Earlier today, David Cameron announced the end of his premiership of Great Britain. Then he hummed a little song.

The downtown Manhattan nightclub Santos Party House will be shutting its doors for good, DNAinfo is reporting, just one day hosting the NYC Oi! Fest 2, a concert of bands that have been associated with far-right politics and neo-Nazism. A Santos employee told Gawker the closure is unrelated to the controversy surrounding the show.

Actually, Lemonade is Beyoncé’s weakest album since I Am...Sasha Fierce.

Prince Rogers Nelson spent years changing the world. Today, he left it. Even casual music listeners should mourn the void he leaves.

Prince’s unreleased catalog is nearly as expansive as his official discography, and for years, fans have traded bootlegs with the same fervor as Phish Heads. One of my favorites is “The Undertaker,” an unreleased EP-length project recorded “live” (in one take with no overdubs) in 1993 by Prince and two core members of The New Power Generation, drummer Michael Bland and bassist Sonny T.

Merle Haggard, one of the finest singers (and songwriters) in American popular music history, died today, on his 79th birthday. Here are a couple good songs.

To celebrate the 40th anniversary of punk this November, the son of the Sex Pistols’ manager says he will burn his $5 million collection of punk memorabilia. That’s fuckin punk.

On his right arm, to remember his time in the service of the Country Rap King, Jerry Kuntz wears a tattoo. It’s the head of a dead-eyed Texas longhorn. On one horn hangs a high school varsity letterman’s jacket, like the one Robert Underfinger used to wear all the time, when he and Kuntz worked together on the Maverick Dirt Road Street Team. Underfinger was only 18. Taylor Nixon was 19, like Kuntz was. He loved diesel trucks, so there’s a heavy-duty tire on the other horn.

A new bill proposed by Philadelphia Councilman Mark Squilla would compel music venues in the city to provide lists of full names and addresses of their upcoming performers to local police upon request. Finally, Philly may be rid of the filthy rock and roll and hip-hop scourges forever! You’re The Man, Squilla.*

You may know the shofar as a musical instrument of Jewish antiquity, traditionally blown in synagogues during Rosh Hashanah—but did you know that right now, in the frozen hinterland of the Pacific Northwest, the Oregon militiamen are blowing the HORNS OF FREEDOM as we speak?

Yeah I saw it and it was a good musical and all that but come on.

As you are no doubt aware, Southern butter wholesaler Waffle House just served its one billionth waffle.

Sometime a few weeks ago, in the middle of this supposedly Song-of-the-Summer-less summer, I realized that I was swimming in music that I adored. It happens regularly that I feel like I’ll go months without being excited about anything musically and then bam!, I’m overwhelmed with good stuff.

“A rhythmic monologue to a musical accompaniment.” Ratter has a compilation of the ways in which baffled newspapers of the early 1980s described “rap music,” a hot new urban youth trend that was just beginning to gain national attention. Thirty years later, the New York Times has gotten just a little bit better at it.

“Can Bernie Sanders sing? No, he can’t,” writes Eusebius, the top-rated Amazon reviewer of We Shall Overcome, Bernie Sanders’ first an only spoken-word music album. “I wanted to have a chuckle at his expense, but I stayed and listened with deep admiration.” Eusebius, I agree.

Going to an EDM show is already self-troll of sorts, but it helps if the DJ has contempt for the crowd too. Hope you brought enough “molly” pills to ride this one out!

At Maxim, former Gawker writer Max Rivlin-Nadler lands the first interview with Lewis, a mysterious Wall Streeter-turned-musician whose melancholy albums were recently reissued to clamorous praise. Lewis doesn’t say much, but it’s worth reading the tale of how his music found listeners decades after it was recorded.

Earlier this week, we brought you (more) stories of just how disliked the iconic guitar company Gibson is by employees and customers alike. If you work at Guitar Center, do not share this story! Or else!

Trey Songz is perhaps the goofiest contemporary R&B singer people take seriously. He once wrote a song about emoticons called “LOL :-)” and another about inventing sex called “I Invented Sex,” a claim that was has yet to be verified by an independent governing body. But today he might have revealed his most absurd ploy yet: a track that interpolates Rent’s “Seasons of Love”—aka the “five hundred twenty five thousand minutes” song.

The iconic guitar company Gibson faces seemingly endless troubles, which include an easily enraged micromanaging CEO and a product line perceived as shoddy and overpriced. Based on what we’ve heard lately, it is not a great employer or maker of guitars.