Brandon's Buzz

Meat Loaf — “It Just Won’t Quit”
(from Bat Out of Hell II [Back Into Hell]) —

Brilliantly bombastic and ostentatiously over the top, Meat Loaf roared back to relevance in the fall of 1993 in one of the most expertly engineered comebacks rock and roll has ever witnessed, and he did it with the help of his old buddy Jim Steinman, the man who polysyllabic lyrics had propelled him to superstardom a decade and a half prior. Call this what you will, but don’t you dare call it dull. (Incidentally, Meat Loaf appeared on Brandon’s Buzz Radio three months ago to discuss his latest album, and if you missed that conversation, you can catch up with it here.)

George Strait — “Blue Clear Sky” (from Blue Clear Sky) —

Over the past three decades, nobody in his genre can touch Strait for his enduring commercial success, and I reckon this tune tells all you need to know about why he has flown so high for so long: simple, clean melodies (that, incidentally, stick inside your skull on contact), straight-ahead, no-frills production, and an ageless voice that never wavers.

Jimmy Eat World — “Hear You Me” (from Bleed American) —

Sherry Ann’s old faves — who, incidentally, are back next week with a new album — leap out of their emo box with a haunting, powerful paean to a fallen friend. A towering triumph from a band just then coming to grips with the fact that they were capable of creating incendiary beauty through song.

Alanis Morissette — “No Pressure Over Cappuccino [live]”
(from MTV Unplugged: Alanis Morissette) —

At the zenith of her comet-like commercial trajectory, Miss Alanis popped into MTV’s revolutionary (and profoundly missed) music program and unleashed this staggeringly sincere chronicle of a charismatic young male acquaintance. My forever favorite blogger Glenn McDonald once noted that Morissette has never quite figured out how to write lyrics that don’t sound like twisty lists, and while I generally agree with that, I would add as a quick addendum that, more often than not, she has cannily worked that fact to her best advantage over the course of her blistering discography.

“I’m a country fan now. My friends from New York are like, ‘What the fuck are you listening to?’ And I’m like, ‘It’s Miranda Lambert! You need to get into it, people!'”

— Oscar-winning actress Gwyneth Paltrow, explaining to Entertainment Weekly how she prepared for her role in the upcoming film Country Strong (due December 22), in which — shades of Crazy Heart? — Paltrow portrays a down-on-her-luck Nashville songbird looking for lightning to strike twice.

Hanson — “Been There Before” (from The Walk) —

With sweet, knowing nods to Otis Redding and Johnny Cash, the riveting and utterly remarkable Taylor Hanson — once again, the finest pop singer under thirty on the planet right this second, and don’t even try to sway me in a different direction — delivers a graceful, gorgeous ode to the undeniable power of song.

Bernadette Peters — “Running On Faith”
(from I’ll Be Your Baby Tonight) —

In a strikingly brilliant turnabout, Peters — all warm feminine energy and china-doll delicacy — transforms Eric Clapton’s quietly fiery blues ballad into a gentle, peaceful prayer.

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

MONDAY: Tim McGraw — “Southern Voice”
(from Southern Voice) —

TUESDAY: Jen Trynin — “Rang You and Ran”
(from Gun Shy Trigger Happy) —

WEDNESDAY: The Script — “The Man Who Can’t Be Moved”
(from The Script) —

THURSDAY: Edie Brickell and the New Bohemians — “Circle”
(from Shooting Rubberbands at the Stars) —

FRIDAY: Natalie Cole — “Snowfall on the Sahara”
(from Snowfall on the Sahara) —

SATURDAY: Elvis Presley — “Rubberneckin’ [Paul Oakenfold Mix]”
(from Elvis: 2nd to None) —

SUNDAY: The Proclaimers — “I’m Gonna Be (500 Miles)”
(from Sunshine On Leith) —

The Proclaimers — “I’m Gonna Be (500 Miles)”
(from Sunshine On Leith) —

If this blog’s dashboard is to be believed — and you’re more than welcome to scroll back through the archives and confirm this fact independently, if you’re so inclined — this very paragraph which you are currently reading marks the Buzz’s five hundredth official post. And because this profoundly crazy journey has at times felt like walking that exact number of miles — barefoot and thirsty, to boot — I could think of no better tune to commemorate the occasion than that which is one of a precious few that can truly be called a ’90s new wave classic. (As always, thanks a million to the readers of this blog for your devotion and your inspiration. To a man, you’re all treasures.)

Elvis Presley — “Rubberneckin’ [Paul Oakenfold Mix]”
(from Elvis: 2nd to None) —

Ever the master of radical reinvention, Oakenfold gets his clutches on one of the King’s quaintly dusty old chestnuts and turns into a hilariously high-octane thrill ride.

Natalie Cole — “Snowfall on the Sahara”
(from Snowfall on the Sahara) —

Funny enough, I watched Livin’ for Love — the autobiographical TV-movie that Cole herself co-produced and starred in — on cable yesterday, and then while A and I were at dinner last night, this tune — a torchy, terrific, largely overlooked gem from the summer of ’99 — happened to spill out of the restaurant’s speakers. I got the distinct sense at that time that the universe is trying to tell me something, and I assure the cosmos that I am indeed listening.

Edie Brickell and the New Bohemians — “Circle”
(from Shooting Rubberbands at the Stars) —

A modern-day hippychick scores a ringer with a personal,
painfully poignant ode to the beauty of isolation.

The Script — “The Man Who Can’t Be Moved” (from The Script) —

It’s a gambit that rarely ever works — just axe Augustana and Savage Garden — but after “Breakeven” became such a surprise smash, Sony is taking another shot with this Irish band’s dazzling debut single, which pop radio foolishly turned down flat last summer. Lead singer Danny O’Donoghue sells his protagonist’s lovelorn heartache with such brilliant gusto (can’t you damn near taste his frazzled frustration?) that by the final chorus, you’re ready to go slap the silly slut yourself for letting this poor, pitiful guy twist in the wind like so many forgotten chimes.