Over the weekend, the Pussycat Dolls'
Doll Domination leaked, and normally such an occasion would result in a writeup, or at least a half-hearted spin through it, but readers, I have to cry uncle. Normally I would bite the bullet, grit my teeth, etc., but the damn thing is
16 tracks long, and that's before you tack on the seven-track "bonus EP," which—I am not kidding—includes
the Dolls' "interpretation" of "Perhaps, Perhaps, Perhaps." I can't do it.
Twenty-three tracks? Is this Interscope's attempt at punishing us for not embracing
Her Name Is Nicole? Anyway, all that extra room does have one notable result: The four non-Scherzinger members of the dancing-lady collective are each allowed to take a turn in front of the microphone, albeit on the bonus EP. And one of the songs chosen will at the very least benefit a songwriter whose work I've liked in the past, even if the chosen Doll's take on the song in question does, to put it charitably, leave something to be desired.
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Idolator
Good evening, friends! Tonight is the American Music Awards, the annual event where the American public is allowed to pretend like it cares about the music industry as the biz's most important releases either get pushed out to retail ahead of their street dates or get shoved into a dusty corner of the retailers with which they've struck exclusive distribution deals. And as if to underscore the whole "why people don't care about the music business" ideal," I'm watching the red carpet show, which apparently has contracted at least partial hostship duties to Nicole "You Know, I'm In The Pussycat Dolls" Scherzinger, who is apparently contractually obligated to flaunt her ass as she conducts awkward interviews with the likes of Steven Tyler and Ne-Yo in hopes that people actually care about her existence and maybe buy a copy of Doll Domination so as to easily conjure up further posterior-related fantasies in the comfort of their own home. Full coverage after the jump!
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What's a bigger sign of the Pussycat Dolls' desperation: The fact that there's already a third single from their quickly fading new album, the "Big Girls Don't Cry"-like weeper 
