Nicki Minaj at the 54th Annual Grammy Awards, February 12, 2012. Photo: Chistopher Polk/WireImage

This year’s Grammys were a pretty tame and unremarkable affair — partly because Whitney Houston‘s sudden death the night before cast a somber shadow over the proceedings, and partly because Kanye West wasn’t in attendance. And for some reason, the producers relied on a stable of three musicians (Dave Grohl, Paul McCartney, and Chris Brown) to account for roughly 92% of the show

For those just tuning in: Adele won many things, Foo Fighters won a couple, and Bon Iver won Best New Artist. Both Adele and Jennifer Hudson gave us understated, commanding performances that outshined the Beach Boys reunion, the histrionics of Katy Perry and Nicki Minaj, and even the Paul McCartney and Bruce Springsteen-led six-ax attack. But, this being the Grammys, buried within those often-laborious, sometimes-wonderful 210 minutes of industry back-patting was a smattering of strangeness. We’ve broken down our five favorite WTF moments here.

1. Bruce’s earring situation

The Boss opened up the show with a stirring rendition of his new, soon-to-be-misappropriated song “We Take Care of Our Own.” But we couldn’t really get past his giant earrings flopping around. Bruce, you’re 62, you can’t be taking fashion cues from Shaq in Kazaam anymore.

2. Dave Grohl cut off by LMFAO song while championing rock music

During his acceptance speech for Foo Fighters’ Best Rock Performance award, Grohl implicitly dissed the processed music movement by advocating the “human element” of music-making. Near the end of the speech, as LMFAO’s “Party Rock Anthem” drowned him out, Grohl was relegated to yelling “long live rock & roll!” It was the saddest, most accurate metaphor for the current music landscape, really.

3. Dubstep Foo

But Grohl immediately erased those ”organic” rock principles when the Foos shared billing with David Guetta, Lil Wayne, and dancer/sometime woman-beater Chris Brown before performing a dubstep remix of “Rope” with Deadmau5. The only possible explanation for this head-scratching collaboration was that Grohl saw this as one of those “keep your enemies closer” situations. Or it was a tacit acknowledgement that Korn has had it right all along.

4. Roman Reloaded … and misfired

Nicki Minaj’s disappointing, overwrought “Roman Holiday” performance managed to make Lady Gaga’s past award show extravaganzas seem off-the-cuff. We think there was music or a song hidden somewhere in this jumbled nightmare-scape, and we suspect it wasn’t a particularly good one. To make matters worse, her surely earnest Exorcist-inspired interlude struck the unintentional comedy chord and was greeted with audience laughter. Oh, and she also took a pope as her date (see above).

5. Ron Paul, stage manager!

If you thought this year’s iteration of the Grammys had a conspicuously anti-IRS feel, it’s because Ron Paul was working the floor.

Brooklyn-based imprint Fool’s Gold may seem like a dance label, but with artists like Danny Brown, Cudi, and Donnis on their roster, along with cohorts like araabMUZIK and Just Blaze behind their turntables, they’re eerily intuitive about connecting the velvet ropes of two very different club worlds. And so it’s no surprise that the newly released Jackie Chain mixtape After Hours finds label co-owner Nick Catchdubs holding the reins. It’s a mix of fifteen trunk-knocking jams that range from drop-it-low mosh-pit inducers ["Role Model"], trance painted, synth-rippled anthems ["Ladies in the House"], and pop-leaning summertime club jams ["Night Is Young"]. Guest appearances by neighborhood pals PRGz, dancehall crooner Collie Buddz, and Queen of the South Gangasta Boo serve as icing on this Purp-flavored cake. [Download After Hours here.]

By MF Jordan via Deviantart.com

Today marks the sixth anniversary of J Dilla’s death, one of hip-hop’s most beloved and admired producers. To celebrate his life, the J Dilla Foundation and Yancey Music group are putting on Dilla Day in Detroit today, featuring live performances by Phife of a Tribe Called Quest, Jay Electronica and Danny Brown among others (although headliner Busta Rhymes unfortunately had to cancel). The event is far from the first tribute the late artist has received. Since his untimely passing, there has been a consistent stream of DJ mixes, remixes and a surprisingly deep catalog of Dilla-related artwork. Last year, in fact, Yancey’s mother and the J Dilla foundation hosted the International J Dilla Tribute Art Contest, drawing submission from over 140 artists around the world, some splendidly crafted, while others ended up being just plain weird. From great to goofy, we curated the most notable in Dilla tribute art from around the interwebs.

Additional reporting by Lauren Thompson

The Great:

By Joebuck via Official International J Dilla Tribute Art Contest

By UCarts via Deviantart.com

By SOLO-RM via Deviantart.com

By Raw Sun via Official International J Dilla Tribute Art Contest

By Framedink via Official International J Dilla Tribute Art Contest

The Goofy:

By Californiaraisedin via Official International J Dilla Tribute Art Contest

By Tylerschatz via Official International J Dilla Tribute Art Contest

By Tay via Official International J Dilla Tribute Art Contest

By Bazooka Keynotez via Official International J Dilla Tribute Art Contest

By Mykola31 via Deviantart.com

Azealia Banks Helps You Serve Some Lunch:

Common’s Message For Amateurs:

Hodgy Beats Knows You Have a Wack Mother:

Kreayshawn Hates That Barbie Wanna-Be:

Nicki Minaj’s Revenge: Urination

V Nasty’s Blunt Approach:

Illustrations by Dustin Glick.

Image courtesy of Flickr, HawkinsThiel

Listening to music can be an obsessive experience, especially when you find that one song that really speaks to your soul. Or, you know, gets you super pumped whilst getting ready for a night out. That song can haunt you — finding its way into Facebook posts, tweets, your grudging friend’s Spotify playlist (“Jeez, Suzie, no one wants to listen to ‘Moves Like Jagger’ again! Chill!) — addling your very mind with its oh-so-catchy chorus. Luckily, fellow sufferer of listen-to-on-repeat-itis, there’s a social network for you: This Is My Jam.

This Is My Jam — which just recently came out of private beta — is a site with a very monomaniacal purpose: To showcase your jams. Sign into the site via Facebook or Twitter (or create a standalone account if you’re not down with social media) and search for the song that’s currently stuck in your cranium.

I unearthed The Pharmacy’s “Dig Your Grave,” off of their stellar new EP by the same name (They also have a video for the jam. Can you tell I’m obsessed?). Add a little description of the song to entice other users to listen, and then post it to the site. You can also share it to Facebook and Twitter. The song will remain active for seven days, at which time you’ll have to loose your cold, grasping fingers and find another tune.

Being a social network, This Is My Jam isn’t a wholly navel-gazing experience; you can also find and follow other users and friends and check out their tunes of choice. “Like” and comment on tunes if you’re so inclined to be generous.

In addition to sharing songs and seeing what your friends are into, This Is My Jam could also be a cool way to keep up with what musicians themselves are listening to, especially since the service allows bands to upload their own music. Scrolling through the list of users, there’s already a smattering of bands using the site, including Art Brut’s Eddie Argos, Javelin, Amanda Palmer and Ducktails (Matt Mondanile from Real Estate) — and that’s just bands that I personally follow on Twitter.

Quit taxing your “rewind” button — there’s an easier way to pledge your allegiance to the jam.

Photo: Wendy Bevan

I wish there was a less awkward way to put this, seeing as how they secured their legend in large part due to one of hipsterdom’s universally accepted makeout albums, but Air are, at their best, facilitators. Which is to say that the more we get to know Nicolas Godin and Jon Benoit Dunckel, the more their music suffers. 1000 Hz Legend indulged their wildest artistic ideas in an attempt to make anything other than Moon Safari II, and it remains the sort of record beloved only by staunch contrarians who’ll readily admit they haven’t actually listened to it in years. 2004’s luscious, Nigel Godrich-produced Talkie Walkie was half of a great album that revealed their limitations as singer-songwriters, whereas the skeevy come-ons that pervaded Love 2 gave the impression that Air wasn’t even capable of getting back to basics without devolving into self-parody.

“These serious studio nerds are at their most subtle in applying sonic acupuncture.”

On the heels of a pretty barren decade, their sixth album, Le Voyage Dans La Lune was originally conceived as a 16-minute soundtrack to the legendary George Meiles short film of the same name, recently restored and colorized to make its rounds on the festival circuit. Godin and Dunckel claim it to be a fundamental viewing experience of French youth, but during the mid-90s, Americans were catching up to it as well — if the cover seems weirdly familiar, then yes, you have seen the video for Smashing Pumpkins’ “Tonight, Tonight” which was also directly inspired by Le Voyage.

But beyond the film itself, which is virtually cynicism repellant, Le Voyage Dans La Lune is Air’s best record since Moon Safari, because it puts the duo back to work, literally. Whether it’s Virgin Suicides, Lost In Translation or that one memorable night in your freshman dorm, Air’s music is most resonant when an outside source provides the emotional and visual stimuli and lets Godin and Dunckel worry about getting that Moog to hit a quasar sound just right against that lascivious bassline.

Though it was expanded to a full LP, it’s closer in length to their classic Premieres Symptomes EP, and it’s also their easiest listen since then as well. It’s also their most effortless-sounding, which is just another way of saying these serious studio nerds are at their most subtle in applying sonic acupuncture. Throughout, it’s defined by a sweetness and wonderment that works on a purely elemental level through small gestures, animated without sounding cartoonish — the trampoline-like drums on “Astronomical Club,” the sleepy banjo on “Lava,” the injection of mission control transmissions that cleaves the otherwise beatific “Seven Stars,” these are purely evocative on their own. Likewise, while the puffing synths on “Sonic Armada” and “Parade” have a clear Electric Company vibe, like most of Le Voyage, there’s no chin-stroking appreciation of period kitsch required.

The vocal contributions also work within the idea of Le Voyage of being an embodiment of a certain kind of timeless innocence rather than the era-specific nostalgia or louche carnality Air had previously trafficked in. Though vocals from Beach House’s Victoria Legrand are all but synonymous with a certain kind of bedheaded sex appeal, her soft murmuring throughout the self-explanatory “Cosmic Trip” and “Seven Stars” has an effect of soothing comfort rather than hired sensuality. Likewise, though “Cosmic Trip” and “Who Am I Now?” are both gorgeous in their own right, they’re in stately and very unsexy waltz time. Which is to say that if Moon Safari was indeed baby-making material, Le Voyage is the sort of lullaby both those parents can play for those kids right now. Maybe Air’s renaissance lies in making a different kind of bedroom music.

Rapper T-Pain, musician Slash, and singer Jamie Foxx perform onstage during the 52nd Annual GRAMMY Awards, January 31, 2010. Photo: Kevin Winter/Getty Images

One of the buzziest angles of Sunday’s fast approaching Grammy Awards is the Beach Boys reunion … and how it’s being “sullied” by making them share the stage with corporate pop rockers Maroon 5 and indie-ish earwormers Foster the People. As far as we can tell, the thread tying these bands together is that all three are … bands?

To be fair, sometimes the Grammy Cabal gets it right and their pairings lead to legendary moments (e.g. Tina Turner with Beyoncé in 2008; Bruce, Dave Grohl et al for “London Calling” in 2003). But often, the combinations are perplexing and lackluster. And quite frankly, those are more fun to revisit. So here are five truly head-scratching Grammy grouping misfires. Hold out hope that we won’t have to add the Beach Boys extravaganza to the list in a few years.

1. Jamie Foxx, T-Pain, Doug E. Fresh and Slash (2010)

We might as well start at the bottom, with this truly awful amalgamation of trends gone haywire. There’s nothing inherently wrong with Auto-tune, or combining rock with hip hop, but somehow this performance managed to mangle them both individually before combining them into just the biggest pile of crap. Jamie Foxx, a good singer, resorted to mechanized barking through much of the song while wearing a cape. Slash, a good guitarist, apparently cared so little about the gig that he didn’t bother to tune his ax. T-Pain … well, he T-Pained the whole time. Hey, at least now we know where the Black Eyed Peas looked for inspiration for the past two years.

2. Elton John and Backstreet Boys (2000)

When you think of Elton John and the Grammys, his duet with Eminem probably comes to mind. But you see, this was his first salvo in the odd-pairing war. Elton did all the heavy lifting while the BSB’s just huddled around Elton’s grand piano, seemingly tethered in place like that poor goat in Jurassic Park, prohibited from breaking out into dance or looking longingly into the camera as is tradition for boy bands during slow songs. If the Backstreet Boys aren’t out there in a V-formation doing synchronized stomp-swivels, then why have them out there at all?

3. Jay-Z, Linkin Park and Paul McCartney (2006)

Linkin Park with Jay-Z? Understandable, “Numb/Encore” was a solid mash-up. Jay-Z and Paul McCartney? We could maybe deign to understand. But all three entities, together, transitioning from rap-rock into “Yesterday”? Incomprehensible. Or is it? Turns out there’s a reasonable explanation: the main reason The Beatles broke up was because Paul always thought “Yesterday” needed more drum machine and a guy going “uh-huh, yeh … thass right” in the background. So, dream realized!

4. Cee Lo, Gwyneth Paltrow and a bunch of Muppets (2011)

Pairing Cee Lo with the Muppets is only natural since he’s a human Muppet. But considering this was nine months too early for The Muppets publicity cycle, why did America need to see this cyclone of fur and day-glo? On the other side, we knew Gwyneth covered “Forget You” on Glee, but wasn’t once enough? Isn’t she too busy giving her children quirky names and posting on Goop about the perfect spots to forage for truffles in Alsace-Lorraine? And, oh yeah, acting? She just had to shoehorn herself into a slot that was originally reserved for some struggling musician who spent decades plugging away, hoping that one day they’d be given the chance to break out at the Grammys. Real nice, Goop.

5. Amy Grant and a baby (1992)

So here’s the situation: Grant’s turning in an odd performance of her forgotten 1991 couples’ skate anthem “Baby Baby.” She’s going around sing-flirting with each member of the world’s peppiest, spunkiest, cult-iest backing band. First of all, stop distracting these guys with your throaty siren song while they’re trying to play the notes to your throaty siren song. As if it couldn’t get any weirder, OMG, there’s a baby wandering on stage! Then she picks up the baby as she’s singing ”Baby, Baby.” So meta! Except, the prop “baby” is like four years old. Also, who’s “baby” is that?

Björk performs at the New York Hall of Science. Photo courtesy of bjork.com

Each week, Lizzy Goodman guides you through the dirty streets of rock and roll.

I knew it was going to be a good day when I showed up at my café around 11 in the morning earlier this week and found Malcolm Gladwellat my regular table. He lives in the neighborhood and I’ve seen him around before — slight of build and square in sensibility, perpetually clad in stiff jeans and dad sneakers. But it was another thing entirely to see the famed author’s distinctive mop top at the same corner table where I’ve written so many of these columns; he was drinking tea and mouthing words to himself as he typed.

“The show was transcendent, with the crowd assembled like dutiful students staring in wonder at their radiant teacher with the electrocuted Ronald McDonald hairdo.”

I’ve always believed that pop stars are like modern gods and goddesses — bigger, better, and more beautiful versions of ourselves, but still flawed enough in a distinctly human way so as to seem familiar. The Greeks and Romans wanted to worship at the feet of figures they could relate to but also admire, and we do the same with Brangelina or Bowie, Lady Gaga or George Clooney. Someone like Gladwell, whose signature Big Ideas — from the 10,000 hour rule to the Tipping Point — have profoundly shaped our cultural identity, is a kind of a kind of intellectual superhero, an outsized character worshiped as much for his genius as Aphrodite is for her beauty.

It seemed prescient to see him that morning because a few hours later, the audiobook for Outliers cued up in my ear buds, I got on the 7 train at Grand Central bound for Queens. I was on my way to see Björk, another of the world’s great eccentrics, and an indisputable “outlier.” The singer’s in town for several performances of Biophilia at the New York Hall of Science, a supercool interactive science museum in Queens. The high concept performance uses a 20-member all-girl choir and a so-called “gravity harp” comprised of giant metronomes among other toys and tricks to conjure a kind of multi-sensory amplification of the interplay between human beings and nature.

“Remember,” echoed the voice of famed naturalist and BBC’s Life host David Attenborough who narrates elements of the performance, plus the iPhone apps that match each song, “…that you are the gateway between the universal and the microscopic.” The 700 or so assembled fans listened dutifully, but judging by the size of some of their pupils many didn’t need to be reminded to feel the moment. The scene was a mix of posh rave and liberal private school field trip, as pre-show fans could wander through the museum’s halls and test how much water is in their bodies or explore the realm of the atom before filing into the cloistered but cavernous grand room where Björk’s stage was set up theater-in-the-round style.

The show was transcendent, with the crowd assembled like dutiful students staring in wonder at their radiant teacher with the electrocuted Ronald McDonald hairdo. “She’s kind of a fairy godmother of awesome,” cooed the Daria look-alike behind me as Björk powered up her Tesla coil, a combo lighting bolt/beat maker presented in a giant birdcage. She closed with her incendiary call to arms for creative expression, “Declare Independence” and as the choir girls danced like possessed sprites from the underworld, above ground just for this one night, the crowd followed suit. “That was a motherfucker of a song to close on,” gushed a friend in the crowd as she exhaled, a giant grin plastered across her face.

As I stumbled out of the cocoon like hall in a post-show daze, lost on the streets of Queens I gazed up with mounting disoriented panic into the sooty dark night sky in search of the tracks of the elevated 7 train. Not seeing them, I remembered a conversation I had a year or so ago with the singer Antony Hegarty, with whom he’d just collaborated on his nature-focused new album Swanlights. “Björk says she believes this is the century where everything is going to merge: science and ethics and feminism and ecology. She has a much more positive outlook than me,” he said, and went on to explain how he’d harnessed that positivity on the album. “There’s this incredible soulful patience to her voice and I can be incredibly impatient and despondent and shadowy. The song we did was a crucial sort of relief.” I took a deep breath, cued up the track he’d described, “Flétta,” on my iPod and as it began, rounded the corner to the welcome sight of the subway stairs.

Photo: Getty Images

Valentine’s Day is fast approaching, and for all you sappy singles out there, Hive’s put together the perfect playlist for your annual self-loathing session. We’re not trying to be mean — we just know music is the best medicine. So we threw together some of our favorite melodramatic gems to help you get over the Valentine’s Day hump with the proper amount of emotional angst. Consider it a personal favor. We’ve got some new, some old, some sentimental, and some superficial, including Talking Heads, Crystal Castles, Liz Phair, Jesus and Mary Chain and Drake. While you’re at it, make sure you favorite the MTV Hive Spotify page and keep an eye out for more playlists in the near future.

[MTV Hive: Love is for Losers playlist on Spotify.]

Photos courtesy of Getty Images

Censored rap videos are now cool … at least for hip-hop’s most stupendous stars. Debuting earlier today on MTV, Jay-Z and Kanye West‘s flick for their Watch the Throne calling card “N***** In Paris” has been transformed into the curse-free “Paris,” while mischievous rap mistress Nicki Minaj‘s “Stupid Hoe” has clocked up controversy after being banned by BET and flipped into the friendlier “Stupid Stupid.” What goes into editing down a mega-budget rap video? There’s no agreed science as to what gets stripped away, but in looking at both videos side-by-side, we can start to see some clear patterns emerge. And some caged beasts.

Song Title: For its video version, “N***** in Paris” has become the curt “Paris” — which not only saves TV presenters the dilemma of fudging their way through references to it, but brings to mind a classy, upscale designer fragrance. “Stupid Hoe,” however, has been flipped into the playground-patter of “Stupid Stupid” for its edit. We suspect there may be an age difference at play here.

The N-Word vs. The H-Word: Both songs are hooked around a taboo term. In line with scaling down the title to “Paris,” Jay and ‘Ye’s edit simply blanks out the word “n****.” In Minaj’s cartoonish world though, “ho” is censored by replacing it with a comic sound effect — which actually ends up better fitting the video’s bright vibe.

Rampant Cursing: Another score for Nicki, with her many “ass” and “bitch” references being transformed into quirky spot effects; the song’s edited ending, which has Minaj repeatedly spitting, “I said fuck a stupid ho and fuck a stupid ho” now sounds like gibberish. “Paris,” on the other hand, becomes a little too jittery thanks to the litter of blank pauses in the raps.

Lady Ass-ets: Much has been made of the disembodied butt that plays a recurring role in “Stupid Hoe.” But despite claims that it might objectify women, it still makes the edited version, most prominently flashing up on screen during Minaj’s extended implore, “I wish a bitch would…”  ‘Ye and Jay seem to have no qualms about the female form though, with “Paris” packed with liberal footage of a crowd that seems sourced from an Elite Model casting call. Director-for-the-day West never hesitates to linger on the array of breasts, most intensely as the two-minute mark in the flick approaches.

Caged Beasts: Clad in cougar-chic leopard print, Nicki writhes around in a cage and possibly compares her middle-aged nemesis Lil Kim to Michael Jackson’s monkey Bubbles. (A chimpanzee also quickly flashes up on screen.) Provocative or offensive as its inferences may be, it still made it in through the editing process. Well-known animal welfare advocates Mr. Carter and Mr. West face no such ethical dilemma, letting lions and panthers flagrantly roam around the fantasy set of “Paris.” Please let wild animal cameos become this year’s hot new rap video trend.

Epilepsy Warning: Ms. Minaj’s flick features a rave-styled array of flashing colored backgrounds, often superimposed with the rapstresses’ face; the concert footage in “Paris” is overlaid with what seems to be images from a giant laser-powered kaleidoscope. (Hey, what else do you get the rappers who have everything for Christmas?). Only “Paris” is tagged with an introductory epilepsy warning — but both flicks are colorfully bat-shit cray.

See for yourself! Watch the video for the Throne’s “Paris” below.

And Nicki Minaj’s “Stupid Stupid” here:

Photo taken from Google Maps.

Google Maps is making cross-country club hopping easier than ever, having just released street view accessibility inside of London’s famous Fabric music venue, host of the popular Fabric Live mix series (Four Tet’s Fabric mix was one of Hive’s favorites of 2011). Those who haven’t the visited the U.K. nightlife staple might picture a mega-club-like mass of steel and cement, but these internal effigies are more intimate than imagined, with brick walls, a hardwood dance floor and warm red and purple lighting. The best part is, if you ever end up getting lost in the sea of people, you could theoretically use Google Maps to navigate yourself back to the front door (and back to your hotel).

This isn’t the first time the Google Maps API has had a musical crossover moment. The Rap Map, for example, is a super-well curated list of interesting locations in the hip-hop world, from recording studios, song references and recording studios. The good folks at the Grammy’s created the Music is Life is Music app this year, a way to drop songs on locations you associate them with, also incorporating social media influencers Twitter, Rdio, and Foursquare. Global Billboard is a mashup of the Google Maps and Last.fm API’s, making top artists and tracks browseable by country. Ever wonder who was the top played artist in Gibraltar? You guessed it, Lana Del Rey. [Via Fact Mag]

Plus there are lots of great music videos from the likes of Shabazz Palaces, Adam Green, Class Actress, and Mux Mool, and live performance from Neon Indian from their session with fornoone.tv as well as Javelin’s Dublab VisionVersion session.

For more episodes of Weird Vibes, visit Hive’s hub and the Weird Vibes Facebook page.