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The Anti-Britney

Michelle Branch rides a golf cart and real live songs to stardom

Sometimes it seems the path to teen-pop stardom is traveled by supersonic space rocket. Drawing from our nation's apparently abundant pool of singing and dancing prom queens, new Mandys, Krystals and Christinas are discovered, groomed, prepped and launched into the pop music limelight faster than George Jetson can carpool daughter Judy and her friends to Orbit High. They invade our collective psyche, torture young libidos, then -- just as jet-propelled -- retire to careers as MTV game-show regulars before we ever get to know them beyond the depth of their belly buttons.

But sometimes, as in the case of Sedona, Arizona, teen Michelle Branch, the road to success is traveled by golf cart. And sometimes, golf cart is better.

"I met my future manager when he was vacationing in Sedona," goes the effervescent 18-year-old's story. "He got roped into a time-share tour, and the woman giving him the tour was a family friend of ours."

Branch gazes out the window of The Spirit Room and plots Britney's doom.
Branch gazes out the window of The Spirit Room and plots Britney's doom.

In a twist of fate that could happen only in Arizona's touristy red-rock oasis, the prospect told the family friend he was from L.A. and he was in the music business.

Like almost everyone in the small artsy town, the saleswoman knew of young Michelle's talents. Her supportive, free-thinking parents -- think Steven and Elise Keaton, if Mallory ever really had any musical talent -- had been coaxing their pretty prodigy to the stage of every fair and art festival they could find. So while the L.A. hotshot was busy poring over the vacation brochure, the friend speed-dialed the Branches' number and told Michelle to get down there, fast.

"I was only 15, and my parents were out at the time," Branch says, "so I jumped in a golf cart and I went down there and met him. He called me about a month later, and that was where it all began."

At the time, Branch was playing acoustic guitar and singing wide-eyed folkie songs. With the backing of her parents, Michelle had even recorded an independent CD that showcased her assured, strong voice on a handful of well-crafted originals and a charmingly waiflike take on Rickie Lee Jones's hopeful ode, "Stewart's Coat."

If that music mogul checking out the trade-up options at Sedona's latest vacation resort had put Branch on the immediate fast track, her major-label debut might have come in the trough of a wave of feisty chicks-with-guitars, landing Branch in the CD bins just as fickle record buyers were beginning to tire of all the Melissas, Sheryls, Jewels and Merediths.

But something funny happened on Michelle Branch's way to becoming the next Lisa Loeb. She became the anti-Britney.

As it happened, Branch's big-label debut four months ago, on Madonna's Maverick Records, arrived at the precise moment the TRL crowd was finally voting to retire all the prefab pop princesses that have been tantalizing us ever since Britney Spears hit it big as the world's naughtiest schoolgirl. Since the release of The Spirit Room, and its appropriately named first single, "Everywhere," young pop fans have been filling Internet message boards with breathless proclamations heralding their new discovery. Suddenly the age-old image of the girl with the guitar is being received as something revolutionary. Again.

Michelle herself insists she isn't on any personal quest to unseat Princess Brit. "Hey, I wish I could dance like that!" she laughs good-naturedly. But she thinks she has a clue why so many young listeners are reacting to her as the answer to their collective prayers.

"The thing is, a lot of my peers, a lot of my friends, we got into record buying when the teen pop thing really came on the scene," she theorizes. "And so a lot of my age group has actually never seen a live band play. A lot of them have seen track acts," she says, referring to the now popular tactic of taking young singing sensations on the concert tour circuit backed with nothing but recorded music tracks. "I give them a real rock show -- and for a lot of kids, that's something new."

With Branch's acoustic-driven songs and unglamorous, girl-next-door image, some may wonder why fans even bother to contrast her with the Britneys and Christinas of the pop world. But Branch has a strong clue on that one, too.

"I think a lot of it has to do with the voice," she says, knowingly.

That voice -- breathy, close-miked and unmistakably youthful -- rings familiar to anyone who's listened to the radio in the past two years. It's the "not a girl, not yet a woman" sound almost every hit-minded record producer has been trying to coax out of young discoveries since Britney and Christina first struck gold with the formula.

Rather than try to go against the sound her voice naturally resembled, Branch -- a fan of all the classic rock records her parents played while she was growing up -- was savvy enough to recognize the young female vocal sound for what it has become: a modern pop instrument in itself, more effective in today's hit factories than an amplified guitar break or an infectious bass line.

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