"Luvvbazaar," is a "short film" in that it's kind of long and has MJ-esque movements. It's the latest video from Kansas City/New York band SSION, who were responsible for my favorite video of 2012, "My Love Grows in the Dark."

I missed this when DFA released it last month (I'm blaming the holiday crunch), but I'm so glad that I finally caught up on this seemingly "White Horse"-inspired offering from YACHT. It's hard to tell if they are merely achieving or lampooning this pitch-perfect "downtown New York" affect (made more hilarious because the band is from all over the place), but there are dozens of examples of retro-obsessed, disco-inflected songs from the past decade that wish they sounded this good. Claire L. Evans' monotone delivery giving way to that sticky hook is diabolical. And those strings. And the way that some words come with an effect to make them sound like they're being sucked into outer space. And don't get me started about the way the song fakes its own death, only to come roaring back.

This is nothing less than a fine slice of contemporary Euro disco from the finest the genre (and Norway) has to offer. Stick around for the vocals that round out the song, if you are so inclined.

The countdown unveiled by Justin Timberlake on Friday lapsed last night, revealing that it was, as rumored, counting down to the release of the singer's first new single in six years: "Suit & Tie (feat. Jay-Z)."

Both David Bowie and Justin Timberlake, you may recall, announced (or coyly hinted at; it still might just be a Myspace party) the release of new music earlier this week, which is very exciting.

Yesterday, on the heels of a fake-out by Justin Timberlake that many thought would be his new single but turned out to be a minute-long ponderous YouTube video about him not releasing music, a new ballads collection from Destiny's Child was announced. Sporting 14 tracks that span the group's career, Love Songs will include the previously unreleased Pharrell Williams collaboration, "Nuclear."

Is Justin Timberlake getting really to unveil his first new single in years?

Willow Smith, the human result of a trip to the most advanced Build a Bear Workshop in all the land by platonic friends Will Smith and Jada Koren Pinkett Smith, was 10 years old when she released the cute, infectious ditty about brain damage and ejaculating hair extensions, "Whip My Hair." Now she is 12, apparently listening to Radiohead (or someone is listening to the band for her) and, most importantly, she is pissy, as evidenced by her new song "Sugar and Spice." Over a beat that excerpts and loops Radiohead's "Codex" so that it sounds as Coldplayish as possible, Willow whines, "I tried to be sugar and spice, but I'm melancholy and can't do anything right." To which I say: You're 12. It gets worse.

The top-selling album of 2012 was Adele's "21," which came out in 2011. RIP, music industry.

It's strange that in a year when the two biggest pop music stories dealt with the renaissances that R&B and dance music are undergoing, we lost icons from those respective genres: Whitney Houston and Donna Summer. Long gone is the time when what those divas brought to their respective genres was fresh and, for that matter, commercially relevant—but the passing of the baton, the out with the old and in with the new, rarely feels so pronounced and tangible.

Ke$ha's recent single "Die Young" is suffering an early death from radio airwaves, since right now no one wants to hear someone gleefully singing about dying young, even when it comes in the form of a hyperbolic simile ("Let's make the most of the night like we're gonna die young!"). The song has lost millions in audience impressions since the tragedy, a lite version of the 2001 Clear Channel memorandum that banned 165 songs (including John Lennon's "Imagine," Elton John's "Daniel," and Alanis Morissette's "Ironic") from the radio in a fit of post-9/11 sensitivity.

Cat Power's Funny or Die sketch is life-affirming. This lady makes me happy.

Next time Frank Ocean covers Radiohead's "Fake Plastic Trees" and you're in the audience, please shut the fuck up.

Scientology damages people. For proof, look no further than this bizarre anti-Scientology rap produced by a who's who of prominent apostate members of the cult—from its former top spokesman to Tom Cruise's former confessor to Cruise's Xenu-approved ex-girlfriend. It's like the We Are the World of the anti-Scientology movement.

Today, the pint-size dance-pop queen Katy B, released a four-song EP called Danger, which is meant to be a placeholder between her 2011 debut On a Mission and her upcoming sophomore album. It is excellent because she is excellent: tasteful, accessible, charming. The best track is "Aalyiah," a '90s house throwback duet with Jessie Ware, in which both contemporary R&B-invoking singers plead with a character named Aaliyah to stay away from their men. The Guardian compares it to Dolly Parton's "Jolene," and indeed it is reminiscent of with a self-conscious twist: these two singers are paying tribute to the bewitching nature of the late Aaliyah by acknowledging her as an entity in pop songs, one that they can't even compete with. (Really, by naming the song that and spelled it that way, they couldn't possibly be referring to anyone else). The homage is coming from inside the song. Sophisticated and brilliant.

Legendary jazz pianist Dave Brubeck died of heart failure in Connecticut today en route to a routine appointment with his cardiologist, his longtime manager has confirmed. Tomorrow would have been Brubeck's 92nd birthday.

Ke$ha is not an idiot.

This week, Chris Carter and Cosey Fanni Tutti released what would have been the final album from industrial music's parents Throbbing Gristle were it actually allowed to be called a Throbbing Gristle album. Desertshore/The Final Report features one disc of covers of the 1970 album by Velvet Underground collaborator Nico (that'd be Desertshore) and one of new, original material. It does not, however, include any contributions from former TG frontman (/people) Genesis P-Orridge, who left the group (or was forced out, depending on who's telling the story) in 2010. This is a point of contention — its release caused a Twitter spat between Carter and P-Orridge. P-Orridge called for its boycott; Chris and Cosi pressed on, regardless. If this double album, which features their last work with Peter "Sleazy" Christopherson (who died in 2010), counts as revenge, then it's a bizarre piece of revenge fit for Throbbing Gristle: an arid take on a cult album by Nico that features on vocals the likes of porn's Sasha Grey, Enter the Void director Gaspar Noé and Antony Hegarty. I bet if P-Orridge weren't so close to it, s/he would appreciate it.

This sparse dirge from Brooklyn's BLKKATHY is almost a pop song, just as its singer is almost on key. Fader posted this and another BLKKATHY song earlier, to which BLKKATHY responded on their Facebook: "The FADER is also streaming our new song Shake. Technically they have leaked it, but whatevs!" That is as chill a reaction to "Shake" leaking as I would expect from listening to the song. Branding is on point.

Yesterday, Solange Knowles (the singer in the family who isn't Beyoncé) released her excellent EP, True. Coming in at under 30 minutes and sporting just seven songs, it is as restrained as its star's vocals, which are crisp and limber but generally free of melisma. Solange will never not be compared to her sister first of all because duh, and secondly because her tone often sounds like a higher, airier version of Bey's. At this point, though, Solange is yin to Beyoncé's yang. While Beyoncé is so mainstream that her surface perfection will never crack, Solange is the hard-flopping, "fuck"-saying, Dirty Projectors-covering former teen mom who'll steal a coat after modeling it on a runway and then tell a magazine about it.