I’ve always been tickled pink by Mr. Mark Ronson.



He’s a master, isn’t he? There was something symbolic about his win as Best Producer: it’s as if he’s taking hold of the “super duper producer” role held by the likes of Timbaland (controversy about his beats aside), Missy, Jermaine, and other shiny members of the beats squad (yeah, there are other producers who remain giants on the scene, but I’m referring to people who double-over into celebrity status and have their own albums/following. Get it? It’s a new genre).



I fell in love with Mr. Ronson when I heard Winehouse’s timeless album, and I swooned over the high-grade chocolate of Allen’s piece (this isn’t just confectionary: the dial’s been turned). His most recent album is hot too: can you really not smile over his takes on the Smiths and the super seductive take on Brit Brit’s “Toxic?”



I fell head over heels when I heard the lesser known (seriously: YouTube only has “Doo Wee” on record) Here Comes the Fuzz. Kudos to my pal Knox for introducing me to this classic.



I love me some hip hop, and I love me some bells and horns (catchphrase both aside and included). This man is a creative force. My newest Ronson-related obsession?

Adele.



Listen to her voice. Download "Adele."



I’m going to be called a bastard of a critic (or fan) when I say she’s the Brit Dusty Springfield, but I mean it. There are some voices (classical and rugged) that ring true, and hers is no exception (Yep, and Ms. Winehouse is the Brit. Joplin: suck on that).