Once upon a time, yours truly stumbled upon an unknown musical sensation by the name of Lily Allen, courtesy of iTunes and Jane Magazine (proving that good can come of commercialism). Lil’s four-song debut offered the perfect can’t-help-but-sing-out-loud, dance-in-public music, and had me lusting after more. And more is what she’s brought with her new album, Alright, Still, perfecting a balance of British irony, cockney attitude and a pulsating beat that would force even the shyest wallflower to shake their bum.

DAZE: How did you first get into beat boxing?

Adam Matta: Well, I just did it on my own, imitating Doug E. Fresh, Fat Boys. I just heard it on the radio, so I’d do it for friends and at school, just making jokes and stuff, just do it for a second, and then stop and laugh. But right around 2000, people started to talk about my beat boxing, like, “Hey, you’re actually good and stuff,” or someone would hear me do it and tell someone else about it. And it got back to me, so I was like, maybe I should take this more seriously. I started going to open mikes and started beat boxing with other people, and it just built from there. … It was kind of this nervous habit that I channeled into something productive.

Ahh … the post holiday season, known for its massive weight gain, unkept resolutions (usually about fixing said weight gain), the return of schoolwork and never-ending snow. What else is it known for? The return of shows from their midseason hiatus and the birth of midseason shows. Here’s what’s up with your favorite means of procrastination:

I’m going to tell you something that I didn’t tell Lewis Black after his show on Sunday night: I didn’t vote on Tuesday. That’s right, you heard me: I did not vote. “Who cares?” you say as you flip the page. Well, Lewis Black cares. In fact, he cares a lot. He cares so much that he told everyone at the sold-out State Street Theater on Sunday night, “You have to fucking vote!” And why do we have to fucking vote? “[Because] it’s [our] fucking obligation!” Well, oops. And as anyone who was at Sunday night’s show will tell you, if people don’t live up to their “fucking obligations,” Lewis Black gets fucking angry.

Usually when I listen to a new song or album, I automatically imagine where it would fit in a movie soundtrack. Often, songs provide a good background for some scene, complimenting moods or images, while not overpowering them. Mountaineer’s third album, When the Air is Bright They Shine completely sets my usual musical analysis on its axis, since the album is so vibrant and multilayered, it paints a picture on its own. Henning Wandhoff and Katja Raine seem to realize this, limiting the lyrical content to simple, beautiful verse and short, non-overpowering vocals, so that the instrumental content has the ability not to shine, but rather to shimmer through.

I don’t consider myself a bad person. I don’t kick puppies, steal candy from babies, pants old men in Depends, or rip pages out of textbooks (though I’ve heard that’s quite common here). I would never normally gain any joy from another person’s death. That said, I have a confession to make: The O.C.’s Marissa Cooper’s dead, and I can’t help but be relieved.

With the Strokes still ringing in our ears, it’s about time to find something to drown them out before they become permanent. On first impression, I thought Rogue Wave’s second album would be a fair substitution, but with a closer listen it seems like the album’s not strong enough for the task.