16-year-old mystic Jaden Smith released a song on Soundcloud last night called "Blue Ocean" and, well, it's very Jaden Smith. Like, "Everybody knows I'm a ghost but I can still dream"-level Jaden Smith. The Jaden Smith alert level is definitely at red (the color of the pyramids on Mars).

Audio of the purse-carrying gift from heaven Aretha Franklin's cover of Adele's "Rolling in the Deep" (with a twist of "Ain't No Mountain High Enough") made the rounds on the internet yesterday. Later, she tore the roof off David Letterman's studio when she performed the medley on the Late Show (it's the first release off her upcoming Aretha Franklin Sings The Great Diva Classics album). While her voice has noticably aged and isn't quite as acrobatic as it once was, the woman can still wail. Her pipes remain among our country's greatest natural resources.

Damian Abraham, a guy who's best known as the singer of a band whose name makes the New York Times print funny stuff like this, will act as moderator in an upcoming Toronto mayoral debate. Canada rules.

A is for Asshole. Chris Brown is an asshole. Even if we summon all of the self-control needed to ignore his violent, petulant, destructive, unrepentant, homophobic conduct, and focus on his music, his on-record persona is consistently dickheaded in a way that is out-of-step with the contrived redemption arc devised to promote his new album X.

New York Knicks owner and JD & the Straight Shot frontman Jim Dolan is bored with ruining the Knicks. His next project: Ruining music.

Saturday, Jim Dolan and his band JD & The Straight Shot will open for the fuckin' Eagles at Madison Square Garden, a storied venue that Dolan happens to own. The performance will surely go down in history as the moment the 59-year-old billionaire Cablevision CEO and father of six became World's Coolest Dad.

Eating booty is on the rise. If you are considering joining the Eat-A-Booty gang, these 12 songs make the perfect soundtrack. Bon appétit!

Teacup Yorkie Ariana Grande has been releasing albums for a little over a year, but she already has a diva-sized 'tude, according to a news.com.au report. The piece claims that she arrived at an interview with a list of demands (don't ask questions about: relationships/dating/ex-boyfriends, Mariah Carey, Sam & Cat/Jennette McCurdy, working/collaborating with Justin Bieber, her grandfather passing away).

Do crime rates and rap lyrics about crime rates rise and fall in tandem?

Welp, it was easy to see this one coming: Iggy Azalea and Charli XCX's "Fancy" is the official song of the summer of 2014, according to Billboard, which derives its rankings from a combination of airplay and sales data (white privilege and black magic are, apparently, not part of the criteria or so they say). "Fancy" spent every week atop Billboard's Songs of the Summer chart (which runs from Memorial Day to Labor Day) and has sold about 3.5 million units in the U.S. It spent seven weeks at No. 1 on the Billboard Hot 100 (the pop chart) and provoked a lot of thoughtful discourse (some of it angry), much like last year's official song of the summer, "Blurred Lines" by Robin Thicke, T.I., and Pharrell Williams. Though they're associated with feel-good times and lazy days, our songs of the summer tend to make us think hard (or at least act like we're doing so on Twitter).

Rob Ford, Toronto's most beloved singing and dancing entertainer, marked the final meeting of that city's current council the way he is wont to do: pounding his chest, swinging his hips, and making gentle pushing gestures, as a reggae band performed Bob Marley's "One Love." He even sang along!

Happy Kate Bush Day! What did you get me? A remastered deluxe edition of The Dreaming? You shouldn't have! (But really, someone should.) In just a few hours, the real elusive chanteuse, singer/songwriter/producer/interpretive dancer/small boy/occasional bat Kate Bush will play the first show of her 22-night residency in London's Hammersmith Apollo in a production titled Before the Dawn. These will be her first proper concerts in about 35 years. What will she play?! (Will she play "Suspended in Gaffa?" She better play "Suspended in Gaffa.") How will she move? Will there be banter? Will there be monsters? This is so exciting.

Rapper Cakes da Killa appeared on The Hot 97 Morning Show last week, despite not having a song on the New York hip-hop station's playlist. The reason hosts Ebro Darden and Peter Rosenberg invited Cakes on is because Cakes is gay and skilled. And not only is he gay and a rapper, but he's the kind of gay rapper who will correct you if you call him a gay rapper, as Ebro did early on in their interview. Cakes told Ebro that he considers himself not a gay rapper, but "a rapper that happens to be gay. There's no gay mailmen, but there are mailmen that are gay." Feisty.

Human cupcake Ariana Grande has demons, a predilection for serial killing, the power of Kabbalah on her side, a Moon Man trophy after last night’s VMAs, no time for Katy Perry, and the showily soulful voice of someone playing Mariah Carey in a Broadway musical biopic. What she does not have, though, is the general ability to articulate her words when she sings. Someone I was talking to at a party this weekend described her as having permanent peanut butter mouth. That person is correct.

R&B artist John Legend covered Marvin Gaye's masterpiece of socially conscious R&B, the 1971 album What's Going On, during a show last night at the Hollywood Bowl in Los Angeles. This concert has been planned for months, but in the wake of the Michael Brown shooting and subsequent response in Ferguson, Mo., Legend's choice of material was particularly resonant (if not flat out prescient). The show had a very what-we-need-right-now feel. Underneath his blazer, Legend wore a T-shirt that read "DON'T SHOOT."

Pint-sized pop singer Ariana Grande is the reason why the phrase "cutie patootie" exists, even at age 21. But did you know that lurking deep down that adorable, quinceañera-frequenting exterior, below even the demons she speaks freely about, may be the cold-blooded heart of a serial killer? It's true, she said it to Billboard in a tossed-off aside that the industry mag then blared on its cover, as a pull quote on a photo within the accompanying story, and in a press release announcing the article last week.

There is no "take"; there are only butts.

Before a full house at the Bryant Park Hotel's screening room last night, singer/songwriter/reality TV genius K. Michelle told the crowd that she wanted to find an "over-the-top" way to commemorate the first anniversary of her debut album, Rebellious Soul. Her solution was Rebellious Soul: The Musical, a 30-minute hip-hopera that interpolates songs from her album and weaves them into a narrative about a stripper who falls in love with one of her clients. Like most of her output, this is based on K. Michelle's story (early on in her career she financed her demos via dancing).

Released this week, FKA twigs' debut album, LP1, is, by and large, sex-themed music that is conducive to actual sex. (Try it, you'll like it, promise.) The same cannot be said for all music that was made for the purpose of making babies—some is too on the nose, some is too ridiculous, some is just cheesy. The last thing you want to do with your sex soundtrack choice is distract from the actual sex. I generally think it's best to be as obscure as possible, so as not to remind your partner of his or her past, but I also think that some pop songs are far worse than others.

It feels good when FKA twigs's music occasionally deviates from its steady pump and, out of nowhere, changes tempo. It's hot when the 26-year-old London-based leftfield soul singer comes upon a word that she then loops like a sonic gif. "You like that? You like that?" she's implying. Yeah, I like it.