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Why is music so danged morbid? Yeah we get that the whole premise of recording –  preserving a moment in time long after it’s passed — lends itself to moribund nostalgia. Yada yada. What we’re talking about is the abundance of “new” recordings that feature dead musicians. The latest is thiz Mark Ronson mash-up of Coldplay’s “God Put A Smile Upon Your Face” and Brittney Spears’ “Toxic” featuring vocals by . . . Ol’ Dirty Bastard. But thiz is nothing new. Eminem compatriot Proof, who was gunned down last April, has a solo disc in the works for release thiz year. And don’t even get us started on Tupac. Dude has been way more productive in the afterlife than he ever was as a living, breathing emcee. This phenomenon has become so normal, even accepted when a big-name artist dies that no one bats an eyelash anymore. It’s one thing to make a nice, tasteful tribute to a fallen musician, but to routinely capitalize on the novelty of new music produced by a dead musician — where the gimmick isn’t really the music itself but the fact that it’s surfaced almost supernaturally — seems yucky and creepy. Where do we draw the line?