Brandon's Buzz

David Gray — “Gulls” (from Mutineers) —

Don’t tell me the universe doesn’t love me when it gives me a new Tori Amos single and a new David Gray single in the same calendar week. Such a pity then, is it not, that this song isn’t a bit more — uh — enjoyable that what we’ve come to expect from this infinitely brilliant Irishman. My gut reaction upon first listening to this track was that Gray is far too gifted to settle for turning in a second-rate Bon Iver impression, and though “Gulls” comes alive a bit in the tune’s more sonically absorbing back half, I can’t even try to claim I’m not disappointed to see David — who, a decade and a half ago, with a shattering recording called White Ladder, nearly singlehandedly rescued the idea of the male singer-songwriter as a commercially viable thing — meekly following trends he used to set.

Aloe Blacc — “The Man” (from Lift Your Spirit) —

The thunderously soulful voice behind Avicii’s autumn smash “Wake Me Up” steps into the solo spotlight with a killer track and an able assist from the most recognizable lyric that Bernie Taupin likely ever penned for Elton John to sing. Just try getting this one out of your head after one listen.

O-Town — “We Fit Together” (from O-Town) —

Billboard reported the welcome news earlier this week that O-Town — a minor blip in the much-ballyhooed boy band revolution of the early aughts — is back in commission after a decade-long dormancy. Ready-made for reality television and then immediately placed under the tutelage of music legend Clive Davis, the band labored mightily but ultimately couldn’t overcome the misfortunes of circumstance, as bubblegum pop was on its way out of fashion when these boys were trying to lodge their collective feet in the doorway, and they managed to score one major hit (2001’s “All or Nothing,” a ballad whose chorus we can all still sing from memory, whether we like it or not) and a couple of minor ones — including this slinking, sexy, not-subtle-at-all ode to, well, sharing the night together — before fading into the dustbin of obscurity inside of two years. (I feel no shame in admitting that this was one of my favorite pop songs of its day, and when I read the news that these guys were reuniting, it was literally the first thing that popped into my brain. And while one can’t quite claim that it has aged as well as, say, the majority of Hanson’s gems have, “Together” still has its own likeable and uniquely brainless charms. So I still dig it; sue me.)

Serena Ryder — “Mary Go Round” (from Harmony) —

The force behind one of 2013’s most thrilling triumphs, the riveting Ryder stole the show at this past weekend’s Juno Awards (Canada’s answer to the Grammys), walking away with trophies for Artist of the Year and Songwriter of the Year. (One of the tunes for which she wound up in the winner’s circle was her staggering smash “Stompa” — whose praises I pumped to the heavens in this very space last fall — so if you think I in any way quibble with these award choices, you’re officially nuts.) As is true of a number of Canadian singer/songwriters whose names don’t start with the syllables “Sarah Mack” (hi, Jann Arden; hey, Chantal Kreviazuk), we at the Buzz are still waiting — patiently — for ‘Murrica to wake up and make this gal the supastar she so richly deserves to be; in the meantime, we’re letting the act of digging into the heart of Serena’s brilliant breakthrough album its own reward.

Tori Amos — “Trouble’s Lament”
(from Unrepentant Geraldines) —

I know it’s been months since the Hive has blasted some sweet tuneage (so many, in fact, that I literally just had to walk myself through a twenty-minute primer on how I used to format these posts to make them look as pretty as possible), but the Goddess is back — always a cause for celebration — and seemingly channeling her inner Joan Baez on this foreboding and fascinating leadoff single from her latest album (due May 13). La Amos has been off on a bizarro tangent for much of the last decade — the holiday record was fab, but the so-called 21st-century song cycle project was strictly so-so, and there wasn’t a single track on 2012’s Tori-covers-Tori effort that wasn’t better the first time around — but “Lament” feels very much like a sequel to “Don’t Make Me Come to Vegas” (a slinky, sizzling high point from Amos’ ball-busting 2002 epic Scarlet’s Walk), and if that’s the creative direction in which Tori’s aiming her arrow for her latest record, I’m here for that. All. Day. Long.

Kenny Rogers & Dolly Parton — “You Can’t Make Old Friends”
(from You Can’t Make Old Friends) —

Thirty years, precisely to the month, since an innocuous little Bee Gees ditty called “Islands in the Stream” shot to the top of urry chart and helped cement Kenny and Dolly — the (never-were-a-)couple with enough combustible chemistry to burn down a thousand laboratories — as worldwide superstars, the pair have reunited on the slightly sappy lead single from Rogers’ first studio album in nearly a decade. You might argue they had stronger material the first time around, and you might be right, but there’s no denying that old black magic — whatever odd alchemy develops betwixt these two whenever they share the same space — hasn’t faded one damn milligram. These two voices, blended in sweet, stirring harmony? Still money, honey.

Phillip Phillips — “Gone, Gone, Gone”
(from The World from the Side of the Moon) —

Do you ever bet that Mumford & Sons wish this Phillips punk would go back to wherever the hell he came from? Sure, they get all the album sales and critical love and Grammy glory, but then this poor socially awkward gravelly-voiced child comes along and essentially apes the Mumford sound wholesale — perhaps buffed up with a slightly poppier sheen — and steals all the mainstream radio airplay right out from under them. (A nifty trick our favorite Idol grad in forever has pulled off here, but how long until top 40 grows bored with the apparent one trick this kid can successfully perform?)

Serena Ryder — “Stompa” (from Harmony) —

Pity the plight of the poor Canadian songstress, who eternally seems to face a steep climb when trying to broaden their audience stateside. (Indeed, for every Joni Mitchell or Sarah Mac that breaks through the din of noise, there’s a Chantal Kreviazuk and a Jenifer McLaren wondering why the hell they can’t get themselves arrested south of Saskatchewan.) This ravishing track has been a sensation at adult radio for most of the summer and now faces a tough transition to top 40; I strongly suspect this tune might require the exact same tender loving care that made Emeli Sandé’s deliciously nifty “Next to Me” a hit a full year after the album dropped, but this oddball opus feels to me like a sleeper smash just waiting to happen. A single of the year contender, without question.

Daniel Merriweather featuring Adele — “Water and a Flame”
(from Love and War) —

I heard a rumor — that’s a damn lie, I read it in Billboard last week — that none other than Celine Dion is covering this criminally overlooked gem on her next album (due in November). And while I’m trying hard not to pre-judge this endeavor as anything other than a massive creative folly before actually having heard Dion’s take on it, if her decision to give this tune whatever would be the pop-star-equivalent of a papal blessing actually ends up driving much more attention to the original version than it has won heretofore — odd, particularly when you take into account the ginormous scale of Adele’s coming-out party a couple of years ago — that can’t be a bad thing.

Air — “Redhead Girl” (from Pocket Symphony) —

“I screen-tested with Bob Woods. There were two other girls: a dark-haired girl, a redhead, and then me, and at the time, I was sort of light-brown hair with blond streaks in it. . . . And I’m doing the screen test, and the director — we called him ‘The Maestro,’ David [Pressman] — we did it once, and then he walked out [on the floor] and said, ‘I want you to look at me.’ And I looked at him and he goes, ‘Can you see the camera lens?’ I said yes, and he said, ‘Can you see the light on on that camera lens?’ I said yes, and he goes, ‘Great. Do me a favor and nod your head up and down.’ I nod my head up and down and he says, ‘Great, thank you,’ and he turned around to walk back in [to the control room], and I said, ‘Whoa, whoa, whoa, what?’ And he came back and he said, ‘They asked me to give you a note that I don’t agree with, so we’re just gonna do it again, and they’ll think I gave you the note, and you’ll be fabulous.’ We did the scene again, and I got called up to Linda [Gottlieb, then One Life‘s executive producer]’s office, and she said, ‘Well, I don’t. . . I don’t really get you.’ She said, “Maybe. . . how would you feel about being a redhead?’ I said, ‘Well, if you think we’re all the same, you have a redhead down there. Why don’t you just hire her?’ And she said, ‘That’s not the point. How would you feel about being a redhead?’ And I said, ‘I have no problem being a redhead.’ I left there and [said to myself], ‘I think One Life to Live is safe from me. I’m not gonna get this job!’”

— the dazzling and divine Hillary B. Smith, detailing to me (in a forthcoming exclusive interview for Brandon’s Buzz Radio) how the role of a lifetime — that of brilliant defense attorney Nora Hanen Gannon Buchanan on the classic soap One Life to Live — fell into her lap in the summer of 1992. (Twenty years ago this very day — August 6, 1993 — was a red-letter day for an entire generation of us rabid One Life fans, as that was the day that the show’s ‘A’ story that summer — the gang rape of confused co-ed Marty Saybrooke, and her ensuing brave quest to make her attackers accountable — came to a big climax, courtesy of the ravishing Ms. Smith. A couple of weeks prior, Nora, who was defending the boys whom Marty had accused of rape, had stumbled upon evidence which strongly suggested that her clients were indeed guilty, and, caught between doing her job and doing what was right after a series of situations in which she tried to coax the unrepentant jocks into confessing their crimes, a guilt-ravaged Nora chose to stick with her principles and threw the case during her summation, in a last-ditch lunge to ascertain true justice. Smith’s intense, incendiary performance capped what I continue to insist was the strongest summer in One Life‘s regal and impossibly rich history, and the scenes in question — which can be seen here, if you don’t mind the less-than-stellar video quality — helped to land her the Outstanding Lead Actress Daytime Emmy Award the following year and instantly catapulted her into the pantheon of daytime’s absolute best. To mark the aforementioned twentieth anniversary, I have been hard at work for most of the summer trying to pull together a number of principals involved with the show during that magical summer, in an attempt to create for Brandon’s Buzz Radio some sort of aural history detailing how all of the disparate pieces of the show’s canvas clicked brilliantly into place. I had a thrilling and exhilarating 90-minute chat with Smith a couple of weeks back, in which we covered everything from the rape trial to the infamous cabana incident to her hilarious stint as a contestant on Celebrity Family Feud, and I will be deciding how best to share that conversation with you guys just as soon as I hear back from the last couple of people to whom I have submitted interview requests. In the meantime, this fun anecdote felt like a mighty fine way to mark the true anniversary of one of the greatest pieces of television — daytime, prime time, any-friggin’-time — that I’ve ever laid grateful eyes upon.)

Mandy Moore — “The Whole of the Moon” (from Coverage) —

For much of the summer, I’ve been working on a special tribute project for Brandon’s Buzz Radio — watch this space soon for further news on that front — and it has turned into a soul-sucking endeavor that has seemed to monopolize my every waking second for the past few weeks. Luckily, it’s a slow day at work today, so I can spend a few moments tending to my poor, neglected baby here. I snapped the photographs below on my iPhone a couple of Friday nights ago while waiting (rather impatiently) for my two dogs — particularly Miss Kelly, whose occasional crotchety tendencies have led A to refer to her, affectionately, as “The Diva” — to take care of their business before bedtime. In reality, it was so bright and clear that I swear I could make out individual craters with my naked eye, but in case you can’t tell from the sadly hazy pictures, that glowing blob in the center of the frame, shining without flaw through the tree limbs, is the moon.

Matt Nathanson — “Kinks Shirt”
(from Last of the Great Pretenders) —

The never-boring Nathanson gets more friskily ambitious with rhythm and percussion (read: more James Brown, less James Taylor) on his eighth career record, a lilting love letter to racing after romance in the City by the Bay. Listening to this, you just know the boy’s gonna get his heart stomped by the flaky gal in the thrift-store threads, and he’s gonna love every last second of it.

The Civil Wars — “The One That Got Away” (from The Civil Wars) —

I am entertaining out-of-town houseguests this morning and am not sure of their political persuasion, so I have decided to forgo my typical AM television fare — Morning Joe, MSNBC’s marvelous mix of news, chat, and fun — for VH1’s non-threatening block of music videos, which just brought me into close contact for the first time with the new single and video from this tortured duo, whose debut project — the blistering, brilliant Barton Hollow — burst out of the box a couple of years ago in a blaze of Grammy-winning glory. I just happened to read a newspaper article last week about how Joy Williams and John Paul White are no longer on speaking terms following their acrimonious split while in the midst of a European tour half a year ago, and rumors are flying that White’s actual participation in the completion of the Wars’ sophomore album was fairly minimal (rumors that would seem to be buttressed rather convincingly by the set’s intense, intoxicating lead single, in which White comes off as little more than a featured harmony vocalist). The video itself packs more fascinating romantic drama and yearning into three-some minutes than most films manage to fill two hours with; indeed, not since Fleetwood Mac dusted off their forgotten classic “Silver Springs” in 1997 — and put Stevie and Lindsay on stage, staring sharp daggers straight into each other’s very souls, to sing it — has a band’s rocky interpersonal dynamics (not to mention what we, the salivating audience, happen to know about same) led to such a rough, riveting musical triumph.