And nowhere is this more true than in the wonderful world of music, where artists make it a solemn practice of indulging in and titillating all of our appetites. Below, check out my top picks for songs that make me hungry for food…and lovin’.

4. Kool & the Gang’s “Chocolate Buttermilk”: Yes, it’s an instrumental. But damn if I’m not licking my slavering lips by the end of the funk and horn-heavy classic, torn between biting into a hunk of chocolate cake or using it for naughtier purposes of which my old Sunday school teachers would most certainly disapprove. Check out the boys in top form below. And if you feel the need to feed, git to the kitchen with ya and make a chocolate buttermilk cake. What you do with that cake when it’s baked and frosted is totally up to you.

3. Prince & the New Power Generation’s “Cream”: No one except a man who I could snap over my knee like a twig (but still strangely find incorrigibly sexy and who spent much of his career insisting upon being alluded to as a symbol), could possibly  turn the most innocuous, pure and innocent edible ingredient into a vehicle for the most debauched, dirty and exxxperienced expression of sonic sex. Incidentally, he allegedly wrote the double-entrendre-loaded ballad while gazing at himself in the mirror. Whip up some cream and indulge in your most hedonistic instincts.

2. Primus’ “Pudding Time”: While funk metal fusion is not typically my first go-to genre of choice when attempting to get in the mood (for anything), Primus possesses an unparalleled ability to make me want to stuff oozing globs of bittersweet, gelatinous chocolate goo into my gob. Spoon into this recipe from Smitten Kitchen while listening to “Pudding Time” to get your juices flowing.

1. Fats Waller’s “You’re Not the Only Oyster in the Stew”: What the song lacks in subtlety it makes up for in smooth delivery. The jazz maestro makes singing about various vaginas he could sample seem positively PG,  which just makes it all so much smuttier. (Listening to this song is the equivalent of stumbling upon an undiscovered film of Mary Poppins indulging in a little light S&M with Mr. Banks). He also makes me crave a creamy, pungent crock of oyster stew a la the Food Network’s Paula Deen in bed with a bottle of bubbly and a little company.

Blockhead will release his new full-length The Music Scene on January 12 via Ninja Tune. The New York City-based hip-hop producer always creates beautiful, complex instrumentals, whether his own solo albums (Music By Cavelight, Uncle Tony’s Coloring Book) or producing for emcees like Slug, Murs and Aesop Rock (Labor Days, None Shall Pass and more). “I made each song a little more of a musical journey than anything I have ever done before,” he says.

Download The Music Scene Megamix and the single “Which One of You Jerks Drank My Arnold Palmer?” via XLR8R.

Blockhead also also been working on riling the masses and grammar police over at Definitive Jux, where he regularly blogs about women, sex, having sex with women, douchebags, beating up douchebags and more in a column titled “Sweeping Generalizations.” Indeed.

He’s created a new home for them here. There’s little this guy isn’t opinionated  about, but we’ll remain neutral here at UI (even though we’ve left comments for him before…mwhaha!).

Synth and beat-happy rock ‘n’ rollers Midnight Juggernauts are classic post-wave modists who merge arena rock with the “textures and physicality of dance.” Boosting the hopes of unpublished, ambitious pretty boys everywhere, the Midnight Juggernauts (despite their Ken Barbie on the LES look) were not an overnight sensation: they even put out their first record themselves.

And the Juggernauts also trot out another Mom-endorsed meme (the first ones being, of course, “If you don’t believe in yourself, no one will” and “If at first you fail, try, try, again.” The newest? “Don’t judge a book by its cover.” While they may look like they either a) want to sing about how awesome it is to bang a different hottie every night or b) how deep their well runeth despite the insanely good looks God cursed them with, their subject matter is decidedly, definitively universal. Didn’t think you can do-se-do to tunes about science fiction, the earth, silliness, satellites and sparkles? Highly illogical, Captain.

Greasy-haired and faux-serious, they look just dangerous and unhinged enough that, if you didn’t know them, you might not want to pick ‘em up on the side of the road, but wacky and harmlessly weird enough to approach at a crowded party or bar with plenty of witnesses.

But be forewarned: these boys aren’t into starfuckers. Unlike most performers who need their ego massaged, lubed, moisturized and fluffed before considering hopping into bed with a fan, if you, young lady, want to get wit’ a Midnight Juggernaut, feigning ignorance to their existence may be your surest route to success.

Their refreshing take (or no-take) on fan booty below.

First things first (Rod Stewart 1984-style hairdos aside), let’s face it: These guys could hop into bed with pretty much any unfettered chick they set their bedroom eyes on–with or without their considerable music chops to back them up.

With help from Tommy Lee, Twiggy Ramirez, Joey Santiago, Tony Bevilacqua, Kurt Baumann, Brody Dalle and Gerald V. Casale,  it’s like the ’80s made love to the ’90s and gave birth to the aughts all on one record described as “bold, dark, and entertaining, with some truly electrifying moments.”

And speaking of making love, unless they’re totally fucking with us (which is totally possible), the men of Freeland are all about you, baby. Despite what the evil overlords in the media, Cosmo, your own deeply paranoid inner monologue (wait, is that just me?) may tell you, not every musician sets out to hit every easy, breezy, beautiful Cover Girl they meet on the road. Freelanders are into the deeper things in life. They actually believe in doing things that are real, have a foundation and are genuine. Because what else is there?

Well, there is fashion. But much like their existential humanism fetish, again, unless they’re fucking with us, Freeland is the rare, real, deep music-fashion deal. They’re twig thin, adorably (just shy of cheesily) coordinated, sunglassed, belted, blazered, skinny-pantsed and white-shirted blazes of glory. Shine on, Freeland, shine on, you crazy diamonds.

Fashion and music often make strange bedfellows and while we won’t dare attempt to penetrate the existential mystery that is heinous rock dude’s inexplicable ability to bed every model west of the Volga River, we will take our greasy paws and grapple with more prosaic perplexities — such as trying to figure out WTF it is that these zany musicians are strapping onto their carcasses these days and what it implies about their musical POA. Sometimes, like sex, it’s better the second time around.

Here’s this week’s stylish blast from the past for your aesthetic cogitation. Today, we’re revisiting balmier days with a sunny artist who’s prone to the occasional flash of thunder. When UI caught up with uber-earnest singer-songwriter Juliana Hatfield, she was perched in a basic black cotton scoop-neck on a hot pink soft shaggy throw and looked every inch the Boston indie rocker she is.

Hatfield’s blend of somber (but girly), harsh (but melodic), jagged (but sweet), punk (but pop) music provided the perfect soundtrack for the Prozac Nation 90′s. Her punk/hippie style with a tank-top/t-shirt, gloriously worn jeans/broken in leather clothes and side-parted pin-straight hair make her a pin-up girl for disaffected, surly girls (and grrrls) everywhere. It’s always interesting to see whom our former idols idolize themselves. So who gets Juliana’s creative juices flowing? Henry Rollins. Check out her straight-forward beauty, simple style and smart, cute girlness (yes, she’s still somehow girly even though she’s in her 40′s–see for yourself).

There’s a big indie movement in meat and food in general these days with the whole buying local craze.  Isn’t buying meat from farmers and not through the corporate meat power structure “indie?” What’s more indie than an old time PORK SHOP?!  A butcher making a living for his family?  You just gotta love that.

And killing your food and eating it is the independent spirit that made this country what it is, damn it.  And I don’t just say that because I attend gun events for bloggers at SxSW, the convergence of all things meat and indie music.  Okay before I start coming off like Ted Nugent, I would point out that some indie musicians won’t kick a gal outta bed for her meat eating…

Thanks Langhorne Slim!  I urge you to join STEIC today!

I find it interesting that these BONOBO CHIMPS have virtually no violence because they spend all their time getting busy. Interestingly these chimps are the closest animal relative to HOMO SAPIENS and we share 98% DNA. This makes it so clear now why me and my boyfriend “BZ” were fighting all weekend.  We haven’t been having enough sex. And we were actually fighting about not having enough sex.

Of course BONOBO CHIMPS might be more inclined to fight with each other if they were dealing with maintaining a sex life during a cross-country long distance relationship. And I don’t suppose they are as picky about where and when they play “hide the banana” as I am. For instance I don’t think they would have a problem getting it “animal style” in the bathroom at a 4th of July pool party at the W hotel in LA while their partner was drunk and they hypothetically knocked the garbage can over with their foot while trying to prop themselves up on the counter. I don’t think that is sexy but that sort of thing probably wouldn’t bother a Chimpanzee.  But what do I know?
Eventually me and BZ worked out our differences and ended up “monkeying around” for the rest of the weekend.  Now that I woke up this morning with a cold I think even a BONOBO CHIMP wouldn’t be dumb enough to keep using her boyfriend’s toothbrush while he was complaining about having a sore throat and feeling sick.  

Whatever, Ilana, you can keep your hands off my man anyway.  I am glad John is getting so much good press lately.  I mean the NY Post has confirmed that his body is a wonderland, and let me tell you, they ain’t lying.  Why do you guys think he keeps getting in these “sham relationships?”  Duh, cuz we’re in love!  There’s seriously no other rational reason!  I dare you to think of one!  His apartment is close to Uncensored Interview HQ, and he’s buying some cameras at B&H right by my office!  What other proof do you need people?  A sex tape?

Hmmm, I mean what is a sex tape if not an “Uncensored Interview?”

Anyway, he mentioned to me this afternoon when we woke up that it’s a total thrill for him when people comment on his blog.  Maybe then we can give up this whole Jennifer Aniston charade and get married.  I mean really, Aniston? Who even buys this?