So you've heard Kanye West talking shit like he's the next Michael Jackson, no? If not try this one on for size: "As far as rapping goes, how can I say this? Jordan, Michael Jackson - it's what I do."

And now for a darker start to 2011. One thing the year end always brings is memories of those who did not make it into the year upcoming. Ergo, the passing of Captain Beefheart.

Peter "Sleazy" Christopherson was a co-founder of Throbbing Gristle, partner of the amazing graphic design studio Hipgnosis, and a video director for artists as likely as Sepultura and Nine Inch Nails -- and as unlikely as Yes.

A few weeks ago the august and (by some accounts) curmudgeonly classical music critic Alan Rich

"The art world, which used to be a community, is now part of the world wide visual culture industry, which includes film, fashion, television, and advertising, and works overtime to trample down the boundaries that used to keep them separate."

"The only recent photograph of him (taken many years ago) is of him wearing a furious face as he fends off an intruding cameraman." Indeed. His name is J.D. Salinger, and now he's dead.

A longing goodbye to 2009, the year I acknowledged the greatness of Nick Cave. (Not that Nick Cave, though it's also the year I fell in love with doubling.) Below is the video clip for what may be Cave's greatest song "Into My Arms." Try listening to it and not misting up.