Jeroen's Micro Blog

The five hundred twenty-seventh song: The Winner Takes It All - Abba

It feels like there's little to say about Abba songs that hasn't been said already. The Winner Takes It All has multiple layers, something that shows Abba at their best as there's the victory, making it something you can dance too, but with that melancholic angle that's in there, with Agnetha's almost spoken word bridge having most of this element. It's an interesting song with a real life element that's there, even if it doesn't quite reflect reality. It's a sad celebration that feels like it's one of their best in showing what they can do.

The five hundred twenty-eighth song: Rapture - Blondie

Part of the reason this song is its historic significance, the first song featuring rap to reach the number one position in the US charts. It's a weird experience, in part because these days, Debbie Harry's rap would sound more like a parody of the idea while here it's them using a musical style that seems to have been in their world and using a new tool in the arsenal. Even so, it grows the genre in a way by using its own music rather than sampling others, even as rap was, or became, a black culture phenomenon.

The five hundred twenty-ninth song: While You See a Chance - Steve Winwood

It feels like with the eighties coming in and Abba and the like setting a direction for music, that others follow. While You See a Chance moves a rock star to perform something closer to electronic pop and here it feels like part of that shift. The song itself is some nice synth rock, moving towards that more pop sound. The song's quite good for that, but it's also not the most out there or impressive song, instead it's more of an indication of a moment in how music developed.

The five hundred thirtieth song: Heartattack and Vine - Tom Waits

It's clear that blues rock from the 1980s is a different beast from what we've seen earlier in the list, and while Tom Waits' vocals match that of the performers of the sixties, there's something sleazier and darker in there that's everywhere, from presentation to sound, with lyrics about the dark side of life and those who are poor, rather than hardship and more classic stories that feature in other blues songs. The constant threat is there, and it paints a world that'll be a shock to the middle class, feeling exaggerated but still also grounded in reality.

The five hundred thirty-first song: Kings of the Wild Frontier - Adam & The Ants

There is a lot to say about what followed punk as you can say about punk itself. Adam & The Ants come from that world, but clearly build on their own things. They feel extravagant, creating a performance rather than just playing the music, and while the critical and political lyrics are still there, the driving beat that they made their signature goes beyond the punk aggression to feel the base of something that sound more threatening, contrasting more jubilant and louder vocals that build to aggression in a way that moves beyond that of punk - using the punk vocal style to mix with a more intense hard rock style that creates a threat and a performance more than anything else.

The five hundred thirty-second song: Redemption Song - Bob Marley & The Wailers

While this is one of the last Bob Marley songs released during his lifetime, there's also something about this in here that's specifically his. Recorded with just an acoustic guitar, the constant sound of reggae is gone in favour of a sad ballad that uses a style of singing that follows what you get in reggae rather than in country or such. It's a show of artistry, a call for continuing to fight for freedom that comes across far stronger because it's just Marley playing a guitar. It's unexpected, but for me this does feel like it's his best.

The five hundred thirty-third song: Dead Souls - Joy Division

Dead Souls is an interesting pick for the list, a heavy metal B-side with lyrics evoking an emotional darkness that's the band's trademark but eerily prefigure Ian Curtis' passing a few months later. It's dark and haunting for those reasons and difficult to listen to in retrospect. It references regression and past lives, but also through that the spectres of his past that keep calling him back. It's a difficult song to listen to with that retrospect and an unfortunate story that this leads into, but it shows how well music can send these emotions at the same time.

The one hundred and fourty-ninth TV show: #328 The Young Ones

I've had the DVDs of this show around for a long time, waiting to unleash them for this blog. With it having been a decade since I watched the series, it was interesting to revisit and see how it holds up. Looking at it, it's not the highest of humour, and the first two episodes is mostly the characters being mean and violent to each other, without much more going on. It gets better later, as that tones down in favour of more absurdist plots, surrounded with loads of slapstick violence and at times terrible jokes. It's the weird cutaways and out of nowhere jokes that work best, with the slapstick violence working best when focused and smaller - in particular when it starts making fun of its own tendency to do so in the later episodes.

The second season seems to have had a budget increase, used for longer and bigger cutaways, including hiring an elephant or two, and a bunch more fourth wall breaking gags (including one where Neil's parents comment on him starring in this terrible show). There's still a lot of commitment to the characters, four losers and stereotypes of the groups of students that seem to have been prevalent in the eighties, but the show moves beyond them more often. It's not the most amazingly clever comedy, but as the 1980s equivalent of slapstick comedy, with its aggressive attitude and criticism of the attitudes at the time, is still pretty good. You just need to get past those first few bad episodes.

The ninety-second classical recording: #258 Frederic Chopin - Nocturnes

Starting off my prep for this piece, I saw nocturnes described as a piece inspired by night, played later in the evening and, hence, sounding smaller than other pieces. There's a lot of sensitivity in these pieces as the piano gently plays - they are neat little pieces, performed well here - something that seemed challenging enough. It's good accompaniment, not necessarily something you fully focus on, but work as good background music. They're lovely, simple pieces that work really well.

The two hundred and thirty-eighth album: #238 Harry Nilsson - Nilsson Schmilsson

Reading up on him, it seems a bit odd I've never heard of Harry Nilsson. While I don't think there are any songs on here that I really know, the push towards a rock-influenced pop is clear here, with a pop sound that eschews the psychedelic or the soul, but uses a rock influence and takes the old rock classic sound, tones down the guitars and such, and moves into a pleasant sound rather than the more serious, morose tone of folk rock. There's thought put into the lyrics, but there's a happy tone to several of the songs which really make you feel better.

One of the best places to compare different sounds is a cover on the album, and Without You has been covered more famously by others. Here, it feels like a bit more of a production number than others on the album, with vocal double tracking, violins and a generally more bombastic feeling, but also one that feels well composed. Similarly, Coconut was written by Nilsson but was covered since and I don't think I ever heard the original. The song is pretty minimal, which works really well for it, even if the imitated accents seem a bit odd now.

The ninety-first classical recording: #324 Robert Schumann - Symphony no. 3 "Rhenish"

There's a beauty in this piece that I can't quite put into words. There aren't these stand out phrases or specific movements that have something extra, instead there's a lovely, gentle flow between them with each having their own identity, but the symphony also sounding more uniform than I feel I've heard with other pieces. It's a lovely set up,

The two hundred and thirty-seventh album: #237 John Prine - John Prine

Country folk isn't entirely my thing and it's hard to ignore those instincts when listening to this album, which goes all in on that and makes me feel vaguely uncomfortable as a result. It's all a bit too maudlin and a bit too twangy to work for me, a bit too morose to make me want to connect with it. Even the song I know most, Sam Stone, doesn't work for me in this rendition. It's one of the situations where I don't see the appeal of this music at all.

The ninetieth classical recording: #192 Ludwig von Beethoven - Piano Sonata in F minor, op. 57, "Appassionata"

While we've been listening mostly to more recent classical works, it feels like the older ones have been neglected. Going back to the Appassionata really made an impact. Gone are the big orchestra scores and instead it's a masterful piano performance. There's an intensity in the performance, starting off quite forceful and dark in the first movement but becoming more delicate and peaceful in the second. It calmly repeats itself through several variations. It gets more frantic in the repetitions and stays forceful, but it feels like some of that anger has dissipated, leaving (as per the title) a work with passion even as it has some darkness.

The two hundred and thirty-sixth album: #236 Gene Clark - White Light

From the moment this album opened with a harmonica blues guitar playing, I know that what I was in for was a simple country rock album, rather than anything more avant garde, following the return to basics that acts related to the Byrds seem to follow. While that's fine - this is a good country rock album, the folk route works for Gene Clark - it's also not a sound that I can say excites me. It's a lovely album, well made, but in the end it'll never jump out at me as something I have to listen to again.

The one hundred and fourty-eighth TV show: #15 The Quatermass Experiment

Can you fairly judge a six part serial on only the first two episodes? I've certainly made snap judgements on other shows, but it feels difficult here, in part because I did enjoy it. Due to its age, only the first two episodes of remain - not because the recordings of the other four episodes were lost, but because recording it turned out to be so difficult that they decided not to bother for the others. It's hard to imagine now, but they would have had actors come in to the play again - live, as happened here.

The issue that arises here is one that I've also noticed in old Doctor Who serials, and others with that set up: while the first episode is interesting in the way it sets up a story, the middle episodes can feel like they're spinning their wheels until the final episode or two resolve what's going on. The skill is on dividing it well enough that it keeps being interesting, with stuff moving in and out, at which point the episodes in the middle feel like they are important in keeping things moving. With the conclusion missing, the second episode looks a bit worse as it's a lot of exposition and waiting around, a bit of a let down after the dynamic parts of the first episode. There's still some sitting around in labs, but there's some quite exciting crowd scenes that feel like they're more impressive live.

The fact that these were live - per the way the BBC worked at the time - adds to how impressive and interesting it is. There are some sound issues, where the performers aren't that clear, but on the whole it works out. Sure, they have theatre experience, but having to deal with more sets and cameras makes this even more interesting since, unlike later serials in the Quatermass series, it sounds like nothing was prerecorded and there's no room for mistakes.

I would have loved to have seen the entire serial, as the way this abruptly ends makes it a bit more awkward. Even more important, it sounds like this was incredibly influential in one of my favourite genres, I do plan on watching the other serials so I can experience those and hopefully see how the full arc works out and I hope that will keep paying off.

The one hundred and fourty-seventh TV show: #254 Abigail's Party

Some of the best comedies are the ones that are rooted in reality, that take people you know in real life, have them do their thing and have it all fall in place in a real way. Abigail's Party is about a party in the seventies that don't feel entirely different from what I would expect my parents to have (although, of course, there are no kids here), but with most dysfunctional relationships. Beverly, played by the brilliant Alison Steadman, has invited a new couple in the neighbourhood to a party at her place, together with Sue, the mother of the titular Abigail, so she can be out of the way during Abigail's party. It's an awkward affair, with the subtly bossy Beverly ordering everyone around, her husband Lawrence trying to show how elevated he is in a way that seems snobby, while the mismatched couple of Angela and Tony seem to suffer in front of us.

It makes for a comedy of awkwardness, one where nobody quite gets along but everyone stays polite enough not to cause a scene. There's a constant underlying tension that comes out further as everyone drinks more, with a dark and explosive end that both resolves and removes some of the tension, but seems to leave things worse. As a play, it's an amazing tour de force with characters that interact believably with each other creating the small stakes that the party brings, but it's also intense enough that it's difficult to watch at times. It's a known masterpiece, and it shows clearly here why that's the case.