The one hundred thirty-fifth TV show: #442 Oranges Are Not the Only Fruit

While I don't think I've felt the true religious pressure on the LGBT, I've seen enough of the periphery of it to make me uncomfortable. I've once decided not to pursue a job opportunity because of it. As such, while I don't have as direct an experience with these issues, I can sympathize and understand how hard it is. This story of Jess, an adopted girl from the north west of England. Starting off as a semi-comedy, it morphs into a darker story as she discovers her feelings for another woman, then gets kicked out by her religious parents and gets shunned by most of her community.

As funny as the showcases of their missionary existence are - feeling as often like an excuse to hang out - the tone slowly shows how difficult it is, how much the church has brainwashed them and uses techniques like another cult to keep people in and behaving the way that's desired. It's a story of growing up and finding your independence and letting go off what is damaging you. It's a lovely series, one that makes you think and hits you where it hurts, even as it stays light.

The one hundred thirty-fourth TV show: #118 The Time Tunnel

The concept of a couple of people travelling through time, unable to control where they're going, is an interesting one, explored before on Doctor Who and, dimension or life hopping rather than time hopping, on shows like Sliders and Quantum Leap. To a lesser extent, most sci-fi shows seem to do time travel at some point, both as a different way to tell a story and, to be honest, because those are sets built for other production and so are cheaper to use.

The latter is the driving force of Time Tunnel, using both the sets and crowd scenes of existing productions, with a small guest cast for the actual stories. The success is, at best, mixed, a trilogy of alien stories and the end of the series working because of how bizarre it gets, but stories involving the fall of Jericho and a trip to the Moon doing quite less so. On the whole the show feels ambitious, a trend setter for American television, but flawed now, with too much action where some more dilemmas would have been better. There are places where that comes up, and that's when the episodes are more interesting than when we deal with the fall of Troy following the known beats. We didn't finish it, but it stayed a decent curiosity.

The eighty-sixth classical recording: #93 George Frideric Handel - Coronation Anthems

The four anthems in this set are known for, and paired here because of, their use in the British coronation rather than for their thematic link. The four are wonderful choral pieces, with Zodak the Priest feeling more singularly focused while others have more parts and feel more complex. As situational music, they feel more focused on their purpose and the length is more set for proceedings rather than what the piece needs. Still, that focus doesn't distract and they flow well on their own, the complexity of The King Shall Rejoice, for example, sounding wonderful. I suspect that, hearing this live, would be impressive.

The one hundred thirty-third TV show: #233 I, Claudius

While a lot of people might seek out something fun and distracting during the pandemic, we've ended up going for a historic drama set in Rome, a fictionalized account of Claudius' fictional memoirs and family history, set up at times as a dark comedy and just as often played as a soap opera. What it is, even more than that, is a show where a lot of great British actor give amazing performances, a stage play filmed and better designed. The centre of that cast is, of course, Claudius, played brilliantly by Derek Jacobi. It's hard to see how Charlton Heston would have played him, as the vulnerability, frailty and low status are such a part of his character while also standing up against the other big performances, just forceful enough to stay in focus and not fade. It's an amazing balancing act that is easy to overlook, but he walks the tightrope incredibly well.

The three other emperors show this most clearly. Augustus, played by Brian Blessed, is of course larger than life, well meaning but foolish, and the moment he shows respect for Claudius rather than ignoring him is one of the sweetest moments in there. George Baker's Tiberius always has anger lurking underneath the surface, a sense of insecurity that he feels he has to hide which puts him on that knife's edge all the time. But some of the most amazing scenes are between Claudius and John Hurt's Caligula, who seems otherworldly. His insanity goes between comedic and intimidating, always making you wonder what's happening, and somehow Derek Jacobi keeps being able to stand up to it where it feels like other actors are lessened in between. Livia, Augustus' wife and main driving force in the first half of the series, is an amazing tour de force, a camp villain that remains believable and sets the standard for schemers in the rest of the series (although I don't think any quite live up to it). Other stand outs are, of course, Patrick Stewart and Patricia Quinn, but there are many others. Sometimes they are overshadowed by some of the earlier performances, but (aside from some child actors) most do well, and it shows the talent in the West End at the time.

Add to that how they're working with a great script, hitting the right notes and balancing the serious and humorous sides, and some great directing that makes the best of the limited BBC budgets. Yeah, the sets are often reused, with a lot of happening being told about rather than shown, and the make up has its flaws, but it's not necessary with the performances on display. It's not hard to see why this is still remembered well - all of it still amazing and something that's unlikely we'll see again.

The two hundred and fourth album: #204 Syd Barrett - The Madcap Laughs

I feel the history of this album might be as interesting as the music itself, the product of mental health issues that come through in different ways. The first track, Terrapin, is a relaxing, blues number, calming you down and leading you through a slow increase in manic energy, first culminating in a darker, distorted No Man's Land that feels unsettling.

Still though, it feels like there's no real rhyme or reason to the songs included on the album - probably partially due to the disjointed nature of its recording. Two tracks later, we get Here I Go, a simple rock song that reminds me of those of the early sixties, even when Barrett's vocals don't quite meet the standards of the day. That's what makes it disconcerting, but other than that it's a sweet song about a break up, naive in how it presents its point of view.

Added to that is that the Dave Gilmour produced tracks feel looser than the Malcolm Jones ones, and you get a progression that is a bit unsettling, with the latter (mostly earlier in the album) standing out as the better songs. Whie probably down to the producers' stances (and possibly annoyance with how the production was going), the contracts beteen If It's You and Here I Go is startling, both coming from the same type of music, but with fastly different production and sound. It feels like it does Syd Barrett a disservice, but at the same time you can understand how it all would have happened. It's the work of someone who's a tortured genius, I'm sure, but where his trouble led to an album that just couldn't hold up.

The one hundred thirty-second TV show: #870 Black Mirror

It's hard to talk about an anthology series here. It's even harder considering it took us the better part of a year to get through, as some of the episodes, especially early on, were quite heavy. And while not all episodes have a twist, it's a show that's easy enough to spoil while they episodes are best when it's not.

The show addresses the consequences of technology, the problems that come from its adoption and use and how it could or would influence society. Most of it is set in a near(ish) future, a further development of technology we already have (as much as we need to make for a good story). The series retraces some steps sometimes, not always successfully, but on the whole has enough different perspectives to stay interesting. Bandersnatch's commentary on choice, for example, feels like not many others could have done it, while the different takes on virtual reality have some interesting ideas. Even the weaker episode has something interesting and worthwhile in there, and often something is worth watching.

The one hundred thirty-first TV show: #144 Monty Python's Flying Circus

After finally getting through some other shows, I thought I'd go back to Monty Python - it had been a while since I'd seen it and would make for a nice diversion in a difficult time. Having watched the first twenty episodes - probably about half of the best era of the show - it's been welcoming as we watched at least two episodes most nights. Now, some of it is quite dated - there's more blackface than there should be, for example - but the show holds up. It's not as innovative as it might have been at the time, with things like odd transitions being more common in comedy, especially the alt comedy scene.

What's more delightful, however, is how incredibly silly the show gets. It gets weird, it gets side tracked and feels like it keeps doing its own things, sometimes with non sequiturs or diversions that lead nowhere, or as often with a normal, well developed sketch that's just written and performed well. It goes broad sometimes, but just as often is as smart as you'd think. It's a writer's show, with the writers performing their work as well, but focusing on performing that the best rather than adding their own thing to the show. It's stayed watchable, and especially when you find the relative gems - not the few scenes that are repeated by everyone, but the weird bits that just sit there without as much acknowledgement from the world as a whole.

The eighty-ninth book: #1014 Ormond - Maria Edgeworth

I struggle with how to feel about Edgeworth's works. On one hand, I started off enjoying Ormond, its characters and the description of the title character's early life. The same applies to its descriptions of French life - you're not meant to feel opposed to their excesses, but it's enjoyably described and explored. On the other hand, the hardships of Irish life are described and the feudal system somewhat glorified, in a way that her novels have ended up doing. At a time where I feel Jane Austen started to move this genre ahead, this one just doesn't feel as satisfying.

The five hundred tenth song: Gloria - Umberto Tozzi

While there's room for Italian disco on this list, I feel like this is missing something. It's fine as a love song, there's an okay riff underneath, but is it that it doesn't connect? For disco, it's missing some volume, for pop it lacks a bit of a connection, and on the whole listening to this it's a song that wants to be lifted up a notch. It's a godo base for a song, and while it made a splash, I would wonder if a well produced cover would be more my thing.

The five hundred eleventh song: Black Eyed Dog - Nick Drake

There's a simple sadness to this song, one of the last Nick Drake recorded before his death. The guitar riff is simple, the whole song a blues where you hear the depression through the song, through the guitar, through the tiredness in his voice. There isn't more, it seems, that he can push out. It hits you completely and it feels a sadness there that warns of what will come.

The five hundred twelfth song: Are “Friends” Electric? - Gary Numan & Tubeway Army

Taking synth rock away from Kraftwerk (in the best way possible) the electronic sound that's in this song underlies the lonely message and the isolation. He's trying to get on top of the music in his vocals, a melodic drone that varies a fair amount - a repetition that doesn't jar but stays interesting. It's taken on a lot of influences from elsewhere, but it creates its own sound, gentler than Kraftwerk but more electronic than prog rock and the like. There's a new stream here, the lack of a personal touch being intentional, and in a way that I hope we can to see explored further. It's influential, but I'm not quite sure how.

The five hundred thirteenth song: Boys Don’t Cry - The Cure

Boys Don't Cry feels like a fairly straight forward poppy rock song, with a bit of post punk, but while it's a break up song, it has a little bit of depth to it. Is it amazing? No, but it feels like a good entry for a band where I might enjoy the deeper cuts.

The five hundred fourteenth song: Good Times - Chic

An eight minute disco song? I'm not sure how much they want to push me to hate disco, when you know you'll have the long dance break, a repeating riff that they spend too much on early on and something that works as a sample that's extended. Not to mention that singing about how you want to dance to this song feels a bit overdone and after several songs with depth, there's not much here that I want. (It does hide the lyrics, which are about how it's not the best idea to go out and party when they were going through a major depression - and perhaps it should be a part of the current Covid-19 soundtrack. It just doesn't come through here)

The five hundred fifteenth song: Don’t Stop ‘til You Get Enough - Michael Jackson

Considering the love affair this list has with some artists, it feels odd that Michael Jackson only gets two entries - ignoring his private life, musically it feels like he's been incredibly influential and a genius. It draws on all the disco we've heard before, but somehow it avoids the tropes - it doesn't repeat itself to the point where it gets old and the dance break feels more engaging and varied, with enough going on to keep you engaged as a listener.

The five hundred sixteenth song: Lost in Music - Sister Sledge

Another disco classic, produced by Chic, this feels like it works better - aside from being a bit shorter, again it includes more variation and stays more engaging for it. Lyrically it's still no better - there's not that much going on - but it feels less like it's the same parts repeated over and over. It still doesn't beat Jackson's number, but for the first half of the song, it works.

The five hundred seventeenth song: Brass in Pocket - Pretenders

Brass in Pocket is a decent poppy rock song (or new wave, as it's described here) - a decent, simple melody with some powerful focus, Chrissie Hynde is in charge throughout as she prepares for whatever she's doing and how she's ready. It's a catchy chorus, a good hook, and making lists always works in this sort of set up. It's enjoyable end, and a good upbeat disco antidote.

The two hundred and third album: #203 Santana - Abraxas

Latin rock hasn't featured on this list - at least not recently - and Santana's second album sets a tone from the first number, a jazzy fusion that brings in some different sounds on its own and flows into Black Magic Woman, the first song with lyrics. Not that those matter much - Oye Como Va mostly just repeats the words and for the most part the refrains are an additional instrument in the songs. Beyond that, while this doesn't have the loose, improv feel of most jazz albums, a lot of the songs are inspired y the sound, especially the instrumentals that feel like they lounge along more - although the Latin elements are strong as well, adding a bit of a kick to the proceedings.

It takes until Mother's Daughter for the album to really bring in rock as I think of it, with the heavier guitars and the vocal stylings that reminded me of the Rolling Stones. It's a good sound that integrates a few elements well, but it also feels like a shift to a rockier sound that feels quite distinct from the first half. They're good, but not necessarily to provide a consistent whole on the album. It's one where there are good individual tracks (even if jazz isn't my thing), but where it felt like it wanted to create a consistent experience at the start, that fell by the wayside later on.