Hollywood Slam - January 24, 2011

There really isn't any magical formula for success in the music industry, but there are a few ground rules that it doesn't hurt to follow:  assemble a stellar talented lineup (doesn't have to be good-looking, as evidenced by Neon Trees), create buzz around your band, put out a solid album, tour to support that album, wipe hands on pants, repeat as desired.  But if you're R.E.M., I guess you can afford to give a big ol' middle finger to convention after you've paid your dues.  We've heard their new track Mine Smell Like Honey (waaaaaay TMI, if you ask me) on Live in the past couple of weeks - it will appear on their new album Collapse Into Now, due out in March.

Here's where step 4 SHOULD come in, but their manager pretty much said eff it and call it a day.  They will not be touring in support of the album, sad news for those who were hoping to see another R.E.M. show and eliciting a resounding MEH from those of us who weren't gonna see them anyway.  However, the announcement is fueling rumours that they may appear for a surprise one-off show at Coachella.  Speaking of which, check out our new website poll and tell us which artist you'd be most stoked to see at the music festival!

 Michael Stipe doesn't need your money.  He knows MAGIC

It always comes as a bit of a surprise when we find out that super-rich celebs have the same problems as us - financial troubles, relationships gone sour, and psoriasis.  Liam Gallagher suffers from the flaky skin affliction and recently shared this gross-out story: a fan thought that the flakes coming from Liam's hair were cocaine and snorted them.  The most important part of this story - whether or not you can actually get high from a Gallagher brother's dandruff flakes - was sadly omitted.

 I wouldn't snort his dandruff, but I would shoot tequila off of those abs.

And finally, proof that Mother Nature hates Creed as much as I do.  A teenaged boy in Norway was walking home from school, minding his own damn business, when a pack of wolves was all HEY WUT UP WE'RE GONNA EAT YOU LOL!  And the kid was like AWWW NO YOU AIN'T and heroically ripped out his iPod headphones, put on some shitty Creed, and turned the volume up to 11.  Believe it or not, the wolves turned around and walked away.  So either Creed really is the worst sound known to all creatures of Earth or Scott Stapp is some kind of magical wolf commander.  You be the judge.

"With Arms Wide Open?!  AWW HELL NAW!"