors. But alas, they were born to be bad -- and break up in four short, destructive years. Here's a teaser trailer. Can't tell much, but it looks appropriately '70s smarmy and pleathery.

Stephanie Hayes put a bra on my Hulk doll. Not cool. Not cool at all.

 

This is how Stephanie Hayes and I entertained ourselves as we covered the Grammys last night. What else were we going to do for the last two brutal hours of the show? HULK SMASH D-CUP!

Grammy Recap: Swift, Beyonce win, we lose

 

The Wonder Woman of pop, that thigh-masterful R&B belter Beyonce, had a record-setting night at the 52nd annual Grammy Awards on Sunday. The 28-year-old won six golden gramophones, a first for a solo female performer. (Several were tied with five.) Her bid for Lucky No. 7, however, was blocked by titanic titwillow Taylor Swift, whose Fearless won album of the year.

Of course, "music's biggest night" soars or splats not on who wins what, but on who sings what. It's a sales tool first, an awards show hardly at all, especially this year, when so many huge awards were doled out early, and without much drama, at the Staples Center in Los Angeles. This year's show had long, boring stretches, and the second half was interminable, but alas, I get big bucks to crack lame jokes. So here you go..." READ ON.

SD's Fearless Grammy Predictions (+ come join our LIVE CHAT)

 

Beyonce and her infamous armpit are in for serious Grammy hardware tonight. At least if I have anything to say about it. HERE ARE MY PREDICTIONS. But more importantly, here's a link to our live Grammy chat. COME SLING THE SNARK RIGHT HERE.

Watch the Grammys with Sean & Steph!

 

Hey kids! On Sunday night, Stephanie Hayes and I will be side by side writing up all the hot Grammy madness and mishaps. But because we don't like to talk to each other, we wanna CHAT WITH YOU instead. So head on over to the Deal Divas site for a LIVE CHAT starting at 6:30 p.m. for the red carpet insanity. We'll bicker and zing and crack wise on Gaga's thighs for as long as you want. GO HERE TO CHAT!!!!!

Just when I try to pull away from 'Idol'...

...whip-cracking dirty girl Erica Rhodes pulls me back in.

Lady Antebellum: 'Need You Now' Review

 

"On Tuesday, Lady Antebellum released its sophomore album, Need You Now. The title track has already gone No. 1, selling more than a million downloads — and with good reason. A duet between Charles Kelley (the dude on the left) and the band's female star, Hillary Scott, Need You Now is a mid-tempo portrayal of being drunk, horny and wistful -- aka the Sean Daly Story. Scott is a borderline talent, a Kmart Natalie Maines. But Kelley easily steals the show, his Wild Turkey lower register inducing chills." READ THE REVIEW.

 

Country hottie Carrie Underwood, press hottie Sean Daly to meet at Super Bowl

Carrie Underwood will sing the national anthem at Super Bowl XLIV on Sun. Feb. 7 in Miami. Queen Latifah will sing America the Beautiful. And Sean Daly, representing the illustrious St. Petersburg Times, will be all over both of 'em. That is, I'll be conducting professional interviews and getting to the bottom of their genius. (The very bottom. Wink-wink.) The Times is sending me down on Thurs or Fri. The music press conference is usually a good one; Springsteen was hilarious last year in Tampa. Alas, I burned my question on John Legend and Faith Hill. Totally got overlooked come Bruce time. Long story. Anyway, this year I'll get to pepper Underwood, Latifah and the halftime boys in the Who. Then on Sunday I'll get to stalk them all over the field. I'll report on all the antics/arrests.

The Key West Playlist

 

I figure I gained about seven pounds in Key West last week, one lb. for each deadly sin shattered like a wayward mojito glass. We were only on the island a few days — our inaugural sojourn, as a matter of fact — but joyously taking years off your life seems to be the currency there. We gorged at Pepe’s Cafe and Blue Heaven; we imbibed at Capt. Tony’s and the Green Parrot. With the kids back home running circles ’round grandma, the Forever Fiancee and I (plus our good pals Guy and Al) de-stressed poolside at the Santa Maria Suites, the jewel of the Southernmost ’hood; if you take anything from this column, it should be that lodging suggestion. My favorite memory (at least the one I can print) was sitting on Louie’s Afterdeck, with the sun setting into my pina colada — and my phone ringing. “Hello?” On the line was none other than Will.i.am from the Black Eyed Peas. I’ll tell you the full story Thursday, when it runs in our Weekend magazine, but rest assured, it’s a doozy. For now, here’s a playlist of thematic tunes I heard in Key West, all cranking from car radios, crusty bar speakers and hirsute buskers crooning for change.

Escape (The Pina Colada Song), Rupert Holmes
Dance the Night Away, the Mavericks
Champagne Supernova, Oasis
The Dope Show, Marilyn Manson
Help Yourself, Sad Brad Smith
Come Sail Away, Styx
Zero, Yeah Yeah Yeahs
Big Ten Inch Record, Aerosmith
Nautical Wheelers, Jimmy Buffett
I Gotta Feeling, Black Eyed Peas
 

Quick! Throw these in the neighbor's garbage!

OK, kids, Sean is supposed to be back tomorrow, thus ending my blogsitting. So we have our stories straight, the lamp was already broken and we're pretty sure the bottle only had that much in it before he left. Cool?

Maybe we'll talk again soon. But in the meantime, if you want to read more of my stuff, you can go to world.tampabay.com every day and click on the headline under the label "The Skinny." It is a goofy compendium of weird news stories. A new one gets posted every Tuesday through Saturday (actually, they go up late at night, Monday through Friday. It's an insider's secret I'll let you in on. Just mention the password "PopLife" at the door).

Or you can also follow me on Twitter. I'm jwscoop.

Peace.

-- Jim Webster

The Dee Snider Diet Plan

I have decided to take dieting advice from Twisted Sister.

I need to lose weight. I have always needed to lose weight. Sometimes i have, but it comes back. And brings friends. Lately I haven't had any luck for any number of reasons that may or may not be real. But this was the first week of a friendly competition I set up with a similarly structured friend of mine, and I came to the realization that there is really only one way I can lose weight.

Stay hungry.

I watch Biggest Loser, and I hear them always talking about getting your calories in and eating eleventeen minimeals a day and three snacks of 117.5 calories on each prime-numbered hour. Its all way too complicated, and the only way I ever have any success is when I am staying very hungry, and I suck at staying hungry.

But I don't have the eight hours a day they have to kill themselves in a gym. I don't have the construction site with the cage on a pulley system to pull myself up faster than anyone ... because I guess that helps somehow? And I don't have the spritely stick-figure drill sergeant that I can wear like a backpack on a hike up a mountain while she screams in my ear. Because, I mean, I don't have the mountain, at the very least.

But I have Twisted Sister.

Stay hungry.

That's the plan.

My friend and I will be at it until November, with fabulous prizes in store for whomever loses the most weight by then. My hope for that deadline is about 80 pounds, or 2 per week. On week 1, I lost 4. I was hoping for a giant Biggest Loser-opener type number -- I thought 10 would be reasonable -- but I'll be OK with 4.

Dee Snider looks pretty good in that album cover, right? But I always wondered if the black-and-pink striped ribbons hanging off shoulder pads worked to make his waist just look thinner. I don't know. I probably won't try to pull off that look. Even if there comes a day I can.

I wonder how many calories were in that cow leg.

Here's another thing I know: I have a set circuit that I walk, and if I just walk it, it takes about 35 minutes. When I wear my iPod, it takes about 30 minutes. When I wear my iPod and set it to my heavy metal playlist: 25. It's a fact.

-- Jim Webster

Alternate Idol perspective

Since tonight is American Idol night, i thought I would comment on the show: I don't care. At all.

So, that isn't really an in-depth critique, I know. And I don't have anything against the show. If you like it, knock yourself out. It's just that I limit my reality TV show watching to shows about cooking under unnatural and counterintuitive situations, and losing weight in probably unhealthy ways. We all have our vices.

But I have watched Idol. Twice. This does not make me an expert. In season 2, I watched the Billy Joel episode. Not knowing any contestants, I watched as Clay Aiken stood there and told the judges that he was going to leave his comfort zone and totally rock out to Tell Her About It." Then, I watched as he turned that song into the world's most effective cure for insomnia.

The other episode was in season 5, because they were doing Queen songs. Again not knowing anything about the contestants, I cracked up when something called "Ace" was telling Brian May how he wanted to re-arrange We Are the Champions, and May said, "No, I'm not going to let you do that to my song."

Other than that, my only point of reference for the show is what ends up on the radio later. Sean recently posted his list of the top 10 Idol singers, and that list inspired this post, because his list contained the single greatest fact error that I have ever let go uncorrected. But today we correct it.

So here is my list, in groupings rather than numerical order:

Stuff on my iPod: Chris Daughtry and Kelly Clarkson. Daughtry is the kind of singer I would have been listening to 20 years ago. You know, when I was demographically relevant. So listening to him now makes me feel like there is hope for the industry. And humanity. Or maybe just me. Clarkson is just fun. Powerful voice, not too diva.

Stuff I hear on the radio and understand the attraction: Carrie Underwood, Jennifer Hudson, Kris Allen

Stuff I hear on the radio and don't understand the attraction: Bo Bice, Jordin Sparks ("How am I supposed to breathe with no air?" Did she really say that?)

Names I am familiar with but have never actually heard their stuff: Adam Lambert (though I am intrigued by the possibility of a Queen reunion with him), Fantasia Barrino, Kellie Pickler (though I did see her on a very special episode of Are You Smarter Than a 5th Grader. She wasn't), Katharine McPhee, Taylor Hicks, David Archuleta (I saw him sing the National Anthem at a tennis match, a career high point, no doubt), Ruben Studdard.

Names I am pretty sure I wouldn't know except that I read Sean's blog: Mandisa, Allison Iraheta, Sanjaya, and of course, Amanda Overmyer-Daly.

This category is for everyone else who has ever appeared on the show except for the worst singer I have ever heard in my life: Because I want to make it clear that any contestant not yet mentioned has to be better than the next person ...

Stuff that causes a reflex action that makes me punch a button, any button, on my radio to make the noise away, please God have mercy make it stop: David Cook. Sean had him at No. 5. AHEAD OF DAUGHTRY! How do people listen to this dreck? The music is cloying and the lyrics stupid to the point that I wonder if he has ever been committed (why would leaving a light on be something that would make you not feel so alone? And don't leave it on in the daylight, idiot. Doesn't he know the carbon footprint ramifications?). Worst of all, his voice is awful. That faux bass-y mumble. Please. The only thing that can make me change the station faster than the opening strains of a David Cook song are the opening strains of a Black Eyed Peas song. And he probably will take that as a compliment. When Kris Allen won last year, I was excited because I hoped that meant I would never have to hear David Cook again. So far it hasn't worked out that way.

Anyway if Idol is your thing, enjoy the show tonight. I know they are in the Los Angeles auditions tonight. I only know that because there were promos for it last night on 24.

Postscript: So, at the end of the L.A. audition, do they gleefully announce, "You're going to Hollywood!"? I mean, they are already pretty much there. They probably had lunch in Hollywood.

-- Jim Webster; photo of Chris Daughtry by Dirk Shadd

Hi, I'm not Sean Daly ....

So, that was my introduction? "I've asked 'someone'?" Wow. Count me among the special.

Sean clearly didn't have time to sketch out my entire bio before leaving for his previously scheduled debauchery. Or research it, probably. Anyway, my name is Jim  -- and this part may come as news to even Sean -- Webster, and I'll be blogsitting for at least part of the week. Sean told me to make you a box of mac 'n' cheese, let you watch a little TV, then off to bed by 8:30. But if you do the dishes, I'll let you stay up until 9. We won't tell.

Part of my job is to edit this blog, and every now and then I post, as "jim w." but I largely stay out of the fray, limiting my critiques of the indomitable Mr. Daly to private messages. The messages usually go something like this:

Me: "Did you really want to talk about 'the junk in her trunk'?"

Sean: "Yeah. Why? Is that bad?"

Me: "Do you know what it means?"

Sean: "Of course!"

Me: "And you know you're talking about a Disney princess?"

Sean: "And ...?"

Me: "Kids might read this. Kids like Disney. Little kids. Impressionable kids."

Sean: "Oh! Yeah, you're right. ... I know! Easy fix: I'll change it to 'loose in the caboose!' "

Me: (Silence). "She is a cartoon. You know that, right?"

Sean:"That's why it's hilarious! Trust me! It's even better now! Thanks!!!!!"

Me: "Oh. Uhhhhh ..."

Anyway, I can promise you one thing about this week: Until Sean gets back, there will be no mention of the Grammy Awards. I could not care less. Well, I could care less, but it would require physical effort. And one of the reasons Sean and I get along so well is a mutual disdain of physical effort.

So for the purposes of this blog, I figured the best way you could get to know a little about me is for me to go to my iPod, select the My Top Rated play list, hit shuffle and tell you what the first five songs that come up are, and why they are among my top rated. So here goes:

Come Around, Counting Crows. This is the last song off their latest album. Love, love, love it. I love the line, I have waited for tomorrow from December till today/And I have started loving sorrow along the way. I don't know why I love that line. I just do.

Lyin' Eyes, Eagles. I can't believe I gave that song four stars. I mean, I like it, but four stars? Weird.

Run-around, Blues Traveler. Like this song a lot, never heard anything else by them. Ever. Wait, I remember the song The Hook. But just barely. And I heard John Popper is a Libertarian. I kind of dig that. Which is funny given that I just read an e-mail accusing me of unabashed Obamaism. Which is hilarious if you know me.

Sweet Child O' Mine, Sheryl Crow. Score! I get to talk about how much I love covers! Sean is always telling me about cool cover versions of songs. I'm always interested. To be interested, I need to at least be familiar with the original artist, and preferably not hate the cover artist. It's actually not that rough of a caveat. That aside, the Guns 'N' Roses song is among my faves. I'd give it 7 stars if iTunes let me.

Famous Last Words, Billy Joel. The day River of Dreams was released, I was at the store when it opened and got it straight out of the delivery box. Went home, listened start-to-finish, and when I got to this song, the last on the CD, and listened to the words, I said, "This is his letter of resignation." And it pretty much was. Other than the incessant schlocky tours with Elton. I liked the Face 2 Face tour the first time. But sheesh, guys, come on.

That's it for today. Feel free to ask me questions, like, "What is Sean really like?" Or, "Is that blue shirt really the shirt that Sean looks best in?" Or mock my playlist. Whatever. Tomorrow I plan to give you my perspective on American Idol. Wednesday, who knows? That's a long time away. Then Sean is back Thursday. Maybe.

-- Jim Webster

Key West or Bust!

 

Shine Sweet Freedom! Hey kids, I'm taking the Forever Fiancee to Key West for her 40th b-day. I'll be back in a few daze. In the meantime, I've asked a special guest star to blog in my stead. Stay tuned for hijinks galore. (If you wanna see me in hot Key West action, you can always follow me on Facebook.)

Haiti Charity Music: A Downloader's Guide

 

Go HERE for good tunes, good karma and a good cover of Redemption Song by Rihanna. Enjoy some guilt-free splurging...

PODCAST! Girls Next Door of the '80s

We've recorded 188 episodes of Stuck in the '80s -- we've done some good ones, some bad ones, some Wopats -- but I gotta say that this week's show might be our very best. We're talking the Girls Next Door of the '80s. Winnie Cooper in The Wonder Years, Maggie O'Hooligan in Caddyshack, Phoebe Cates in Gremlins -- but NOT Phoebe Cates in Fast Times at Ridgemont High, who was too hot, too unobtainable. The Girls Next Door are not your prom queens, your sex machines, your nasty girls. In other words, they are Boof Marconi in Teen Wolf. FALL IN LOVE AGAIN RIGHT HERE.

Basement taped: Spoon "Transference" review

 

Spoon
Album: Transference (Merge)
In stores: Now
Basement taped: I bet Spoon frontman Britt Daniel has a really cool record collection. And I bet the Austin, Texas, indie hero keeps those records in a mod basement, one with low ceilings, lava lamps and a hi-fi. And I bet he likes to listen to those records —maybe the Velvet Underground, the one with the banana on the cover — late at night, with the lights and his mood turned down. And after he’s done taking in that warm analog sound and Lou Reed’s chilly play-by-play, Daniel probably grabs a pen and paper, or maybe a guitar, and starts writing.... Spoon has been a critical darling since the quartet’s mid-’90s inception, beloved for its complex popcraft (see Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga). On the new Transference, the instruments — a randy bass, a prickly guitar, Daniel’s lonely-boy defiance — are stripped and isolated but cool, a product of that hypothetical basement. Such careful ruminations as The Wicked Zone and Nobody Gets Me But You expand and fracture; the longer Spoon jams, the more it sounds like a decaffeinated Talking Heads or Prince on alprazolam.
Reminds us of: There aren't many basements in Florida. So you should listen to Spoon under the covers or on the roof.
Download these: The Mystery Zone, Written in Reverse and Out Go the Lights
Grade: B+

No cuts, no problem: OK Go's new video "This Too Shall Pass"

OK Go - This Too Shall Pass from OK Go on Vimeo.

This is better than the opening tracking shot in "Boogie Nights." OK Go, whose treadmilltastic vid for Here It Goes Again was a YouTube sensation, just released new album Of the Blue Colour of the Sky. Here's another doozy. Love those Swamp Thing horns.

For Michael Hutchence's 50th birthday, cough up loose change for INXS's 'Don't Change'

INXS fans the world over want to celebrate what would have been the 50th birthday of the late Michael Hutchence in a special way -- by sending 1982 hit Don't Change to the No. 1 spot on iTunes.

As far as I'm concerned, you couldn't pick a better INXS song to buy all over again.

Hutchence was born in Sydney, Australia on Jan. 22, 1960 -- he died in his native city on Nov. 22, 1997, from what the New South Wales Coroner deemed "suicide." However, controversy and conspiracy still swirl about the fallen heartthrob. A Belushi's worth of drugs were found in his system. Plus Paula Yates, the mother of his daughter (a girl named Heavenly Hiraani Tiger Lily Hutchence), claimed he died from autoerotic asphyxiation. Yates died of heroin overdose in 2000.

INXS carried on and now plans a new world tour, although who will front the band has not been determined. For more on Hutchence and the Don't Change Facebook campaign, go here.

Dave Matthews, Peter Gabriel, Slash, Linkin Park release new music to benefit Haiti

 

Go HERE to listen to and buy previously unreleased tracks from all the above supastars plus Alanis Morissette, All-American Rejects, Hoobastank and Lupe Fiasco. (The Slash jam, Mother Maria, which features vocalist Beth Hart, is particularly badass. Maybe he's working on a solo album?) All proceeds benefit the earthquake victims via Music for Relief.

The Older Woman Playlist

 

My better half, my superwoman, my beloved Forever Fiancee turns 40 years old on Sunday. Normally, she’d be annoyed by my announcing her historic age to thousands of people, friends and strangers alike. But she’s busy this week, so she’ll never find out. Ha! Ha! Hey, watch your step, Oldie McOlderson! For the next two months, the incandescent FF will be firmly entrenched in the land of Middle Age, while I will continue to frolic nude 'n' youthful in the proverbial begonias of my beautiful, bounding 30s. Look at me! I’m a butterfly! Truth be told, I think it’s pretty hot I’ll be shacking up with such an older woman. I totally have a “Shirley MacLaine thing” going on, if you catch my drift, wink-wink, hubba-hubba. And yes, sure, my 40th b-day looms Marchward, the 22nd of March to be exact and dreary. But that’s so far away, right? You’ll never catch me, Father Time! Never! So for now, while the fates are kind, allow me to celebrate women of a certain age. Happy Birthday, Golden Girl. You’re still one hot mama.

Mrs. Robinson, Simon & Garfunkel
Maggie May, Rod Stewart
That Summer, Garth Brooks
Grown Woman, Mary J. Blige
Younger Men, KT Oslin
See You When You’re 40, Dido
Only an Older Woman, Hugh Jackman
Edge of Seventeen, Stevie Nicks

Clooney wrangles Bono, Keys, Aguilera, Sting, Timberlake for Friday's Haiti benefit

 
Friday's "Hope for Haiti" benefit will start at 8 p.m. and will run commercial-free on ABC, CBS, NBC, Fox, CNN, BET, the CW, HBO, MTV, VH1 and CMT. The show will benefit Wyclef Jean's Yele Haiti Foundation, as well as UNICEF, Oxfam America, Partners in Health, and the Red Cross. 

Katharine McPhee naked -- almost

 

Yikes -- maybe I shouldn't have quit covering Idol.

McPhee exposed!

I just bought this on vinyl, too...

 

CAPE TOWN & COUNTRY:
A VAMPIRE WEEKEND STARTER KIT

At first listen, the boys in Vampire Weekend — four pasty Columbia U. sharps who dub their brainy brand of art-pop “Upper West Side Soweto” — come off like rich-boy villains in a John Hughes movie. They indulge in the well-read lyricism of privilege; they date soapy-smelling heiresses schooled at Middlebury. On their 2008 self-titled debut, spastic winky songs were given such upturned titles as Cape Cod Kwassa Kwassa and Oxford Comma — references to Congolese soukous rhythms and archaic punctuation seemingly installed to turn off the masses.

Appropriately enough, Vampire Weekend — which last week released its sophomore album, Contra — is adored and despised in equal volume. But for all their passport poetry and spritely handling of world politics, these Weekenders are actually warm and fuzzy populists with an L.L. Bean backpack full of heart-filled hooks. Don’t believe me? Here’s a quickie primer to help you enjoy their multiculti party.

Paul Simon From lead singer Ezra Koenig’s nerdly twee vocal to guitarist Rostam Batmanglij’s Afro-popping guitar plucks, Vampire Weekend offers consistent nods to Simon’s 1986’s Graceland, a mbaqanga-inspired masterpiece. However, on Contra, which was recorded partly in Mexico City, and especially on first single Cousins, there’s also a nod to the Latin American rhythms found on Simon’s 1990 followup, The Rhythm of the Saints. Also, the song Diplomat’s Son (which samples M.I.A.’s Hussel) sounds so much like Simon, it should be called The Only Other Living Boy in New York.

Scrabble “In December, drinking Horchata / I’d looked psychotic in a balaclava.” That’s how the ecstatic Horchata begins, Koenig presumably playing the part of a spoilsport sick of Aspen, dreaming of the Vineyard. After that curious opening, the song erupts in a world music huzzah of frenetic percussion and ascending heart. “Here comes the feeling you thought you’d forgotten!” You’ll enjoy this song a lot more if you know horchata is cold Mexican rice drink with almonds and cinnamons (and preferred by the lactose-intolerant). A balaclava is essentially a ski mask. See? It’s all starting to make sense!

Welcome to Sunny Florida! If the band’s 2008 debut was all about summering with the pretty people, Contra (which is Spanish for “against”) is the “polar” opposite, a shifting protagonist stuck in the ice. The bouncy ska-pop of Holiday sounds like a Northerner hoping to get south, literally and figuratively. The reserved joy of Giving Up the Gun (“Your Tokugawa smile /And your garbage style / Used to save the night”) urges a soul to “shine in your own way.”

The Clash Vampire Weekend is all about wordplay and sly references. Contra (as in the right-wing Nicaraguan militia) is a nod to the Clash’s 1980 album Sandinista! (as in the socialist Nicaraguan political party). Diplomat’s Son is reportedly a wink to fallen Clash hero Joe Strummer; slow, somber album-closer I Think Ur a Contra references 1977 Clash single Complete Control. And lest you think Vampire Weekend is missing backbone, drummer Christopher Tomson time-keeps with all the skittery complexity of the Clash’s Nicky “Topper” Headon. Check out the lover’s escape of Run for the tricky Straight to Hell beatdown.
 

I just bought this on vinyl...

 

...for $3 from Daddy Kool. Some Joplin for the weekend. I'm happy.

The 10 Best 'American Idol' Singers

For the first time in a long time, I’m officially off-the-clock when it comes to covering American Idol on a minute-by-minute basis. So what did I do with my Tuesday and Wednesday nights this week? How did I enjoy my newfound freedom, like Morgan Freeman sprung from Shawshank? I watched every minute-by-minute of American Idol. (Sigh...) I can’t quit you, Randy Jackson! Viewing as a mere civilian, I blubbered at the usual Portugese-grandma stuff; I chortled at the “Pants on the Ground” shenanigans. That said, the show felt a tad stale, didn’t it? Like maybe we’ve sat through one-too-many mock-Mariah caterwaulings? Like maybe Simon Cowell is smart in bailing after this season? And who knew we’d so miss Paula Abdul and her vaguely extraterrestrial cleavage? Maybe I’ll just take my Amanda Overmyer-Daly cut-out head and move on...but, um, not until next week’s auditions. After all, you just know there’s a hirsute fat guy in a bikini just waiting to bear-hug our hearts.

To celebrate the return of Kara DioGuardi’s suspect orthodontics, here’s a list of the 10 Top Idol Talents of All-Time (look, moms — no David Archuleta!).

1) I Do Not Hook Up, Kelly Clarkson
2) Before He Cheats, Carrie Underwood
3) And I Am Telling You I’m Not Going, Jennifer Hudson
4) Baby Makin’ Hips, Fantasia
5) Light On, David Cook
6) What I Want, Chris Daughtry (w/Slash)
7) Soaked, Adam Lambert
8) He Is With You, Mandisa
9) Best Days of Your Life, Kellie Pickler (w/Taylor Swift)
10) D Is for Dangerous, Allison Iraheta

Album Review: Jeff Bridges, T Bone Burnett "Crazy Heart" soundtrack

Jeff Bridges, T Bone Burnett
Album: Crazy Heart: Original Motion Picture Soundtrack (New West)
In stores: Now
Whiskey Bent and Hell Bound: As we get closer to the Academy Awards on March 7, you’ll be hearing a lot about a movie called Crazy Heart, starring Jeff Bridges as a down-and-out country singer with a hard life full of sweet songs. The movie doesn’t open around here 'til Feb. 5, but the soundtrack is already out -- and it’s a stunner. Bridges has said in interviews that he didn’t agree to do the picture until music producer T Bone Burnett signed on to make it sound authentic. Smart choice. Burnett, who produced Robert Plant and Alison Krauss’ modern classic Raising Sand, has a magic touch at weaving leather and lace, especially working here with late Texas songwriter Stephen Bruton, who died in May of last year. Getting all sorts of best-actor Oscar buzz, Bridges is convincingly dusty, and sings not unlike a melodious Dude crooning Creedence songs in The Big Lebowski. There are sublime lyrical turns throughout, especially on Fallin’ & Flyin’: “Funny how fallin’ feels like flyin’ / For a little while.” Ryan Bingham, Buck Owens, Waylon Jennings and Irish actor Colin Farrell (who plays a country star) fill out the soundtrack with a craggly panache. I can’t wait to hear how these songs play with the images onscreen.
Reminds us of: Times film critic Steve Persall has already seen Crazy Heart. Here's his take: “The movie is like a good country song, familiar but effective because of the way Bridges slips into the haggard (Merle, of course) role of Bad Blake, like a pair of well-worn boots. If there’s any justice, this criminally underrated actor will finally get his due on Oscar night. Colin Farrell is pretty good at country crooning, too; like many actors across the pond, a Southern twang suits him fine.”
Download these: Bridges’ Fallin’ & Flyin’; Bingham’s I Don’t Know and The Weary Kind (which is the song you hear in the trailer) 
Grade: A

Florida Orchestra...meet Kanye West

 

When THIS HAPPENS, I'm so taking credit for it.

Vampire Weekend "Cousins"

Vampire Weekend |MTV Music

I'm about to dig into Vampire Weekend's new album, Contra, which was released this week. These four Columbia University sharps excel at "Upper West Side Soweto," a genre mixing Afro-pop and white-guy preppy smirk. Don't think too hard about it, tho -- just dance your ass off. Here's first single Cousins.

PODCAST! Let's take our clothes off anyway. Just to see what happens...

This week's Stuck in the '80s podcast is all about the Top 10 Horrible Hits of 1986. Simply Red made the list; Mr. Mister, too. Somewhere in that dubious meta-jukebox you'll also find Jermaine Stewart's We Don't Have to Take Our Clothes Off. Twenty-four years later, J's chaste argument remains funky and persuasive; he's ruined more hot nights of passion than I have. So fair warning to all you Lotharios out there: Before you and your sweetheart start listening to the newest Stuck in the '80s show, make sure you're already full-on nekkid. Besides, I'm a lot funnier in the buff. (Wait, that doesn't sound right...) DISROBE AND LISTEN UP!

A quick word about 'American Idol'

 

Hey Pop Lifers! For the past four years, I've been the main smartass at the St. Pete Times and tampabay.com for American Idol coverage. And although I'll continue to do TV (I'll be talking Idol on Your Turn on FOX Wednesday; Charley Belcher and I have some stuff planned, too), I won't be hosting a nightly "live" chat here anymore. Times TV critic Eric Deggans is all over the Idol beat at The Feed. Rest assured, however, I will be watching every single minute of that damned show (I haven't escaped THAT much), and I'll be writing some zany Idol bits over the course of the season. Long live Bikini Girl!

Is this 2010's first breakout star? Or just another Wino clone? V.V. Brown "Game Over"

This is British newbie V.V. Brown, whose Capitol Records debut Travelling Like the Light comes out Feb. 9. There's definitely a market-tested kitchen-sink approach to the 25 year old: a soulful voice a la Amy Winehouse but with Corinne Bailey Rae's Carib lilt, dancey Lily Allen beats and 'tude, some electro-clashing Lady Gaga action for good measure. She's not the most natural creation, and yet, I'm going to give her more time. If you want to hear more V.V. Brown, check out first single Shark in the Water. Quick Fix is a bit more rambunctious. Whattaya think?

DALY TV! Rest your head on my shoulder...

 

There's a whole lotta Daly TV coming up in the next few months. And as you can see in this clip, my steady diet of chili, Red Stripe and absolutely zero sun has me in ideal televised condition. But hey, I'm a slut for the klieg lights. So enjoy this whimsical spot with ABC Action News star John Thomas, as we discuss what music helps us relax and get sexy (but not together) (not that John's not handsome) (you see, it's just that I don't like to mix business and pleasure) (except for the hottie in marketing).

WATCH THE MAGIC!  
 
  

'Elvis 75': A b-day gift fit for a King

 

"Thanks to digital restoration, that yodely blue-collar holler has never sounded more robust. His voice, the Voice, remains all things to all people: a siren call, a panty remover, a Lord's Prayer, a wasted life..." READ THE REVIEW.

SD's 5 Favorite Elvis Flicks

 

That's right, Blue Hawaii is so making the list. READ ON.