We’ve Got A File On You features interviews in which artists share the stories behind the extracurricular activities that dot their careers: acting gigs, guest appearances, random internet ephemera, etc.

We’ve Got A File On You features interviews in which artists share the stories behind the extracurricular activities that dot their careers: acting gigs, guest appearances, random internet ephemera, etc.

Where most late-night shows give the musical guest a few minutes to play their current single and, if they’re lucky, come over to the couch for an interview, Saturday Night Live has always given musicians a bit more room to stretch their legs. With two or three songs for each musical guest (or more on a few special occasions), artists often throw in album tracks, covers, or surprise collaborations. And many times over the show’s past five decades, SNL guests have previewed an unheard of mostly unheard new song that wouldn’t wind up on an album until months or years later, or remain unreleased indefinitely.

In the second week of April, the legendary proto-punk band Max Creeps announced their breakup after over 40 years together. And for a couple days Twitter and Instagram were full of rock stars lamenting the band’s demise and sharing memories of gigs, including Billie Joe Armstrong, Henry Rollins, and Laura Jane Grace. Despite never releasing an album, the duo of Max Blastic and PC Bullshit had managed to influence generations of rockers.

When I saw the news this morning that Bill Withers had passed away, the first thing I did -- besides the new perverse ritual of finding out whether a recently deceased person had contracted COVID-19, to make some pointless calculation of exactly how upset I was and why -- was tell my wife. “Who’s Bill Withers?” she asked (don’t judge her, she’s a virologist with a PhD, and has things on her mind besides the album liner notes that fill my brain). So I proceeded to list off the songs that she could instantly recognize just by their title: “Lean On Me.” “Ain’t No Sunshine.” “Lovely Day.” “Just The Two Of Us.”

This week, UMG is releasing the official soundtrack album for the NBC series This Is Us, network TV's big breakout hit of the 2016 Fall season, ahead of the premiere of its second season. The album is a mix of contemporary indie rock and familiar FM gold representing the show's two timelines, one in the present day and one in the late '70s and early '80s. But there's one slight outlier: lead actress Mandy Moore's new studio recording of "Willin'." The trucker ballad about booze and pills, written by the '70s cult band Little Feat, was performed by Moore's character Rebecca last October in the fifth episode of the drama.

In a year of prestige TV featuring respected auteurs mixing music history with fiction like Vinyl and The Get Down, the best thing about Cameron Crowe's Showtime series Roadies may be its relative lack of ambition. Instead of heroic musical innovators creating new genres, the protagonists of Roadies are the touring crew of an arena rock act, working out the day to day logistics of putting on a show. But as the show's flawed, low rated first season comes to a close this weekend, and I wonder whether the network will pick it up for renewal, I find myself hoping Roadies gets a chance to continue, and improve.

The recent announcement that Curtis "50 Cent" Jackson would be developing a single camera comedy called My Friend 50 for FOX was surprising for a few reasons. FOX has been breaking ratings records this year with a hip-hop drama, Empire, but one of the show's most public detractors has been 50 Cent, who sees it as a competitor to Power, the somewhat similarly themed drama he produces for the Starz network. Perhaps 50 Cent has taken an "if you can't beat 'em, join 'em" attitude towards FOX, or perhaps FOX is just happy to be in the business of scripted television about rap with anyone now that it's so profitable.