Brandon's Buzz

Another major midweek holiday means another light release slate, and we should all be quite relieved by that notion, because while the month of June gifted unto us some terrific music, it also served to empty our wallets with the precision of a hungry assassin. Ain’t it good to know that — unless you’re a Velvet Revolver and/or Kelly Rowland fan — we get a breather? (Enjoy it, because next week, we’re back in the game with new records from Crowded House and Kim Richey, and you’re gonna need all your energy.)

There’s only one new release of any real import this week, and while it may take a bit of fancy footwork to track it down, it’s a doozy, and you won’t regret the effort. It’s Uncover Me, the latest effort from that brilliant Canuck Jann Arden, a terrific singer/songwriter whose music has gotten way too little attention here in the States. You almost certainly remember her one big American hit, 1996’s monster smash “Insensitive.” And if you do remember how great that song was, you must be wondering, as I often have, why exactly she never got a fair shake here, when the power of her voice and the quality of her music only strengthened in the intervening decade, indeed in inverse proportion to most of her peers. (Hi, Alanis!) Her last three albums haven’t even been released stateside, a ridiculous fact that deserves the most vehement “feh!” I can muster. (All I can say is, thank Jesus for Amazon.com.)

Like my other favorite northern lass, the oft-mentioned, much-beloved Chantal Kreviazuk, Arden’s a big star in Canada, so I’m pleased to report that at least one country on this continent still has a touch of sense. And while it’s almost foregone that her latest album — yet another covers record, albeit a mostly enjoyable one — won’t launch her into the American stratosphere where she belongs, it’s at least comforting to know that you, my dearest, fastest friends, won’t have to jump through seven hoops in order to procure this album. (Me, I wasn’t so lucky: I bought mine online back in February, whereupon I not only had to pay an outrageously inflated price for it, but I also had to wait over a freakin’ month for the damn disc to pass through customs. No foolin’: that sensational Roxette remix CD I bought from Russia last summer got here faster!)

It seems, however, that you will have to go to Borders Books and Music, as that’s the only place I’ve actually seen the album for sale. I’ve read nothing in the literature to indicate that Borders has the exclusive on this record, but I first got tipped off via Borders.com that the album was getting its domestic release this week — not even Amazon has a listing beyond the import version! — and the goofily-coiffed child at Best Buy looked at me like I had just eaten a booger when I asked him what he knew on this matter. (I’m going to Waterloo tomorrow evening to gather further intelligence, so stay tuned.) Borders, on the other hand, has this disc prominently featured on their new release rack, and it’s on sale all month for $12.99 (believe it, a steal). Plus, you get the added bonus of being in Borders, a store to which I don’t bestow nearly enough credit for the great work they do in showcasing and promoting new, talented musical voices.

As previously noted, this is one more covers record to endure, and while it’s true that there are at least two songs that were probably better off untouched — did we really need another version of “Son of a Preacher Man,” especially when Dusty Springfield’s primary version remains so indelible? And did the world learn nothing from Clay Aiken’s disastrous reading of “Solitaire” a few years back? — don’t let that scare you off. Arden turns in a cover of Carly Simon’s classic “You’re So Vain” that ranks right up there with Mandy Moore’s 2003 interpretation of “Anticipation,” and she gets admirably bold with a radically toned-down version of Pat Benatar’s “Love is a Battlefield.” Plus, she offers us an original track — the earnest, slightly solemn, totally dynamite “Counterfeit Heart” — that fits right in with the record’s tone. It’ll absolutely be front and center among the best of 2007’s album tracks.

So, with that, we move on to this week’s playlist. I was sorely tempted to offer you an all-Arden outing, but I was disheartened to discover that almost none of my favorite of her songs — chief among them, her shattering 1996 cover of Jennifer Warnes’ little-known classic “Frankie in the Rain” that is the living essence of gorgeous — are available at iTunes, which blew that plan to smithereens. Also, A recently requested a Bon Jovi playlist, since he recognized the name in a previous tipsheet, but knows not one of their songs. (The boy has never heard “Livin’ on a Prayer,” people! How is that even possible?) I briefly considered granting that request, but since I’m not the biggest Bon Jovi fan ever, all I really know of their discography — save for Jon’s terrific solo album Destination Anywhere — are the big hits. (If anybody reading this — Christianne? Ben? Sherry Ann? — is an undying Bon Jovi fan and would like to pen a guest playlist shining a light on their past triumphs, I’ll happily print it in a future tipsheet.)

Instead, I thought we could take another look back at the first half of ’07. Thanks in large part to a June that overflowed with great new music, I’m ready to step out on a limb and proclaim that we’re totally getting our groove back following a mostly underwhelming spring. And with new efforts coming this summer and fall from Natasha Bedingfield, Hanson, PJ Harvey, the two Joshes (Ritter and Rouse), and the forever divine Annie Lennox, things are only looking up. So, herewith: a handful of highlights from a year half over.

1. “Heavenly Day” — Patty Griffin — (from Children Running Through) — Scoff if you must, but the following is quite true: I can realistically envision a scenario unfolding in which this stunningly simple yet impossibly riveting fusion of folk and gospel — featuring a performance from Griffin that is both chaste as rain and lithe as unbridled fire — stands as my favorite single of 2007. Four minutes of utter, unmistakable majesty.

2. “Lonelytown” — Paula Cole with Herbie Hancock — (from Courage) — So, the record — Cole’s first in eight years — isn’t quite the outright triumph I was praying for, but it definitely has its moments. True story: Cole nailed the vocal for this spare, haunting collaboration with pianist Hancock (with whom she struck up a friendship after he and Annie Lennox were recording Cole’s 1995 masterwork “Hush, Hush, Hush” two years ago and personally phoned Cole to suss out the song’s true meaning) in one mystical, magical take.

3. “Rootless Tree” — Damien Rice — (from 9) — Even though his sophomore record is a one hundred percent improvement over his insufferably insipid debut O, this sullen, moody Irishman (who’d no doubt give his left testicle to be David Gray for just five minutes) remains living proof that the only thing worse than being a preening, pretentious hack is being a boring one. Irrespective to that, the fact that he actually wrote and performed a fascinating, sonically rich track reaffirms that even a blind pig can stumble across an acorn every now and again.

4. “After All These Years” — Abra Moore — (from On the Way) — I have no idea what this album’s radio single is — and if it’s the inane “Sugarite,” I swear I’m going to scream — but I’ll go on record and say that if it’s not this, somebody’s A&R guy seriously fucked up. Aided by a nimble harmony vocal from the always-game Will Sexton, Moore — who burst off the blocks breathtaking a decade ago and only got better — lands a pitch-perfect emotional bullseye here. A guaranteed smash just waiting to happen.

5. “It Might Be You” — Dave Koz featuring India.Arie — (from At the Movies) — Follow me back through Britney, back through Whitney, back through to the unblemished innocence of the summer of 1983, and I’ll regale you with a completely true tale — trust me, if I were going to make something up, I’d come up with something way cooler than this — of a precocious but lovable six-year-old boy name of Brandon, who, as we pick up this particular thread, has just heard for the very first time the very first song he ever remembers loving. He can’t explain exactly why Stephen Bishop’s “It Might Be You” — the profoundly uplifting love theme from Tootsie, yep — impels him so irretrievably toward unfettered joy (and it’s not just because he’s six, either; he’s a remarkably expressive first grader, this one). He just knows that it does, from tonsils to toenails and back. (Add to that revelation a few more key, telling facts — like, that the second song he’ll ever remember loving will be Air Supply’s transcendent “The One That You Love,” and that the first album he’ll ever buy will be Colour by Numbers, and that his first celebrity crush will be George Michael, and that his full-throated karaoke rendition of “You Don’t Bring Me Flowers” — particularly that section where Barbra starts whaling on Neil (“bay-bay / I ree-mim-BUH!!”) for no reason whatsoever — will kill, every damn time — and he’ll no doubt someday wonder why it’ll take him twenty-five full years on this planet to determine which team he wants to bat for.)

When I first heard that Koz — now and forever, a big ol’ hunk o’ beautiful — and Arie were covering this song for his latest album, I was understandably uneasy. No need: Arie’s tender voice brings a whole new angle to the lyric, and Koz’s blissfully understated sax work provides the perfect complement. A beautifully realized tribute to a terrific song that I still periodically dig out my vinyl copy of Stephen Bishop’s greatest hits just to simmer in for a spell.