A source said: “Kanye has a load of girls he’s friends with. Most are stylists or from the fashion set but Kim’s not happy about them being alone with him backstage.

“She sees how well he gets on with girls because of his sensitive side and has decided to rein in the entourage a bit.

“Kim is trying to put a stop to this as she doesn’t want to look or feel awkward at any point.”

Kanye won’t want to get her upset — she’s his dream woman after fancying her for years.

Performing … Kanye West on tour
Mind you, he’s not shy about letting his feelings known for fit women. He’s been harping on about David Walliams’ wife Lara Stone for years.

Kanye and Kim have been joined at the hip since they got together last month. She’ll be with him for the whole of the Watch The Throne ten-date UK tour, which kicked off at London’s O2 Arena last night. The source added: “She has her own area at the O2 so she can spend more time with Kanye.

“She realises he will need to do his thing with Jay-Z and the rest of the crew but she’ll have somewhere for her and her pals to hang out.”

Kim has already shown who’s boss this week.

Jay-Z hired a section in posh London restaurant Zuma — but rather than staying with the party, they had a sit-down dinner for two.

They’ve got to be running out of things to talk about by now.

A statement from her family called Summer “a woman of many gifts, the greatest being her faith.”

“While we grieve her passing, we are at peace celebrating her extraordinary life and her continued legacy,” according to the statement released by Universal Music, her record label. “Words truly can’t express how much we appreciate your prayers and love for our family at this sensitive time.”

Summer had been living in Englewood, Fla., with her husband, Bruce Sudano.

She was a five-time Grammy winner. Although best remembered for her songs decades ago, Summer continued to tour and record, including a stint last year as a guest judge on the Bravo reality show “Platinum Hit.”

Born LaDonna Andrea Gaines in suburban Boston on New Year’s Eve, 1948, Summer was one of seven siblings in a church-attending family who encouraged studies and singing in equal measure.

An early fan of gospel singer Mahalia Jackson, Summer sang in a Boston rock band called Crow in the late 1960s, and left home for New York City at age 18 to find work on Broadway, which she did quickly by landing a role in a touring version of the hot Broadway show “Hair.”

She spent the next three years living and touring in Europe. There she met and married the singer Helmut Sommer, whose last name she adapted as her stage name.

While in Europe she also met Italian music producer Giorgio Moroder, whose early dance tracks were making an impact across Europe. Moroder and Summer started working together, resulting in their first hit, the seductive 17-minute-long dance floor epic “Love to Love You Baby.” On it, Summer moans in ecstasy throughout, seeming to climax with the music. A shortened version of it was released by then-hot label Casablanca in 1975, and peaked on the Billboard singles chart at No. 2.

That was the first of a string of songs that not only helped bring disco to the mainstream, but predicted the rise of both techno and house music. Among those were “I Feel Love,” “Bad Girls,” “She Works Hard for the Money” and “On the Radio.”

But unlike some other stars of disco who faded as the music became less popular, she was able to grow beyond it and later segued to a pop-rock sound. She had one of her biggest hits in the 1980s with “She Works Hard for the Money,” which became an anthem for women’s rights.

Soon after, Summer became a born-again Christian and faced controversy when she was accused of making anti-gay comments in relation to the AIDS epidemic. Summer denied making the comments but was the target of a boycott.

Still, even as disco went out of fashion she remained a fixture in dance clubs, endlessly sampled and remixed into contemporary dance hits.

Her last album, “Crayons,” was released in 2008 and marked her first full studio album in 17 years. She also performed on “American Idol” that year with its top female contestants.

The group’s superb new album, “Bloom,” sounds a lot like its gorgeous 2010 disc, “Teen Dream.” But somehow, it’s a more pleasing listen — like the mysterious epiphany that arrives when you rearrange the furniture in your apartment and it feels like you’ve invented a new home.
The Baltimore duo Beach House hasn’t really budged in the past two years. Still in Charm City. Still writing rock songs that settle over our ears like a perfumed fog.

The group’s superb new album, “Bloom,” sounds a lot like its gorgeous 2010 disc, “Teen Dream.” But somehow, it’s a more pleasing listen — like the mysterious epiphany that arrives when you rearrange the furniture in your apartment and it feels like you’ve invented a new home.

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With the notion of home and escape built into their band’s name, singer Victoria Legrand and instrumentalist Alex Scally seem poised to build songs for us to luxuriate in. So you’ll have to pardon the overused Liz Lemon-ism when I say, “I want to go to there.”

Others have. Toronto R&B singer the Weeknd and Alabama rap duo G-Side sampled Beach House riffs last year, and critics have tagged the band’s moody aural mist as “dream pop.”

But across 10 tracks, “Bloom” manages to sound stately, sumptuous and alert. Scally strums his guitars in cathedrals of reverb, he presses colorful melodies from thrift-store keyboards, he lets his drum machines tick away like heirloom pocket watches. It all sounds like a Fleetwood Mac album going gloriously in and out of focus.

This is diaphanous rock-and-roll at a time when pop music seems increasingly immaterial. If we’re not gathering songs as little wisps of digital code and storing them in matchbox-size MP3 players, we’re borrowing them from “the cloud” — that billowing cumulonimbus of ones and zeroes that reportedly holds our future.

And while Legrand sings in a contralto strong enough to tether any song to the ground, she wisely refuses the role on “Bloom.” Instead, she floats alongside the music, camouflaging herself amid plush timbres and unhurried rhythms.

It’s rare to hear a singer who can fold her voice into her surroundings so gracefully, but here she is on “Lazuli,” the album’s most satisfying cut, repeating its lovelorn refrain 13 times: “Like no other, you can’t be replaced.”

It’s a lyric that should press down hard on your chest. But in Legrand’s throat — where sadness and sensuality blur — that melancholy evaporates. Why break hearts when you can vaporize them?

Scally provides solid sonic footing with “Other People,” a song with a crisp beat and sparkling chorus. “Other people want to keep in touch,” Legrand sings. “Something happens and it’s not enough / Never thought that it would be so much.” It might be a song about angst and ennui in the social-media age. Or it might not.

For other bands, those kinds of ambiguities signal wishy-washiness. But for Scally and Legrand, loose ends seem purposefully untied. They’re building songs in the space between reality and possibility.

It’s a space we could already be living in, if we’d just move the couch over by the window.

With the notion of home and escape built into their band’s name, singer Victoria Legrand and instrumentalist Alex Scally seem poised to build songs for us to luxuriate in. So you’ll have to pardon the overused Liz Lemon-ism when I say, “I want to go to there.”

Others have. Toronto R&B singer the Weeknd and Alabama rap duo G-Side sampled Beach House riffs last year, and critics have tagged the band’s moody aural mist as “dream pop.”

But across 10 tracks, “Bloom” manages to sound stately, sumptuous and alert. Scally strums his guitars in cathedrals of reverb, he presses colorful melodies from thrift-store keyboards, he lets his drum machines tick away like heirloom pocket watches. It all sounds like a Fleetwood Mac album going gloriously in and out of focus.

This is diaphanous rock-and-roll at a time when pop music seems increasingly immaterial. If we’re not gathering songs as little wisps of digital code and storing them in matchbox-size MP3 players, we’re borrowing them from “the cloud” — that billowing cumulonimbus of ones and zeroes that reportedly holds our future.

And while Legrand sings in a contralto strong enough to tether any song to the ground, she wisely refuses the role on “Bloom.” Instead, she floats alongside the music, camouflaging herself amid plush timbres and unhurried rhythms.

It’s rare to hear a singer who can fold her voice into her surroundings so gracefully, but here she is on “Lazuli,” the album’s most satisfying cut, repeating its lovelorn refrain 13 times: “Like no other, you can’t be replaced.”

It’s a lyric that should press down hard on your chest. But in Legrand’s throat — where sadness and sensuality blur — that melancholy evaporates. Why break hearts when you can vaporize them?

Scally provides solid sonic footing with “Other People,” a song with a crisp beat and sparkling chorus. “Other people want to keep in touch,” Legrand sings. “Something happens and it’s not enough / Never thought that it would be so much.” It might be a song about angst and ennui in the social-media age. Or it might not.

For other bands, those kinds of ambiguities signal wishy-washiness. But for Scally and Legrand, loose ends seem purposefully untied. They’re building songs in the space between reality and possibility.

It’s a space we could already be living in, if we’d just move the couch over by the window.

“The show is right by the Tower of London so we intend to put on a show that will see at least a few people losing their heads.

This is also Albarn’s first solo album proper (not counting the demo collection, Democrazy, from 2003), and Dr Dee finds the occasional Blur singer at his most heterogeneous: refracting folk and early church music through the African influences he has been steeped in since 2002′s Mali Music. The album opens with running water, Devonian birdsong and an organ-heavy track called “The Golden Dawn”, a reference to the magickal society probably best known to rock fans as the playground of Aleister Crowley.

A series of these ancient-modern polyphonic stylings alternate with more overtly operatic tracks. Of these, “Temptation Comes in the Afternoon” requires perhaps the biggest leap of faith from Albarn’s core audience – too big, some will wail, scrabbling for their Parklife CD. But fans whose tastes have been emboldened by Albarn’s forays away from the mainstream – such as his recent Afrobeat album with Rocket Juice & the Moon – will find much to engage them here.

The biggest draw comes in the folk-leaning songs. Beginning with “Apple Carts” and concluding with “The Dancing King” there is an Albarn solo album of sorts here, hidden among the stern runes. Erupting from the 16th century into the 21st, “The Marvelous Dream” is a polemic that opens with the fly-past in honour of Kate’n'Wills, before considering “alcohol, the holiday and the drug and bass drum”.

Whichever your preferred version of Albarn – Britpop linchpin, ex-Gorilla, world music enabler – he has never been the obvious go-to guy for obscure dead occultists. The idea for Dr Dee initially came from countercultural figure Alan Moore, author of cult comic series Watchmen and V for Vendetta. His early involvement in the project ended in bad feeling, and his unfinished, unused libretto for the project has since been published.

Although songs such as “9 Point Star” maintain the link with Dee’s obsessions, physically tracing the occultist nine pointer to an incantatory groove, this record isn’t anywhere near as dense with magick as you might have expected. Rather, Albarn remains nostalgic for a strange, lost England, one not a million miles from PJ Harvey’s on elegant, moving songs such as “Cathedrals”.

There is a recurring fascination at the parallels between Dee’s day and Damon’s, and a strong sense of continuation with 2007′s The Good, the Bad and the Queen album. “We are the out-of-time people of the rose,” he mourns, on an album that could be subtitled (after Harvey) “Let England Thrum”.

Record label Tuff City Music Group made the accusations in Manhattan Federal Court a day before Beastie Boys member MCA died of cancer on May 4. It seeks seeks damages for copyright infringement, according to the lawsuit.

The Beastie Boys sampled without permission two songs — “Say What” and “Drop the Bomb” —the band Trouble Funk recorded between 1982 and 1985, the lawsuit says.

The lawsuit alleges the two songs can be heard on four Beastie Boys tracks from 1986’s “Licensed to Ill” and 1989’s “Paul’s Boutique.”

The Beastie Boys use the drum track from “Drop the Bomb” on “Car Thief,” “Hold It Now Hit It” and “The New Style,” the lawsuit says. They also allegedly use the “distinctive” vocal sequence from “Say What” on “Shadrach.”

The lawsuit claims that the manner in which the Beastie Boys incorporate Trouble Funk’s music into their songs makes it difficult for the casual listener to pick up.

Only after conducting a “careful audio analysis” was Tuff City able to make the connection, the lawsuit says.

A spokesman for the Beastie Boys’ record label, EMI Music, could not be reached for comment.

MCA, whos real name is Adam Yauch, died at 47 after a three-year battle with cancer.

Although he’s more well-known for his contributions to music as part of the Grammy-winning hip-hop duo, Benjamin (a.k.a. Andre 3000) has had roles in several movies, including “Semi-Pro,” “Idlewild,” “Four Brothers,” and appeared on the FX TV series “The Shield.”

“Considering his just-passable acting in ‘Idlewild,’ the jury’s still out on whether Andre can carry a movie on his own,” offered MTV News senior writer Gil Kaufman. “But given his virtual retirement from music since that movie’s release — ‘Semi-Pro’ was a small step in the right direction — and word that he’s been taking acting lessons, the Hendrix movie could do for him what ‘Dreamgirls’ did for Jennifer Hudson.

“Andre has the musical chops, the artistic sensibility and a devotion to his craft that makes me think he wouldn’t take on this iconic role without knowing that he had something deep to offer,” Kaufman continued. “Plus, as he’s proven over and over with his many note-perfect, bulls-eye features on songs since he stopped recording his own albums, when he shoots, he shoots to kill.”

MTV News reached out to Benjamin’s representatives about the report but had not received comment at press time.

“All Is by My Side,” not to be confused with Legendary Pictures’ onetime plans to make a Hendrix biopic, is reportedly in pre-production with principal photography set to begin in three weeks in Dublin and Wicklow.

Mr. Segal, a video editor, said he saw the band just once, about a decade ago at Giants Stadium. But he followed Mr. Yauch’s other projects, like Oscilloscope Laboratories, a film production company, as well as his work directing videos.

“They turned out to be hugely influential,” Mr. Segal said.

The projection work was the idea of a bartender, Jeffrey Emerson, 36, who had been playing Beastie Boys videos since early in the evening and was planning to do so all night. It was mostly a labor of love. Mr. Emerson gushed about being in college in the early 1990s and watching “The Skills to Pay the Bills,” a Beastie movie that made generous use of fish-eye lenses.

“It was just so great,” Mr. Emerson said, “I watched it over and over again.”

On the sidewalk outside 171 Avenue A, fans had placed a half-dozen candles and a lily to honor the site of the studios where the Beasties recorded “Polly Wog Stew,” a 1982 punk record from the period before they had fully embraced the hip-hop sound for which they became so well known.

Bad Burger, a restaurant that now occupies the building, played the Beasties’ song “Sure Shot” through an open window, as a woman in thick black patent-leather shoes stopped to reflect. Brian Grossman, 26, who lives nearby, also paused to consider the memorial on the sidewalk. “You always hear about the musical heritage of the East Village,” he said, “so it’s kind of cool to know that the heritage is really here.”

Though the news of Mr. Yauch’s death caught many people by surprise, some were coincidentally well equipped for an impromptu Beasties tribute.

Sam Gill, 28, who was at the bar at the Living Room, a performance space on Ludlow Street, is from London. But he was wearing a gray Beastie Boys hoodie, which is almost always at his side. “This is the one that I sleep in, go on the road in,” said Mr. Gill, who works as a booking agent in the music industry.

Upstairs in the Living Room, a woman with an acoustic guitar was singing, but in the bar area, Pete Moses, 34, spun “Hello Nasty,” from 1998. “Everybody I knew growing up listened to the Beastie Boys,” said Mr. Moses, who is from Colorado. The first CD that his brother owned was “Check Your Head,” he added. “I’m going to play it till the D.J. shows up,” he said. “It’s only proper.”

Bartenders were setting the mood at Local 138, where a chalkboard on the sidewalk read, “RIP MCA,” referring to Mr. Yauch’s moniker.

“I grew up on 40s and hoodies and skateboards and punk rock and hip-hop, and they mixed those things all together, you know what I’m saying?” said one of the bartenders, Lourdes Vasquez, 27, who was born in Yonkers.

For all the expressions of affection, the neighborhood today might be unrecognizable to the Beasties of the 1980s. The old Paul’s Boutique is now a restaurant called Wolfnights, which sells shrimp and asparagus wraps. Diagonally across the street from it is a bright shoe store with platform heels in the window.

And opposite the shoe store is Spitzer’s Corner, which serves craft beer. But some of the area’s seedy spirit channeled by the Beasties seems to have not entirely vanished. One man puffed on a cigarette on the sidewalk, lamenting the cost of housing in New York. “So we found this place on craigslist that is literally a crack den,” he said.