Flaming Lips' Wayne Coyne
Photo: Charley Gallay/ Getty Images

When you think of the creators of a state's official song, veteran psychedelic rockers the Flaming Lips — who over the past 25 years have released songs with titles like "Jesus Shootin' Heroin" and "Talkin' 'Bout the Smiling Deathporn Immortality Blues," as well as their biggest hit, "She Don't Use Jelly" — are probably not the first artists to come to mind.

And yet, the band's 2002 track "Do You Realize??" has been named the official rock song of their home state of Oklahoma, beating out such songs written or recorded by Oklahomans as "Heartbreak Hotel" and "After Midnight."

"We have an official state folk song and a state country song. With as many outstanding rock artists as we have in Oklahoma, it was time to recognize this music as well," said State Senator Mike Schulz, according to The Associated Press.

More than 21,000 votes were cast online for a list of 10 songs selected by a panel of experts, according to the AP. The winner was announced Monday in the Oklahoma Senate.

"I never gave it that much thought," band leader Wayne Coyne told the AP, adding that it was an honor to have been nominated, "and everything else is just extra. We're in this just to have fun and we wind up winning."

"Do You Realize??" — which was featured in a Land Rover commercial — was written by bandmembers Coyne, Steven Drozd and Michael Ivins, along with longtime producer Dave Fridmann, and hails from the band's 2002 album, Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots. The song's lyrics, which do not mention Oklahoma, have a melancholy but ultimately uplifting theme ("Do you realize ... that you have the most beautiful face ... we're floating in space ... that happiness makes you cry ... that everyone you know someday will die?"). The band's latest release was the soundtrack to its long-percolating film, "Christmas on Mars."

In 2008, the Legislature adopted a resolution outlining the voting process, according to the AP. The Oklahoma Historical Society conducted a competition to select the official state rock song and Oklahomans nominated 454 songs. A panel then narrowed the list to 10, and the people of the state cast their ballots. Out of the 21,061 votes cast, 10,738, or nearly 51 percent, picked "Do You Realize??"

Other finalists were "Let's Have a Party," recorded by Oklahoman Wanda Jackson; "Walk, Don't Run," recorded by the Ventures; "Home Sweet Oklahoma," written and recorded by Oklahoman Leon Russell; "Oklahoma," by the Call; and "Move Along," by the All-American Rejects.

The "official state rock song" is not a terribly common category: According to several online sources, the only others states to have them are Ohio (the McCoys' 1960s hit "Hang on Sloopy") and Washington (Richard Berry's "Louie Louie").

• The Flaming Lips
• The All-American Rejects

Flaming Lips' Wayne Coyne
Photo: MTV News

Here are some things you should know about the Flaming Lips' "Christmas On Mars" film: It took seven years to make (but not, you know, like, seven straight years), it is best viewed whilst under the influence of drugs and/or coitus, and it is designed to possibly kill you.

"Not everyone can say this, but I have a giant circus tent in my backyard, and we have a giant surround-sound system that we played around with for about a month, designing it, remixing the movie," Lips frontman Wayne Coyne laughed. "We wanted to design it to be about as loud as any human could stand, yet still watch it and be entertained by it, not tortured by it. That was the goal, at least."

Whether that goal was achieved is basically dependent on the strength of your at-home speaker system. Because after making the rounds at summer music fests and tiny indie theaters, the Lips' much-anticipated science-fiction/Christmas flick — which tells the story of a lonely star base, a borderline unstable astronaut and, well, a martian in a spacesuit — was finally foisted upon the world last week via DVD.

And, as to be expected for a guy who spent seven years making the film in and around his hometown of Oklahoma City ("It took longer than I thought it would. But we were interrupted by a lot of things. ... It took seven years, but I didn't work on it every day for seven years," Coyne explained), the Lips mastermind has some fairly specific suggestions to help maximize your at-home enjoyment of "Christmas."

"When you're at your house, you are more free. There's a thing that comes on before the DVD plays that says, 'You can smoke pot, you can have sex, you can do whatever while watching this film,' " he laughed. "So, I think in that sense, watching it at your own home, in your own space, at whatever volume you want it at, is pretty great already. We want people to bring their own weird, subjective beauty to it."

Totally. And though much of the film was done on the (super) cheap — many sets were built by Coyne and his brother in the backyard of his OKC home — Coyne maintains that it stands up to many of its sci-fi contemporaries. You know, except for the fact that it's not really a sci-fi film.

"I don't think my movie is necessarily sci-fi, but to me, whenever I would watch, say, 'Star Wars' or one of the 'Alien' movies or whatever, to me, I would see their ray guns or their little buttons they pushed and know they were just fake objects anyway. ... They're not the real things," he smiled. "And there's so many great little weird toys that I would see at the store, and say, 'Well, I'm just going to use that.' Through the use of your imagination, anything becomes what you want it to be.

"I know that if my movie plays to any audience out there, it's already kind of an arty audience. I do sometimes feel for the Steven Spielbergs of the world, because they're playing to people who are not using their imaginations," he continued. "I know our audience will do that. They're filling it full of all kinds of their own interpretations of what things could be. I want that. I think that makes any experience richer."

And in a lot of ways, that DIY ethos and childlike sense of wonderment has fueled Coyne creatively for more than 25 years now. And with a new Lips album tentatively due this summer ("It's ambitious, but not too ambitious," he laughed), he hopes to keep that spirit alive and well.

"In some sense, being in the Flaming Lips, I know we're a rock group, but we never really felt we were limited to just playing music and singing — really, we could do whatever we want. When I was especially young, that's why I thought you'd want to be in a rock group — you just did whatever you wanted, you know?" he said. "Even though we've been working on 'Christmas On Mars,' we still have songs. We want to play some new songs to the audience next summer. A new summer, I want to say new things."

• The Flaming Lips Invite You To Christmas On Mars

• The Flaming Lips

Wayne Coyne and Steve Drozd in "Christmas on Mars"
Photo: J. Michelle Martin-Coyne

On The Record: The Most Trying, Insane And Important 86 Minutes Of Your Life

There is a moment — and this moment is really dependent on your tolerance for shots of bleeding infants and labia — in the Flaming Lips' "Christmas on Mars" film when you sort of want to rip your eyes out. Or at least have some sort of psychotic episode.

This is probably exactly what the Lips (or, more specifically, mastermind Wayne Coyne, who directed the film and spends a majority of its 86 minutes wandering around with antennae sticking out of his head as "The Martian") intended. After all, they've sort of made a career out of pushing audiences to the brink. For 25 years now, they've prodded, poked and run relatively unchecked through the music industry, making — like, physically, with their hands — their own brand of unique madness. It hasn't always been pretty, but it's certainly been interesting.

And if you consider all of that, well, "Mars" is their masterwork.

Of course, that's not to say that the film is particularly good (it isn't), but when you're talking about the Lips, "good" is a relative term. And this only became apparent to me after I sat through the entirety of "Mars," a seemingly endless dirge of listless camera work, poor acting and droning background music that is periodically interrupted by the occasional scene of an atrocity (an exploding baby head, a fetus cut with a knife and fork) or psychedelic genitalia (on the heads of astronauts or a marching band, nonetheless). Oh, yeah, and it's also about Christmas. Sort of.

There are cameos by Fred Armisen, Adam Goldberg and the guy who used to be on "Blues Clues," and they're all pretty terrible (also, despite what you've read, neither Elijah Wood nor Modest Mouse's Isaac Brock are in the film). There's no dialogue for the first seven minutes of the film, and when everyone eventually does start talking, you sort of wish they would shut up. Shot on grainy 16mm, the film is hard to watch, and its editing (or lack thereof) could generously be described as languid. Though, to be fair, all of that is largely immaterial.

See, the one thing I liked about "Mars" actually had nothing to do with the film itself — rather, about halfway through, I had the sudden realization that it completely sums up every single feeling I have about the Flaming Lips themselves. Both good and bad.

And here they are: The Lips are amazing, unless you really look and listen closely, in which case you realize that they're sort of not. At least not anymore. They have been coasting for nearly a decade now, getting by on smoke and mirrors — their gimmicky live show, 5.1 channel surround-sound versions of their albums, landing homemade UFOs at the Oklahoma City Zoo — while ignoring the fact that Coyne can no longer sing (at least not live), and their musical output has become increasingly uninteresting. Ever since 1999's excellent The Soft Bulletin — which ushered in the current "sonically expansive" era of the band — they've sort of been spinning their wheels, releasing two albums in the '00s, exactly one-quarter of which was any good (the first four songs on Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots).

Then again, perhaps none of that matters. Because, like I said, when you're talking about the Flaming Lips, everything is relative. Like "Christmas on Mars" itself, the band is less about the end destination as it is the voyage getting there. The trip is the thing — and making "Mars" was certainly a trip, as it was famously in (and out of) production since 2001, shot almost exclusively on sets Coyne himself built and stars a guy (Lips multi-instrumentalist Steve Drozd) who kicked heroin during filming. It's a testament to the spirit of the band and to the twin DIY and "Never Say Die" ethics of Coyne — the same kind of ethics I just criticized a paragraph ago. To him, finishing "Mars," building a spaceship for their stage show or recording an album about mystics and magic are all the same thing — they're all inevitabilities, not eventualities.

And in that regard, "Mars" resembles perhaps nothing quite as well as it does Guns N' Roses' Chinese Democracy, another long-in-the-works (and equally insane) project currently (supposedly) being docked by Mr. W. Axl Rose himself. Both are testaments to the ego and determination of their respective masterminds. Both have become industrywide punch lines and the subject of countless rumors. And neither was ever expected to see the light of day.

I'm not the first to make this comparison, but here's where I differ from others: The beauty of "Mars" is that — like Democracy — it doesn't matter if it's any good or not. What's important is that it's finished. Both Coyne and Rose heard all the detractors, but they shouldered the load, gritted their teeth and pulled their respective projects across the finish line. The trip is the thing.

And, ultimately, though I may write some bad things about them, that's also why I'll always listen to whatever the Flaming Lips are doing. Because the voyage is so enthralling — not to mention inspiring. I'll watch whatever half-baked space oddity they cook up next (and probably do so while actually half-baked), because they've earned that kind of respect. It hasn't always been pretty, but it's certainly been interesting. And even when it's pretty bad, hey, at least they're trying — really, really hard.

Questions? Comments? BTTS@MTVStaff.com.

• The Flaming Lips

Jordin Sparks performs the national anthem during the Super Bowl XLII pregame show.
Photo: Frank Micelotta/ Getty Images

For years now, the NFL has been bedazzling the Super Bowl with busloads of Hollywood stars and singers in an attempt to distract viewers from the fact that the game is usually a snooze-worthy blowout. But thanks to the New York Giants' historic last-minute victory Sunday night over the previously unbeaten New England Patriots, as well as an arena-rock-worthy halftime show from American icon Tom Petty, the people behind the big game finally got the mix of music and smash mouth right. (Except for the moments when it got things so, so wrong, which were also kind of great.) And so, we give you the first Super Bowl Musical Monday Morning Quarterback Report. (Also check out our take on Super Bowl movie ads — are you pumped for the next potential blockbusters?)

The Big Winners

Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers: Classic rock has become the new standard at the big show, thanks to recent gigs by the Rolling Stones, Paul McCartney and last year's guitar-stroking extravaganza from Prince. And despite the suggestive beating-heart-pierced-by-Flying-V-guitar opening, laid-back Petty played his four-song halftime gig as if he were just strolling in for another night of work by the world's best bar band. No corny medleys, no hokey gimmicks, just unforgettable anthems that, frankly, by the end of the night couldn't have been more apt for both teams: "I Won't Back Down" (Giants), "Free Fallin' " (Patriots) and the nothing-but-hustle rocker "Runnin' Down a Dream" (Giants again).

Justin Timberlake: Though he mostly just got his ass kicked, the singer/actor proved his comic chops again in the hilarious Pepsi/Amazon "Magnetic Attraction" ad that mixed his slapstick abilities with a cameo from his "D--- in a Box" co-star, Andy Samberg.

Metal: As if the game needed any more aggro help, the Patriots entered to Ozzy Osbourne's iconic "Crazy Train," while the promos for Fox's "Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles" pulled out Danzig's dark "Mother," a Toyota ad went indie by using Fu Manchu's "Mongoose" and the ad for the big-screen adaptation of "Iron Man" pulled out Audioslave's stomping "Cochise." And as the clock ran out, Europe's "The Final Countdown" brought an end to the Patriots' dream-turned-nightmare.

Kanye West: On the cusp of the Grammys, West's "Stronger" pumped over the loudspeakers as the soon-to-be world champion Giants ran out onto the field.

Jordin Sparks: Her dad, former Giants player Phillippi Sparks, never made it to the big dance, but his daughter did him proud with a stirring rendition of the national anthem in front of her hometown fans.

Alicia Keys: The Grammy winner plugged her upcoming tour with a rousing pregame medley that included "Fallin'," "If I Ain't Got You" and "As I Am."

Madonna/Shakira: Now we get how the Material Girl is the highest-paid female singer on the planet. Her brief appearance in an ad for Sunsilk hair products reportedly brought in millions. Shakira can't complain either. Not only did she get to plug her years-old hit "Whenever, Wherever," but she played alongside Madonna and Marilyn Monroe, which isn't bad company.

Alice Cooper: We have no idea what the original shock-rocker was doing crouching on the ground with his albino snake at the end of that Bridgestone Firestone ad (maybe lying in wait for co-star Richard Simmons to jog by?), but it worked.

Arcade Fire: The Canadian band's "No Cars Go" was used as a bumper by Fox during one of those dancing-robot bits, giving them massive exposure, though not likely the kind they desire. According to Pitchfork, although Fox asked permission to use the tune, it's unclear if the band gave its consent.

Kina Grannis: The unknown singer/songwriter, who won a Doritos "Crash the Super Bowl" competition and a deal with Interscope Records, was introduced on one of the world's biggest stages, singing her acoustic ballad "Message From Your Heart." The ad reportedly cost $5 million, so you better believe that they think she's got the goods.

Latch Key Kid: A close second to Grannis in terms of worldwide coming-out parties was the election-themed Coke ad scored to "Good Times" by Southern California musician Kid (real name: Gavin Heaney). The spot, featuring Democrat James Carville and Republican Bill Frist cavorting together, perfectly fit the mood of the cheery ditty about sharing good times with good friends.

The Flaming Lips: Our personal pick for the ultimate halftime band (think about it: aliens, spaceships, giant inflatable hands, dancing Santas and exploding confetti cannons!) subverted straight society for the umpteenth time when their proggy, Pink Floyd-like ode to running from lava flows, "Pompeii Am Gotterdammerung," accompanied a Ford Sync ad.

Bower: The fat guy who jump-started the car with his nipples in the Mountain Dew AMP ad? None other than Michael Bower, the guy who played Donkeylips on Nickelodeon's "Salute Your Shorts" and a budding rapper in the Eminem mode.

The Losers

Paula Abdul: The "American Idol" judge's pre-taped, lip-synced "performance" of "Dance Like There's No Tomorrow," the first single from fellow judge Randy Jackson's new album, nearly rivaled the former pop star's infamous "baked potato" dance to "Vibeology" at the 1991 Video Music Awards. Save for the impressive male-dancer-assisted high kick/ split she pulled off near the end, the painfully '80s Janet Jackson rip-off tune and skinny-tie-era backup dancers made Adbul look like the Mrs. Robinson of dance pop. Judging those kids on "Idol" just got a lot harder.

Ben Roethlisberger: The Pittsburgh Steelers quarterback's off-key warbling of "Escape (The Piña Colada Song)" was supposed to be bad, we get it. But it was so bad, some Steelers fans might have preferred it if he entered a Superbike race instead.

Michael Jackson: At this point nobody wants to see the actual King of Pop in a TV ad, but the slimy digital reptiles doing the "Thriller" dance to promote the 25th anniversary of the singer's landmark album (oh, and SoBe Life Water too) were almost as creepy as a trip to Neverland Ranch.

LL Cool J, Busta Rhymes, Macy Gray and Missy Elliott: That fake-grinning, head-nodding Diet Pepsi Ad to the tune of Haddaway's club classic "What Is Love" was so cheesy that we agreed with "A Night at the Roxbury" star Chris Kattan when he yelled, "Stop it!" at the end.

"American Idol": Between Roethlisberger's lame ad and Abdul's crash-and-burn performance, not to mention bionic host Ryan Seacrest's painful "red carpet" interviews with the likes of Samuel L. Jackson, the show wasn't done any favors by its host network.

• Justin, Busta, Missy, Light Up Super Bowl Ads

• Tom Petty
• Justin Timberlake
• Ozzy Osbourne
• Kanye West
• Jordin Sparks

The 2007 Bonnaroo Music & Arts Festival
Photo: MTV News

On The Record: Braving Bonnaroo

Up until Monday afternoon, I was living in a tent. Showering with bottled water. Wandering aimlessly through a dust bowl, looking for shade, water and food. Fighting for survival, skin bubbling and lips cracked. Hallucinating. Dying.

For four days, I was on assignment down in Manchester, Tennessee, camping out with the unwashed masses at Bonnaroo. I got sunstroke, I got covered in dust and I ate a lot of stuff out of cans (or in burrito form). I also had a great time — I believe in my half-dusted haze I may have even called Bonnaroo "probably the best [festival] in America" (see "Bonnaroo Recap: White Stripes, Police, Lily Allen Bring Heat To Already Scorching Fest").

Somewhere in between all the heatstroke and the hyperbole, I began to jot down notes about my experience, and since I just got back into the office late Monday (via helicopter, 'cause that's how MTV News rolls), I've decided to turn my innate ramblings into this week's edition of BTTS (lucky you!).

I've edited out all the gems like "Friday — 2:47 p.m.: Tempeh not just city in Arizona, Seitan not just Lord of Darkness," but what's left is a pretty good look at my dance with death at Bonnaroo 2007, not to mention a convenient way to take potshots at hippies and link to photos like this and this. Read on if you're looking for the inside scoop on the 'Roo (or if you have five to 10 minutes to kill at work).

Thursday, 10:45 a.m.: JetBlue flight 1043 touches down at Nashville International Airport. Instantly, some doped-out hippie toward the back of the plane bleats, "Bonnnarooo!" I already regret my decision to come here.

11:30 a.m.: Rent car, make trip to Wal-Mart. They have an entire section devoted to biscuits here. No lie. Also, Master P's clothing line, P. Miller, is sold here, and if that isn't an apt metaphor for his entire career, then I don't know what is.

3:47 p.m.: Arrive at Bonnaroo. Survey scene at my campsite.

3:49 p.m.: Want to leave Bonnaroo.

5:31 p.m.: Finish pitching tent in "Guest Camping," which is really only "camping" in the loosest sense of the term ... after all, I have showers nearby and I'm actually sleeping like 5 feet from my rental car. Yet, despite these facts, I will spend the entire weekend A) telling everyone within earshot that I'm "totally camping out"; and B) complaining about the fact that "I only have a tent and an air mattress to sleep on." Also, I decide to keep my hair product packed away in the trunk, as I don't want the heat to make it all gooey.

5:32 p.m.: Question my own masculinity.

8:33 p.m.: The Black Angels totally scare the crap out of anyone on any sort of psychedelic drugs with a droning, terrifying set, one made only more droning and terrifying by the sheer number of helicopters hovering in the night sky, whisking talent on and off the Bonnaroo grounds. I'm not even on acid and I'm scared to death.

10:41 p.m.: Purchase an ironic tie-dyed T-shirt. Feel somewhat bad about doing so. On the flipside, I now have something to wear in Williamsburg, Brooklyn, this summer.

11:10 p.m.: The National take the stage roughly 30 minutes behind schedule, still totally kill it. No joke here: The National rule.

11:30 p.m.: Clutch are, inexplicably, playing Bonnaroo. Begin searching crowd for Bam Margera, as he is required by law to remain within 150 yards of the band at all times.

Friday, 8:02 a.m.: Wake up, sun baking my tent. Totally hate life. One of the kids camping next to me apparently decided to sleep on his cooler last night. It's my first up-close-and-personal interaction with a partied-out "Wookiee," which someone tells me is a term of endearment for jam-band fans with "unshaven faces, long hair and a lack of personal hygiene." (There's even a Web site dedicated to their passing out — complete with awesome Chewbacca sounds.)

8:15 a.m.: Brush teeth. Spend next four hours trying to find shade. Consider crawling under car and dying.

3:50 p.m.: Kings of Leon rock out. Later on in the weekend, a writer who did a story about them will tell me that one of the Kings' mom tailors all their jeans for them, so they're extra tight. Apparently, there are "hidden zippers" involved.

6:12 p.m.: I get a henna tattoo of a unicorn (or, if you ask the woman who gave me the sorta-tat, "A horse with a knife on its head"). I spend the next day walking around with my sleeve pinned up because the henna needs to dry. Get sympathetic looks from several hippies.

9:04 p.m.: Tool. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!

11:59 p.m.: Super Jam — an annual Bonnaroo tradition — begins. This year, we've got ?uestlove from the Roots sitting in with John Paul Jones and Ben Harper. At the same time, Sound Tribe Sector Nine — a "five-piece electronic jam band fusing live instruments with electronica," according to their Web site — start up nearby. I begin to wonder if I am allowed to bill MTV for hazard pay.

Saturday, 2:37 a.m.: Sounds like Super Jam is ending. I think STS9 are done too. Of course, I can't be sure, as I am sitting in my tent complaining.

12:30 p.m.: A jam-packed day gets off with a bunch of action in some of the 'Roo's smaller tents, but I am nowhere to be found. Rather, I am debating the merits of R. Kelly with my producer Monty on a shaded picnic table. (He's not crazy about R, but I maintain he's "definitely eccentric. Possibly a genius.") Then we start talking about summer festivals in relation to "Peanuts" characters. We decided that Bonnaroo would definitely be Pigpen, and the Lilith Fair is either Peppermint Patty or Marcie, but we really couldn't decide — oh, wait ... sorry, I think my brain shut off for a minute there.

5:30 p.m.: The Hold Steady finish up a triumphant, fist-pumping set at That Tent. Some drunk guy from Louisville, Kentucky, tries to fight me, then launches into a tirade about how he'll "never come back to Bonnaroo" because security confiscated an ice pick he was trying to bring into the campgrounds. This sucks doubly, because the ice pick was "a family heirloom" and if dude wanted to "f--- someone up, [he] definitely wouldn't need an ice pick to do it." Terrifying.

7:55 p.m.: Franz Ferdinand are totally ruling the Which Stage with a spiky set of tunes both new and old (plus a cover of LCD Soundsystem's "All My Friends"). Meanwhile, aged fans (and a surprising number of actual police) are trooping over to the What Stage to catch the fest's most hyped set — a purported two and a half hours with the mighty Police.

10:40 p.m.: The Police wrap, a scant 50 minutes before their set is supposed to end. Roughly 77,000 people shuffle off into the night, dreams crushed (I covered the Police's disappointing set in greater depth here). Sting and company presumably hop into gold-plated helicopter, hightail it the eff out of the sticks.

11:22 p.m.: Monty turns to me, asks, "Dude, do you think the Police are even in Tennessee anymore?"

Sunday, 12:12 a.m.: The Flaming Lips prove once again that they're the absolute kings of style over substance (and that they're probably the most underappreciated guys in rock) with a mind-melting, shambling, psych-heavy set that featured a spaceship landing onstage, Wayne Coyne's omnipresent bubble, dancing Santas, hand puppets, confetti and balloons. It's so great that you don't notice that Coyne hasn't been able to sing properly since about 2003. Their set wraps at roughly 2:15 a.m., which makes it the longest performance of their 24-year career.

8:15 a.m.: I finally take a shower.

2:30 p.m.: Hey, Wolfmother are playing! And playing the same songs they've been doing for roughly a year and a half now!

4:40 p.m.: I interview the White Stripes. During the end of our chat, Jack White makes a crack about how people at summer festivals shouldn't wear baseball caps. "Have some self respect," he laughs. Incidentally, Monty is wearing a Yankees cap, and he will spend the next four hours threatening to punch Jack White if he ever sees him in public.

5:00 p.m.: I am officially running out of steam. My notes from this time read like this: "Decemberists = Linen Suits" and "Good too see Jeff Tweedy still looks like the Singin' Hobo." Perhaps my brain is cooked.

8:45 p.m.: With a "God bless Bonnaroo, God bless Tennessee!" the Stripes exit the stage, having just rocked the hemp outta 80,000 or so 'Roo heads. At this point, Monty and I decided we've had about all we can take of Bonnaroo. So we skip Widespread Panic — and miss out on what someone described as "possibly the best 20-minute bass solo you'll ever see" — and decide to get ready to leave.

Monday, 11:20 a.m.: My super-charged helicopter lifts off from Bonnaroo.

As we leave the rolling countryside behind us, I feel myself changing from a sun-kissed, sorta-blissed child of the earth back into the jaded, elitist pr--- that I know I really am. Feels good to be headed home.

B-Sides: Other Stories I'm Following This Week

Seriously, has there been a more hotly anticipated major-label release in recent memory with worse pre-release buzz than Kelly Clarkson's My December? (see "Kelly Clarkson's My December: Rumors Aside, LP Isn't A Radical Departure")

Boy, that Slayer/Manson tour sure sounds like it's getting off on the right foot. (see "Slayer's Kerry King Warns Marilyn Manson About Co-Headlining Run")

A piece that combines the theory of German psychiatrist Hugo Münsterberg, the musings of American critic H.L. Mencken and, uh, the stupid crap of something called "The Beaterator." Stephen Totilo rules. (see " 'Grand Theft Auto' Of 1916; Launching 'Traxxpad'; 'Halo' Toys & More, In GameFile")

Questions? Concerns? Drop me a line at BTTS@MTVStaff.com.

• Bonnaroo Blitz: Lily Allen, White Stripes, Franz

• Bonnaroo 2007 Performances
• The Tribe Of Bonnaroo '07

• The National
• The White Stripes
• The Police
• Kings Of Leon
• The Roots

The Killers' Brandon Flowers
Photo: Karl Walter/ Getty Images

If Peter Parker is going to confront his demons — and the man who killed his beloved uncle — he's gonna need a soaring, weepy ballad playing in the background, right? Well, Snow Patrol have served up a big, fat one for the "Spider-Man 3" soundtrack in "Signal Fire." The swelling ballad is the lead tune on a soundtrack that features new songs from the Killers, Wolfmother, Yeah Yeah Yeahs, the Walkmen, Flaming Lips and a track from former Phantom Planet drummer Jason Schwartzman's new musical alter ego, Coconut Records.

The soundtrack is due May 1 — three days before the film hits U.S. theaters — according to the Web site of Record Collection, the label releasing the album. The disc has a less emo/ hard rock feel than the last installment's soundtrack, which featured a big ballad from Dashboard Confessional and tunes from Train, Taking Back Sunday, Hoobastank, Lostprophets and Smile Empty Soul.

Instead, the more indie-leaning "3" collection serves up bands including Rogue Wave, moody Irish duo Wasted Youth Orchestra, Black Mountain, the Oohlas and little-known Austin, Texas, rockers Sounds Under Radio.

At the very least, you have to love the always-out-there Lips' contribution, "Spider-Man vs. Muhammad Ali," a seeming homage to the classic 1978 head-scratching DC Comics title that pitted Superman against the Greatest of All Time.

The track list for the "Spider-Man 3" soundtrack, according to the Record Collection site:

· Snow Patrol - "Signal Fire"
· The Killers - "Move Away"
· Yeah Yeah Yeahs - "Sealings"
· Wolfmother - "Pleased to Meet You"
· The Walkmen - "Red River"
· Black Mountain - "Stay Free"
· The Flaming Lips - "Spider-Man vs. Muhammad Ali"
· Simon Dawes - "Scared of Myself"
· Chubby Checker - "The Twist"
· Rogue Wave - "Sight Lines"
· Coconut Records - "Summer Day"
· Jet - "Falling Star"
· Sounds Under Radio - "Portrait of a Summer Thief"
· Wasted Youth Orchestra - "A Letter to St. Jude"
· The Oohlas - "Small Parts"

Check out everything we've got on "Spider-Man 3."

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• 'Spider-Man 3': Behind The Spandex

• The Killers
• Snow Patrol
• The Flaming Lips
• Yeah Yeah Yeahs
• Wolfmother

Bloc Party's Kele Okereke performs at SXSW on Thursday
Photo: Tim Mosenfelder/ Getty Images

AUSTIN, Texas — Every March, the music industry throws on a pair of shorts, slathers on the SPF 45 and heads on down to Austin for South by Southwest, a weeklong celebration of bands, BBQ and (sometimes free!) beer. It's a brutal bacchanal and music marathon powered by thousands of acts playing in hundreds of venues — at all hours — plus an unreal number of open bar tabs and fancy private parties.

Sleep is not exactly a top priority, so MTV News has dispatched three of its most tireless reporters into the fray. They'll be filing reports a few times each day (scroll down for the evening report), which will chiefly serve as a way of keeping you up to speed about what's going on deep in the heart of Texas, but also double as a convenient way — for us, anyway — of making sure everyone's still alive.

The Day

James Montgomery, MTV News writer: Just had my first totally random, totally awesome moment here at SXSW. I was waiting at a crosswalk on Congress Avenue when a dusty wood-paneled station wagon pulled up at the light and all the dudes inside, clearly in a band, clearly trying to look super-cool — think vintage vests, scraggly beards, wide-brim hats and bellbottoms straight out of Haight-Ashbury — were summarily laughed at by a gaggle of passing females. Next time get a tighter ride, bros.

Spent Thursday afternoon (March 15) baking in the sun at the Levis/Fader fort, where Interscope was debuting Queens of the Stone Age's upcoming Era Vulgaris record. Expect plenty of spooky, windswept guitars à la Lullabies to Paralyze — plus a whole lot of stompers circa their Songs for the Deaf era.

Then I headed over to Waterloo Records for an interview with Lily Allen, who was nice in an "I don't give a f----" kind of way. She talked about her plans to hit the studio in May and dismissed any notion of working with a producer du jour like Timbaland: "I don't want to be Nelly Furtado," she hissed. "And I don't want to spend $250,000 on a song I didn't write." She also got down to dissing the world-famous BBQ at Stubb's, declaring it "too gristly" (I would, respectively, have to disagree.)

Then it was back to the Fort for the Black Lips, who were missing a bassist ("He's still down in Mexico," one bandmember said) but still managed to fill the air with the kind of bludgeoning blooze-rock — and onstage French kissing — that they've been garnering much attention for in recent months. ...

Just back at the hotel for a minute, as I'm off to go interview the Cold War Kids at La Zona Rosa, then an evening filled with Elvis Perkins, Lo Fi Fink and (hopefully) the absence of heat stroke.

John Norris, MTV News correspondent:

"John Norris!!"

"Dude, I've been watching you since I was 5!"

"Nice to see you guys actually covering music!"

Ah yes — just a sampling of the greetings you get trying to shoot a news brief at 11 a.m. in the middle of Sixth Street on day #2 of SXSW. Who said they don't get up before noon at this festival? In fact, one person who was up early was none other than Chris Kirkpatrick. Yes, as in, formerly of 'NSYNC Chris Kirkpatrick ... though decidedly more tattooed than the last time I saw him. Chris has been to South By before but was ready to proclaim this one "maybe the wildest one yet." (Uh, totally awesome, bro.)

Other sights and sounds on a sunny Thursday in Austin:

"Nothing like a matinee. We're from Montreal. It's our first time in Texas. We want some chicken-fried chicken, whatever that is." · Canadian ambient rocker Patrick Watson, during a 1:45 p.m. set at Emo's

"We hope you find happiness and places to park." · Will Sheff, frontman for local band Okkervil River, to the packed afternoon crowd at Bourbon Rocks. Great band by the way: They've been playing SXSW for seven years and have a deservedly faithful following. Folk-rock sound that would not be out of place on a Bright Eyes bill.

"Doesn't that bicycle seat hurt your ass?" · The Flaming Lips' Wayne Coyne, to a cycling semi-drag queen (gray hair and beard, painted nails, tiara, butterfly thong and, apparently, breasts). Wayne was last seen on Sixth Street at SXSW 2006 as a pied piper in a huge bubble; this year he's a roving reporter for "The Tonight Show With Jay Leno."

Gil Kaufman, MTV News writer: Not a whole lot of time to file right now, as I'm putting in a marathon day of shows (Amy Winehouse, Daniel Johnston, El-P). But I wanted to share this gem from Wednesday night with you all: Sometimes even the most horrible band can teach you something.

Walking down Sixth Street, you hear so much music bleed out of every hole-in-the-wall bar that it's hard to figure out who you're hearing, even if you consult your festival guide. British blues yelpers Kava Kava, with a lead singer who looked like Bo Bice on a bender, were totally unexceptional, except for this genius bit of technology: The keyboardist had a little LED display taped onto his instrument that said "read me" and scrolled the band's name over and over in red 2-inch-high letters. Genius.

P.S.: No truth to all those "Rage Against the Machine played a reunion show last night" rumors floating around Austin. Tom Morello's manager told me the axeman was in Los Angeles on Wednesday night and that the supposed show "couldn't have happened." Though Morello's show Thursday night at Parish — where he is slated to perform as his alias, the Nightwatchman — is being billed as featuring "special guests," so ... who knows?

The Evening

James Montgomery: Important SXSW Lesson, Number One: No matter how boring you think the Cold War Kids may be, do not — under any circumstances — avoid their live show, which from the sound of things will be one that fest vets will be talking about for remainder of the week. Of course, I wasn't there, having dipped out to go watch Lo Fi Fink goof around onstage for 20 minutes, but apparently — from the roughly 37 text messages I received about it — I missed an epic effort, culminating with a mega-jam involving hotly tipped folkster Elvis Perkins.

(Check out exclusive front-row footage of Morello's jam session with Slash, Perry Farrell and more, right here.)

Important SXSW Lesson, Number Two: No matter how inconsequential you think Tom Morello might be, do not — under any circumstances — skip out on a performance by his side project, the Nightwatchman, especially when said performance is billed as "featuring special guests." Sure enough, I missed out on another sure-to-be-blogged about highlight — but don't worry, other members of the MTV News crew were in the front row, cameras and notebooks in hand (see "Morello's SXSW Gig Turns Into Raucous All-Star Jam With Slash, Perry Farrell").

Important SXSW Lesson, Number Three: I am a huge dumbass.

Thursday night wasn't all bad though ... I did get to witness a blistering set of anthemic, honest-to-goodness punk rock from Gainesville, Florida's Against Me!. (Of course, I had to sit through 45 minutes of Jack's Mannequin to do it, so let's call it a Pyrrhic victory.)

The fiercely DIY quartet turned the punk community on its collective head in late 2005 when they announced that they had signed with — gasp! — a major label, but if their sweaty set at the Sire Records showcase was any indication, all those old wounds have healed. Many fists were pumped, many hard-charging choruses bellowed and many unfortunate tattoos revealed, and the band seemed to be having a ball unveiling songs from their upcoming album New Wave, which displayed a decidedly dance-y streak.

Hey, even comedian David Cross, who caught the show in his "official undercover celebrity uniform" (read: a flannel shirt and a ratty ball cap) approved. And if it's good enough for America's foremost indie humorist, then it's certainly good enough for you.

John Norris: Now that's the South by Southwest I know and love. After a kinda sleepy Wednesday on Sixth Street ("Pete Wentz Clones Descend, Lily Allen Warbles As SXSW Gets Under Way"), on Thursday night things were back to the Bourbon-Street-with-a-great-soundtrack vibe that defines this week in Austin. Not always easy to maneuver, especially when every block there's another two or three CDs shoved into your hand. And — note to the guy who said, "You probably just throw these things away" — rest assured I try to make a point of listening to each and every record that comes my way.

Anyway, making it to see four artists at four different clubs in five hours does require a plan, and that's what I and my friend Chris, who was in from New York, had. For the most part, it worked.

First stop: Norway's Sondre Lerche, a power pop guy whose records seem to just be getting better. Not only is his latest, Phantom Punch probably his best to date, it also brings him closest to one of his musical heroes, Elvis Costello. Sondre and his very tight band had the crowd at Antone's — part of a showcase for Astralwerks that also included Sparklehorse — rocking.

The same could also be said for Mute Math. The electronic outfit — and former "You Hear It First" artist — is a band that, it is said, is best appreciated live. Tonight, everyone packed into the Dirty Dog found out why.

No doubt one of the three or four "biggest" bands at SXSW 2007 is Bloc Party — hence their show at Stubb's amounted to a mob scene. Thankfully Chris and I got in about 10 minutes before they took the stage, to tear through close to an hour's worth of songs from the still-genius 2005 album Silent Alarm, plus the recently released record titled — as frontman Kele Okereke implored the crowd to shout out — A Weekend in the City. On a warm night like tonight, the amphitheatre setting of Stubb's is Austin's best venue to see music — and favorites like "Banquet" to the new stuff, including the sweetly nostalgic "I Still Remember," swelled through the night air.

Finally, when it's 1 a.m. and you need a final burst of energy, what better way than the Smiths-y jangle pop of Austin's Voxtrot? This was one of the most-seen bands at last year's South By, and with a new album on the way, Ramesh Srivastava and the boys sent the crowd at Emo's off into the Austin night feeling good.

It was a long night, and a great night, and I'm done.

Gil Kaufman: I'm a bit ashamed to admit it, but while walking by the English showcase, I might have pretended to be from Leeds to squeeze in with some genuine Brits when they said the show was closed. Luckily, I snuck in, grabbed a soggy taco and got to see a mesmerizing, kinda scary acoustic set from mega-hyped British train wreck Amy Winehouse.

Impossibly thin with a towering black beehive hairdo and a sailor-worthy menagerie of tattoos, wearing tightly pegged jeans, a food-stained white undershirt and dirty pink ballet slippers, Winehouse played a four-song set that showed off her strong, soulful pipes on songs including her hit single, "Rehab." It was hard to ignore the deep scratches all over her left arm and her twitchy mannerisms, though.

Say what you will about the relevance of grunge progenitors the Melvins, but watching lead singer Buzz Osborne smash out dinosaur riffs while wearing a long black caftan covered in skulls and birds was the bomb. But the most important news of the day came during a brief set by beloved eccentric Daniel Johnston, who announced, "Ladies and gentlemen, I am not running for president today. I came here to this town today to rock this town."

The afternoon ended nicely with a ribcage-rattling set of thick hip-hop rock by El-P, who tried mightily to avoid cursing during a live broadcast on a local station. Unfortunately for them, he slipped up within the first five seconds he was on air.

Then, in the evening, I decided to check out a full set from Winehouse, and I'd like to take back (some) of what I said earlier; maybe she's just not an early riser. Dressed in the same get-up, but with a clean black T-shirt, she slayed an adoring, sweat-drenched crowd with a high-energy set that, unfortunately, started two hours later than advertised. But with her coquettish stage moves and dangerous-looking come-hither smile and teasing hand gestures — not to mention that smoky voice — all was forgiven.

After Amy, I checked out Minneapolis' Cloud Cult, who impressed with their Flaming Lips-style psychedelic rock, and the two onstage artists doing "action painting" during their set. James winced when I used the phrase "action painting," saying, "That sounds horrible!" I didn't tell him about the pregnant cello player with Christmas lights in her hair.

And finally, I caught up with an old pal, Warped Tour founder Kevin Lyman, during Straylight Run's gig. Dressed in his signature board shorts, loose t-shirt and flip-flops, Lyman said he was just hanging out and doing a bit of business, hoping to check out Willie Nelson on Saturday. Now that's punk rock.

And if you'll excuse me, I've got to crash. I'm exhausted, officially.

Will James actually make it to one of these buzz shows? Can the rest of the fest beat John's stellar Thursday? And could anything out-weird Gil's "action painting" experience? Check back all week for our SXSW coverage!

For more sights and stories from concerts around the country, check out MTV News Tour Reports.

[This story was originally published on 3.15.2007 at 8:44 p.m.]

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Chiodos
Photo: Dave Hill/ Equal Vision Records

If you're ever in some dingy watering hole and a lad wearing a panda costume walks in and sits down at the bar, don't be alarmed. He might not be just some wacko, and he might not pose any kind of real threat. In fact, there's a good chance he's just a bored member of post-hardcore six-piece Chiodos, trying to abolish the ennui that comes with life on the road.

"Every single day something ridiculous happens out here," frontman Craig Owens explained. "We'll dress someone up to go to a bar in a panda suit, and we're always playing jokes on the other bands we're on tour with. We try to have as much fun as possible on the road, and that's hard, because we're bored almost all of the time. But boredom can bring out creativity. It opens up your mind, I think."

With the Everett, Washington, launch of the 2007 installment of the Taste of Chaos Tour just a month and change away — it kicks off February 15 and runs through April 8 in Vancouver, British Columbia — the Davison, Michigan, outfit's going to have a great deal of time on its hands these next few months. And while that means the panda suit may very well be making appearances in bars all across the country this spring, Owens is looking forward to some of the more tedious aspects of being a road dog. He's hoping the time on the road will help shape the band's forthcoming LP, which it hopes to have out in the fall.

Chiodos have written about five songs for the effort and plan to keep writing through Taste of Chaos. They'll be touring in a bus fitted with recording equipment so they can take care of the preproduction in between Chaos dates. Once the tour's over, Chiodos will hit the studio to track the outing, which is the follow-up to 2005's All's Well That Ends Well. The latter LP, an expanded version of which was issued in October, has sold 112,300 copies in the U.S.

But Owens — who is also a member of the Sound of Animals Fighting — said his band still doesn't know who it will ask to produce the yet-untitled record. "We want someone who gets us and is going to push us to make the best record we can," he said. "Our band is very progressive, and whoever produces this next album will have to want to understand us, and they'll have to see us live. Anyone who will be able to capture the intensity and passion behind our live shows will be the person that's going to be able to do our record the best."

Chiodos have been steadily making a name for themselves since the release of All's Well with appearances on last summer's Warped Tour and a fall trek with Atreyu and Every Time I Die (see "Every Time I Die Carry On With Tour, DVD After Losing Fifth — Yes, Fifth — Bassist"). Signed to independent label Equal Vision, the band has fielded offers from several majors and turned them down. Chiodos' concerts are attended by a veritable who's who of the A&R game, with reps coming in droves to check out the band's much-lauded live set — which has obviously left a lasting effect on its growing base of fans. According to Owens, his band sold more merch than the headlining acts on the Atreyu run.

"If there's kids in front of us, most of the time they're going to go home thinking about us — even if they showed up to see their favorite band," the singer said. "We make it a point to make sure they're leaving with us in their minds. I love being the person that gives them something completely different and makes them love it."

When it comes to their next record, Chiodos aren't about to rush the process. Owens said he wants the writing and recording to be organic because "we're in no rush to become the biggest band in the world. We just want to play the music we want to play, and for our fans to respect and understand that.

"As we write this next album, it's like a well-oiled machine," he continued. "All six of us write, so you've got six creative minds working at once. This next one will be a more mature record that will change the minds of the people who didn't like us, and keep the old fans happy too. But music shouldn't be your trying to write a record a certain way. If you don't feel it burning from your chest and your gut, you shouldn't be writing, period."

Owens said he'd love it if Warped Tour mastermind Kevin Lyman invited Chiodos back for this summer's edition but also realizes his band still needs to pay its dues. Nevertheless, that hasn't stopped Chiodos from setting lofty objectives for themselves.

"When we first started out, we had certain goals in mind, and as we continued, we had even more goals we wanted to attain," he explained. "We're the type of band that will work as hard as we possibly can until we get what we set out for. I'm not completely taken by surprise by the growing success of our record, or the major-label attention we're getting, because that's exactly where we wanted to be — where we are at this very moment. I am very, very grateful for where we've gone and what we've become, but without a lot of hard work, it wouldn't have been possible."

• Chiodos
• The Flaming Lips

The Flaming Lips
Photo: Peter Kramer/ Getty Images

For a band that's been together more than 23 years, the Flaming Lips have received very little in the way of accolades — aside from Steve Sanders declaring, "I'm not usually a fan of alternative music, but these guys rock the house!" after the Lips played the Peach Pit on "Beverly Hills, 90210."

But earlier this week, news broke that Oklahoma City, the Lips' hometown, was planning to name a downtown street in the band's honor. While fans of the band initially rejoiced, their revelry was short-lived. Upon closer inspection, it turned out the "street" was actually an alleyway, one that a reporter for OKC newspaper The Oklahoman kindly described as "littered with open dumpsters and poorly lit at night."

Depending on how you slice it, the news was either an egregious jab at the band or a perfect tribute to its scruffy legacy. Most of the Lips' fans seem to be leaning to the latter, and so is Oklahoma City's mayor, Mick Cornett.

"I look at it as a fitting way to honor them, and not just all they've accomplished, but how they've done it," Cornett told MTV News. "At first, we were slightly concerned that naming a previously unnamed alleyway after them might not be very appropriate, but we reached out to them with the idea, and their management gave us their blessing."

Cornett was also quick to point out that The Oklahoman's description of the alleyway — located near the railroad tracks in Bricktown, the city's downtown entertainment district — was "an exaggeration," adding that the alleyway was "very high-profile and very safe and clean."

"This isn't just some dark alley in the middle of nowhere. Everyone knows where this is. It's a high-traffic area in Bricktown," he said. "But in naming it, we also realize that it's an opportunity to make the alley — and all areas in Bricktown — look as good as possible."

A spokesperson for the Flaming Lips told MTV News that the band could not be reached for comment, as they were en route to Europe. But he did say the band was "very excited and very honored" by Cornett's plan.

The Lips aren't the only Oklahoma City musicians Cornett is seeking to honor. Jazz musician Charlie Christian and country superstar Vince Gill are also in the running to have streets named after them (but unlike the Lips, they'll have proper thoroughfares bearing their names). The proposals will go before the Oklahoma City planning commission next week, and, if passed, they will move on to the City Council for final approval. If all goes according to plan, the streets' names would be changed within the next 30 to 60 days.

And just what would the currently unnamed alley be called if Cornett has his way?

"Simple," he said. "We'd call it 'Flaming Lips Alley.' "

• The Flaming Lips

The Killers' Brandon Flowers
Photo: Evan Agostini/ Getty Images

Heidi Klum might be right: In fashion, you're either in or you're out. In rock and roll fashion, though, things aren't so cut and ... sewn. Just like the music itself, some styles never really go away, while others bounce in and out of cool faster than a faux-hawked drummer's double-bass-drum pedal.

Which brings us to the latest hot-or-not accessory: guyliner (i.e. eyeliner on guys).

Some may say it's been in vogue since Bowie went glam. Others might argue My Chemical Romance are leading a black parade of a different sort, reviving eyeliner along with other theatrical-minded bands like Panic! at the Disco and 30 Seconds to Mars. And then there are the hipsters who are already claiming it's so five minutes ago.

(Judge for yourself if rock dudes are wearing eyeliner thin in this video clip.)

Which is it? We asked a few rockers and one taste-making heiress for their thoughts:

The Red Hot Chili Peppers' Anthony Kiedis: "I actually dabbled with it in the much earlier '80s. I don't have any problem with eyeliner, but it's nice to have something to back it up with. Panic! at the Disco I've only ever seen in photographs, and they look like they travel with a large number of stylists. They look like they brought their girlfriends and their other friends and everyone had a dress-up party."

The Killers' Brandon Flowers: "It gives me a gypsy [feel]. I have four sisters, so it was always around."

Plus-44's Mark Hoppus: "When I was in high school back in the late '80s, I was really — and still am — into the Cure. So I used to wear eyeliner and stick my hair up, and I just remember guys walking past and going, 'What a f--!' I feel like it's a little overdone right now. Back in the day it was something that we did because you wanted to be different than everybody else. ... Now it just seems kinda commonplace. Feels a little watered down to me."

30 Seconds to Mars' Jared Leto: "What I find interesting is that in every society from the beginning of time, in every continent, whether in preparation of war, whether it was mating rituals, men have found that the use of costume, the use of makeup, the use of preparation for battle or for love, has been an important element within that society. So there's gotta be some primordial, subconscious reason that these things come up."

Avenged Sevenfold's M. Shadows: "I used to wear eyeliner. We used to do it because when you're a small band and you do stuff like that, people notice you and are like, 'Who do these guys think they are?' I kind of grew away from it, but the other guys still do it a lot. I'm totally cool with anyone that does it. I like our band because we have individual personalities. It's cool when a band does a uniform thing, but when it's just putting on eyeliner or having the same haircut or all wearing black, then it's just kind of lame. We were that band at one point, a lot of bands go through that, but you kind of have to evolve out of that."

The Flaming Lips' Wayne Coyne: "I think guys wearing makeup will become the new piercings. I think the appeal of it is not necessarily that it's androgynous, it's actually just kind of scary. There's something just sort of decadent about men putting on makeup and acting tough. However, if you look like you spend too much time in front of the mirror, people are just going to think of you as being the arrogant, self-obsessed fool that you really are. So, if anything, you should learn how to do it very quickly and in private so you just show up looking great."

Papa Roach's Jacoby Shaddix: "My wife digs it. It's just like a once-a-day application, and it smears and gets nasty, and then the next day when you wake up ... it almost looks cooler the night after, like down your face. It's weird, man, I almost feel naked without any of it on. You know, I'm in Alabama hanging out with my family down there and I'm like [He gestures applying eyeliner]."

Papa Roach's Tobin Esperance: "If you're gonna wear makeup, it's not about looking pretty. It's gotta look like you've been up all night doing drugs."

Army of Anyone's Richard Patrick: "The current escalation of eyeliner usage is a direct result of people being more open-minded about androgyny and its place in fashion again. Some people wear it well, while others do not."

Kasabian's Tom Meighan: "There's only two people that can get away with it, man: Keith Richards and David Bowie."

Scissor Sisters' Del Marquis: "I used to wear a lot more makeup early on, and then this Panic! at the Disco nonsense [happened and] I just wiped it all off. If you're wearing makeup, it should enhance the music. If it is totally incongruous to what the music is about, it just makes my eyes roll back."

And ... Paris Hilton: "I like when guys wear a little eyeliner. Sometimes it's cute."

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