romantic comedy (and its television variations) devotes its energies to obscuring the possible gaps between things like companionability, attraction, and intense sexual arousal. Hannah’s is also a situation that would be impossible to depict without a graphic sex scene, and offers a clear example of what sex scenes are good for. If all you want to do is convey an erotic tension between two people, you can leave out explicit depictions of sex acts. But if you are interested in the psychological implications of what happens between people during sex, you need to show something of the sex.

—On Lena Dunham’s depiction of sexual encounters in Girls. The Loves of Lena Dunham by Elaine Blair | The New York Review of Books

Balancing on minor chord darkness and major chord triumphs somewhere between “Sister Ray” and 1969-era Michael Ratledge, Bernie Worrell’s distorted and overdriven keyboard melody line swells as the band approach the ripped open jugular of funk honey currently oozing and koozing outward.

—Seth prepares the uninitiated for psychedelic freedom on Funkadelic’s classic “Free your mind…” Julian Cope presents Head Heritage | Unsung | The Book of Seth | Funkadelic - Free Your Mind And Your Ass Will Follow

Zappa albums valorise the idea of virtuoso instrumentalists and guitar heroes (or rather, Jean Luc Ponty, Terry Bozzio and Steve Vai) to a point which is beyond parody, however. We were always meant to worship these people, make no mistake about it. (You can never get through any piece on Zappa without certain giveaway buzz phrases cropping up: “chops”, “seamless virtuosity”, “modal run”, “great studio sound”, etc.) This is, in essence, as un-rock or un-subversive as music can get, in a way that Terry Riley or Morton Feldman or John Cage, say, never were: this is all about how fast your fingers can go. … And how low your sarcasm can dredge.

—The Wire pulling no punches on reviewing Zappa’s oeuvre. Frank Zappa: Don’t do that on stage anymore

Blackest Ever Black is issuing Flaming Tunes on vinyl. About time.

In 1960 He was my friend Robbie Robinson, going to University of Maryland, we hung out together, taught each other folk guitar licks. In College park we just toted guitars around looking for folk jams. We were both heavily into 12-string. For I while I didn’t feel complete with out a 12-string and a harmonica rig. He was very high strum, eager, anxious, intense, and had a bit of an inferiority complex. He sweated. Later in California he changed his name, played rolling triplets, lived near the ocean with two gorgeous Asian women and practiced Tai Chi.

—Max Ochs discusses Robbie Basho Max Ochs : Answers some questions from the producer