From The Guardian: 1970s rock stars with their parents. “Life photographer John Olson’s extraordinary pictures of the biggest rock stars of the 1970s at home with their folks.” We all want Frank Zappa’s living room.

It’s not just Microsoft’s DRMed music at twice the price, which will be as popular as a Zune running Vista. It’s the PR guy’s answers. Let me translate for you:

“Oh dear God, kill me now. My options are underwater, my resumé’s a car crash, I wish I could be laid off, Google won’t call me back. My life is an exercise in futility. I’m the walking dead, man. The walking dead.”

Ron Asheton has died aged 60, apparently of “natural causes” with no suspicious circumstances. LOOK, PUNK ROCKERS, THIS JUST ISN’T GOOD ENOUGH. JUST BECAUSE YOU’RE OLD AND STUFF DOESN’T MEAN YOU CAN GET AWAY WITH “NO SUSPICIOUS CIRCUMSTANCES.” p.s.: Damn.

Almost fifty years ago, J.P. “The Big Bopper” Richardson died in a plane crash with some guys called Buddy Holly and Ritchie Valens. His family exhumed him last year to move his remains to a more visible location with a life-sized statue.

So his family are selling his coffin. A 16-gauge steel casket. On eBay.

Now, that’s industrial.

“Most remarkably, his thick brown hair was still perfectly coiffed in his familiar, 1950s flat-top.” Phew!

From Jed: Wayne Coyne from the Flaming Lips has a double-necked guitar where one neck is a Guitar Hero controller. “He went with the Guitar Hero controller because he feels that it’s replacing regular guitars in childrens’ perception of how guitar is played.” Oh dear.

Never mind. How about a few rounds of Guitar Praise? Shred with the sounds of Contemporary Christian Music! All praise!