Brandon's Buzz

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.

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.

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.

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

Official numbers won’t be revealed until later this afternoon, but a music news blog which I frequent on a daily basis reported yesterday that Speak is a lock to debut at number one on this week’s Billboard 200 album chart, with first-week sales flying past the million mark — a jaw-dropping rarity in today’s let’s-just-steal-it environment — and that, indeed, roughly one out of every five albums purchased last week was this one. (Compare that with last week’s bestseller Sugarland, whose ratio was something like one in thirty-three.) I popped this record in the CD player Sunday night and listened to the first half while driving home from work (second half gets its fair shot today), and while there certainly wasn’t a howler in the bunch (with the possible exception of the simpy “Never Grow Up,” which felt like an awkward fumble, and not the greatest message to be transmitting to the teens who apparently worship this young woman with such fervent ferocity), I found many of Speak‘s opening jabs to be pleasant and perfectly forgettable, and in my estimation, only “December” — a beautifully-written, sincerely sophisticated regret-tinged tune which is rumored to be an apology to the astonishingly-abbed actor Taylor Lautner, with whom Swift shared a highly-publicized, ill-fated dalliance last year — hits the bullseye bang-on.

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

The other night on Jeopardy! an answer popped up about “apron strings” and how they correlate metaphorically with a mother’s love, and A — ever the master of adorably mangled English idioms — announced he had never heard this expression theretofore. Because the above is one of my favorite songs ever, I had heard of the notion, and am thrilled to have a shattering piece of music to help enlighten my beloved. Ben Watt ably supports the ravishingly terrific Tracey Thorn — obliterating any doubts that these two are the most beautiful blend of British brilliance since Dave and Annie — in bringing to quiet, gently harrowing life this tale of a young woman’s desperation to have a child to call her own.

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

MONDAY: Stevie Nicks & Lindsay Buckingham — “Twisted”
(from Twister [Music from the Motion Picture]) —

TUESDAY: Chris Wall — “Three Across” (from Tainted Angel) —

WEDNESDAY: Santana featuring Chris Daughtry — “Photograph”
(from Guitar Heaven: The Greatest Guitar Classics of All Time) —

THURSDAY: Patti LaBelle & Kristine W — “Land of the Living”
(from Classic Moments) —

FRIDAY: INXS — “Beautiful Girl”
(from Shine Like It Does: The Anthology (1979-1997) ) —

SATURDAY: Cyndi Lauper — “A Part Hate”
(from Hat Full of Stars) —

SUNDAY: Leona Lewis — “Brave” (from Echo) —

Leona Lewis — “Brave” (from Echo) —

For reasons that completely escape my comprehension, Lewis’ powerhouse sophomore album — an unexpectedly brilliant leap past an already-fabulous debut — has failed entirely to connect with audiences on this side of the pond. A tantalizing taste of what these foolish mortals are missing: Miss Leona, in full dazzling diva mode (replete with high-flying vocal acrobatics to die for) but masquerading as the meek ugly duckling and credibly selling an astonishingly powerful anthem of insecurity and of the suffocating struggle to overcome devastating doubt.

Cyndi Lauper — “A Part Hate” (from Hat Full of Stars) —

With all this hand-wringing over bullying (cyber- and otherwise), the horrifying recent rash of gay-related teen suicides, and the monumentally silly fight over Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell — c’mon Congress, we’re fighting two wars and counting, and we maintain military presences in dozens of other places around the world, so if folks are willing to fight and die for the sake of freedoms they can’t, as it now stands, even fully enjoy, they ought to have the right to get hot and heavy with a horny hippopotamus if they’re so inclined, without it being an ounce of your fucking business! — the topic of civil rights has stormed back to the forefront of the national conversation. (Doesn’t it figure, then, that — what, with a wacky witch running for the United States Senate and an illiterate Alaskan seriously pondering a presidential run — plain ol’ horse sense hasn’t?) Couching her message inside a fun, bopping beat (love that harmonica!), Lauper bravely rises to remind us — how funny that the collective we constantly seem to need it — that all radical change ever requires is one person deciding the time is now. (Incidentally, if you’re not otherwise booked later this evening, head on over to Brandon’s Buzz Radio at 9pm EDT for a special live chat with We Love Soaps’ main man Damon L. Jacobs, who is stopping by the show to discuss all of the above, as well as to preview his third annual “Give Up Your Shoulds” Day, which is taking place on November 1.)

INXS — “Beautiful Girl”
(from Shine Like It Does: The Anthology (1979-1997) ) —

A and I went to the movies last night to (finally!) catch up with the Wall Street sequel — my final verdict: Michael Douglas is fabulous, Shia LaBeouf holds his own, and the story is far too broad and too shallow for any of it to stick — and before the main event, we caught the trailer for Jake Gyllenhaal and Anne Hathaway’s upcoming romantic drama Love and Other Drugs, which features this terrific tune, INXS’ final flirtation with top 40 stateside success. “Girl” by no means possesses the deceptive, intoxicating complexity of their late ’80s breakthrough smashes “Need You Tonight” and “Devil Inside,” but the late Michael Hutchence’s timeless, sweetly simple vocal work here is elegantly haunting.