Brandon's Buzz

Katie Melua — “Just Like Heaven” (from Piece By Piece) —

Sherry Ann will probably kill me for not picking the original version of this pop classic — she’s on this Cure kick lately that I can’t quite claim to fully comprehend, and this was the single that broke them in the States — but I’ll tell you flat out, Melua’s strange, sweetly melodic reinvention of same just knocks me flat every time I hear it. A mellow marvel.

“I can’t put my finger on it because I don’t have enough fingers.”

— besieged Dallas Cowboys owner and general manager Jerry Jones, speaking to reporters last night immediately following yet another crushing loss — this one to the Green Bay Packers, who rolled over America’s Team in a 45-7 rout — and answering a question about what, exactly, he thinks is wrong with his team. (Editor’s note: Hey Jer, I could temporarily loan you all ten of my fingers as well, and I posit you still wouldn’t have enough, so legion are your debilitating issues.)

Shania Twain — “Don’t Be Stupid (You Know I Love You)”
(from Come On Over [International Version]) —

Was watching The Amazing Race last night with A — they were racing through the motherland (Russia, for you uninitiated); he was in hog heaven (particularly when it came time to correct the plentiful mispronunciations and grammatical errors which he heard throughout the hour) — and, during one of the tasks, one of the male halves of the difficult-to-differentiate twentysomething couples who are participating kept yelling at his girlfriend, “Don’t be stupid!” And every time he said it, all I could think of was this song, a smash for Twain in the fall of ’97. Like much of the rest of Twain’s output to that point, I never much cared for this song back in the day, but listening to it again just now, I’m man enough to admit that it’s catchy and completely harmless. I dare you not to be humming it under your breath to yourself for the remainder of the day.

If you missed any of last week’s tunes, below is a quick recap:

MONDAY: Everything But the Girl — “Apron Strings [live]”
(from Acoustic) —

TUESDAY: Taylor Swift — “Back to December” (from Speak Now) —

WEDNESDAY: Taylor Swift — “Long Live” (from Speak Now) —

THURSDAY: Roxette — “The Look” (from Look Sharp!) —

FRIDAY: Ben Folds Five — “Brick”
(from Whatever and Ever Amen) —

SATURDAY: Bruno Mars — “Talking to the Moon”
(from Doo-Wops & Hooligans) —

SUNDAY: Richard Marx — “Hazard” (from Greatest Hits) —

Richard Marx — “Hazard” (from Greatest Hits) —

In a spellbinding, ominously seductive departure from the achingly tender ballads for which he had primarily come to be known, Marx wandered into Ode to Billie Joe territory in 1991 with this stunning story song about a troubled boy, an innocent girl, and a raging river, all three of whom are — in their own trembling, terrified ways — fleeing a suffocatingly small Nebraska burg, and one or more of whom may or may not have served as unbiased accomplices in her untimely death.

Bruno Mars — “Talking to the Moon”
(from Doo-Wops & Hooligans) —

In terms of quality music, one of the fall’s great surprises has been the terrific Hooligans, a dazzling, genre-defying blast of fun, with flashes of great profundity, from Mars (given name: Peter Gene Hernandez), the undeniable breakthrough of the year. The Michael Jackson comparisons are too easy (though not at all unfounded, especially on tracks like “Our First Time,” which feels, in the best way possible, like a lost outtake from the ABC sessions), and if you listen closer, you can also detect unmistakable glints of early Prince, especially on tracks on “Moon,” wherein Mars punches up the plaintive cry in his voice and lays his entire lovesick soul open in prayer, hoping his beloved can feel his burning pain.

“On Fox News, they address her as Governor Palin, which is like calling me Dairy Queen employee… like, I was, once. But I quit!”

— comedic mastermind (and ace Sarah Palin impersonator) Tina Fey, discussing the fallout from Decision 2010 on Late Show with David Letterman

Ben Folds Five — “Brick” (from Whatever and Ever Amen) —

The stark, lonely piano riff — not to mention Folds’ oddly effective monotone, off-putting initially, yet dripping with power and gorgeous grace by the end — underscores to boldly brilliant dramatic effect this devastating dioramic tale of a teenage boy selling Christmas gifts to help pay for his girlfriend’s abortion, and navigating his way through an inexpressibly frail, frozen grief. Some thirteen years after the fact, I still can’t believe program directors across the land actually saw fit to play this on the radio.

As the industry recovers from a Swift-sized hangover, November opens with a bit of a whimper this week. Enjoy this respite of sorts; the action picks up again next week:

One of last year’s strongest efforts receives its inevitable upgrade this week, as Train‘s terrific fifth album — the sterling Save Me, San Francisco — returns to the new release wall with its so-called Golden Gate Edition. The new deluxe update features a pair of previously available tracks (“The Finish Line,” which premiered as a one-off digital single in conjunction with the Winter Olympic games, and “Half Moon Bay,” which came as an exclusive bonus track with the original digital release of SM, SF last fall), as well as a new holiday offering (“Shake Up Christmas,” soon to be the centerpiece of a massive new yuletide-inspired Coca-Cola campaign), a bizarro uptempo remix of the album’s sweet closing track “Marry Me,” an alternate mix of the record’s best track (the propulsive “Parachute”), and a hilarious cover of Rihanna’s classic smash “Umbrella,” on which the friskily fearless Pat Monahan proves he has one hell of a sense of humor to accompany his pristine pipes.

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Roxette — “The Look” (from Look Sharp!) —

A and I grabbed dinner last night at one of our favorite haunts, the local Red Robin, and whilst we were waiting for (and then scarfing down) our food, a lovely litany of my favorite artists’ music — Peter Gabriel, The Pretenders, Steve Winwood — came tumbling from the restaurant’s loudspeaker. Ah yes, but sooner or later this aural bliss had to come to an end, and end it did when ABBA’s “Take a Chance On Me” popped up. A — an ABBA fan, dyed in the wool — was immediately overtaken by giddy glee, and roundly chastised me for not singing along as readily as I had been with “Sledgehammer” and “Back on the Chain Gang” just moments earlier, and then, with all the gall of the world, sat there across a table from me — me, the person he says he loves with his whole heart — and played the one card he knew would draw a reaction when he uttered the following: “If this were Roxette, you’d be—” To which I immediately countered, “You’re damn straight, I’d be!” (If you’re a regular around here, you surely know that you’ll play hell convincing me there has ever existed a greater post-Beatles pop band than Roxette, or that one fine day, history will judge my estimation to be correct. And if you missed the story of our first excruciating entanglement with ABBA as a couple, you can bring yourself up to speed here.) I resisted the urge to remind A that Roxette landed four number one singles in this country (versus his idols’ measly one), and that an additional pair of their smash hits were heartbreakingly stopped just short of the goal line at number two on the Hot 100, and instead, I simply retreated to my mind’s hidden happy place, commenced with silently humming their most famous tune’s riveting refrain — and I go, ‘la la la la la’ / she’s got the look! — and finished my french fries in stoic silence.

Taylor Swift — “Long Live” (from Speak Now) —

Flog me if you must for going with La Swift two days running, but the out-of-the-gate smash success of Speak Now is a story of seismic proportions, and one that I officially deem worthy of spending a little more time exploring. Besides, as promised yesterday, I delivered unto mine ears the second half of this album, and was pleasantly relieved to discover that, although Speak turns infinitely more dramatic and dour past its midway point, it also — perhaps coincidentally, perhaps not — gets one hell of a lot more memorable (read: better), with three tracks leaving spectacular impressions: “Innocent” (Swift’s surprisingly impactful — and surprisingly charitable — olive branch to Kanye West for his childish antics), “Last Kiss” (the most deeply affecting of Speak‘s several bliss-gone-bust epics), and the record’s triumphant closing track, a thrilling, transcendent paean to breaking through, to succeeding on your own terms, and to the friends that you might just make history standing alongside.