Archive of 2021-03-01 00:00:00

The one hundred and sixtieth TV show: #971 Happy Valley

When it comes to crime shows, there's a specific dichotomy that tends to apply. There are the procedural, case-of-the-week shows that focus on a case a week, such as Midsomer Murders, sometimes with a character arc in there, but while the cases can inform the story, they rarely matter beyond an episode. On the other side, there are shows like Broadchurch where the case runs through a full system, informs the characters more closely and where we often get a more personal link. It's a more modern way to tell these stories and often the more engaging if you can get into what's going on.

Happy Valley falls into the latter. Set in a grim Yorkshire town, it starts off with a kidnapping case that turns into murder. Catherine is a police sergeant who gets caught up in it, as there is a personal connection to the people around it. For both seasons, it's safe to say that they start slowly, but pay off immensely once you get deeper into it. Sarah Lancashire's performance is the most outstanding in all of this, playing the line between making you care about her and getting annoyed when she's too stubborn for her own good. That's not to say there aren't more good performances, but it all relies on her while not feeling like she's a person handling everything, but is realistically limited by her police powers.

Be ready for a slow burn, but it works out so well at the end that you want to keep going at the end of every few episodes.


The one hundred and second comic: #290 Doraemon

There's something comfortingly familiar about Doraemon. They're stories of a couple of pages each with a familiar basic set up - Nobita, the human protagonist, encounters something in his life he needs to deal with, Doraemon, his robotic protector from the future, has a gadget that helps resolve it in some way, and the consequences follow. It's a gentle, kid-focused sense of humour and it makes for a comfortable read. The gadgets provide quite a lot of different stories that we're not constantly seeing the same beats. Instead it's a nice creative way to see what they can come up with for these issues, what comeuppance they get for using it and how it all reverses. Nothing that, these days, feels really innovative - and I'd argue others were doing this around the same time as well - but it's just fun.


The one hundred and eleventh classical recording: #444 Gustav Mahler - Lieder eines fahrenden Gesellen

Unlike many other collections of smaller works on this list, this one has a throughline in its lyrics rather than just in musical motifs. It's a love story, specifically one of love lost, and the four songs with their moods set these up quite well. There's a longing in there, modulated with the different moods they go through - despair, happiness and anger. It's effective in its story and manages to be efficient with its time as well - it's rare to see all of this fit into less than twenty minutes.


The ninety-first book: #797 Watchmen - Alan Moore

Looking at some output related to the books list (which I'll get back to once I go back to a stable commute) I realized that I'd already covered this for the comics list, so here we go.


The two hundred and seventy-fourth album: #274 King Crimson - Larks' Tongue in Aspic

I think it's fair to say that the titular track - or rather the two tracks bearing the title - are the core of this album. They're soundscapes, partially telling a story through the music, but where the first album used its lyrics for that too, here its focus shifts further towards using the music to set the environment. I don't think the lyrics made a real impact on any of the tracks this time, with the sound of it instead creating a mood to disappear into. It might look gimmicky from the outside, but I think this hits the right tone for me.


The one hundred and first comic: #268 Lupin III

Considering the apparent presence of Lupin, the French aristocratic thief, in Japanese culture, and that this manga about his grandson created a character popular in all media, I went in with fairly high hopes for this work. Sure, I wasn't expecting an amazing work, but this is flawed enough to be unenjoyable.The most obvious flaw, at least in the works I've read, is that it quite quickly jumps over showing what's going on - show, don't tell, if you wish. Lupin commits a theft and we get told some bits of how he did it, but don't get to see it. We don't even follow the investigation, but just the lead up to the crime, the reveal of what happened and then it ends. This gets worse in some non-crime chapter, where in one, with Lupin trapped on an island, the resolution seems to happen in seconds because they're reached the page count.

Add to that how it's often not as clear what's going on. A bunch of characters look similar, in particular Lupin and his adversary Inspector Zenigata. The latter is often the focus character, but since Lupin loves disguises it happens a bit too often that he's disguised as the inspector, sometimes as a meaningless reveal at the end. The action, too, is rushed, and it means that my eyes end up glazing over until there's some conversation to latch on to again. Even looking ahead to some later issues, most of these problems stay around - at least not to a point where I'm enjoying it any further - and I guess that's the groove it settled into. I'd say we moved on to do it better, but by 1967 I think the medium was advanced further anyway.


The one hundred and tenth classical recording: #699 Joseph Canteloube - Chants d'Auvergne

Very early on, the list started with a number of folk songs before we saw it go into choral music. While the Chants d'Auvergne don't entirely go back to those days, still using an orchestra using traditional instruments, the feel of songs harkens back to it as time. It's hard to say how, but the folk origins of the songs come through in these songs. While the lyrics are in Occitan, not a language I understand, it feels they have been written to focus on the message of the song, rather than the repetition and skill of the singers as other, more conventional classical pieces have done. The sound of it matters, but you can tell that this originates from folk songs where not everyone would have such amazing skills.

The music supports that too. While certainly not out of place it is set up to evoke an atmosphere as well as to support the lyrics and while there are plenty of moments where it gets to shine, it also takes a step back during the sung parts. While still beautiful and stirring, it tries to focus more on the vocal performance and the effect that creates. Although it isn't (to misuse a genre) 'poppy' enough, it's easier to see the link from this to the music from 1930s movies and what I believe to have been popular at the time than other classical works do and, as we have seen with more modern works, it's a fusion like this that can produce the more interesting and forward driving results.


The two hundred and seventy-third album: #273 David Bowie - Aladdin Sane

As good as I've heard David Bowie be on list albums here and elsewhere, listening to Aladdin Sane makes it feel like the authors of the list may have been pushing a bit too much in getting him included this often. Aladdin Sane isn't a bad album, but its side one has some fairly generic rock tracks that don't feel as aspirational as his other work, with the avant garde jazz on its title track feeling especially off.

Time on side two starts off with the sound I expect more, the lyrics having more of an impact when not coupled with the heavy rock music and its showy vamping works well. The side goes between several styles - there's another rock song, but also a mysterious ballad, and on the whole it's closer to what I was hoping for from the album. Despite its odd single choice - the Prettiest Star really does feel like a B-side or pure album track - there are some good tracks here. On the whole, though, the album is a bit of a disappointment compared to what I expect from Bowie and it's not one that really feels like it fits on the list.


The two hundred and seventy-second album: #272 The Incredible Bongo Band - Bongo Rock

The premise, if you will, of this album is quite straight forward. It's an instrumental rock album where the main percussion comes from the bongo, with the drums having a secondary role. The success of that varies, with the percussion getting lost in the more traditional rock songs to the point you have to actively remind yourself while it's there, whereas it takes centre stage in others. And while I can see the point in doing the former to release tracks to listen to, it's obviously the latter that's actually interesting to listen to for me. Mostly it pays off, but I can't say it stands out here either.

The one hundredth comic: #762 Blacksad

The use of animals as allegories for humans goes back quite far in fiction - I've covered Aesop's fables before for the books list - and comics are the ideal medium to drive it, using visuals to convey a character's personality through its animal representation. While the initial book claims that it's not a direct representation, there are several points in the story where it refers to the species to indicate it's not just a visual choice.

Whether or not it feels needed depends on the story, with the racism episode making decent use of the conceit, but it always makes for an interesting visual. This comes through especially in the dynamic scenes where a character moves according to the animal's movements, rather than a human's, and that portrayal becomes quite effective.

At the same time the stories offer a view on 50s life with a number of its follies and issues, making for quite a dramatic look at the world that feels like it can pull it off more because it's shrouded in animal form.


The one hundred and ninth classical recording: #357 Johannes Brahms - Piano Quintet in F Minor

I feel like the word 'stirring' can be overused when it comes to describing classical music, but it's hard to deny when it applies. The larger movements of this quintet are sweeping while even the clamer parts have this energy to them. It's hard not to feel like you're doing something epic even when you're just running some maintenance scripts. There's passion and excitement in the works, a motivation that carries through in even the most melancholic parts of this work.