Brandon's Buzz

Today, the Buzz leaps across the pond to acquaint you with three young women who are all gorgeous, who each have hot new albums to promote, and who are collectively the most sizzling British imports (one of them, crazy enough, by way of Stockholm) this side of fish and chips.

Her given name is Robin Carlsson, but you’ll probably recognize her better as Robyn. In the spring of 1997, with “MMMBop” and “Quit Playing Games (With My Heart)” leading the charge as the earth-shattering teen pop explosion was just gathering its initial head of steam, Robyn slipped in quietly through the back door with a pair of ridiculous-but-fun radio singles (the bouncy “Do You Know (What It Takes),” with that irresistibly stupid “always be uh-reowwwwwwnd” refrain, and its follow-up, the slightly meatier “Show Me Love”), and, although it seemed as though an instant pop star had been minted, all she ultimately succeeded in doing was niftily foreshadowing the momentous arrival of Miss Britney a mere twelve months later.

After eleven years outside the spotlight — during which time she cut all ties with BMG Music and formed her own independent label, Konichiwa Records — Robyn is finally back to reclaim her fame, and this time on her terms. Her self-titled fourth album — this one decidedly more rock-tinged and adventurous than any of her synthesizer-drenched previous efforts — dropped overseas eighteen months ago, and though it was a hit in her native Sweden, it was a phenom in Great Britain, and as the buzz built on this side of the Atlantic, she decided the time was right to return to the scene of her greatest commercial success. Methinks she’ll have a considerably tougher row to hoe this second time around, but the intriguing Robyn is certainly worth a look-see.

Led by the infectious smash “Mercy,” which is approaching critical mass at multiple radio formats as the year churns toward summer, a freshman sensation from Wales called Duffy is looking more and more like the newcomer of the year. Because it shares hints of the same soul-infused Brill Building sound that made Amy Winehouse such a white-hot supernova just one year ago, Rockferry, her fantastic debut album, got saddled with the same similarly massive pre-release anticipation and hype as Back to Black did last summer. The good news is, the record more than exceeds its potential; a creative and commercial triumph, Rockferry is loaded with enjoyable tunes (do not miss “Warwick Avenue,” the album’s emotional centerpiece) and with skilled vocal work from a wise-beyond-her-years neophyte. (Speaking of wise, the terrific Sherry Ann — who generally is much more perceptive on these matters — made a Duffy-related crack recently, saying something on the order of, “I don’t need a new Dusty Springfield in my life when the old one is hanging on just fine.” (That’s not an exact quote, understand, but that was certainly the gist of her knee-jerk criticism.) Sherry, honey, your humble servant here urges you to carry your ear closer to the speaker, whereupon, I posit, you’ll quickly come to recognize that Duffy isn’t trying to ape Dusty at all, but rather another ’60s British heroine. My darling, Duffy is Lulu reborn, and not even a full-throated “To Sir, With Love” cover could make it any clearer!)

Of course, in her quest to become the year’s most spectacular breakthrough, Duffy’ll have to best a sizzling firecracker name of Leona Lewis, who is setting the whole damn world on fire with her debut single (the enormously catchy “Bleeding Love”; co-written by those breathtaking boy geniuses Ryan Tedder and Jesse McCartney, the song just became the most played track in the history of top 40 radio) and album (Spirit, which shows off Lewis’ five-octave-plus range in spectacular fashion, and which, beginning with the fabulous “Better in Time,” is positively loaded with future singles). Lewis rose to prominence after winning both “The X Factor” — the United Kingdom’s answer to “American Idol” — and Simon Cowell’s notoriously elusive seal of approval. Cowell placed his latest protégé in the hands of a veritable cabal of A-list writers and producers, and the rest is history. Recognize it, folks: With Lewis, you’re witnessing the birth of a superstar.

Since the dawn of radio, America has had a passionate, tempestuous love affair with Great Britain’s lasses, so in honor of the three most recent additions to that remarkable canon, why don’t we take a stroll down mem’ry lane and check in with a handful of other noteworthy English ladies, each of whom pursued and prehended stateside success with dogged determination.

1. “Son of a Preacher Man” — Dusty Springfield (from Dusty in Memphis) — — one of those rare intersections of singer and song (think James Taylor with “Fire and Rain,” think Elvis Presley with “Love Me Tender,” think Stevie Nicks with “Dreams”) where the result is so authentically true that it defies, it transcends, mere music.

2. “Smooth Operator” — Sade (from The Best of Sade) — — a suave swath of flowing, musical silk from one of the ’80s’ most uniquely identifiable voices.

3. “This Woman’s Work” — Kate Bush (from The Sensual World) — — given my extreme devotion to Ms. Amos, it’s amazing how much of Bush’s esoteric oeuvre has gone flying straight past me, but there’s no denying the power emanating from this devastating three-and-a-half minutes. Regret never seemed so palpable. Or sounded so gorgeous.

4. “Strut” — Sheena Easton (from Greatest Hits) — — allowing Prince to muddy up her squeaky-clean sound in 1984 turned out to be the smartest artistic move Easton ever made, as he gave her the two biggest hits of her solo career (the innocence-shattering “Sugar Walls” — a dirty little ditty that landed Easton in Tipper Gore’s graceless crosshairs — being the other) and forced the era’s other females (foremost among them Madonna, who would unleash “Like a Virgin” before year’s end) to similarly step up their games.

5. “Why” — Annie Lennox (from Diva) — — even those of us who worshipped the ground the Eurythmics floated above weren’t ready for this enchanting 1992 masterstroke, Lennox’s quietly fiery solo debut. You can’t name ten songs that are better than “Why”; every time I hear this, I’m flabbergasted by its utter perfection.

6. “All Woman” — Lisa Stansfield (from Biography) — — fine, the bewitching Stansfield never equaled the triumph (neither creatively nor commercially) that was her once-a-century breakthrough “All Around the World.” But, the aforementioned Lennox aside, no woman has ever come closer to matching pound for pound Dusty’s grasp on the intricacies of blue-eyed soul.

7. “Your Loving Arms” — Billie Ray Martin (from Deadline for My Memories) — — save for Todd Terry’s magical reinvention of Everything But the Girl’s “Missing” and, probably, King George’s pulse-pounding ode to sizzling Beemer sex, “Fastlove,” this high-octane stunner (which gave the ’90s’ burgeoning house music movement its first genuine classic, and which continues to stand as Brian Transeau’s masterpiece as a producer, no question) was its decade’s most dizzyingly brilliant dance track. Martin’s hypnotic voice, a masterfully modulated blend of dry ice and blistering fire, folds itself into the lyric so flawlessly that you actually manage to forget you’re supposed to be dancing, and you rather begin to believe you actually need to help this woman navigate her desperation and pain.

names dropped with reckless abandon: "American Idol", Amy Winehouse, Annie Lennox, Billie Ray Martin, Brian Transeau, Duffy, Dusty Springfield, Elvis Presley, Eurythmics, Everything But the Girl, George Michael, Hanson, James Taylor, Jesse McCartney, Kate Bush, Leona Lewis, Lisa Stansfield, Lulu, Madonna, Prince, Robyn, Ryan Tedder, Sade, Sheena Easton, Sherry Ann, Stevie Nicks, Tori Amos