Neil Diamond has been holed up at the Arc Angel, the L.A. studio he's called home for more than three decades, working on his new album, 'Home Before Dark.' Before he plays it across the U.S., Diamond has an unlikely engagement: A two-night appearance on 'American Idol.' The show will introduce the songwriter behind the Monkees' 'I'm a Believer,' UB40's 'Red, Red Wine' and Urge Overkill's 'Girl, You'll be a Woman Soon' (not to mention his own 'Sweet Caroline' and 'I Am...I Said)' to a new generation of music devotees.

The release of the sublimely intimate, Rick Rubin-produced 'Home' -- which features a duet with the Dixie Chicks' Natalie Maines -- reminds us where else fans should be able to catch a glimpse of Diamond: In the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame. Spinner caught up with the legendary singer-songwriter to talk about everything from Frank Sinatra to the mysteries of songwriting.

How was working with Rick Rubin for the second time different from the first?

It was pretty easy both times, although it was probably more [a process of] getting to know each other the first time. Maybe I was a little more nervous the first time working with these musicians, the first time working with Rick. You put yourself in somebody's hands and you really don't know what they're going to do. But as it progressed, it became apparent that it was going to be comfortable and it was going to be good. This one was a lot easier. There were less songs. I knew the musicians. We'd done an entire album together. You get to know people pretty good working that close.

Did that relaxation influence the album?

It did influence the writing, but I'm not really sure how. See, I hadn't written an original album .... I started really with the 'Tennessee Moon' album, co-writing all the songs. It was intentional to work with a lot of different writers in Nashville. I had a lot of fun. That started to get the barnacles and rust off of my writing chops. Then, 'Three Chord Opera' was maybe all mine. That continued that process of the rust falling off. And '12 Songs' took me just a little bit further. I was flying with this one. It's about as good as I can get as a writer. I was in the groove. I knew what I wanted and when I heard something that I liked, I knew when to follow up on it.

As Roots drummer and spokesman Ahmir "?uestlove" Thompson knows, hip-hop careers tend not to last very long. That is certainly not the case, though for his band, as the Philly crew has just released its tenth album, 'Rising Down,' which features guest artists ranging from Common and Mos Def to Fall Out Boy frontman Patrick Stump. As to how the Roots have become the exception to the rule in hip-hop, one needs only look to the superb new record, which digs deep into the politics and social consciousness of America in 2008. Thompson went just as deep in talking to Spinner about his annual tour with Jay-Z, the Roots' acclaimed live performances and the significance of the release date of April 29.

Was it an intentional move to release this album on the anniversary of the Rodney King riots in Los Angeles?

We've always acknowledged that day 'cause we all know where we were in '92. I remember April 29 like I remember April 4, April 1 -- the 1st being Marvin Gaye and the 4th being Martin Luther King. The reason why the L.A. riots are so significant, probably I would say that the closing chapter of the Civil Rights era was officially capped in 1991 with the L.A. riots. You could see it as political, as looting, or whatever, but that was the last time any reaction has come from the citizens of the United States of that level. And I don't know if that['s due to] indifference or just knowing that it doesn't matter what you do or say. I think it had a lot more to do with that. What's the sense of being political and trying to change the landscape when your president stole his election?

What were you looking for in collaborators on the album? You worked with a diverse group of people.

We kind of joked with the 'Things Fall Apart' record [that] we played the role of Moses. We told our A&R the reason, basically, people have a hard time conceptualizing the Roots is because there's really nobody to compare it to. So we have to kind of go up there and put it in perspective. So that's why in '96, '97 we pretty much insisted the labels sign people that were like us: Common, Mos [Def], [Talib] Kweli, Pharoahe Monch. That way we weren't the only left-of-center group out there making music and we weren't on the playing field alone. In this case it's the same thing, whereas it probably seems a little bit more urgent simply because, not to be pessimistic, but you never know if you'll get this opportunity again. The way the industry's built now, labels are falling apart, so you just never know when it's your turn or not your turn. So that said we just wanted to grab everybody; the established guard of Common, Kweli, Mos and Styles P, and then we had to grab the new guard, which is, like, Wale, Truck North and Porn, and then the guard that you wouldn't expect us to be associated with, like Saigon, Chrisette Michelle and Patrick Stump. We just had to go to everybody, and I think that was very important.

John Reis -- a name synonymous with the music scene in San Diego -- is armed with as many personal monikers as names for his various bands. Reis is the nucleus of iconic and influential acts like Rocket From the Crypt and Drive Like Jehu, not to mention the pulverizing wall of sound that the Hot Snakes created in their brief run.

Reis, calling himself Speedo once again these days, is a rock 'n' roll purist: Whether it's in a garage in San Diego or a nationwide tour with Rancid or the Foo Fighters, Reis always brings his A-game. His latest venture, Night Marchers, marks his triumphant return to the rock 'n' roll circuit and is no exception to the top-notch music resume Reis carries.

How would you describe the sound of the Night Marchers for people who haven't seen or heard you before?

Rock 'n' roll. It's rock 'n' roll music. Why elaborate on something that's not meant to really be put into words anyway?

Do you think the Night Marchers will appeal to your fans of your past work?

Some will, and some won't. It's not a replica of anything that's already happened, anything I've already done. At the same time, well, I think it is kind of like everything all rolled into one burrito. But some people just don't like burritos, for some f---ing reason.

Have you given yourself a new name while in this band? In the past you've gone by Speedo, Slasher and Swami.

You know, [Speedo is] the moniker that I'm going with in this band as my name. It's a return back to the confidence, the misguided bravado and the desire to kind of take over the world one decapitation at a time. It's a return back to that rock 'n' roll instinct that I've had in the past. It's a bit tempered, I've been a bit removed from the professional rock 'n' roll circuit for some time. So I'm very enthusiastic and agitated, I'm just really horny to get out there and start blasting. So right now, it's like I just want to be immersed in this new band, these new sounds and the collaboration with the other people that make up the Night Marchers.

That Henry Rollins, onetime punk godhead (first with Black Flag, and then later as the frontman of his own Rollins Band) turned pop-culture star, has made the transition from rock icon to TV and radio host, author and orator is not surprising given that he'll reference everyone from Richard Pryor to Jimmy Carter. Rollins, a man of many words, is sharing those views across America with his one-man show, 'Provoked.' If it's anywhere near as entertaining as this wide-ranging Spinner interview -- which covers his travels to the world's hot spots, his hopes and diappointments concerning youth culture and what it would take for him to make music again -- it must make for a hell of a night.

How much do you feel your experience onstage as a frontman has prepared you for spoken word?

Yeah, just more stage time with a mic in your hand helps. But I started doing music with Black Flag in 1981 and did my first talking shows in 1983. I say that they're both stringed instruments. One's a banjo and one's a guitar, and if you have a feel for strings and a neck you can kind of get used to one or the other or go from one to the other 'cause you kind of know your way around the room. And so with a band you're vocalizing or whatever; you're on auto-pilot in a way. It's a set course cause here's the song, here's the chorus, here's the thing. But with the talking shows I don't really have a script. It's my mind up there making sense of things. So you better have something to say. Get a point of view; that's the best thing you can walk on stage with, a direction to go. Some people are good when they ramble, I'm not. I go up there, very front loaded. Basically I walk out with the bow already pulled back and I just walk out and go, "Good evening, boing." And we're off.

When Joan Jett picks up the phone in New York for her Spinner interview, two things are immediately apparent: First, the tale of her three-decade plus career is evidenced wholly by her speaking voice, which is throaty and unintentionally gruff. It's the wear of a Philadelphia-born punk named Joan Marie Larkin who left for L.A. at 15 with a rock 'n' roll dream in one hand and leather in the other. Three years later, Jett formed the Runaways, and thus began her kicking-and-screaming ascent to rock iconism. Dubbed the original riot grrrl, Jett would garner several other titles along the way: chart-topper, entrepreneur, activist, actress, producer, sex symbol and all-around badass, included.

This brings us to number two: Joan Jett commands, though not literally, respect. Her middle- finger- to-the-establishment reputation sits backseat to the woman on the line -- a woman who, despite her persona, felt misunderstood at the onset. She issues no bounds as inquiries go, answering each question with cool authority and, often, laughter. "What do you want to know?" she begins. And so it does.

You're releasing a greatest hits CD/DVD later this year. What was it like for you to sit down and sift through nearly three decades' worth of material?

I have the most contempt... to look at myself [musically] and be like, "No, no." Do you know what I'm saying? It's like looking through dated pictures. It's kinda weird to look at old videos or old photos. But I'm glad I did it. Sometimes, sitting around and making records, you don't really hear it. You're just recording and loving the songs, taking them out on the road and playing them for people. People remember what's recorded but I don't listen to my records over and over again. I don't go back to the recordings unless there's something I need to refresh myself for the band -- the tempos or a structure of a song. But I'd love to do that because I put a lot of hard work into the records I make. It can be fun to go back and take a listen. Also, there are a few [new] tracks that'll be on the CD. They are songs that we haven't really played live yet, but they're written out.

Talking with Ray Davies is like "Songwriting 101," as you will read below. There's a reason, or reasons -- songs such as 'Lola,' 'You Really Got Me' and the stunning 'Celluloid Heroes' -- that artists from Green Day to Panic at the Disco continually cite the Kinks frontman as a driving inspiration. Arguably the father of Brit-pop (just ask Oasis and Blur), Davies is continuing to produce strong work on his latest effort, the superb 'Working Man's Cafe.' With Davies mixing pop and politics as adeptly as ever, the 12-song collection, recorded in Nashville in just two weeks, showcases the London-born songsmith as a master craftsman. While in Australia for a brief jaunt before coming Stateside for a five dates starting March 28 in San Francisco, Davies spoke to Spinner about the possibility of a Kinks reunion, his songwriting disciples and how being shot in the leg in New Orleans in 2004 affected him.

How did being in Nashville influence you in the writing and recording of the album?

Well, I didn't do any writing in Nashville, because all the songs were written prior to going there. But certainly New Orleans influenced me on some of the tracks I wrote on the album. 'Morphine Song,' for example, 'No One Listen,' 'Imaginary Man' and 'In a Moment' were definitely inspired by or affected by writing in New Orleans. 'Morphine Song' was written in the hospital while I was waiting to go into an operation because they were worried that I was having heart problems along with the gunshot wound. That song was written literally in the emergency room, so it had a definite impact. If anyone listens to it they can hear the click, click, click of a heartbeat and the allusions.

The album really is adept at taking big picture things and making them personal. Here you were writing about a personal crisis in New Orleans, a city that is trying to rebuild from Katrina. Did you see any parallels between your experience and what the city went through?

I ask that question of myself when I start a song. I say, "God, this is personal, and how do I reach people with it?" If I'm angry about something I'm writing about I always try to add a bit of humor into it and then put it on a level where people can relate it to them. 'No One Listen' could be about anyone dealing with bureaucracy, so that was simple. And 'Peace in Our Time' on the album is originally about a relationship that is crumbling, but I kind of sung it in such a way that it could refer to the world having peace in the time. If somebody came up to me and said, "We want to commission you to write a song for the United Nations and make it about peace and love," I wouldn't have written 'Peace in Our Time' [laughs]. It's a song that's basically about a relationship, but it could be alluding to the situation in the world. I try not to be obvious when I'm writing. I wrote a song years ago called 'Dedicated Follower of Fashion.' Everybody thinks that's a real jaunty sort of romp, but it was actually written after I had a really bad physical fight with a designer who came to my house. I was wearing drainpipe trousers and he said, "Man, you're so out of date; flares are in." And it started off like a bad argument over fashion and it was written in complete anger, but when it's delivered in performance it sounds like a comedy song.

An avid music fan, Chris Robinson can recall all the negative press given to some of his heroes, like Neil Young and Led Zeppelin, in the 1970s. "Rolling Stone magazine, how many Neil Young albums did they hate in the '70s? All of them. And the irony of it is they put out a book of all the s--- reviews they ever gave him, and now he's a genius," the Black Crowes frontman says. Though he adds quickly, "I'm not comparing us to that experience at all," the reality is that, save for people who haven't heard the album, the Black Crowes' 'Warpaint' is receiving some of the best reviews of the band's nearly two-decade-long run, and it debuted at No. 5 on the album charts.

More important, the always entertaining Robinson is having a blast with the new material, which the group celebrated by playing the album, its first studio LP in eight years, in its entirety over several sold-out shows. Spinner caught up with Robinson to talk about why time has been kind to the Crowes, why he may vote Green Party in the upcoming election and how music can still be a force for change.

What was the catalyst for 'Warpaint'?

The real catalyst for the whole record, the whole idea to shine up our locomotive and put it back on the track -- "I think we can, I think we can" -- was Rich [Robinson, Crowes guitarist and Chris' brother] sent me a couple of CDs' worth of chords and rough song ideas. I just set about really driving Rich crazy, turning all his songs inside out, making the verse the chorus and the chorus the verse, and doing all these arrangements really in my head.

Have any of the older songs changed for you?

It's funny because singing a song like 'Seeing Things for the First Time' at 41, compared to at 21 when I wrote it, at the time I had a rough idea of that feeling. But it was things that were going to happen to me as opposed to things that happened with experience. Our relationship is different with the songs, and that gets back to the audience because then the audience, they've gone through changes with you, they've put on music for all sorts of reasons, so I think that kind of energy transcends time with songs that you write, hopefully, if they're good songs [laughs].

Willie Nelson is 74 years old and has absolutely no plans of slowing down. Lucky for us.

The music icon and all-around national treasure somehow found time between touring, his philanthropic endeavors and his golf game to record 'Moment of Forever, ' a collection of songs that mirror his life: There's a little bit of humor, a lot of love and a sound that stands the test of time.

Spinner caught up with the Redheaded Stranger to talk about his new project and his surprisingly simple explanation for his prevalence in modern music. And, of course, we couldn't help but let the conversation drift back to his notoriously wilder days.

I hear you're talking to us in between golf games right now. What's your handicap?

My driver and my putter! [laughs]

And you actually bought a golf course!

I'm across the street from it right now. It's a little nine-hole golf course called Pedernales Country Club. We have a lot of fun over there.

So you're a golf course owner, singer, songwriter, actor, philanthropist and father of ten. Is there anything you've yet to accomplish that's on your to-do list?

I don't like to think too far ahead. I've been lucky enough to get a lot done and have a lot of success. I don't want to be greedy. And when I'm happiest is when I'm out here playing music and staying out of trouble! [laughs] In the early days, we'd be out on the road and go out and play our concert, and then go back to the hotel and party till daylight. And then when it came time to leave, you couldn't find anybody! [laughs] So I decided somewhere along the way that it's better to leave town right after the show. And since we've started doing that, I've noticed that the marriages are actually staying together. [laughs]

As a producer, Daniel Lanois has worked with some of the biggest names in music, from U2 and Bob Dylan to Robbie Robertson and Peter Gabriel. But while his work on such landmark albums as 'The Joshua Tree' and 'Time Out of Mind' may have overshadowed his own music, Lanois has been an accomplished singer-songwriter in his own right since his debut album, 'Acadie,' in 1989. His newest collection, 'Here Is What Is,' available online through his own Red Floor Records, is also the soundtrack to a film of the same name in which fans are brought into a year in the life of Lanois as he works with the likes of U2 and Sinead O'Connor. Spinner spoke with Lanois about working with U2 and Dylan, his longstanding friendship with fellow producer Brian Eno and how happy accidents led to 'I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For.'

U2 just reissued a deluxe 20th anniversary edition of 'The Joshua Tree.' When you go back and revisit those songs, do they stand up for you?

When work gets brought to the soulful conclusion, if you're lucky enough to hit on that, and you can sort of harness it, that music will have a long life and will bypass the stylistic climate of the time. When you listen to the Rolling Stones' 'Miss You,' they were embracing the disco values of that time. But they did such a great job on that song and that production, even when you hear it now you don't think, "Oh, it's a shame that has a disco tone."

Great soulful music goes well beyond the soul genre. What are a couple of examples of great soul music, including records that may have influenced you?

I think the Jimi Hendrix records for me encompass what we're talking about, soul and values of the time. Those Jimi Hendrix records really made an impression on me and they still do -- the guitar playing, probably the best guitar player that there ever was. And as a relatively young man to get to that place was so striking to me [that] it warrants study even today.

If image really was everything, one would naturally assume that a conversation with Spank Rock -- aka rapper Naeem Juwan, complemented by a rotating crew of producers -- would be more like a segment from a 'Girls Gone Wild' video, or 2 a.m. in any club at [insert the name of your favorite party school here] during homecoming weekend, or even a lunch date with Uncle Luke of 2 Live Crew fame. Instead, the frontman is actually the typical boy-next-door type. We sat down with the Baltimore-bred, Philly-based rapper to discuss his latest project, 'Benny Blanco & Spank Rock Present: Bangers and Cash.' But the prince of dirty rap – Baltimore style -- comes off more as a sheepish schoolboy than the crude MC responsible for songs like 'Put That P---- on Me' and 'B.O.O.T.A.Y.' In a time when some might criticize hip-hop for taking itself too seriously, with rappers committing actual criminal acts instead of rhyming about it, Spank Rock might have figured it all out with a hardcore persona that's simply an act, not a lifestyle.

Can you describe your sound for those unfamiliar with Spank Rock?

Yeah, that's difficult. One, I'm a rapper. I choose words that rhyme and then I say them with authority. I think what makes it interesting is the producers I decide to use. I got [Armani] XXXchange; he used to be in this punk band called Zero Zero. His influences are, like, Quincy Jones and Phil Spector. We like really old, good music, you know? Stuff like our moms and grandmas used to listen to. But then we mix it all with a lot of new stuff. I don't know if you can imagine the Ronettes being mixed with Baltimore club music, but that happens sometimes -- with Spank Rock, anyway.

Annie Lennox certainly has a lot to say. Whether on the phone for more than an hour from her London home or on last year's stellar 'Songs of Mass Destruction' collection, the former Eurythmics singer and platinum solo artist holds little back regarding her views on societal ills, the biggest issues facing the world today and her opinions on art. At 53, and a free agent in the music game, Lennox has a lot of deciding to do. Yet the Scottish singer refuses to slow down as long as she feels she can make a difference, something she is trying her hardest to do with the ambitious 'Sing' project, a combination of music and film she has personally created to highlight the HIV/AIDS crisis in Africa. Lennox spoke to Spinner about where she goes from here, her efforts to educate the world on what's going on in Africa, and her early memories of Amy Winehouse and how she knew the singer would be a star.

Did you write the album mostly in London?

It's a London-based album. To be honest with you, if you're writing, it doesn't really [matter], 'cause you just have to be alone with yourself or if you're writing with others. I don't. I wrote it by myself. But if I'm working with others, it doesn't make any difference.

The reason I ask is that for some artists the environment does make a difference.

There used to be a wonderful recording studio [AIR Studios] on the island of Montserrat. It was built by George Martin, who produced all the wonderful Beatles albums, and he built this amazing studio, and a lot of bands recorded there. We recorded the Tourists there in the '70s. It was such a beautiful island ... Montserrat subsequently suffered from volcanic eruptions and half the island is covered in volcanic ash, but that's another story. At that time it was still very beautiful. We were working there and I hated it. I didn't hate the studio, but I just felt very torn. It was so beautiful outside I was like, "What the hell am I doing in this beautiful studio?" I just wanted to go and lie down in the sun, 'cause you never get sun here. It was torturous [laughs].

"We'll just get right to the issue ... [drugs] will kill your soul." Sam FogarinoInterpol's decidedly toned-down yet rigorous 2007 tour in support of the band's major-label debut, 'Our Love to Admire.' The New York band has undergone some changes since the release of 2004's critically acclaimed sophomore album, 'Antics,' and it shows. For starters, they aren't living the highly decadent lifestyle they once enjoyed. "It got really old," Fogarino, Interpol's drummer, explained. "I mean, it [was] incredible – you go and play music for an hour and the party is coming to you and you're actually making a living [ says while we talk about laughs] ... but things get out of hand. Thank God we're all the kind of intelligent people [who] realize you can't sustain a livelihood and do a bunch of drugs."

From the revolutionary sounds of the Clash to dance-crossover troupe Big Audio Dynamite, Mick Jones, a true punk when it comes to his strongly held ethics, has been doing exactly what he loves. More than thirty years after making his mark as lead guitarist and co-singer for "the only band that matters," Jones encompasses all aspects of his past with his current group Carbon/Silicon, a group fueled by politics and taking inspiration from the freedom of the Internet and technology. This latest project has reunited Jones with former Generation X bassist Tony James for the first time since their brief time together in the mid-70s as London SS.

How is Carbon/Silicon different from your previous musical ventures?

Well, it's quite different -- we sort of sketched out a long time before we started this group to sort of, just talking to friends, really, about how we were to approach it. We had to sort of face up to certain global realities, and after that to put, you know, to deal with yourself, really. How are we going to deal with ourselves and have a bit of dignity left, so we talked about, you know, we weren't going to try to be anything other than we were, you know, and still an element of chase and illusion, I guess.

You've cited the Internet as a source of creativity for distributing music for free.

Yeah, I like all the creative side of computers, you know what I mean? I don't do much of the social networking or anything like that, but I definitely like to make music on computers. It's a very immediate way we've found of putting our stuff out. We walk across the studio from where we've just recorded it, we go onto the computer and upload it and get immediate response and playback from people -- you know, feedback is really like an immediate way.

After spending the past several years touring and recording with Blondie, frontwoman Deborah Harry has finally stepped back into the solo world with 'Necessary Evil,' her first album without her Blondie cohorts in 14 years. Still, the band mates she was inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 2006 with aren't far from her, as Chris Stein lends his production talent to a couple of tracks on the record.

Nonetheless, the 62-year-old singer and actress felt it was important to do this one on her own, and she did just that. Harry was involved in all aspects of the release, including artwork and marketing. When she talks to Spinner on a rare day off for her, it is apparent she is loving the hands-on approach. That was just one of the things -- along with her next acting role, what love is to her, and how she's getting better with age -- that this true New Wave icon had to say in this engaging conversation.

There's a lot of talk about love on 'Necessary Evil.' Is that a central theme to the album?

I realized at the end that I was referencing relationships a lot and the idea of actually finding out what is love. So I ended up writing that song ['What Is Love'] because it seemed like everything that I was writing about was about relationships, and most popular music is actually written about that. As a matter of fact, most things that we read in our lives, or films or books, it's usually about looking for love.

What is love to you, then?

I don't know if I really have an answer. Judging from my work experience collaborating with different people and being in a band, I think love is being able to step down from your ego trip and to make room for another person and to be able to share an experience with another person and not be the one who has to be the most paramount person or the one who does all the talking or the thinking -- unless, of course, the other person wants that from you. So it's the idea of actually sharing, I guess.