Brandon's Buzz

Only because I can recall every single one of them with a frightening, crystalline clarity (and, also, because it sometimes seems like only twenty-five minutes have passed since the halcyon days of 1984), it’s very nearly incomprehensible to believe that twenty-five years stand between today and our very first delectable taste of George Michael and of his indescribable talent. To mark this milestone, to coincide with his first world tour since 1990, and, perhaps most importantly, to remind the populace of American music consumers — an entire generation of which has grown up recognizing Michael as nobody more than the strange Brit who flashed an undercover cop in a Beverly Hills bathroom, rather than as the brilliant Brit who grew up to become the finest, most eloquent, most engaging pop star the world has produced in the last thirty years — that he’s not only still alive, but still kickin‘, honey, King George’s TwentyFive, a two-disc, 29-track collection of classics that reaches all the way back to Michael’s Wham! days, has finally been granted a stateside release. (In a slightly altered version, TwentyFive has been available overseas for eighteen months now.)

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A certain mismatch on paper, yet a striking triumph in practice, modern troubadour M. Ward (best known for his work with Beth Orton, Norah Jones, and Bright Eyes) and rising actress Zooey Deschanel (whose biggest claim to fame is almost certainly her bitterly raw turn opposite Paul Schneider in 2002’s gut-wrenching love story All the Real Girls, and who is still slated to portray the iconic Janis Joplin in Penelope Spheeris’ oft-delayed biopic) have joined forces to create the duo She & Him. Having first collaborated on an end-credits tune for the 2007 independent film The Go-Getter, Ward and Deschanel enjoyed the experience so much that they decided to tackle a full-length project, and She & Him, Volume 1 was born.

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Back in fighting trim following a one-album crash landing in Prozacworld, R.E.M. — arguably the most influential (if not the most important) American band of the past two decades, and the band whose map for moving from humble beginnings to massive success ought to be certified by Rand McNally, it’s so widely used (look no further than the platinum-plated triumphs of Matchbox Twenty, Augustana, Fall Out Boy, and The Fray — among a hundred others — if you doubt that) — is back, and triumphantly so, with their 14th full-length record, the dizzily edgy Accelerate. Gone almost entirely (save a couple of acoustic-leaning tunes in the disc’s back half) are the languid, esoteric ballads that dominated (and, especially with the latter, quite nearly sunk) their last two efforts (2001’s brooding, introspective Reveal and 2004’s dreary, sluggish Around the Sun), and in their place, a handful of lean, mean, guitar-swamped rock tunes (average song length: just over three minutes) that harken back to the Murmur / Life’s Rich Pageant days.

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A Canadian bubblegum pop star in her teens, and a misunderstood (and, to a large extent, mischaracterized) angry young female (and, at that, one who singlehandedly touched off a deafening revolution for women in rock) in her twenties, the tenaciously divine Alanis Morissette has mellowed markedly as she navigates her thirties, though that fact may not be immediately evident upon first listen to Flavors of Entanglement, Morissette’s texturally dense eighth studio album. Inspired by her brutal breakup with actor Ryan Reynolds, Entanglement finds its author being lured into intriguing new sonic territory by producer Guy Sigsworth (co-writer of Seal’s 1991 classic debut “Crazy,” and best known for his striking work with the lovably psychotic Imogen Heap), who grafts rougher-hewn guitars and touches of electronica onto Morissette’s typically untidy prose.

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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.

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One of the most consistently fabulous voices in country music belongs to the peerless Martina McBride, whose chops are on full display in her new CD/DVD set Live in Concert. Taken from a September 2007 stop on her Waking Up Laughing tour, the set list for Live hopscotches recklessly across the thrilling breadth of McBride’s catalogue, from her first big hits “My Baby Loves Me” and “Wild Angels” to her classics “Independence Day” and “Broken Wing” to her newer smashes like “This One’s for the Girls” and “Anyway.” She also closes the DVD with a pair of daring covers, one of Pat Benatar’s milestone “Hit Me With Your Best Shot” (which brings to mind the terrific 2003 installment of CMT’s “Crossroads” the two women shared) and the other of Journey’s iconic “Don’t Stop Believin'” (on which McBride turns in a surprisingly mean facsimile of the one and only Steve Perry).

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He’s not a marquee idol, he’ll probably never play for hundreds of thousands at Central Park, and he doesn’t win (or, outrageously, even get nominated for) any of the music awards. All he does is write and perform straight-ahead common folk country jams which you cannot eject from your head once they’ve been granted entry.

One of the most criminally underrated artists of his generation (and a dude who could totally take that discreetly fey doofus Kenny Chesney in a bar fight), the terrific Phil Vassar kicked around Nashville as a journeyman songwriter for most of the ’90s. His big break came in 1998 when, with his twin smashes “Bye Bye” and “I’m Alright” (tunes that garnered him ASCAP’s Songwriter of the Year honors the following year), he wrote the blueprint for Jo Dee Messina’s bracing comeback.

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Snugly tucked amongst a handful of Harry Gregson-Williams’ soaring instrumentals (which comprise the film’s masterfully executed score) and a new tune from that infinitely annoying Russian pop tart Regina Spektor (one heifer I cannot bear, despite repeated attempts), you’ll find “This is Home” — a slightly melancholy yet uncommonly gorgeous piano-based track from one of the great contemporary bands, Switchfoot (or, as they’re better known in my orbit, “Creed with legs”) — anchoring the original motion picture soundtrack for Disney’s new The Chronicles of Narnia: Prince Caspian.

Despite the anomaly that was “Meant to Live,” their unavoidable, slow-burning 2004 crossover smash, these guys — led by the enigmatic Jon Foreman, whose world-weary voice conveys honey and vinegar in equal measure — have flown largely (and inexplicably) below the radar in the years following their major label debut, 2003’s The Beautiful Letdown, despite a pair of sturdy, worthy follow-ups.

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Perhaps aiming once more to one-up her old rival Madonna, the spectacularly gifted Cyndi Lauper is back this week with Bring Ya to the Brink, her first album of original material (not counting 2001’s Shine, which was released only in Japan) since 1997’s stunning Sisters of Avalon. (Her last two records — 2003’s At Last and 2005’s The Body Acoustic were both covers projects.) Brink is heavily influenced by electronica, marking Lauper’s — ever the maverick, this girl — first full-length foray into the field after years of pressing her face to the glass (1997’s crazy-ass club smash “Ballad of Cleo and Joe” and 1998’s Grammy-nominated “Disco Inferno” cover spring immediately to mind) and flirting with it. Especially if you’re accustomed to (and love) Lauper’s ballads and more downtempo fare, Brink is a bracing change of pace that requires a touch of patience; nevertheless, exposure of any stripe to Lauper — one of a fortunate few artists whose work only got more interesting beyond the ’80s (who besides George Michael and, possibly, Prince can seriously stake that claim?) — is a good thing.

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