Brandon's Buzz

The Reverend Al Green & Lyle Lovett — “Funny How Time Slips Away”
(from Rhythm, Country & Blues) —

Everyone from Elvis to Dave Matthews has moved to put their stamp on this Willie Nelson classic, but be leery of anyone who won’t concede that this oddball pairing — even coming as it does from an album full of same — resulted in the song’s definitive take. The lyrical content, at its core, is bittersweet at best, but working in perfect concert, these two men turn this tune into the glorious musical equivalent of a warm spring rain.

A took over the hive this week to present a cross-section of his favorite artists, and if you missed any of those tunes, below is a quick recap:

MONDAY: Rob Thomas — “Problem Girl”
(from …Something to Be) —

TUESDAY: Natasha Bedingfield — “These Words (I Love You, I Love You)”
(from Unwritten) —

WEDNESDAY: Enya — “Wild Child” (from A Day Without Rain) —

THURSDAY: Josh Groban — “To Where You Are”
(from Josh Groban) —

FRIDAY: cast of Glee — “Toxic” (from Toxic [Glee Cast Version]) —

SATURDAY: David Gray — “Babylon” (from White Ladder) —

SUNDAY: Lady GaGa — “Eh Eh (Nothing Else I Can Say)”
(from The Fame) —

Lady GaGa — “Eh Eh (Nothing Else I Can Say)” (from The Fame) —

A’s weeklong takeover of the hive draws to a close with his current favorite artist, the garishly gaudy Ms. GaGa. I don’t so much have a problem with the quality of her creative output, much of which — including even light singalong piffles such as this — is quite inventive and interesting. Where she loses me more often than not are the times when her irrelevantly shocking style — the rump roast dress, anyone? — threatens to entirely override her stunning substance, which often is so solid that she only ends up diluting it (as opposed to enhancing it) with her frenetic fashion antics.

David Gray — “Babylon” (from White Ladder) —

The first vacation A and I ever went on as a couple, we went on primarily so that I could see David Gray in concert. Gray was doing a small club tour previewing his about-to-be-released sixth album, and the closest stop to Austin that made any kind of sense to attempt to traverse toward was San Francisco, so we hopped on a plane and off we went. Before the concert, Gray was just my favorite male singer/songwriter, but by the time the show was over that evening, he was A’s as well. And so it has come to be ever since. I have sixty-two different favorite David Gray tunes, depending solely on what mood I’m in, but PBS reran Gray’s installment of Live from the Artists Den a couple of nights ago, and I watched it while whipping up a pan of Paula Deen’s orange brownies, and I was struck dumb all over again by the gloriously shattering simplicity of this, Gray’s first (and, essentially, only) hit. A chronicle of one crazy weekend in the story of a twisty, tangled love affair — with frantic stream-of-consciousness verses hurtling to and fro across Gray’s skull as he hangs on by his fingernails singing the living hell out of all of them — it’s quite clear, looking back, that with this one tremendous tune, Gray singlehandedly reinvented the idea of the commercially viable troubadour, and tossed out a blueprint for an entire generation of aspiring ones of same — Mayer, Mraz, Yorn anyone? — to study with great cheer and with good faith.

cast of Glee — “Toxic” (from Toxic [Glee Cast Version]) —

Despite my level best efforts over the past five-plus years to change his mind, A thinks television is crass and evil, and has painfully little use for it. (As a child of television and a lifelong fan, this breaks my heart into about thirty-four pieces, but given that we share a gorgeous home which has inside its walls a total of three working flat-screens and a large-screen console, I have nobly managed to navigate past his reticence and get on with my own fandom.) There is, of course, one notable exception to his credo: all action — and I do mean all — grinds to a screeching halt in this house whenever Fox’s demented sophomore smash Glee is on. I’m not sure if it’s the program’s indiscriminate use of song or its brightness-drenched color palette that turns him on so (and I invite him to explicate further in this post’s comments, if he’s so inclined), but I know that I’ve never seen him get so excited about a silly television series — and believe me, I have exposed this man to the medium’s best of the best over the half-decade I’ve known him! — as he does about this one. Personally, even though I can generally take or leave individual episodes of the series, I understand completely why the show is such a sensation — by and large, Glee is a fun, frothy hour of pure escapism, punctuated both by moments of wrenchingly acute emotional power, and of snidely presented, thoroughly over-the-top situations and scenarios, each oddly juxtaposed against the other (sometimes in the same scene!) — and I’m man enough to admit that there are occasions — as in this week’s Britney-centric hour, which found the characters fantasizing about walking a mile in Ms. Spears’ shoes — where the work these people are turning in is so blistering, and so crazily creative, that even my old, cold heart starts to sing.

Josh Groban — “To Where You Are” (from Josh Groban) —

Next up on A’s list is the criminally gifted Groban, who rode that hurtling, stellar rocketship of a voice straight to superstardom nine years ago and hasn’t once looked back. A devastating chronicle of grief (and of the hope which can emerge from it unscathed), this was his very first number one single, and the first real hint at what was to come from one of the new century’s tremendous burgeoning talents.

Enya — “Wild Child” (from A Day Without Rain) —

Continuing with the theme of A’s favorite artists brings us to everybody’s favorite Celtic lass, who scores an exquisitely ethereal knockout by reminding us, simply, that there’s no time — time to turn it around, time to fall in love, time to remember to be alive — like now.

Natasha Bedingfield — “These Words (I Love You, I Love You)”
(from Unwritten) —

A was so happy with yesterday’s Rob Thomas entry that he decided over dinner last night that all dispatches from the hive this week should consist of music from his favorite artists, a list of which he painstakingly laid out for me while we chomped on Chipotle. Because he’s not generally given to enjoying pure light-hearted pop, his unfettered adoration for Ms. Bedingfield borders on alarming, but there’s no denying the ecstatic, exhilarating joy emanating from her fierce debut single, a dynamite ditty all about the process of writing a dynamite ditty.

Rob Thomas — “Problem Girl” (from …Something to Be) —

A texted me yesterday and demanded to see Mr. Thomas pop out of the hive pronto. (And since Rob was the primary inspiration for what you’re currently reading, it seemed like a reasonable request.) I wouldn’t dare call “Problem Girl” the best song on Rob’s electrifying solo debut record, but his stirring, passionate vocal performance really sells the thin story being told here. This was my favorite track the first time I listened to the album five years ago, and having just listened to the entire thing again trying to decide which song to choose, I have to tell you: it still is.

A batch of red velvet cupcakes (specifically requested by my visiting sister-in-law) took precedence over the Buzz Saturday night; hence, the hive failed to produce any honey yesterday. (The cupcakes were fantabulous, though, if that’s any comfort.) Nonetheless, if you missed any of last week’s tunes, here is a quick recap:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.