Brandon's Buzz

I spent a goodly portion of Saturday fearing that Gavin DeGraw — the most commercially successful, if not the most talented, of the latest wave of twenty-something singer-songwriters taking popular music by storm — had perished in the same South Carolina plane crash that killed four people (two crew members and two civilians) and critically injured artists Travis Barker (formerly of Blink-182) and DJ AM, both of whom had performed a free show with DeGraw the previous night.  The NTSB initially refused to release the names of the two civilians who had died (presumably until they could properly notify the families involved), which was all well and good, except nobody had heard from DeGraw all morning; you start connecting those dots, and you’re on the fast track to Basketcase-ville.  (I even got Sherry Ann all worked up when I sent her a panicked text message inquiring what she had heard on this matter; heroically, she solved the case by going to www.gavindegraw.com, whose front page blared the magnificent headline:  GAVIN WAS NOT ON THE PLANE!)  I was inconsolable, wondering how in the hell I was gonna eulogize DeGraw here on the Buzz — seriously, it would have been like Buddy Holly dying all over again! — and while I’m not quite sure what’s appropriate to say now — “Hey Gav… glad you’re still alive, buddy”? — I’m sincerely happy that, even though four human beings tragically lost their lives, the survivors are well on their way toward a full recovery, and we didn’t have to endure another day the music died.

He was studying in the New York City police academy, aiming to follow in his father’s footsteps as a Brooklyn beat cop. But his killer voice, his love of music, and his dream to be a part of that world carried him out west. A string of smashing club gigs in the Bay Area brought him to the attention of Columbia Records, which — thanks to the bracing success being enjoyed by a young Jersey Everyman called Bruce Springsteen — was at the forefront of the burgeoning regular Joe movement that was spreading like wildfire across the rock music landscape, which had struggled for a time to stay relevant in the wake of the disco explosion of the late ’70s. A strong debut album and a simple name change — Edward James Mahoney became one Eddie Money — and the rest was history.

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We get a bit of a breather this week, after last Tuesday’s jam-packed release slate. But with one band on the cusp of a major breakout, and a musical legend taking a moment to reflect on a brilliant career, things are plenty busy out there in your local record store as September crawls toward the finish line. To wit:

They’ve been touted as the next big thing ever since their noteworthy 2003 debut Youth and Young Manhood, yet the immense heat surrounding them has never quite translated into record sales.  But could the tide be about to turn for Tennessee band Kings of Leon?  Their fourth record Only By the Night arrives on store shelves this week, and its leadoff single — the captivating, explosively erotic “Sex On Fire” — is a classic radio smash just waiting to happen.  Forgive me, but I smell a real big hit here.

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“Good evening, I’m Martin Sheen.  For seven years, this set was my home on The West Wing, a television series about service and selflessness that won Emmy Awards for virtually everyone involved, except me.”

— oft-nominated powerhouse (and accidental focal point of Aaron Sorkin’s masterpiece) Martin Sheen, gently lecturing the audience of the 60th Annual Emmy Awards about the power of democracy

More handmade buttons on tap for today, with shots of A’s favorite Austin skyscraper, of a California sunset I was privileged to witness a few summers back, and of one of my favorite places to eat in the city (love the penne and meatballs!).  Oh, and also, of some cute guy I happen to know fairly well.  (He’s almost certainly gonna kill me for that one!)  Also:  another Tori button (one just wasn’t gettin’ it), and one of King George — a real one, this time.

Despite a relatively tony cast — Meg Ryan, Annette Bening, Cloris Leachman, Candice Bergen, Bette Midler, Jada Pinkett Smith, and Carrie Fisher would pretty much comprise any enterprising artist’s dream canvas, methinks — and a fair box office showing on opening weekend, Diane English’s new update of the classic ’30s screwball comedy The Women has been roundly reviled by critics, a great many of whom seem to hold English’s past triumphs — as the creator and producer of the television classic “Murphy Brown,” as scorching hot a political potato(e) as the medium has seen this side of Archie Bunker, she was once one of Hollyweird’s most elite power brokers — unjustifiably against her. And while I’ll refrain from debating the film’s merits and/or charms (except to say that I was at once amused and outraged at the numerous news reports — I read no fewer than five of ’em — which expressed shock and awe at the fact that the movie attracted a sizable percentage of gay men to theaters nationwide), I’ll tell you without equivocation: the Original Motion Picture Soundtrack is worth checking out.

Anchored by a pair of divine Annie Lennox tracks (“Womankind,” from last year’s disappointing Songs of Mass Destruction, and “Money Can’t Buy It,” one of Diva‘s multiple classics), the record also features terrific work from Feist (“I Feel It All,” perhaps the strongest song off of her Grammy-nominated breakthrough The Reminder) and KT Tunstall (“Someday Soon,” from her underrated sophomore release, the slow-burning Drastic Fantastic) as well as tunes from up-and-comers Jessie Baylin and The Bird & the Bee (a band my friend Chip turned me onto earlier this summer).  To hear some critics tell the tale, the soundtrack is a damn sight better than the film it supports; having not seen the movie, I’ll just say that to even think about matching the quality of its music, it’s got a lot of ground to make up.

The flair board is slowly but surely filling itself in.  Latest additions:  a quartet of buttons I constructed with my own ingenuity — three of them featuring my all-time favorite soap actress Laura Wright (who became a star on “Guiding Light” and is now setting Port Chuckles on fire over at “General Hospital”), and one of them, a brilliant rendition of my beloved Stop the Insanity-era Susan Powter; buttons for two of my all-time favorite television personalities (Judge Judy and Tom Snyder) and films (The Silence of the Lambs and Dancer, Texas, Pop. 81); a tribute to Tetris, the greatest video game in the history of home entertainment, and to Rent, which just exited the Great White Way after a historic twelve year run; a gorgeously stylized shot of fingers tickling the ivories (I’ve always had this thing for piano players; sue me); the lovely Miss Bonnie Tyler (just looking at that photo makes me want to scream in my finest rasp, “You’re such a pretty boy / lemme tell you what to do / and you’ll do it!” ); a hilarious button which offers optimistic hope for the future**; and finally, the patented Buzz button, whose creator won’t rest until he sees it front and center on every last Facebook corkboard.

** “I dream of a better world where chickens can cross roads without having their motives questioned.”

Sorry for the brief delay in this week’s record store report — Sherry Ann has been so antsy anticipating this, it’s hard to ponder how she survived the pre-Buzz days — but here we go, with yet another brilliance-packed week before us. Buckle up, kids: we’ve got fourteen albums to discuss.

Solid proof that you shouldn’t judge books by covers:  in the same week in which word has broken that Rob Thomas’ second solo album is due next spring, Matchbox Twenty’s guitarist (and former drummer) Paul Doucette — who, throughout his band’s entire history, has never failed to represent himself as an irritatingly sarcastic horse’s ass — scores a home run as the leader of a fascinating new side project,
The Break and Repair Method.  An album of pleasant melody and stunning depth, Milk the Bee finds Doucette manning both the piano (and adeptly, at that) and the microphone (and while his vocal prowess is certainly no match for Thomas’, Doucette’s timbre proves to be surprisingly rich), creating a ten-track set whose sensibilities land somewhere in between Wilco’s and Keane’s on the yardstick of pop.  (Even if you ultimately choose to let the album as a whole slip by you, be at least sure to check out track number five, “Calling All Electrical Prints,” the kind of sweet, haunting love song Jeff Tweedy only wishes he could write.)

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“Successful parenting is finding ’80s music on your kid’s iPod.”

— as read on a minivan’s bumper sticker this very afternoon while driving down Interstate 35 in Austin, Texas

Thanks to a terrifying burst of ingenuity this fine morning, I’m pleased to announce that the Buzz has hit the big time.  May I present to you:  the official Brandon’s Buzz piece of flair.

Log on to Facebook, open the Flair application, type “Brandon’s Buzz” in the search box, and the above image is what pops up.  Is this a magnificent crunchy or what?!

And now, a pieces of flair update:  new buttons for one of my favorite movies (the mind-numbingly hysterical Romy and Michele’s High School Reunion), novels (I Know This Much is True, which was Buzzed about here), and singers (Tori Tori, hallelujah); a sly, sweet nod to one of George Michael’s finest fashion statements; courtesy of my pal Chip, a rant on gay marriage; a button immortalizing one the great song lyrics of all time; and finally, in the southeast corner of the board, what could well the Buzz’s new mission statement.

Four tumultuous years after her last release — 2004’s erratic Afrodisiac, which, despite its wild inconsistency, closed with her best-ever track:  the dazzling “Should I Go,” which was built around a riveting sample from Coldplay’s overblown “Clocks” and which sent a clear signal that she was seriously rethinking her lifeplan — Brandy is back, armed with both a cleared mind and with her strongest single since “The Boy is Mine,” the hilarious 1998 bitch-fest that won both herself and Miss Monica well-deserved Grammy awards.   Produced with uncharacteristic simplicity by the prolific Rodney Jerkins, “Right Here (Departed)” forgoes the beat-heavy nature of much of Jerkins’ past discography and makes Brandy’s terrific voice — nearing thirty now, and richer than ever — the song’s unopposed centerpiece.  (Contrast “Departed” with a few of Brandy’s other singles, especially from this decade — 2002’s horrifying trainwreck “What About Us” springs to mind — and you’ll instantly recognize and appreciate what an unexpected gem this truly is.)  The new album is due early next year, and if it sounds anything like its leadoff single, I’d say we’re in for a smashing return to form from an artist whose learning curve has been pretty damned breathtaking to behold.

The physical CD won’t be available until September 30, but Simple Things, the hotly-anticipated sophomore effort from brilliant boy wonder Joshua Radin (whose soothing debut release, 2006’s We Were Here, was a textbook model of shattering grace) went up at iTunes on Tuesday, and I’m here to tell you:  although I detest the idea of buying digital albums — hey, I’m ol’ school, I like having something tangible and concrete, something to hold in my hands, at the end of a transaction — this is probably the closest I’ve ever come to breaking my own rule.  In the end I decided to wait until month’s end (although the ever-expanding torture will be intense), but I broke down and purchased the one album track — “You Got Growin’ Up to Do,” a sweetly haunting duet with one Patty Griffin, a magnificent artist who most certainly knows from such things — that I couldn’t stand not to immediately own.  Combine Radin’s return with imminent new projects from Ray LaMontagne and Rachael Yamagata (herself out to follow up a masterful debut), and you understand that the singer-songwriter movement — seemingly an endangered species in these times when a full four of the crunchy’s top twenty singles have that doofus Akon’s name on them — is still alive and kicking.

Since I can’t find one of these bulletin board set-ups for blogs, I’ve decided to just import my Facebook board daily, so that we can all track the progress.

Today’s additions: a button saluting the late, great “Santa Barbara”; a Brian and Justin button (at the prom, no less!); and a button which prescribes one profoundly simple way to make the whole of television better.

(In case you can’t read that bottom one, it says: “I wish Aaron wrote all the shows on television.” God love the mad genius who created that piece of flair!)