You all know that I love Beyonce’s music and that “Countdown” is a particularly beloved jam. That’s why I’ve been concerned by the lackluster sales of her recent album and singles. What do they portend?

That’s what I’m exploring in the final installment of my weeklong marathon for NPR’s Monkey See blog. I’d love to hear your thoughts!

The folks at Frontier Psychiatrist have launched a fascinating experiment: They are “audio-serializing” Jim Knable’s new novel Sons of Dionysus, meaning that every Friday, they’re posting a recording of one chapter. (The text of each chapter is also printed below the recording.)

Sons of Dionysus is a pretty great book: It’s nominally about the tumultuous friendship of two college friends who join a bizarre secret society, but I’d say it’s really about a roiling, mythic power that transforms the everyday world. The kids in the society get overtaken by something wild and Greek—hence the title—and it drives them to do things you’d expect in an ancient play.

This week, you can hear my recording of Chapter 3, when the two friends move into their college dorm room. You’ll notice the beginnings of the mythic undertones and get a pretty fantastic image involving a fireplace. And of course, you’ll get to hear me try to inject it all with some kind of passion. (I recorded this at Jim’s kitchen table. Margaritas were involved.)

I’d encourage you to go back and listen to the first two chapters as well… and stick around for the rest! There are a lot of cool, talented people lending their voices to the cause.

The illustration above, created specifically for this project, is by Beeb Salzer

I am in the lucky minority of Americans who walk to work everyday, and the commute is one of my favorite parts of the day. The exercise is nice, as is using my weathergear. (Back when I drove everywhere, I resented spending $150 on a winter coat, since I was only in the elements for the short walk from the car to my house.)

As the New York weather has gotten chillier, I’ve been listening to several new songs that feel like the perfect complement to the season. They put a kick in my step as I start my day, but instead of a throbbing summer groove, they deliver a laid-back pep that feels just right for pumpkin doughnut season.

Whether you’re driving or walking, won’t you dip into these sweet tunes? I’d love to hear what you think of them. Also: Which of your favorite songs fits the October mood?

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Mary J. Blige doesn’t make mere albums. She makes testaments.

That’s why I love her: As much as any pop star in history, Mary J. Blige turns her own life into an epic narrative. She frequently sings about herself in the third person, as though she were watching herself in an opera, riding cosmic waves of heartbreak and redemption.These are not just the stories of a woman in pain. These are the stories of Mary, Woman In Pain.

Her music and her singing are just as grandiose: She hollers until her earrings fly off. When she’s feeling her music, she might stomp through the floor or smack you with an espadrille or punch a hole in a fish tank. We just don’t know where the journey will take her.

But wherever she goes, she’s really going there. Mary J. Blige is a gifted and controlled performer, but she always seems like she’s getting kicked in the face by pain at the very moment she’s singing. She’s so raw and vulnerable that it’s easy to forgive her self-aggrandizement and just savor the intensity of her art.

Take this performance from the 2007 Grammys: While strings play in the background, she delivers a monologue about how she struggles to love herself. Then she says she’s found love with someone else: “For Mary J. Blige,” she informs us, “that’s rare.”

Again with the third person! Because she’s not just a woman falling in love. She’s Mary J. Blige! If Jennifer Lopez or Lady GaGa or even Kelly Clarkson tried this shit, we would create a hate website called LoveYourselfYouArrograntHo.biz. But when Mary tells us how it is? Somehow, it’s totally cool. Like I said, she’s raw and vulnerable about it, and also, she’s not the least bit self-conscious. She commits so fully to the Icelandic saga of her own experience that it’s easy to follow along. She seems so convinced that hers is the story of all people that maybe, just maybe, she’s right.

(Mary’s new album title… after the jump)

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Perhaps by accident or perhaps by shrewd design, Justin Bieber’s forthcoming Christmas album Under the Mistletoe perfectly encapsulates the current pop marketplace. It simultaneously caters to people who buy complete albums and those who only download the songs they want.

Let’s start with the “albumers.” Since you’re reading The Critical Condition, then you probably don’t buy  many physical CDs, but don’t be fooled. Most of the albums sold in this country are tangible products. The two best-selling digital albums in history are Eminem’s Recovery and Adele’s 21, and they’ve both sold just over a million digital copies. Their total sales, however, are just over 4 million copies. Digital albums will eventually overtake physical albums—and their sales are on the rise—but for now, the physical album market is very much alive.

And Justin Bieber has sold millions of physical CDs. It’s an especially good idea for him to drop a holiday album, since physical CDs make excellent gifts.

But Under the Mistletoe also seems to be targeted at “downloaders,” who are just going to purchase three or four songs and then be on their way. It provides several different versions of the Biebs, inviting consumers to support the one they prefer.

Consider the songs being offered. First, there’s the new single “Mistletoe,” which sounds exactly like Jason Mraz’s “I’m Yours” and is perfect for teenagers who have grown up with Bieber and are starting to have special new feelings about boys. His voice is a little deeper, his sound is a little more grown-up, and his lyrics are just a whisper more sexual.

But what if you aren’t 16? What if you’re 11 and need something safer in your life? Don’t worry! You can download Bieber’s take on family-friendly tunes like “Santa Claus Is Coming to Town” and “Silent Night.”

Are if you’re an adult with a secret  Bieber love? It’s cool. Pretend you’re being ironic and download his cover of Mariah Carey’s “All I Want for Christmas Is You.” As a bonus, Mariah herself duets on the song. And if you need more throwback R&B, how about  “Fa La La,” featuring Boyz II Men?

Prefer hip-hop? Check out Bieber’s “streetwise” spin on “Little Drummer Boy.” Featuring Busta Rhymes.

Country’s your bag? Just download “Home This Christmas,” featuring rising country stars The Band Perry.

I don’t see how these songs could possibly cohere into an album. Busta Rhymes and The Band Perry go together like fish sticks and Cool Whip. But I can imagine several different audiences choosing their own set of songs from this collection. The hip-hop people will get their three tracks, the country people will get their three, and never the twain shall meet.

That’s kind of brilliant, right? The hardcore Bieber fans will buy any old thing, so they’ll snap up the physical album or download the entire collection. But the outliers—the ones with only a dollop of Bieber Fever—might be convinced that Busta Rhymes somehow makes their purchase legit.

I expect Under The Mistletoe to sell 6 squidillion physical copies and 45 habillion digital tracks. If this happens, then we can look forward to Bieber’s next studio album, which will feature duets with Andrea Bocelli, Slick Rick, and Amy Grant and will also boast a stirring cover of Beethoven’s “Ode To Joy.”

Remember how cool it was when Kanye West featured alt-rock’s Bon Iver on his last album? And remember in the 90s when P.M. Dawn made amazing hip-hop records by referencing everything from George Michael to Joni Mitchell to psychedelic rock? Well, that moment lives on in Theophilus London, a Brooklyn rapper whose electro-rock sound is more indebtted to Interpol than Dr. Dre. Instead of T-Pain or Lil Wayne, his debut album Timez Are Weird These Dayz features cameos from members of TV on the Radio and Tegan and Sara.

If you were feeling churlish, then you could say that London makes rap music for the trendy Williamsburg crowd, and God knows, I wouldn’t be surprised to hear his tunes at a gallery opening or as the exit music for a “provocative” new play. And like Santigold or MGMT or any other scene-y electro outfit, his work can be chilly, even when it’s dropping a nice beat.

But still, there’s something exciting and raw about what he’s doing. Take “I Stand Alone:” It’s blend of singing and rapping and killer hooks demands attention. It’s not just easy to dance to: It’s interesting, fully of musical twists and turns that are still delighting me after 10 listens.

Meanwhile, “Why Even Try” mixes an old-school disco flavor into its cool remove, while “Last Name London” sounds like the best British dance-rap hit that Americans have never heard. (It reminds me of a Brit named Example, if you know U.K. music. It doesn’t hurt that London kind of sounds British when he raps.)

That’s ultimately what makes London so interesting, I think. He clearly belongs to a musical community, yet he isn’t slavishly devoted to it. He’s not afraid to surprise.

The title of this post is not a spiritual claim… it’s the name of a 1999 song by The Tamperer featuring Maya (not to be confused with Mya.)

However, the song is so awesome that the title may actually be true.

I love the cheekiness of this record… the unapologetic embrace of pop music’s often-crass commercialism. Plenty of record labels try to hide their greed beneath the shimmering silk of social awareness, but The Tamperer kindly cuts the bullshit. By blatantly stating what most pop music tries to obfuscate—namely, that he wants my money—he earns my trust and respect… and also my money. It’s a brilliant scheme.

As a bonus, the song is awesome. The “Material Girl” sample is banging (as well as thematically appropriate), and the the camp value of the “fa-fa-fa-fabulous” chorus cannot be overstated. And then we get the breathy declaration, “I never knew life could be so fabulous!” Cue the glitter cannons.

I’d forgotten about this song until a few weeks ago, when I uncovered a dance music compilation I bought during my summer study abroad in England. I was so delighted to hear it again that I had to share it with you. It’s available in the American iTunes store, so if you want, you can buy this record. Let me know if it makes your life better.

On next week’s Billboard Hot 100, the #1 song in America will be Adele’s “Someone Like You.”

Thanks to her lovely performance at the VMAs, the song sold 275,000 digital copies last week—more than any other track—and that alone would probably have sent it to the top. However, “Someone Like You” was also the week’s biggest gainer at radio, meaning it increased its weekly plays by a higher percentage than any other charting hit.

Taken together, these things could signal a shift in pop music. Here’s why:

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When it comes to art and culture, how do we know if we dislike something… or if we simply don’t have the tools to understand it?

Case in point: For the last 6 years, a friend of mine has been the pianist for an experimental Swedish opera project. It’s a fairly big deal, as there’s a famous Swedish poet involved and there’s enough money attached to let my friend fly all over the world to play for workshops and readings. Last night, the project had its first workshop production in New York, so out of love for my friend and general interest in the project, I went.

As an audience member, a few things were working against me. For one thing, it was 500 degrees in the theatre. (Literally. I checked.) For another, the gentleman sitting next to me had such horrifying body odor that it provoked a synesthestic response. I could taste his smell and feel it like moist fingers on my skin. At one point, it became a swirl of colors before my eyes.

So… yeah. Not the best conditions for approaching the work. But still, I did my best to lean forward and really listen, as I’ve often done when I’ve attend one of my friend’s concerts. (She’s doing really well in the “new music” scene.) As always happens with this kind of music, however, I could not find a way in. I am so utterly unfamiliar with the language of experimental music that I feel like an illiterate foreigner trying to read a native dictionary. When the clarinetist reaches into the piano and plucks the strings by hand, I just worry about her cutting her fingers. When every passage of music sound like a deconstruction of my bourgeois ideas of “melody,” I feel alienated.

But do I “like” or “dislike” this music? Who the hell knows? I didn’t enjoy what I experienced last night, but I don’t think I had the tools to enjoy it. It’s how I feel when I look at a lot of modern art: These giant black canvases on the wall might be saying something, but I don’t possess the artistic literacy to understand them.

Some people—perhaps many people—would say this is a failure of the art… that if it doesn’t reach a willing audience member, then it is failing. But I’m not so sure. We have to be trained how to encounter any art form, from television shows to pop songs to edgy operas to giant sculptural installations. I’ve been absorbing television narrative for so long that I forgot I ever learned how, and it’s the same with pop music. I can assess them easily because I’m fluent in those forms. I’ve been going to the theatre for so long that when a playwright subverts a convention or a designer does something really bizarre, I can use our shared artistic language to appreciate what’s being attempted. I am certain that I’ve enjoyed experimental theatre pieces that would irritate or alienate someone whose life hasn’t included much theatre, but since I talk the talk, I can really engage with the material.

All of this brings my back to my original question: Do I dislike experimental music, or do I just not have the tools to like it?

And perhaps the bigger question: Do I have the energy or desire to acquire those tools? Or would I rather just go deeper into the art forms I already understand?

Do you guys ever wrestle with questions like this?

The summer has blasted us with hits, and if you don’t like “Moves Like Jagger,” then it’s not July’s problem. But for every hot track that has dominated the season, another has been cruelly overlooked.

Here are five lost summer hits that deserve your attention before your pull your sweaters out of storage. There’s some dance action, a ballad, and something that hovers in between.

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