Need a Jolt? Here's Daly TV

Here's my spot on Fox 13's "Lightning Round" last night (WATCH). Three-quarters of the gags are recycled, and I'm not as zingy as usual. But we filmed it live at 11:20 p.m., so there was a cool novelty to it. After Idol, I wearily crossed the lonely bridge into Tampa, hoping I didn't stink of baby barf. About 20 minutes before leaving the house, TwoTwo launched a Similac smear on her Old Man. But alas, unless you had Smell-o-Vision, you could never tell.

Thanks to loyal bloggette Marissa for the link. Oh, and if you want to see the complete Tricia Walsh Smith video, HERE you go.

On Oscar Night, Come Join Me...

On Sunday night, I'll be hanging out at film critic Steve Persall's Reeling in the Years blog, being a smart-aleck in the comments section. I wanna see all of my faves there: Jeff, Marissa, Guy, Bassnote, Sparky.

Heck, I'm in a good mood, so I'd even be happy to see Brad there. I have a feeling Steve Spears and his friend Jimmy Beam might show up, too. Ya never know...

Earlier in the night, I'll be zinging out jokes a la Morey Amsterdam for the paper's fashion coverage. So make sure to track down a St. Petersburg Times on Monday for some cheap laffs. Don't worry: The lovely and talented Sharon Fink will be telling you who's wearing what. I'll be more like Fred Willard in Best in Show ("And to think that in some countries these dogs are eaten.")

See you on Sunday...

And the Grammy goes to ... Herbie Hancock?

The biggest upset in Grammy history? Yes. The biggest blunder, too? Maybe.

For more than three hours Sunday, the 50th annual Grammy Awards was smart, entertaining and, lo and behold, hip. New stars merged with pop icons, the mood was fun and cool. And this anniversary edition of an oft-maligned event was one for the ages.

And then Herbie Hancock’s name was called for album of the year. Uh-oh.

Just like that, the Grammys, a peer-voted award criticized for clueless cronyism, fell back on old, crusty habits. No offense to the great jazz pianist. But his salute to Joni Mitchell, River: The Joni Letters, was decidedly not better than the major category’s two front-runners: Kanye West’s Graduation and Amy Winehouse’s Back to Black.

"The impossible can be made possible," said Hancock, 67, who was as shocked as anyone by this upset.

For most of the night, the Grammys were fresh with their choices. Two of pop music’s most mercurial stars, rapper West and new-school R&Ber Winehouse, were feted with major hardware in Los Angeles. West, with a tribute to his late mother shaved into his head, took home four awards, including best rap album. Among her five trophies, Winehouse, a tabloid star thanks to her drug use and related ne’er-do-wellness, won best new artist, plus song and record of the year for the neo-girl group groove Rehab. As for her spacey acceptance speech, um, well, someone named Ray-Ray is very happy.

Vince Gill took best country album for These Days and was given the award by Ringo Starr: "I just had an award handed to me by a Beatle," Gill said, adding the good-natured dig of the night: “Have you had that happen yet, Kanye?”

[AP photo]

Hot Grammy Action! LIVE!

UPDATE: WHAAAAAAAT? HERBIE HANCOCK? ALBUM OF THE YEAR? This is why the Grammy Awards are considered a joke. This is why the recording industry is clueless and downtrodden. For three-plus hours Sunday night, the 50th annual Grammy Awards were having a swell anniversary year. Kanye West and Amy Winehouse were properly feted. The performances were inspired. The mood was smart, hip, fun.

And then they called Herbie Hancock's name for album of the year. No offense to the great jazz pianist, but his River: The Joni Letters is NOT the album of the year. Oy.

Anyway, I'm pretty wiped. I basically had to rewrite my entire early-edition column after complimenting the Grammys for finally having their proverbial stuff together.

So thanks to everyone who joined the chat tonight. If you're just reading this, there's some brilliant commentary in the comments section. Enjoy.

(Read the comments area for the play-by-play action. And feel free to head over to Stuck in the 80s, as my doppleganger best buddy is hosting a chat there too.)

If you need a Grammys refresher course, check these out:

Here's a link to my GRAMMY PREDICTIONS. (Oof, I really tanked on those. First the Patriots lose. Now this. Tough week for SD.)

Here's a link to my feature on Grammy-gobbling legend Phil Ramone.

Here's some play-by-play, from the red carpet to the finale...

HELMET HAIR: Carrie Underwood -- hire a new stylist. Or lay off the Aqua-Net.

TRON? Anyone else see reflections of Tron in that first Kanye performance? I kept waiting for Jeff Bridges to scream "Greetings, Program!"

CAN WE BE NICE? Yeah, Alicia Keys looks great. Very classy. And that upsets us to no end. We need more Souja Boy silliness and less Keys class.

GIRLS JUST WANNA ... have fewer cliches. Can someone possibly interview Cyndi Lauper without having to awkwardly drop her signature song title into the questions? (FYI, Spears promises to pay for the damages to the TV here.)

JASON BATEMAN - COMIC SUPER-HERO: This guy should be hosting the Oscars. He's killin' from outside the Staples Center. "Ladies and gentlemen ... and the creepy guy walking over there." It's enough to make you forget Teen Wolf Too and buy another set of "Arrested Development" DVDs.

BEST ZINGER: Vince Gill -- "I just had an award handed to me by a Beatle ... have you had that happen yet, Kanye?"

BEST UNINTENDED JOKE: "Coming up later tonight -- Kid Rock and a new female friend."

I WOULD DIE 4 U: Prince is the coolest guy in the Los Angeles zip code, so if he wants to take a shot at Frank Sinatra, who are we to dry foul. We think it was a joke, but it's Prince, so just nod along knowingly and be glad he'd even grace an event like this.

BEST PERFORMANCE SO FAR? Probably Morris Day, you think? But Beyonce and Tina Turner -- hot, very hot. Kanye singing about his mom, who died last year? Sean's still sobbing in between bites of Funyuns.

POOR KANYE: What's with trying to play Kanye off the stage halfway through his acceptance speech? Please tell us that was a mistake and someone hit the wrong button.

PAISLEY POWER: Brad Paisley really sings a song called "Ticks?" (Sean assures he did.) Did Weird Al write the lyrics. Since when did country cross-breed with vaudeville?

AND FINALLY: Amy Winehouse really does perform. Though maybe she'll later wish she hadn't. She sounded like it was 3 in the morning over there in London. Oh it was? OK, nevermind. "Not a great performance," Sean says, "but at least she didn't pass out."

[AP photos; Getty Images]

And the Grammys will go to...

Say "Kanye West" eight times fast and you'll get the probable vibe of Sunday's 50th annual Grammys Awards. The deck is so stacked in favor of the Chicago rapper, who leads all artists with eight nominations, it's almost certain the "Louis Vuitton don" will leave with a fat load of loot.

It should also be a good night for British terror Amy Winehouse and the two women in Jay-Z's life: Beyonce and Rihanna. Handicapping the Grammys has never been easier, so my picks are no doubt perfect. Not that you should wager your co-worker. Well, maybe a burrito.

ALBUM OF THE YEAR NOMINEES: Foo Fighters, Echoes, Silence, Patience & Grace; Vince Gill, These Days; Herbie Hancock, River: The Joni Letters; Amy Winehouse, Back to Black; Kanye West, Graduation.

THE WINNER? Kanye West. With the exception of Winehouse, none of these performers will even come close to ruining West's night. Herbie Hancock? It's a fine album but . . . Herbie Hancock?! The Recording Academy uses a "peer-based" voting system made up of oldsters who long to be cool (they'll pick West) and youngsters who really are cool (they'll also pick West). Also important to remember: Graduation was one of last year's rare multiplatinum hits, and the spiraling music industry is desperate to remind you that people still buy music legally.

BEST NEW ARTIST NOMINEES: Feist, Ledisi, Paramore, Taylor Swift, Amy Winehouse.

THE WINNER? Amy Winehouse. This is a sublime assemblage of talent, especially the nods to indie-cool singer-songwriter Feist and soul belter Ledisi. But it will ultimately come down to country nymph Swift and Winehouse. Swift is a randier version of Carrie Underwood (which I totally approve of), but Winehouse's Back to Black album (new-school beats meet girl-group shuffle) is a near-masterpiece. Winehouse's acceptance speech should be a doozy.

SONG OF THE YEAR NOMINEES: Before He Cheats (performed by Carrie Underwood); Hey There Delilah (Plain White T's); Like a Star (Corinne Bailey Rae); Rehab (Amy Winehouse); Umbrella (Rihanna).

THE WINNER? Umbrella. The absolutely incandescent Rihanna is scheduled to perform this silly-illy-illy smash on the awards show. So she'll already have that going for her. The Grammys like to spread the love around among young talent, so they probably won't go back to Winehouse. Underwood sells tons of albums, but she had her moment last year.

RECORD OF THE YEAR NOMINEES: Irreplaceable (performed by Beyonce); The Pretender (Foo Fighters); Umbrella (Rihanna); What Goes Around . . . Comes Around (Justin Timberlake); Rehab (Amy Winehouse).

THE WINNER? Irreplaceable. Whereas song of the year is for the songwriters, record of the year is for the artist and producer. The Grammys have a major crush on Beyonce, too: She's pretty, she's clean, she's a vavoomish ambassador for pop music. Having already acknowledged Winehouse and Rihanna, they'll give B some love. Besides, Irreplaceable was a monster.

BEST ROCK ALBUM NOMINEES: Daughtry, Daughtry; John Fogerty, Revival; Foo Fighters, Echoes, Silence, Patience & Grace; Bruce Springsteen, Magic; Wilco, Sky Blue Sky.

WINNER? Foo Fighters. The Grammys will probably screw this one up, but they kind of have to. The Foos are the only act in this category also up for album of the year, so do the math. If I were a member of the academy, however, I'd vote for the raw, rawkin' anger of Fogerty. He won't win, but he should.

BEST COUNTRY ALBUM NOMINEES: Dierks Bentley, Long Trip Alone; Vince Gill, These Days; Tim McGraw, Let It Go; Brad Paisley, 5th Gear; George Strait, It Just Comes Natural.

THE WINNER? Vince Gill. Again, Gill is the only nominee here also up for the big prize, so he's money in the bank. But the award should go to Paisley, whose ability to sing, write and pick the heck out of his guitar is a rare treat in modern country. On a final note, it's a crime that Miranda Lambert isn't on this list, but that's Grammy cluelessness for you. Oh well, at least they'll get it right with Kanye.

TAKE THE QUIZ: Think you know something about Grammy history? Try taking the online interactive quiz that my Stuck in the 80s buddy Steve Spears wrote on tampabay.com. And don't tell me for a second that he actually knew the answer to all those questions. Click here to take the quiz.

Blue is (not) my color

Hey gang, look who snuck away from the baby and FF to entertain the masses on TV. Click here to see my hiii-larious interview on Fox this morning.

One thing I can say with total certainty after seeing myself on TV: A week away from work, living on bologna sandwiches, clam chowder and Bugles from the hospital cafeteria has me looking not just a little like Willy Wonka's Violet Beauregarde -- hopefully without the chewing gum tick.

To honor my friend and Stuck in the 80s co-host Steve Spears, who is transcribing my blog rantings while I juggle baby and beers during my mini-vacation, here's a special top 5 list.

TOP 5 THINGS SEAN DALY IS DOING DURING FAMILY LEAVE:

5. Ordering more TV-friendly, electric blue shirts, featuring David Partridge collar.

4. Deleting all Madonna songs from my iPod; replacing them with Tiffany.

3. Planning guys-only trip with Steve to Kankakee, Illinois, with remaining vacation time.

2. Adding photos to my Pamela Sue Martin myspace tribute page.

1. "Researching" breast-pump websites on the Internet.

Hey, I'm a dad. It's totally OK, right?

Super Bowl XLII: Missing the good old days

Hey gang, Stephanie Hayes here.  Sean has Wee Munchkin Maya chillin’ on his shoulder doing baby type things like being cute and whatnot, so he asked for a hand.

He thought it would be no big thang for me to blog about Super Bowl entertainment. He was SO wrong. My Internet connection went kaput. Then, our 57-inch high def TV BURNED OUT. So while we were frantically hauling a TV down from the bedroom, I missed Alicia Keys.  ARRRRRGH.  But I saw a picture of her, and she had on REALLY BAD PANTS. Like, Erica Kane on acid-bad.

Now, I’m web connected via snail cell phone, watching the game on a tiny TV.  And the snooty mac and cheese I made tastes like corrugated cardboard. Frick.

But enough about that. I love you people! Let’s talk Super Bowl!! In a completely non-football related way, of course.

1. Tom Brady: Hot.
2. Jordin Sparks sings the National Anthem: How nervous was she? Poor thing looked like she wanted to blow chunks, "8 Mile" style. But I think she did a great job. I was holding my breath for the money note, but she nailed it. And her corset dress looked fierce.  Well done, Jordin. By the way, her dad is former NFL player Phillippi Sparks. Bet he shed a few tears tonight.
3. Announcers: Why are they all so… ORANGE? Jimmie Johnson looked like Mystic Tan on carrot juice boosters. What happened to people being people-colored?
4. Bill "Stumpy Arm" Belichick: I just don’t understand a short-sleeved sweatshirt. It's a warm garment. Sleeves make sense. Why cut them off? Why, then, layer ANOTHER shirt underneath? Anyone?

Half Time

1. Shot through the heart: Um, is it just me, or did that “arrow” sailing into the heart-shaped stage look a little, ehhh, phallic? Maybe they were trying to out-skank Prince’s guitar silhouette incident from last year. Well, turns out, it was the most titillating part of the show.
2. Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers: It felt like… okay… if all my uncles got together and played a round of Rock Band on Xbox. Old-ish dudes, words and guitar chords blaring across the screen, cheap flashing lights, limited range of hip motion, bad facial hair, Centrum Silver. Just saying.
3. Oh Janet, come back: I was praying for a Tom Petty nip slip. A bit of ankle. A seductive shimmy. A sly hair toss. ANYTHING. The most exciting part was when they sent weak AAA “stranded in rural Wyoming” automotive flares sailing across Uncle Stu’s Rock Outfit. But I will say this - Tom Petty has some great songs. And he can still very much play and sing. Everyone in my house was singing along – “Make it last all niiiight!”  So, there’s that. But his songs are just a little slow to get the crowd moving, don’t you think? Like Valium and red wine.
4. American girls: How about those insta-fans? Are buxom 21-year-old blondes REALLY that into Uncle Tom? Or was it an open casting call? How much were they compensated to learn the lyrics AND wear low cut tank tops?

Let's discuss!

What Would You Change About "Idol"?

With equal amounts of self-hate, sarcasm and sheer fanaticism, we officially kick off our American Idol coverage. Huzzah! In today's newspaper, showbiz goddess Sharon Fink and I propose changes for Season 7 of the world's most dangerous show. For instance...

If producers really want to help contestants prepare for celebrity, hook 'em up with mentors who can offer truly relevant advice. Like Jessica Sierra. Tampa's own Idol spinout would be a splendid mentor for kids about to embark on a life of soul-crushing disappointment: She can teach them how to charm police, how to properly light a room at Econo Lodge, how to destroy your looks and still land on the front page. We also recommend legally challengedIdol fave Corey Clark, Partridge Family lame-o Danny Bonaduce and that chick from The O.C. who just got bagged for DUI.

And this bit o' guidance...

We're big fans of the old Dean Martin Show. And nothing was cooler than Dino cracking open the hooch and having a cocktail on his prime-time variety show. Frazzled judge Paula Abdul says she rarely touches the stuff. But maybe she should start hitting it harder - at least that would explain her loopy behavior. Lose those plastic Coke cups and let Abdul peel the seal on a fifth of Jim Beam (and those pills she pops for her chronic pain) in front of 30-million viewers. Cheers, America!

So now that we've had our say, WHAT WOULD YOU CHANGE ABOUT AMERICAN IDOL?

(Nuking the entire city of Hollywood is a totally reasonable answer.)

It's Been 27 Years

Today marks the 27th anniversary of the shooting death of John Lennon. After working in the studio, he was supposed to go out to dinner. Instead, he came home to the Dakota to kiss his 5-year-old son Sean good night.

Go here for the original news story from the BBC archives.

Go here to hang out with Yoko.

Or better yet, go play Rubber Soul or Double Fantasy and sing as loud as you can.

Melissa McGhee: Dog Lover

With all the negative talk about American Idol flameout Jessica Sierra -- her arrest, her disrespect of authority, HER SEX TAPE!!! (go on, click here) -- I'd like to remind you about Tampa Bay's other AI star, the delightful and talented Melissa McGhee.

McGhee (who was a Top 12er on the show in 2006) and I judged Tampa Bay Idol together, and I found her to be smart, sassy and, most importantly, well-balanced.

She's also incredibly hot. But she's using her attractiveness for good, not evil. McGhee posed for the Little Pet Project's 2008 charity calendar, which raises money for homeless animals (click here for the calendar -- fair warning: some of the snaps might be a little too saucy for work).

See? Not all Tampa amateur singing stars go wild. Melissa's a good egg.

Wino, Kanye Lead Grammy Noms

It's official: The Grammy Awards are madly in love with Kanye West.

And they pretty much kicked Bruce Springsteen to the curb.

When nominations were announced Thursday for the 50th annual Grammy Awards — to be broadcast Feb. 10 live on CBS — rapper West led all artists with eight nods, including album of the year for his best-selling disc Graduation. The deck is so stacked in favor of the Chicago star, still mourning the very public death of mother Donda West, the 30-year-old might sweep 'em all.

Beehived British newcomer Amy "Wino" Winehouse, whose drug-fueled screw-uppery has competed with her prodigious talent, was next with six nominations, including best new artist and album of the year for Back to Black, which blends a girl-group sound with hip-hop beats.

Although such stars as rapper Jay-Z (five noms), R&B siren Rihanna (four) and this year’s chart-rocking dynamo, American Idol baldie Chris Daughtry (four), were also recognized for their work, the Recording Academy, the governing body of the Grammys, is basically setting up its anniversary night the West & Winehouse Show.

Sure, both acts are controversial headcases tailor-made for the tabloids. But the Grammys are constantly berated for being stale, out-of-touch and irrelevant. So Kanye and Amy give them hip showcase acts that appeal to both young and old viewers (in other words, you and your mom). Even better, each act has sold tons of albums at a time when the music biz is struggling.

One of the biggest, and most obvious, storylines of the night will be the relative snubbing of Bruce Springsteen and his new album, Magic, a critical darling for sure. The Boss was nominated for four Grammys, but not the biggest prize, album of the year. In fact, although he’s been nominated twice (1984’s Born in the U.S.A. and 2002’s The Rising) he's NEVER won album of the year, making him the Scorsese of the Grammys — or at least the Susan Lucci.

West, who should have no problem winning best rap album, is also a lock to win album of the year. Besides Winehouse, the other best-album candidates include the Foo Fighters’ Echoes, Silence, Patience & Grace, country stalwart Vince Gill’s These Days and jazz icon Herbie Hancock’s River: The Joni Letters. Nice albums? Sure. Albums of the year? Heck no. West, who’s made a storied career out of bellyaching about not winning, can safely start writing his vainglorious acceptance speech.

Winehouse is a lock to win best new artist, a category that also includes folk-popper Feist, country cutie Taylor Swift, R&B singer Ledisi and pop-rock group Paramore.

Winehouse’s anthem Rehab will battle for song of the year (an award for songwriters) against Before He Cheats (sung by Carrie Underwood), Hey There Delilah (Plain White T’s), Like a Star (Corinne Bailey Rae) and Umbrella (Rihanna). Rehab will also compete for record of the year (awarded to singers and producers) against Irreplaceable (Beyonce), The Pretender (Foo Fighters), Umbrella (Rihanna feat. Jay-Z) and What Goes Around…Comes Around (Justin Timberlake).

Winehouse will most certainly be asked to perform on the show, which is gearing up to be one of the Record Academy's most buzzed-about yet. But anyone who’s followed her sad career (just this week, she was found wandering the streets of London lost and topless) has to wonder:

Will Winehouse even be around that long?

Christmas Time Is Here

Was just riding around Tampa with Times sportswriting star Tom Jones and saw this CD in his car. This is the 2006 Fantasy reissue of arguably the greatest Christmas album of all time (no offense, Mr. Spector, put the gun down). Recorded in 1965 and remastered with breathtaking clarity, jazz pianist Vince Guaraldi's A Charlie Brown Christmas is the very definition of perfection.

This is what I wrote about it last year: An absolute must-have, this deluxe edition of Guaraldi's 1965 cool-jazz masterpiece has been remixed, remastered and reinforced with four bonus tracks. It remains an essential catalyst for any TV-raised tyke (or tyke at heart living in balmy FLA) trying to get into the spirit of the season. Guaraldi's puckish piano noodlings have never sounded so crisp and clean, especially the iconic Linus and Lucy and that propulsive hepcat-rhythm breakdown. Christmas Time Is Here (both a vocal and an instrumental track are included) manages to capture the sound and purity of gently falling snow without being sappy. Now let's all do the Snoopy dance. Grade: A

Kid Lulu and I watched the special the other night -- she was flat-out howling at Snoopy's antics. Plus I loved how my 3-year-old bobbed her head to Guaraldi's soundtrack. What a legacy that guy left, huh?

Anyway, CLICK HERE TO BLISS OUT.

REVIEW: Jordin Sparks

When we first fell in love, big-boned cutie Jordin Sparks, last season’s incandescent American Idol champ, was a teenage goofball with a showbiz-savvy voice. There wasn’t much edge to her, but there was an unmistakable intangible something, and that’s what mattered. I was smitten.

But when the inevitable Idol concert tour came to Tampa — and a nightmare of an amateur-hour it was, too — Sparks headlined with a terribly blah run-through of yawners. Despite the fact that she was begowned in flowing dresses and smiling aplenty, Sparks, in a live setting, failed to hold an arena stage.

Maybe the 17-year-old was having a bad night? Maybe the FLA humidity had wilted her charms? Alas, no. Sparks’ self-titled debut is also a milquetoast R&B affair, Rihanna without the bite, Beyonce without the beats. She even borrows some of Hannah Montana’s people, but lacks the tween-pop kick and ’tude of the Disney star. If Miley Cyrus has taught us anything, it’s that there’s a big difference between G-rated and boring.

As a singer, Sparks is certainly capable; hers is a dimple-cheeked mid-range belt. On TV she displayed a genuine ability to handle such standards as I (Who Have Nothing) and You’ll Never Walk Alone. And indeed, for a showstopping span of 30 seconds on new rock ballad Permanent Monday, she teases you with highwire vocal power.

As for the rest of the album? Sigh. Her new pop songs aren’t very catchy or nuanced. Hardly anything gets faster than midtempo, so forget about slumber-party dancing. No Air, a duet with Chris Brown, mimics the “ella-ella-ella” effect from Rihanna's Umbrella, a perfect example of the creativity vacuum. Even hot producers StarGate, who helm first single Tattoo, can’t muster memorable moments.

I hate to say it, but it’s enough to make you wonder if Sparks’ unmistakable intangible something was nothing but a made-for-TV parlor trick.

LIVE NUDE DALY!

Think I suck in the newspaper? Just wait 'til you see me on TV!

I was on Tampa Bay's Fox 13 yesterday, pimping my Christmas CDs roundup. Thankfully, that blue shirt is so slimming. Wow. I'm fat.

Click here for the LINK.

Squirrels on crack are LESS hyper than I am. Enjoy!

American Music Awards

The only reason I knew the American Music Awards were on Sunday night is because I got bored with the Patriots-Bills blowout. And the only reason I'm blogging about this JOKE of an awards shows now is because someone will inevitably ask me about the Dick Clark-produced ridiculousness and wonder why I didn't write a story about it.

The AMAs are first and foremost a shameless plug for ABC shows -- seriously, where else is Blair Underwood going to get any semblance of love? No one wants to be there, including host Jimmy Kimmel. The "fan-based" voting is suspect. And the phoned-in performances suck, especially that duet between Beyonce and Sugarland on "Irreplaceable." Wow, what a mess.

From what I could tell, the best things about the show were Rihanna's form-fitting dress and the gratuitous shots of the incandescent (and totally legal!) Ashley Tisdale.

As for the big winners, well, Daughtry hasn't seen this much love since Paula Abdul drooled on his wallet chain. And the producers tried to make a plotline out of Beyonce vs. Fergie vs. Carrie Underwood, all of whom won something or other. But really now, who cares? (BTW, Pats won 56-10!)

Better Dry-Clean My Dr. Seuss Hat

You may think you know zip, nada, zilch about hipster DJs and Ibizan sex parties and throbbing trance music, but you’re actually cooler than you think. Take, for instance, British turntablist-producer Paul Oakenfold, who's bringing his beats to St. Pete this Friday. Turns out you know his music well. Remember that strangely addictive Diet Coke commercial with the blond roller-skating hottie? The song playing was Oakenfold’s Starry Eyed Surprise: "Oh my, starry eyed surprise, sundown to sunrise / I dance all night / We’re gonna dance all night, dance all night to this DJ." You can watch the commercial HERE.

I'm thinking of going to the Oakenfold show -- not to write, just to stand in the corner, nod my head and gawk creepily onto the dance floor. Maybe I'll bring Steve Spears with me. That oughta be a sight. Touring behind his new Greatest Hits & Remixes, Oakenfold -- who prefers booming psych-job remixes to Mark Ronson's vintage horns or Moby's soul samples -- will be reworking hits by such pals as Justin Timberlake, Madonna and U2. Showtime says 10 p.m., but you can safely assume that sucker isn’t going to heat up until beyond the witching hour.

By the way, Q magazine lists Oakenfold as one of the "50 Bands to See Before You Die."

Paul Oakenfold performs after 10 p.m. Friday at State Theatre, 687 Central Ave., St. Petersburg. $33-$38. (727) 895-3045; www.statetheatreconcerts.com.

Dylan's New Cadillac Commercial

Even as a car salesman, His Bobness is a badass. Check it out.

Miley, Shooter, J.Lo & the Crue

A smattering of housekeeping matters...

The letters and vitriol are pouring in regarding my Sunday 1A story on the Hannah Montana ticket imbroglio, brouhaha, hot mess. You can read that ferocious bit of investigative journalism here. Make sure to read all the surly parents sounding off at story's end.

If you missed Sunday's epic LISTEN TO THIS in the Latitudes section of your trusty St. Pete Times, you can find that here. Reviews include Robert Plant & Alison Krauss, Shooter Jennings, Bob Dylan, Jennifer Lopez, the Pipettes and She Wants Revenge.

Bucketloads of new musical crap continue to pour in to Pop Life central. I'm trying to weed thru the lot, giving away what I don't need. But I have severe OCD, so right when I'm about to toss a reissue of Electric Light Orchestra's Balance of Power into the giveaway bin, I imagine a future interview with Jeff Lynne and pull back. I'm a sick, sick man. Anyway, here are today's new CDs...

Motley Crue -- Carnival of Sins Live (2CD)
Eric Clapton -- Complete Clapton (2CD)
Aretha Franklin -- Rare & Unreleased Recordings
Jimmy Eat World -- Chase This Light
Marc Cohn -- Join the Parade
Kenna -- Make Sure They See My Face
Chicago -- Best of Chicago: 40th Anniversary (2CD)
Darlene Love -- It's Christmas, Of Course
City Sleeps -- Not an Angel
Sick City -- Nightlife