BlackBook Magazine

When Lykke Li asked the packed crowd at Bowery Ballroom how many of them were in love, we estimate about fifteen people put their hands up, including the couple in front of us (her first, then him). They gazed into each others eyes and kissed as Li reminded them of what they shared. We wanted to smack them. “This song is for everyone who’s not in love,” she announced amid cheers from the dispossessed, us included. Li was the centerpiece to a soiree of Swedish sweeties, her flawless set bookended by Scandinavian songbirds—Anna Ternheim first, and Sarah Assbring last, playing under her nom de plume El Perro Del Mar.

Going On is the best song off the new Gnarls Barkley record and now there’s a video to match. It teems with island charisma, and when it’s over, all you want to do is watch it again.

This book's been out for a few months, but if you haven't already heard of Cover Story -- a book of gorgeous, bizarre, and/or erogenous album compiled by Brooklyn's Wax Poetics magazine -- time to correct that oversight. To help get you in the mood, check out our sample gallery of pics from the book.

Like so many nights before, the ever innocent “after work cocktail” slides into pre-show tequila shots with a band, crashing an awards ceremony, and the notion of staying in and getting caught up with Gossip Girl is somehow replaced by the thump of bass and the clink of glasses. GG will have to wait. Last night I came to the Highline Ballroom to do what we writers call "work." I was interviewing the buzzy band Bitter:Sweet, whose albums have been securing a lot of airtime on shows like Grey’s Anatomy, not to mention the theme song for Lipstick Jungle. I’m instructed prior to the interview that I cannot actually stay for the show, as it’s a “private engagement.” I take it in stride, drinking a bottle of water as I sit through Bitter:Sweet’s sound check, which is quite entertaining in itself.

Two hips and a hurray for Madonna Ciccone, whose album Hard Candy was the top-selling record its first week out with 280,273 units sold, beating Mariah Carey and her Empire State-tampering tactics.

When we heard that model Agyness Deyn was collaborating with Five O'Clock Heroes on "Who," we were worried it might turn out like this. Then we remembered she wasn't a Pussycat Doll.

When Swedish comeback kid Robyn was in Texas to play SXSW this past month, she refused to limit herself to Perez Hilton’s soiree. Here’s a clip of Robyn singing “Bum Like You” to some heartland-folk, in a country music bar in Granger, Texas. You'd almost expect a Boratian backlash—but no. The cowboys and their gals seem to enjoy Robyn’s jaunty electro hooks, and Robyn is clearly having a ball away from her usual audience of, well, young people.

Someone needs to warn Trent Reznor about market saturation. The release of a new Nine Inch Nails album used to be an event. Lately, however, the sultan of sulk has been releasing albums faster than you can say, "I wanna fuck you like an animal." Yesterday came word—just two months after Reznor released the 36-track instrumental disc Ghosts I-IV—that a brand new NIN album called The Slip is available for free download on the band's website. Reznor is calling it a thank you gift to his fans for their continued support. But once the initial surprise wears off, ultimately the idea of a new NIN record—let alone a free one—just isn't that a big a deal.

In a self-deprecating plea at the Tribeca Film Festival "Breaking the Band" concert at Webster Hall Friday night, Bad Veins singer Benjamin Davis asked the crowd to stick around, because the rest of the acts of the night -- The Republic Tigers, The Virgins, and The Hold Steady -- promised to be better if the crowd didn’t like what the Veins bled. “Well, I guess we’re gonna start now,” he said. “Please don’t leave.” The recipients of the first ever Target Music Maker Award, Bad Veins (Davis, drummer Sebastien Schultz, and a 1973 reel-to-reel named Irene) have learned to be cautious. They’ve performed in New York over 10 times, they were called the “breakout band” of the CMJ music festival, and A&R executives love them. And yet, they can’t seem to get signed.

Singer Katy Perry barfs stars and hearts, thinks she’s a domino, and doesn’t do drugs (anymore).

When we got the invite to an industry-only acoustic showcase by upstart songstress Katy Perry, the promise of free tacos and beer were admittedly part of the draw. But Perry looked cute enough on the invite—like a Suicide Girl without the body ink—and the title of her breakout single “Ur So Gay” gave us the impression that she is totes, def, and obv one of us, an old friend. And who doesn’t support their friends? Perry was dressed every part the Silverlake-chic MySpace maven we made her out to be in our head, in turquoise waist-high jeans and a Minnie Mouse polka-dot top—L.A.'s Lily Allen. Perry played a short four-song set—just a taste—off her debut disc One of the Boys, out June 17. “I hope you hang yourself with your H&M scarf/ While jacking off listening to Mozart,” she crooned, as we wondered how she saw past our closed blinds. Days later, we visited Perry at Mercury Lounge, hours before she was set to take the stage for an intimate New York show. Perry was there, best friend-personal assistant in tow, nursing an anonymous fast-food soda cup. “You look familiar,” she said, indicating that our unholy taco-eating must have made an impact at the showcase. We assured her this was our first time meeting, and promptly hit record.