If you live in Houston and are obsessed with the local pro football franchise (like most people), you might recognize the setting of Walker Lukens' "When I Lost You, Goddamn, I Lost" video, which his people were kind enough to let us premiere right here on Rocks Off. (It's at the top of Page 2.)

As you can see above, the band shot the clip at the Methodist Training Center, known to most people driving by Reliant Park as "The Bubble," because it looks like one. Lukens you may not be quite as familiar with, but he's a swoon-worthy pop singer-songwriter who can also rock a little a la Coldplay's Chris Martin or Ray LaMontagne, or slather on a little Black Keys-style squelch. He grew up in Houston before we lost him to Austin, but says he wouldn't mind moving back someday.

More on that later, but for now this begs the question of how Lukens wound up shooting his band the Side Arms' video in the Bubble. The artist says that after a couple of years as a solo act, he wanted to do something that would reintroduce him as part of a band. Also, his drummer's dad happens to be the Texans' equipment manager, so they were already off to a good start.

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I'm going to rip this Band-Aid right off... back when I first was introduced to singer-songwriter James Caronna I didn't think very highly of him at all. I thought his work was unoriginal, uninspiring, and just in general not worth bothering with; "Brand X Daniel Powter" was my comparison.

Still, I was a baby journo, and I tried to delve into it without hurting his feelings because I was still in a phase where I wanted everyone to like me.

Many years down the road for the both of us in our respective paths, I have no problem saying that Everybody Wants to Be In Love was crap. It was, but that doesn't matter now because Caronna is now on a journey that is wonderful to behold. He's born again, and this time it's a thing of absolute beauty. "The Devil Made a Home," the song, the album, and the music video show a true artist on the ascent. He's Trent Reznor shedding that weird boy band. He's Tori learning to read. He's just fantastic.

The story behind his new stripped-down and highly personal sound is a good one.

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So apparently actor Jonah Falcon is packin' heat in his pants. No, we're not talking about the kind of heat that the NRA and Ted Nugent endorse -- this is not that kind of blog. We mean packing heat in more of a "huge cock" kind of way.

Unfortunately for Falcon, his 13.5 inches of man-meat can be mistaken for the kind of heat you don't want to be packing in the security line at the airport. In July 2012, he was awkwardly frisked TSA-style when airport security mistakenly believed the penis wrapped around his thigh was a different kind of weapon. Whoops.

It wouldn't be the first time Falcon has had awkward run-ins courtesy of his bottle-rocket, though. As the guy known for (unofficially) having the world's largest penis -- the Guinness Book of World Records doesn't tally package sizes, apparently -- the gentleman has spent nearly his entire life contending with his unruly Mini-Me.

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It's been awhile since I, the last VJ, had anything of note music video-wise to share with you fine folks, but my inbox has been flooded lately with extremely quality work. Today we're getting the ball rolling again with The Babies out of New York City and their latest video, "Mess Me Around."

Director Scott Jacobson proves what you can do with a good idea, a low budget, and a few good friends to make the whole thing happen. The Babies find themselves needing a ride to their next gig, and are forced to hitchhike to get there. The ensuing parade of freaks and weirdoes makes for a fast-paced and groovy experience that definitely entertains.

"No, not you. You! Yes! Hello, and you with the baby face," says a strange suburban wife as she chooses members of the band to let in her car as if they were slaves at auction. This trip ends with them all sharing glasses of wine while they drive aimlessly around getting no closer to their destination.

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Earlier this week, as I was working/editing/writing/procrastinating after a long weekend on the road, I came across the new video for "Play Hard" by David Guetta. Now, I'm not much of a Guetta fan, but I don't dislike him either.

He makes radio-friendly pop songs disguised as house music (or is it house music disguised as pop songs?), and his formula -- dance beat + guest vocalists/rappers = profit!! -- is both adored and despised by music fans and critics across the globe. I'd lump him into the same category as The Black Eyed Peas and Pitbull: talented musicians who have "sold out," making crap music in order to make non-crappy millions of dollars.

In any case, after watching "Play Hard" for the first time, I was baffled and confused. Was this "one of the best videos of all time!" (sorry Beyonce & Taylor), or, as a Mexican-American, should I be offended by what I just saw? There are so many "What the Fuck" moments in this video, I had to play it five times in order to count them all.

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If you take Jorge Perez's word for it, four bouncy asses and a lone cymbal are proof that music can be found anywhere (as long as you have four willing women to bare their bums in the name of art, of course).

Solidifying his status as the envy of dudes everywhere, Jorge convinced four women to bare their bums for his drumming pleasure and recorded it for all the world to see. Drummers really do get all the chicks.

As a jazz-fusion percussionist with the band Patax, Jorge is known for playing percussion on peculiar instruments, so this booty-bongo video may be of little surprise to anyone familiar with his work.

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It's been awhile since my main dealer of great indie-rock music videos, Mick Cullen of Subterranean Radio, managed to connect. Either his wares were not quite to my taste, or they were and the bands never responded. This time, though, he sent me some local (for him) heroes in the form of Inspector Owl, and the result is just plain ridiculous fun.

I make no bones about my fondness for over-the-top violent storytelling in music-video form. I grew up on the censored stuff on MTV, and since the best music videos have been banished to YouTube, they pretty much have carte blanche to do whatever the hell they want. Inspector Owl's "Mousey" is no exception.

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Austin's singer-songwriter darling Aimee Bobruk will be in town at Anderson Fair this weekend, and to herald her arrival, she recently recorded a fantastic music video for her tune "Two of a Kind." It's a simple yet fetching throwback to the days of silent film, with Bobruk playing both her feminine side as a flapper and a dapper gentleman in the vein of Charlie Chaplin.

The pair ape for the camera, trading affectations across a split screen that both enables communication and very definitively keeps them apart. It's a basic trick, but it brings the fractured nature of the song itself right to life.

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Welcome to a whole new year of music videos here at Rocks Off. Last year had some of the best we've ever covered, so there's a high bar set for 2013. Let's start strong with Why? and a cut from their upcoming 7-inch Waterlines. Directed by Erika Ochoa, this is "The Water You Walk." Singer Yoni Wolf penned this strange underground, indie, and somewhat cabaret piece for a lady.

"We had been sort of dating for a couple of months previous, and I wanted to take it a bit to the next level when Christmastime rolled around," says Wolf. "I wrote this song for her and sent it to her father's house [where she was visiting] for Christmas.

"I think it worked sort of," he adds. "A couple months later, I wrote another song for her birthday and that seemed to clinch things a little more."

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L.A.'s E.S.P. only have a single and an EP to their name, but they've already managed to build something pretty amazing in their short time together. The Matsumiya siblings and their friend Bobby Evans are crafting the best electronica this side of Sweden, adding Japanese themes and a serenity to the genre that is as calming as a wet rag on a fevered brow.

The trio teamed up with director Chris Coats to craft a video for the song "627." It's one of the few videos of significant length that I can give a pass to without chiding. Too many bands and directors overestimate the hold their music can have over the ADD audience of the YouTube generation, neglecting the fact that when watching a video that's all you can really do. It's not like purely aural music where you can divide attention.

If anything, Coats and E.S.P. underestimated how entrancing the work is. The band enters an empty room in strange, formal costumes. The only ornament in the otherwise stripped bare area is a pedestal holding a crystal and three mats placed around it.

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