Gary Pratt’s “Buzzin’” lives in that familiar country music pocket where everyday detail becomes emotional shorthand. It’s a song built less on narrative arc than on accumulation — a series of snapshots that, taken together, sketch out a very particular kind of American evening. Neon lights flicker on. Honey bees fade into the background. Airplanes drift overhead. A scoreboard winds down to zero. It’s not a story so much as a setting, and Pratt leans into that atmosphere with
