It was only a matter of time before people started exploiting Michael Jackson’s death for profit, making AEG Live’s decision to release rehearsal footage in the form of a two hour long documentary all the less shocking.

Let’s face it, if they or any other business person could find a way to make money off the current Rwandan genocide, you’d be seeing hand numbered commemorative lithographs on the Home Shopping Network as we speak, and available on flex pay for just three easy payments of $19.99.

Needless to say, why just release a film when you can double down on a two disc movie soundtrack comprised of album masters, alternate takes, and a spoken poem written by the King of Pop himself.

This Is It may have been your final chance to see Jackson perform live, but it won’t be the last time money hungry opportunists use his name and likeness.

Speaking of which, don’t forget to check out our large selection of Michael Jackson paraphernalia at store.rock.com!

Chris Cornell’s career has had its fair share of ups and downs.

During the late 90’s, Cornell and Soundgarden were bonafide kings of the overly commercialized Seattle grunge rock scene, but the clash of massive egos ultimately led to their demise and left their legacy forever tarnished.

Now they exist only as a cautionary tale told by parents to rebellious teenagers with a penchant for flannel shirts and Doc Martens.

The aptly titled Scream defies all logic, as each song gets exponentially worse than the last, leaving one to wonder if an album could ever be tried for human rights violations.

Cornell sets fire and then proceeds to urinate on the ashes of any fond memories you’ve had of his music on the perfect storm of awful that is opening track “Part of Me”, a Timbaland produced romp through the nine circles of Hell.

Knock, knock. Who’s there? Chris Cornell. Chris Cornell, who? Exactly.

Faux-rock sweetheart Kelly Clarkson is back with another batch of insipid pop jingles that attempt to capture the bitter heartache of love and regret, but ultimately falls on deaf ears.

Although I give the former American Idol contestant mad props (as all the cool kids like to say) for waging a futile war against her walking-dead patriarch, Clive Davis, over the artistic direction of her last album, it’s fairly safe to assume that after listening to portions of All I Ever Wanted that it wasn’t Clarkson who came out on top.

The Max Martin produced first single “My Life Would Suck Without You” is recycled 80’s synthpop mixed in with a dollop of Lifetime battered wife syndrome, “Being with you is so dysfunctional/I really shouldn’t miss you/But I can’t let you go.”

 Nothing irritates me more as a crotchety miser than when someone already blessed with an extraordinary amount of talent decides to master another equally impressive feat on a whim.

It’s like having a friend that owns a Louie Vuitton bag, Christian Dior sunglasses, and a pair of Manolo Blahniks, am I right ladies?

I haven’t the slightest idea what the hell any of that meant.

Nevertheless, one Jason Schwartzman has conquered the cinema, with roles as the iconic Max Fischer and Young Man Number 3, and has even earned one hit wonder status with former band, Phantom Planet, who were at one time responsible for the unavoidable “California”.

Apparently, still unsatisfied with holding the world in the palm of his hand, the heir to the Francis Ford Coppola throne has thrown his hat into the one man band arena, a la Trent Reznor and Bert.

First single “Microphone” dazzles with 50’s era effervescence and TV dinner minimalism.

I still have no clue what I’m talking about.

Few suspected that British trolup and tabloid mainstay, Lily Allen, would survive past her 23 birthday, nonetheless find the time between regularly scheduled showings of her superfluous third nipple, to create an album that manages to maintain some of the pop laced luster of her stunning debut.

That’s not to say sophomore effort It’s Not Me, It’s You, doesn’t have its faults, but as innocuous as most pop music can be, this album is by far the most delightful lobotomy I’ve had the pleasure of enjoying.

First single “The Fear” pulses and pounds with breezy, synth laden howls, as an incredulous Allen confronts her many misgivings of fame, “Now I’m not a saint, but I’m not a sinner/Now everything is cool as long as I’m getting thinner.”

On the Spaghetti Western inspired “Not Fair”, a sexually frustrated Allen laments her orgasm-free existence, “I look into your eyes/I want to get to know you/And then you make this noise/Apparently it’s all over.”

Each and every year, Grammy organizers stun viewers with a never-ending pageant of run-of-the-mill acts and talentless chart-topping performers, yet sit idly by, wondering why their television ratings continue to plummet?

This baffling display of mediocrity is yours to own on compact disc for only five easy payments of $1.99 (price subject to change).

Listen to Song of the Year nominee “Viva La Vida”, Best New Artist nominee Katy Perry, and a lone track from Album of the Year nominee Year of the Gentleman by the cleverly named Ne-Yo, for the first and very last time.

So you aren’t completely caught off guard by the inevitable kick to the groin, the odd couple paring of Jamie Foxx and Survivor host, Jeff Probst will likely announce Raising Sand as the night’s big winner.

It has everything Grammy voters love; inoffensive lyrics, non-existent production, and an aging musician long past his prime (no offense, Robert Plant).