I’ve always had this theory about MGMT: they suck. Or more specifically, they suck because they don’t aspire to be anything better than the status quo. Don’t get me wrong, I want to like them. They represent Brooklyn - where they’re based - to the world. They’re suing the President of France, which is awesome. And they are seen wearing sunglasses often. These are all reasons to like them. But why do I - along with hundreds of their fans at last night’s “hometown” show in Brooklyn’s Prospect Park - feel something just south of sheer ambivalence for them?

When the rapper Drake burst on the scene, I was skeptical. Being from Canada, I knew Drake as Aubrey Graham, the actor who played Jimmy on Degrassi Jr. High and ended up in a wheelchair after taking a bullet to the back. I didn’t think there was any way he could ever become a legitimate, respected rapper. But, when Kanye West directs your first music video, it becomes pretty undeniable. In the video for Drake’s song-of-summer contender “Best I Ever Had,” West does for slow motion what he did for auto-tune: makes it awesome. I know West fancies himself an innovator, but he’s totally cribbing from Baywatch here. 

So this is weird. A few weeks ago we published an interview with the mysterious Major Lazer, a Jamaican zombie slayer who may or may not be the creation of DJs Diplo and Switch. The interview was cryptic, and written in Lazer’s broken patois, making it hard to decipher. We thought that was the end of it. But today, I got a surprise e-mail from someone claiming to represent Lazer. It led me to a video recreation of my interview with Lazer, which was initially done via e-mail. Check it out after the jump. How they got that picture of me, I’ll never know. 

For most music makers and fans, the passing of MJ was a sad occasion to reflect on the talent, influence and life of a troubled, ground-breaking genius. Some artists, however, prefer to vent their grief through the prism of their own success. In August 2006, the usually reserved Moby branded Michael Jackson “the creepiest thing he’d ever seen...He (MJ) looks like Elizabeth Taylor hit by a truck. Does he know how terrifying he is? Does he know that kids have nightmares about him? It’s really scary.” That hadn’t stopped the Connecticut-bred Moby, of course, from remixing MJ’s classic “Beat It” track for the Ben Stiller comedy Zoolander in 2001. And it’s not stopping Moby from continuing to air his displeasure with the King of Pop, even after MJ’s untimely passing. Moby wrote in (via BlackBerry) to music industry guru Bob Lefsetz this week to let the music insiders who devour Lefsetz’ daily online musings that he’d be numero uno if not for MJ’s pesky death. Moby’s tasteful, mild-mannered diss, after the jump.

Moby strikes again. This week he released his ninth (bedroom) studio album—Wait for Me—to what Spin magazine calls his best body of work in ten years. The 13-track album doesn’t disappoint; it feels like the soundtrack to a cerebral movie. It’s definitely out there, and I think it’s perfect for an intimate escape into oblivion—tuning out our busy world, allowing that white light to shine through for a short 52 minutes. Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to have a proper sit-down with Moby due to his current European tour, yet we were able to correspond via email.

Some time ago, Gossip Girl’s Leighton Meester embarked on something of a spiritual journey through pop music. Her traipse down the worn actress-turned-singer path turned up a few gems, including a cover of “Bette Davis Eyes”, this other cover originally by this band, and a curious little electro-pop romp titled “Good Girls Go Bad,” where she shares singing credits with Cobra Starship—but not until about 1:31 into the song. Just yesterday, the video surfaced onto the web. It features such Gossip Girl-ish things as salacious texts, drinking from flasks, some blokes in white-framed spectacles (I think they’re the Starship), subterranean bacchanalia, and of course Queen B casting her signature ice queen glare now and again. Video after the jump.

I’d never in a million years peg singing songstress Diane Birch as a former goth. Apparently it’s true, and she told this to over a hundred people during her Joe’s Pub performance last night. Diane’s recent album release—Bible Belt—received a great deal of critical and popular acclaim earlier this month. Her music bleeds raw truth told through her deep, soulful voice and piano keys; her tone is up, peppered with moody temperament. Certainly not goth, though ... it’s more Carly Simon and Carole King, not Marilyn Manson or The Sisters of Mercy.

One of the world’s crueler injustices is how Mariah Carey ends up more noted for her wardrobe malfunctions than for her skills as a highly proficient satirist in the vein of British greats like P.G Wodehouse. But this shouldn’t strike you as a surprise. This is the same dazzling force who previously made glib, incisive commentary on the human condition out of horseback riding and a day trip to a carnival. Her latest jab at highbrow humor? Dressing up in drag!

Taking cues from the founding father of evolutionary theory, Charles Darwin, an isolated Block Island house-turned-recording studio is The Low Anthem’s Galapagos. The Providence folk trio’s debut, Oh My God Charlie Darwin—a major label re-release after finding its success on a local level—swaps finches for folk instruments, looking to the English naturalist as not only lyrical inspiration, but as a model for their own reconnaissance of uncharted sonic terrains. The group took a grassroots approach to every step of the musical process with Darwin—together playing 27 different instruments, lyrically contemplating social Darwinism, and even hand silk-screening the album’s covers—resulting in a record that embodies the DIY Americana aesthetic.

Grief! Anguish! Confusion! Ire? Well sure—if you’re any number of pop aspirants or B-list pop idols seriously gunning for a comeback, Michael Jackson’s untimely death may be something of a nuisance. As seen from a number of trends on iTunes sales charts across the world, the King’s death has derailed the usual goings-on in some countries, while in others, his presence remains detectable, but not so earth-shattering.