Brandon's Buzz

Easily the most maddening megastars of their (and, quite possibly, any other) generation, Chris Martin and the guys who comprise Coldplay have rebounded from a three year hiatus with Viva La Vida -or- Death and All His Friends — and incidentally, would someone kindly let ol’ Chris know that split title idea is only cute when I do it? — yet another commercial smash which pretty much cements this band, for better or worse, as this decade’s “it” artists.

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“Aaron [Spelling] and I set out to try to do a serial to be competitive with ‘Dallas.’ Someone at ABC actually suggested we do a show called ‘Fort Worth,’ which we said, ‘Noooo… I don’t think that’s a very good idea.'”

— “Dynasty” producer Douglas S. Cramer, recalling the television classic’s dubious origins

It’s a slow one this week out in America’s record stores, with the only major release of note being the latest album from Rick Springfield (!), should that do anything for you. My take on that situation is as follows: it’s bad enough I have to sit through a double dose of that fop everyday on “General Hospital” (yep, they’ve got him playing two characters now!); I sure as shootin’ don’t have to support his latest attempt to reignite his non-starter of a music career. I’ve already got “Jessie’s Girl” and “Love Somebody” on my iPod; that more than fulfills my duty to the crown, methinks.

So, this is a perfect week to catch up on some worthy recent releases that may have slipped past you. (You can’t all be me, after all.) Herewith, a handy pocket guide:

Following the phenomenal success of the official bootlegs from her 2005 tour in support of The Beekeeper, Tori Amos has just digitally released all 27 shows from last year’s American Doll Posse jaunt. Available right now as an iTunes exclusive (and, beginning next week, available everywhere else), the series, entitled Legs and Boots, is pretty Posse-centric, a fact which anyone who wasn’t a fan of that album (hi!) will find disheartening. However, as you scan the tracklists of each show, you’ll no doubt find some pleasant surprises (like her surprising inclusion of the classic b-side “Beulah Land” from the Dallas concert, or the radically slowed-down take on “Etienne,” one of Y Kant Tori Read’s few highlights, from the Boston set). The audio is crystal clear, and serves as a vital reminder of Amos’ masterful potency as a live performer.

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Hope he, uh, didn’t have other plans for August.

In a whiplash-fast change of plans, Houston-based gymnast Raj Bhavsar will be an Olympian after all, after Paul Hamm, who continues to recover from the broken hand that sidelined him at the beginning of the summer, chose today to cede his de facto spot on the American team.

Despite the most thrilling routine of his career on the parallel bars at the Olympic trials last month, Bhavsar fell just nine heart-wrenching hundredths of a point shy of guaranteeing himself a ticket to Beijing, and — because Hamm (whose injury prevented him from competing at the trials) won the individual all-around gold medal in Athens on the strength of a gutsy, fearless performance on the high bar, thereby cementing himself as the eternal hero of American men’s gymnastics, no matter his physical condition — ended up instead being named as an alternate. (A similar fate befell him in 2004, and Bhavsar’s has been quite candid about how his heartbreak over his initial failure very nearly drove him to suicide.) Hamm was awarded a spot on this year’s team, with the understanding that he would be in fighting trim by August 9, and as late as last Saturday, it seemed as though he would be: during a July 19 exhibition, Hamm showed the team selection committee that, though he still had a heavy training regimen ahead of him, his hand had sufficiently healed.

Now, nine days later, having decided that his body simply isn’t in the kind of shape that would allow him to make a real impact in Beijing, Hamm has selflessly decided to step aside and allow Bhavsar a chance to chase the same dream that Hamm himself was able to capture in such a thrilling fashion — seriously, I still get goosebumps when I recall that boy’s explosive, gravity-defying high bar routine (and, more importantly, the stuck landing, which Hamm nailed with such a shattering grace that the resulting echo must have rippled across the whole of Greece for days after the fact) — four years ago. This kind of story is what the phrase “Olympic spirit” is all about, methinks.

Paul and Raj, congratulations — and profound admiration — to both of you. Men, you’re each American heroes.  And Raj, baby:  go get ’em next month in Beijing.  There’s absolutely no doubt you’ve earned it.

“It’s a wondrous world / of ridiculous things /

with nothing so rare / as the love that it brings /

in the silence / of a smile that understands….”

— Patty Griffin, “Christina”

 

One of the finest performers in the history of the world is back with a pair of projects that beautifully illustrate the rich and inspiring depth of her range and artistry.

A little-remembered 1982 live recording which has just been restored and expanded for a first-ever release on compact disc, Live in Washington, D.C. finds American soul icon Patti LaBelle — whose powerful pipes have long since passed into legend — at the very zenith of her talent and ability. Still in the infancy of her solo career at that time, following her amazing run as the frontwoman of the pioneering ’70s trio Labelle (whose classic #1 hit “Lady Marmalade” — a performance of which anchors this live album — endures some three decades later), Miss Patti was stuck on tiny Philadelphia International Records (following an inconsequential three-album stint at Epic) and, in ’82, was still a full year away from finding and recording “If Only You Knew,” the tune that would eventually become her signature smash. LaBelle needed something concrete to help reignite the once-deafening buzz that used to surround her, and although few realized it at the time, this concert would end up being just the ticket. By mixing a handful of classics (like her showstopping take on Harold Melvin’s “If You Don’t Know Me By Now” and a riveting (and flirting-with-definitive) cover of “Over the Rainbow”) with a series of songs that would become Patti staples (like “I Don’t Go Shopping” and “You Are My Friend,” which began as a random entry in Patti’s husband’s journal), she managed to get the entire music industry talking about her again. Now, at long last, you can hear for yourself a legend being (re)born.

In conjunction with the release of Live comes a new two-disc retrospective, The Essential Patti LaBelle, a thirty-track compendium of material from all three phases of Patti’s career (the ’60s, when she was with the Blue Belles; the ’70s, when she was the driving force behind Labelle; and the ’80s, when her solo career finally took off). To my immense frustration, several truly essential tunes are omitted from this collection (I’m devastated that none of Labelle’s classic collaborations with the late Laura Nyro — most notably sterling takes on Smokey Robinson’s “You Really Got a Hold on Me” or Carole King’s “Up on the Roof” — were deemed worthy for inclusion; same goes for Patti’s original 1989 version of “If You Asked Me To,” which would become a top ten smash for Celine Dion three years later), but enough classics are here — “Marmalade” and “If Only,” of course, plus “New Attitude,” “Love, Need, and Want You,” and her unforgettable 1986 duet with Michael McDonald, “On My Own” — to make this a worthwhile experience. (In addition, there’s also a previously unreleased track, “Mean Ol’ Man’s World,” for true fanatics.) If you’ve ever wondered what all the fuss was about regarding this brilliant woman, there has never been a better opportunity than this to crack the code.

“In the end we shall have had enough of cynicism and skepticism and humbug and we shall want to live more musically.”

— Vincent van Gogh, in an 1888 letter to his brother Theo

New efforts from a long-forgotten ’90s band, a teen queen with ambitions far beyond her current niche, and the hottest country act since those ridiculously goofy Dixie Chicks highlight this week’s scant release schedule. But don’t let appearances fool you: no fewer than one of these records is gonna stand among this year’s best, mark it.

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In what is shaping up as a watershed, telltale year — one marked by radically slashed budgets, by a crumbling ratings, by a series of breath-stealing actor dismissals, and by entire shows coasting on the fumes of asinine plot-propelled drivel (“The Bold and the Beautiful,” anyone?) — for a uniquely American art form — the serialized daytime drama — let’s pause to toast the one soap that’s more or less getting it exactly right: ABC’s “One Life to Live.” The show marked its fortieth year on the air on July 15, and today and tomorrow, they’re pulling out all the stops to mark the occasion by revisiting three of “One Life’s” most successful and most beloved storylines: Tina Lord Roberts’ 1987 tumble over an Argentinian waterfall (today, it’ll be her daughter Sarah taking that plunge); Viki Lord’s infamous trip to Heaven that same year (she’s going back, but this time around she’ll only encounter the folks — like her former father-in-law (and second favorite sparring partner) Asa Buchanan, her dear friend Mel Hayes, and her late husband Ben Davidson — who have died since her first visit); and Clint Buchanan’s lavishly brilliant time-travelling adventure (twenty years ago, he fell off his horse — seriously, you just had to be there — and landed in Arizona in the late 19th century; this month, Bo and Rex are struck by lightning and wake up in 1968 — the year this series hit the air, wink, wink — and faced with a choice to either change the future — will Asa’s bastard son David Vickers even be born? Will Bo not be drafted and sent to Vietnam after all? — or leave it alone). Soaps are all about execution, of course, so the final verdict will be out for a bit, but this ploy feels like a spectacular way to both honor this show’s rich, bountiful history and to re-engage the attention of lapsed fans who have been alienated over the years by shoddy writing and boneheaded plot twists (how many besides me are still infuriated about Nora sleeping with Sam Rappaport ten years ago?!). Contrast this celebration with fellow ABC soap “General Hospital” — which marked its 45th anniversary on April 1 with a dopey thirty-second clip reel tacked onto the end of that day’s episode — and you get the distinct feeling that its network no longer considers “One Life” to be the redheaded stepchild of its daytime lineup.

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With all the Buzz’s talk of birthdays, I s’pose I’d be remiss if I didn’t reveal that today is my 32nd. A already spilled the beans in the guestbook early this morning, so now he has a proper forum.

Coming this week: a surprisingly charitable review of the new Coldplay record, a tribute to my all-time favorite soap opera, and a post entitled “Lessons from a Fun-as-Hell Road Trip.” As you can tell, I’m having a bit of trouble getting into the groove again following my vacation, but hang in there. The Buzz is ’bout to come back swingin’.

“I swear, this whole state makes my hair frizzy and makes me look like I washed my face with Crisco.”

— the marvelous Sherry Ann, waxing poetic on Louisiana and its numerous charms

One of country music’s most beloved and respected artists looks back to the roots of her raisin’ with a challenging yet oddly comforting new project. Infused with the spirit and sound of warm, heart-tugging bluegrass, Coal finds the estimable Kathy Mattea continuing to stretch the staid boundaries of her creativity in search of a rich, resonant truth. Devastated by the recent rash of fatal mining disasters, and haunted by her own West Virginian upbringing (as the child from a significant lineage of black-lunged, sunken-cheeked coal miners), Mattea channels her own conflicted emotions and her own honey-sweet voice into eleven traditional dirges and spirituals.

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The long-awaited release of an almost twenty year old classic sitcom, plus the latest works from a pair of relative newcomers who seem poised for strong second acts, highlight the coming week. Let’s dive right in:

Two years ago, a percussive thriller called Boys and Girls in America — a wild blast that whipped hints of country, rock, blues, and straight-up punk into one frothy hell of a fucked-up fromage — punched The Hold Steady‘s ticket to the big time. Looking to build on that buzz, the group — led by the gruff Craig Finn (and don’t ask me why the stark contrast between dark voice and light lyric works this well) — is up this week with its fourth album, Stay Positive.

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