No one brings music and photography together better than Danny Clinch. No one.

Sure, the access to the musicians -- the intimate moments that so few of us ever get to see -- is part of what separates him from the pack. But that access has been earned, it didn't just happen. This guy's been doing it for years and, like subjects he photographs, he, too, is a musician and documents a refined rock and roll lifestyle that goes beyond our expectations and assumptions.

Just having the access isn't enough, though. You have to be able to capture the difference that having that access gives you. There needs to be a deep trust between you and the subject. Enough for them to let their guard down for just a fraction of a second. Enough to let the photographer get something no one has ever documented before. And Clinch does it most every time.

The man's an inspiration.

I've always admired Warren Haynes.

He's an incredibly adept musician, playing with his own band Gov't Mule as well as with The Allman Brothers Band, Phil Lesh, and countless others. His voice alone can send chills down your spine.

He's also a very philanthropic dude, hosting the massively popular and successful Xmas Jam each year for Asheville, North Carolina's Habitat for Humanity (his hometown, by the way).

I got to meet and talk to Warren and his wife Stefani a couple of times while I was the Assistant Program Director/Music Director at WNCW. They were both always as gracious and kind as can be. Guess that's part of what makes them so successful.

Anyway, my point is that there are so few people in the world that truly inspire us. When you find those people you gotta latch on and take in everything they give up. That's what I do every time I listen to Warren play.

I heard this tune around a campfire in the deep dark night in the South Carolina woods last weekend and I just had to share it. It's Gov't Mule performing the old Blind Faith nugget "Presence of the Lord." The Mule makes it their own.

Wouldn't expect anything less from Warren Haynes.

Fuckin' Kanye West.

A washed out white set, two dozen or so ballerinas with limbs and movements perfectly choreographed, a shocking red outfit and twenty pounds of gold bouncing around and yet disappearing into the stark white background, and an ego the size of New York City and then some all coming together to produce two remarkable live music performances.

What strikes me most about Kanye's SNL performances are the pure audacity of them. They're visually stunning yet bare productions from a man who is always trying to top himself and no one else. He may not always go about it the right way and when he fails he does so very publicly. But even the best of us fail every now and then. How else do we get harder, better, faster, stronger, or grow a set of cojones big enough to do something like this?

Hip hop isn't supposed to be like this. Or is it? That's what I like most about it all: the disregard for expectations, the contrast of brash hip hop and graceful ballerinas, a stark white set to wipe the slate, the visible rush during the moment of creation, and the air of performance art. Like him or not, Kanye West blew out the expectations and gave us something so simple, so brilliant, and unlike anything we've seen in a while.