Paul O’Brien routinely discusses the vagaries of the British pop charts at his blogging environs (so you see that I am not the only theoretically-a-comics-blogger who indulges in other areas of pop culture some might consider lowbrow), but I thought his synopsis of Rage Against The Machine becoming this year’s Christmas single was especially well-written and a great article throughout.

Just a quick comparison for those of you who may have Christmas and New Years Eve parties to go to in the days to come, during which a conversation about popular music may come up:

IF YOU NAME-DROP ELVIS COSTELLO…

…you will get the respect of the average person, because most people have heard of Elvis Costello, but aren’t familiar with more than a handful of songs. Since Costello is almost universally praised by critics, though, you will earn instant cred.

However, should you encounter another Elvis Costello fan, you will likely make a bitter enemy, as the rest of the evening will be spent trying to top each other about who has listened to the most obscure, non-mainstream EC recording (theoretically, the guy who has a copy of the opera that he wrote in 2004 wins, but I am not sure that anyone has ever actually bought that CD).

BUT IF YOU NAME DROP XTC…

…you will get no cred at all from the average person, because unlike Costello, most people are too unfamiliar with XTC for the reference to mean anything. No one knows any of their songs, although they may have read that a bunch of bands that came out with CDs in the past decade are supposed to have been influenced by them.

However, should you encounter another XTC fan, you two will become new best friends, because XTC fans are always so psyched to meet someone else who’s even heard of them. A person can go from zero to awesome instantaneously with the revelation of XTC fandom, and if two XTC fans of the opposite sex meet at a party, they are obligated at some point in the evening to make out with each other. At least.

SO WEIGH YOUR OPTIONS AND CHOOSE WISELY.

I’m a big fan of K’naan, so to hear that Wavin’ Flag is the official anthem of the 2010 World Cup makes me happy.

April 24, 1976. Lorne Michaels offers the Beatles $3,000 to appear on Saturday Night Live, as a gag mocking the full-page ads taken out in the New York Times offering the Beatles millions of dollars to reunite and play in Shea Stadium. Unbeknownst to Michaels, both John Lennon and Paul McCartney are in New York City at the time, and see the sketch airing live. They consider actually going to the studio, but decide they are too tired.

May 15, 1976. Lorne Michaels does the sketch again, this time offering the Beatles $3,200 (claiming he has “sweetened the pot”). This time, again unbeknownst to Michaels, all four of the Beatles are in New York City. Lennon and McCartney again consider going down to the studio and performing, but again decide they are too tired. However, this time Ringo Starr knocks on their door at 12:15 AM with a round of coffees (”from the awful all-night Hungarian deli on Bleecker,” he would later elaborate in an interview the next day) and George Harrison in tow. Years later in an interview with Playboy, Lennon says “I’d told Ringo about it, see, and we thought it was hilarious, but figured that was it and we’d missed the shot. When Ringo saw the second sketch, he decided to force our hand.”

Starr cajoles the other three Beatles into traveling down to 30 Rockefeller to “crash” Saturday Night Live. (Onlookers later claimed that when they entered the studio through a rear entrance, two interns fainted.) At 12:50 AM, they go on-air before the studio audience. Halfway through “Let It Be,” their second song, George Harrison yells to Michaels offstage that “after the third, we’ll just keep going if that’s all right.” Michaels quickly negotiates additional airtime with NBC (which gleefully capitulates) and the result is a spontaneous, three-hour live televised concert, famous not only for obvious reasons but for a host of its own idiosyncrasies: Lennon getting the hiccups during “Help,” McCartney playfully changing two lines of “Lady Madonna” to “where’s our three thousand, or our thirty-two/got to realize that now the cheque is due,” and Starr inviting the horn section of the Saturday Night Live band onstage “so we can do With A Little Help [From My Friends] properly.”

The “Saturday Night reunion” instantly becomes one of the touchstones of modern television history.

1977. After the reunion concert, the Beatles lay low in the public eye for about eight months. Wings concludes its world tour uneventfully; Lennon and Starr “tinker around” in the studio for a few months. People gradually assume that the reunion concert was a one-off.

November 5, 1977. Apple Records, with no fanfare whatsoever, announces via press release that a new Beatles album, titled Eventually, will be released “in the near future.” A media firestorm ensues. Lennon and McCartney both admit in the days following that they have been “hard at work” on a new album, but that this album does not constitute a “full-on comeback.” All four Beatles repeatedly stress that the production of Eventually does not mean that the various members have stopped working on their solo projects. Lennon: “Who are you kidding? We’d kill each other if we did that. We already tried that.”

February 11th, 1978. Eventually is released simultaneously in the American and British markets. Some critics find significance in the fact that the first single off the album, “Blow Away,” is not a Lennon/McCartney collaboration but instead a George Harrison song; others find themselves underwhelmed and suggest that the Lennon/McCartney “Free As A Bird” should have been the first single instead. (”Free As A Bird” is released as the second single six weeks later.) Harrison, for his part, says that “Blow Away” was “a lot less of a rocker” before Lennon suggested an increase in tempo and “letting Ringo go nuts.” No music videos are produced for the album: Lennon says “no, that would be too much bother. We want to have fun with this. Work’s for our own stuff.”

July 11th, 1978. Six months after its initial release, Eventually goes septuple platinum.

December 14, 1980. Having “had a sit back” (Ringo) after Eventually’s staggering success and taken time to concentrate on their own projects and personal lives, the Beatles make their first televised appearance as a group since the SNL reunion, appearing on The Muppet Show. (Lennon leaves New York for the first time in six months to do the gig, eventually spending the entire month of December in England.) The episode is the highest rated episode of The Muppet Show in the show’s history and the most watched television program of the entire year, beating even the news coverage of the 1980 American presidential election. The undisputed highlight of the episode is the “battle of the bands” between the Beatles and the Electric Mayhem (although Starr says his duet with Fozzie the Bear remains his personal favorite moment). Jim Henson would later say that the Beatles episode “rejuvenated” his joy in working on the show, which by that point he had begun to feel was growing stale: the show continues for another seven seasons.

January 7th, 1981. Lennon, Harrison and Starr attend the funeral of a New Yorker named Mark David Chapman, who committed suicide in mid-December and whose apartment, after the fact, was revealed to be a shrine to the Beatles. “I just felt, you know, responsible somehow, like he died because of us,” says Starr, although he refuses to articulate further on this point. Harrison agrees: “it’s amazing to think how great an impact we can have sometimes. You just want it so that you don’t have this kind of impact.” Lennon says nothing.

August 5th, 1981. The announcement of Neither Here Nor There, the new Beatles album, is less shocking than the announcement of Eventually – the previous announcement taught Beatles fans to “watch the signs” and rumours of Lennon and McCartney spending time in the studio have been swirling for months. The success of Lennon and Yoko Ono’s Double Fantasy had previously led some to wonder if the Beatles were once again finished; Lennon dismisses such talk soon after the press release, complaining that people “just don’t seem to understand” that the group has figured out how to continue working together without the self-destructive fights.

1982. Neither Here Nor There sells 15 million copies. The media portrays the album as in competition with Thriller by Michael Jackson; however, the Beatles think this is crap, and say so publicly (and in Lennon’s case enthusiastically so). All four Beatles collaborate with Jackson on “Say Say Say,” which becomes the best-selling single of 1982 when it is released in December. (Lennon displays an uncanny knack for marrying Beatlesque musical tweaks to Jackson’s R&B style. Jackson later comments that without Lennon the song would have taken “forever to come together.”)

1983. The Beatles announce their first tour in thirteen years, but likewise announce that Jackson will be going on tour with them as a one gigantic mega-concert event. The “Startin’ Something Again” tour plays packed stadiums and larger venues around the world for eleven months straight – the smallest concert played is 240,000 people in Rio de Janeiro, and the tour closes with a free concert in Central Park with an estimated crowd of one point three million people.

January 5th, 1984. Jackson and McCartney are filming a commercial for Pepsi when pyrotechnicians accidentally set Jackson’s hair on fire. Jackson is rushed to the hospital with severe burns, but dies of shock in the ambulance before he can be treated. The Beatles attend his funeral en masse. “He changed things,” says Lennon, “and that’s something I don’t say lightly.” Starr is especially saddened, saying “it wasn’t supposed to be like this.” Harrison says nothing. McCartney promises that Michael Jackson’s legacy “will not be forgotten” and pledges to make sure of this, although he is unspecific as to details.

December 7th, 1984. McCartney purchases the Michael Jackson song catalog for an estimated $250 million. In accordance with what he says are “Michael’s wishes,” he offers Janet Jackson a recording contract with Apple Records, offering to buy out her contract with A&M. She accepts.

1985-87. Another “lull period” in Beatles history, as the various members concentrate on solo projects and their families. Released during this period: Cloud Nine by Harrison, Wish Factory by Starr, and Mysteries by Lennon (with Yoko Ono). Janet Jackson’s solo career flourishes as her first Apple-era album, Control, co-produced by McCartney and Jimmy Jam, is a massive hit.

1988. Shortly after a triumphant recording session that would become Traveling Wilburys vol. 1, Roy Orbison suffers a heart attack. He is rushed to hospital and revived, although he is clinically deceased for nearly forty-six seconds at one point during his resecutation. Orbison makes a full recovery and tours with the Wilburys one year later. McCartney and Starr frequently sit in on Wilbury performances (McCartney playing bass and Starr on drums).

1989. The Rolling Stones Steel Wheels tour kicks off, and the Stones and Beatles engage in good-humoured sniping at one another’s expense. Lennon: “Well, I suppose this was inevitable, given that they copy everything we do.” Jagger: “Indeed, we have been known to copy all the Beatles’ ideas. That’s why we broke up for a decade to make total shit.” Starr: “I hear Mick Jagger said we broke up for a decade to make shit. That’s just not true. It was only eight years.” Harrison and Starr appear on Saturday Night Live for a staged “rumble” during a Stones appearance on Weekend Update. The Starr/Charlie Watts “ninja drumstick duel” becomes a classic SNL moment.

1991. The Beatles release Everything Else. The undisputed highlight is the McCartney/Lennon collaboration “Ophelia,” which sits atop the British charts for eleven weeks. The second single, “Weight of the World,” sung by Starr, is widely considered to be the strongest Starr Beatles song since “With A Little Help From My Friends.” The album eventually sells eleven million copies.

1993. Jeff Lynne is killed in a car crash after leaving McCartney’s recording studio in New York. Lynne’s funeral is a sad occasion, as the Beatles, Traveling Wilburys, and a host of other musicians arrive to pay tribute. Starr, Harrison, and Tom Petty perform a haunting rendition of “Every Little Thing” at the memorial service. Lynne’s production work on the first album by Sean Lennon and Zak Starkey’s band Lark is finished by Bob Rock. (The album is poorly received by critics, but most concede that the pairing has potential.)

1996. John Lennon comes out with Elastic, his first album in nearly a decade. “I like taking my time now,” he says in interviews. “I mean, it’s not like I don’t have it.” The album consists of a set of collaborations with his sons Julian and Sean, prompting some critics to call it “the Lennon Family Experience.” The album is widely praised and considered one of Lennon’s best works.

1998. George Harrison informs his friends and family that he has throat cancer. McCartney later mentions in a 2004 interview in Newsweek that “Ringo took it particularly hard.” Harrison personally requests that the band go on tour again, citing a wish to “hit the road before I’m some sort of gimp in a bed.” The band agrees. Harrison’s illness is kept quiet by his own request.

1999. After an initial round of chemotherapy at the Mayo Clinic which appears successful, the Beatles commence the “Alive” tour, with Janet Jackson opening for them. The tour is a massive financial success – but moreover a series of smaller dates, where the Beatles play small venues, is considered to creatively rejuvenate the band. Sean and Julian Lennon, Zak Starkey and Dhani Harrison all at various points on the tour play with their parents: Dhani Harrison in particular plays with the band extensively as the tour progresses and his father’s condition begins to turn south.

2000. The Beatles release their final studio album with George Harrison, which is untitled but universally referred to as “the Green Album” because of its cover. (Lennon: “We only have so many titles to go around, you know.”) Rare for a Beatles album in that the majority of the songs are written by Harrison rather than Lennon and McCartney, the album is extremely moody and reflective for a Beatles album – although not without some truly excellent pop songs, most of which are Harrison’s work. Dhani Harrison, the Lennon sons, and Zak Starkey all sit in on the album as studio musicians, and the media takes notice of the “next generation” of Beatles, although of course none of the band or their sons ever call themselves that.

November 29, 2001. Harrison dies of throat cancer. His ashes are scattered on the Ganges. Media reports of extreme depression on the part of Starr regarding Harrison’s death appear to be false when he arrives at the funeral.

2002-3. John Lennon, having never abandoned peace activism (his 1991 re-recording of “Give Peace A Chance” before the first Gulf War sparked much controversy), begins harshly criticizing the American buildup to war in Iraq, calling it a “pack of lies.” After the first round of peace protests are largely ignored by the media, Lennon goes on The Late Show With David Letterman and launches into a tirade, visibly furious that the protests were ignored. “Half a million fucking people in New York saying “we don’t want a war” and CNN doesn’t say a damn thing.” The soundbite becomes a flashpoint for debate over the war. Sean Hannity calls for Lennon’s deportation. Lennon offers to come on any show opposing his viewpoint: he receives no response.

Early 2003. Lennon, McCartney and Starr begin working on a new album, more actively collaborating with their sons and Dhani Harrison. Harrison dismisses any suggestion that he is “the new fourth Beatle,” saying that he is content working on his own projects and “helping out family, because that’s what you do.” Starr quips that “he can’t be the fourth Beatle, because that’s my job.”

July 7th, 2003. John Lennon is shot and killed outside of his apartment in New York City. The shooter, a mentally disturbed man named Davis O’Neil, says that he did it “for America and the soldiers.” Yoko Ono asks that Beatles fans mourn peacefully. One million people travel to New York City for a candlelight vigil one week after Lennon’s death; a similar vigil in London hosted by McCartney attracts double that number. No violent altercations are reported during these events.

2004. The charitable disbursement of Lennon’s funds not left to his family – estimated to be nearly a billion dollars – begins. Starr, acting as an assistant executor, funds numerous university research projects of all types: environmental sciences, biological, chemistry, physics, “pretty much everything, really… John said “anything that’ll help the human race,” so that’s what I’m trying to do with it.” (Critics complain that Starr favours theoretical physics too greatly; his response is that Lennon felt theoretical sciences wouldn’t get money anywhere else.) McCartney tends to the cultural side of the disbursement, funding thousands of artists, activists and aid charities worldwide.

January 3rd, 2005. Starr, in a televised interview with Oprah Winfrey, says that “the Beatles are over. You can’t be the Beatles with two Beatles… you might want to go back and do more or do things differently, and I have wanted that of course, but I think if you did that, all that happens is the same things, different ways and different times. We’re just so tiny in the scope of it all; there’s only so much we can do. We had a good run and it’s over.”

December 7, 2005. Apple Records releases Where Do We Go, the final album by the Beatles. The album, only half-complete at the time of Lennon’s death, was finished primarily by McCartney working with the Lennon sons, Zak Starkey and Dhani Harrison. Critics are respectful of the effort but general consensus is that it is, for obvious reasons, a weaker than usual achievement by the band.

May 15, 2006. Starr and McCartney do a rare double interview for Rolling Stone to commemorate the thirtieth anniversary of the SNL concert. McCartney: “Of course one of the things I strongly advocate for now is research into cancer screening. If Linda had had more warning, if George had had more warning – maybe we could have saved them. But of course in both cases there was no way anybody could have known.” Starr: “If they had, things would be different. Maybe John would still be alive as well. Who’s to say?”

August 3, 2007. Starr, at a dinner with McCartney, acts peculiarly. “He kept on about he wouldn’t bollocks it up like the first bloke. I thought at first he was talking about Pete Best,” McCartney later says. “He said that he’d only had the one warning, and to do it properly you needed a notebook to pass along to the next fellow. Then he laughed and said “well, I guess I’m not a scientist, right? Or I wouldn’t have to do it again to get the fiddly bits.” I didn’t know what he was on about, but he looked happier than I’d seen him in years. I’d been thinking for years that he seemed adrift, sort of. I’d been worrying about him.”

August 11, 2007. Starr’s car is found parked off a roadside in Amesbury. On the dashboard is a letter addressed only to Barbara, his wife. The Starkey family refuses to discuss the contents of the letter with the general public. Ringo Starr is never seen again.

So the guys who did that Carl Sagan autotune have decided to turn it into an ongoing project, and given their second effort – a mix of Sagan, Neil DeGrasse Tyson, Richard Feynman and Bill Nye – I’m not sure that extending this into a series necessarily works.

The first song was brilliant for two reasons. First, the tune itself was quite good. But secondly, Carl Sagan’s spoken words worked extraordinarily well for the purpose of Autotuning – his Kermit the Frog voice and deliberate pace of speech turns into Autotuned music much more eloquently than a lot of people’s. And on top of that, Sagan was just a poetic goddamned person, in ways that practically nobody else in the “scientific celebrity” community is. Listening to the attempt to Autotune Bill Nye’s trademark excited exhortations – or a fairly dry statement by Tyson, for that matter – just underlines how much harder it is to Autotune their words into really good music.

So in future: more Sagan, and everybody else is a cameo player, please. Either that, or start Autotuning Beakman’s World.

The Jack White “Where The Fuck Is The Fucking Bass” Award For The Pretty Great Song That Would Be An All-Time Classic If It Had A Fucking Bass Line goes to “Stillness Is The Move” by Dirty Projectors. Because, damn, just imagine this song with a thumping bass groove to counter those airy vocals and the great guitar hook. It needs BASS.¹

On the bright side, there is a llama in the video.

The N’Sync Memorial Award For Shameless Use Of Pop Formulae goes to “Evacuate the Dancefloor” by Cascada, a song that so bluntly says “this is going to be a hit dance single” – complete with slightly incongruous use of rap as a bridge – that they probably should have just called it that, but despite all that it is still a really great dance song. (As Paul O’Brien once said of another Cascada song, “By thirty seconds in, it’s as subtle as a brick to the face. And then, at the one minute mark, it reaches for a second brick.”)

This song also wins the “most likely to get used multiple times on So You Think You Can Dance in multiple genres” award.

The U2 Brand Award For Best U2 Song By U2 goes to “Magnificent” by U2 and Blackberry.

The Fuck You Your Hyped Song Is Shit And I Am Not Embedding A Youtube For It Award goes to “So Fine” by Telepathe (sounds like every hipster cliche rolled up into one terrible synthesized ball) AND “Happy Up Here” by Royksopp (the techno-pop equivalent of wallpaper) AND “Blame It” by Jamie Foxx (T-Pain: See what you have wrought? Curl up in a ball and die, T-Pain. Curl up in a ball and die).

The Award For Having The Sake Of An Award So I Can Mention The Song Award goes to “One Day” by The Juan Maclean.

The Hip-Hop Is Not Dead Despite What You Might Think Award goes to “ABCs” by K’naan. His flow is sick, and although I haven’t given the new Mos Def a listen yet I’m willing to call Troubadour the best hip-hop album of the year unless Common manages to sneak out his next album before the year ends, in which case there will be a big rhyme-fight IN MY DREAMS.

The Whitest Person In Dance Music Award goes to Ilan Kidron of the Potbelleez, seen here in “Trouble Trouble.”

His attempts to be cool at the rave here are whiter than Jean-Claude Van Damme showing off his moves in the video for “Straight To My Feet” by Hammer and Deion Sanders, the previous standard-bearer for white people trying to get down in the whitest possible way. Which is a shame, because in every other respect the Potbelleez are goddamned fantastic.

The Kelly Clarkson “Idol Sings Song That Is Actually Very Good” Award goes to “Battlefield” by Jordin Sparks. It takes about forty seconds for the song to hit greatness. And it’s really annoying that it is a great song, because, seriously. Jordin Sparks.² Karmically, Jordin Sparks is owed nothing more than inoffensive pap a la your Duffs or Cyrusses or your Jonii. It’s not like she wrote this or anything; some songwriter thought “hey, get someone with good pipes to sing “A BATTLEFIELD” over and over again and it will be amazing for reasons no one can adequately explain,” and they were right.

Fuck, why does that song have to be so goddamn good?

The Thank God The Best Song Of The Year So Far Has Nothing To Do With Jordin Sparks Award goes to “Moth’s Wings” by Passion Pit. “Sleepyhead” is getting all the hype and play, but this one is better: anthemic and ambitious and sweeping and just great.

1. How low can it go? Only a brother knows. [↩]
2. File under: annoying purity ring bullshit. [↩]

LIKED

- Someone in the requests post asked for a general investigation into what I like and don’t like in music, and that’s coming later this week, but for the meantime? I really got into listening to Orishas this week. I really like hip-hop combined with traditional musical forms and Orishas do it very well, mixing Spanish rhyming (which admittedly I can’t follow, but their flow and performance is excellent even without understanding the words) with Cuban rumba- and salsa-style beats. “El Kilo” is probably my favorite single of theirs so far, but “Bruja” isn’t far behind.

- I’m really enjoying Then We Came To The End by Joshua Ferris. It’s funny and clever and hard to put down, and that’s what I want out of a light novel.

- I’ve always had an inherent fondness for poker-dice type games, and Lock N’ Roll is one of the best I’ve seen in quite some time. Current high score is 7622, for those interested in beating me.

MEH

- I got Britannia this week at a discount, which is great, and of course the new Fantasy Flight edition of the game is gorgeous in most respects. My complaint, however, is that this is a game with eleventy billion tokens, and the plastic insert which is supposed to store the pieces is entirely random and doesn’t actually have anything to do with the various types of pieces, so you end up kind of mixing things together in untidy clumps. This isn’t a small deal, because Britannia is a looooong-ass game, and anything that can reduce its playtime – like, say, simplifying the storage of it – is welcome.

- I finally got around to reading all of Jack Staff this week and… it’s not bad, I suppose, but I don’t see why this comic gets so many raves. It’s a perfectly average, okayish superhero comic. If it was a Marvel or DC book it would be completely unmemorable. Paul Grist’s art gives it an additional sort of original character, sure, but I was expecting an A-plus book and got maybe a B-minus. Is this like Walt Simonson’s Thor – is it one of those comics everybody else jerks over and I just read it and think, “eh, whatever?” (Other than Beta Ray Bill, of course.)

DIDN’T LIKE

- Whenever I see one of the old Big Books that Paradox Press used to print (The Big Book of Death, The Big Book of Hoaxes, The Big Book of the Weird Wild West, et cetera) in a used bookstore, I make a point to pick it up because they’re out of print and they’re always awesome: clever stories about real, obscure things, people and happenings. However, The Big Book of Urban Legends is just terrible, because it is full of boring stories about fake things that never happened that you have already heard half a dozen times. It’s like reading a book of knock-knock jokes when you’re older than eight; you know them all already, so it’s not fun or cool. It’s just bad.

Trent Reznor on why musicians should give their music away – and more importantly, how to do it.

A quick and dirty ambient music melody generator. (Well, it’s a Flash-app tenori-on, to be specific.)

Seriously, all someone needs to do is hook up a beatbox of some type to this and it is on.

…thing that was awesome about 2008: “Propane Nightmares” by Pendulum.

The thing I like about this – well. Obviously it’s a great song, but on top of that…

See, when I originally went into film a long time ago, part of it was because I loved – and was good at – constructing trailers in my head. Part of that was giving a lot of thought to music, what a song was good for in terms of enhancing the visuals in any given trailer.

This song is fantastic for anything involving speed. (I was originally thinking “Fast and the Furious minus the emo boring parts.”) It’s got a driving pulse to it, and it’s upbeat, but there’s also a hint of desperation in it. And it’s heroic, very obviously so.

In short? If they ever make a Flash movie, this is the song to which they should cut the trailer. Just close your eyes, listen to it, and see him doing things at Ludicrous Speed, cutting back and forth between shots of him in super-slow-motion in a frozen world and shots of him in crazy-fast-motion outpacing everything. The song just works for the Flash.

The lyrics even work! “In a trail of fire I know we will be free again / In the end we will be one / In a trail of fire I’ll burn before you bury me / Set your sights for the sun.” TELL me that’s not Barry thinking about Iris.

Anyhow. Fan moment over. Discuss.

“Pork and Beans” by Weezer and “So What” by Pink. 2008 was a really great year for “fuck you” songs, as the general frustration of the world with stupid bullshit finally hit its boiling point, and these were two of the best. Weezer’s song was “Fuck you, I’m a nerd” and Pink’s was “Fuck you, my marriage didn’t work out and who are you to comment.” They both had fantastic hooks (Pink’s “na-na-na-na” in particular will burn itself into your brain) and great musicality, and while Weezer’s video might have been a love letter to internet geeks, Pink’s video had Pink dancing naked and chainsawing down a tree, so at best the “best video” contest between these two is a wash.

The Incredible Hercules. Let’s face facts: 2008 was a remarkably shitty year for Big Two superhero comics. Other than the tail end of All-Star Superman’s glorious twelve-issue run, what was there? “Event” comics repeatedly failed to impress (something which, at this point, should surprise absolutely nobody) and most superhero comics held up as this year’s exemplars of the form (Jason Aaron’s Ghost Rider, say, or Geoff Johns’ work on Green Lantern, or Abnett and Lanning’s writing on Nova and Guardians of the Galaxy) are barely more than what should be expected out of the form – competent, entertaining storytelling that isn’t particularly revolutionary. The one bright light in all of this was Incredible Hercules, a comic which takes the mythological scope of Walt Simonson’s Thor and marries it to a humourous style not unlike that of Giffen and DeMatteis’ Justice League International (with the same core of pathos that that latter title had). Constantly wonderful and only getting better with time.

WALL-E. The single best film Pixar Studios have ever made – and considering this is the studio with Toy Story 2, Finding Nemo, Monsters Inc. and The Incredibles under its belt, that says something. Confident enough to wed most of its storytelling to physical comedy – and physical comedy created by a junky little robot no less – the scope and ambition of WALL-E is only more breathtaking. Yes, Andrew Stanton and company walked it back in public, claiming that it wasn’t “about” consumerism and the ecological destruction of the planet. The rest of us knew ass-covering bullshit when we heard it.

Nation by Terry Pratchett. Nobody knows how many swings at the plate Pratchett has left in him at this point, so that makes this home run of a book all the more glorious; a book which manages to be horrifying without being gory, romantic without being crass, sad without being melodramatic, spiritual without being moralistic, and praiseworthy of science without being annoyingly self-satisfied. As it is a Pratchett book, it is of course also very, very funny and clever throughout, and its message – of the possible comingling and even necessary interdependence of science and religion – is timely and welcome.

Leverage. God, how did John Rogers pitch this and ever have any trouble? “It’s Ocean’s Eleven versus evil corporations who screw over the little guy.” Why did it take so long for someone in Hollywood to throw money at him to get it made? But finally it happened, and this show is a glorious triumph – funny, exciting and most of all you never, ever have to watch it in Idiot Mode because the characters are doing stupid things for stupid reasons. Leverage is a show where the characters, at their worst, do smart things for stupid reasons. Or stupid things for smart reasons. And that makes all the difference.

Furr by Blitzen Trapper. I like music with energetic beats and operatic ambition, so the fact that I’m putting simple, folky, gentle Blitzen Trapper on my “best” list should serve as notice to how brilliant this record was. The title track is a love song about a werewolf, for crissake – just saying that should prepare you for some of the shittiest filk imaginable, but instead Blitzen Trapper makes it work, avoiding cute jokes and writing pure, eloquent poetry, and sounding all the while like a young version of Bob Dylan backed up by The Band. Just fantastic.

Berlin: City of Smoke. Jason Lutes’ epic continues to be absolutely fucking staggering. You should read this comic. Enough said.

In Bruges. Tanked at the box office, as people expected from the shitty advertising campaign that it would be another Lock, Stock-lite English gangster caper film, but instead this was by turns a funny and solemn story about two gangsters (in Bruges) taking cover after a crime gone horribly wrong, a crime that left scars. The comedy comes from razor-sharp dialogue; the pathos from absolutely brilliant work by Colin Farrell, Brendan Gleeson and Ralph Fiennes, and a story that inverts the usual heh-heh-we’re-gangsters tropes and unabashedly, without moralizing, points out that the criminal life really, really sucks at your soul. The best directorial debut of the year, by a country mile.

Northlanders. Brutal, vicious, and utterly fantastic Viking stories that only served to once again remind comics fans of why Vertigo still matters if you’re not interested in medium-dark fantasy (along with the equally fantastic Scalped). Totally hard-ass and uncompromising about both the virtues and flaws of the Viking world, and the lack of an overarching supernarrative means that Brian Wood can do what he does best – stories more connected by theme than by plot. (With Vikings in them.)

Fallout 3. Everybody else has already said everything that could be said about this game, so I’ll just throw in a backhanded compliment: the game is so crazily chock-full of content that I maxed out at level 20 when I was less than a third of the way through the main plot. Dear Bethesda: please to patch game to give more levels please.

Bob on Survivor. You have to love it when a 57-year-old physics teacher (and clearly still a very fit one) dominates the competition challenges over people half his age and invents multiple realistic-looking fake immunity idols to keep himself in play. Bob was the runaway fan-favorite of Survivor: Gabon and easily one of the most dominant players in years, his only failing being an early willingness to trust the wrong people (which merely made him all the more sympathetic).

The Boys. The next time somebody tells me that Garth Ennis just likes to take the piss out of superhero comics and that’s the only reason he’s writing The Boys, I will make them read #15, wherein Annie, undergoing a severe crisis of faith, demands that God give her a sign He exists, and leaves the church disappointed and on the brink of collapse when nothing happens – and then promptly runs into Hughie, who of course is exactly the sign she asked for. Then I will beat them to death with a lead pipe because I am sick to fucking death of people whining about shit that isn’t true. Be forewarned.

The Battlestar Galactica board game. An ingeniously designed board game, featuring the standard cooperative-survival mechanics one would expect given the setting, but with a brilliant twist: some of the players are actually Cylons and they are secretly trying to destroy humanity. The game’s system is designed to make hiding and striking against humanity a thing of subtlety and play-skill; if you’re really good you can even set up other players to take the fall for you, framing them as Cylons using nothing more than your own ability to lie. Similarly, it takes true observational skill to ferret out a really good Cylon player, as well as time your incarceration of them properly. Yes, it’s kind of a shame that Boomer sucks compared to most of the other characters, but other than that this game is seriously just about perfect in its execution.

Chuck. With a promising mini-season start last year, Chuck was already a solidly entertaining little show, but now? Far and away the most improved show on television; the plots are more clever, the dialogue snappier, the action higher quality and the unrealized romance between Chuck and Sarah satisfyingly boiling away behind a thousand actually-good reasons for them to not be together. Also good: the elevation of the Buy-More supporting cast to credits-level importance. Last season I was worried Chuck might waste them in favour of the annoying guy who plays Morgan. This season – well, less Morgan! That’s a start.

Metropolis by Janelle Monáe.

I trust that was self-explanatory, but if it wasn’t – that blend of nu-funk, futuristic soul and utter batshit craziness (it’s a concept album! Set in 2719!) is like what I think Legion of Super-Heroes should be if it were transposed into musical form. And she’s an obvious music nerd. Any other P.Diddy “discovery” diva-lite would want to be all pretty and sexified in their debut video. She wants to be Robot James Brown. How awesome is that?

2008 was a year that produced many singular and outstanding creative works. These were not those.

Waltz with Bashir. One of the most overrated films of the year, the recipient of far too many movie-critic blowjobs to count. Admittedly, the idea of a documentary presented entirely in rotoscopic animation is novel, but one novel idea doesn’t necessarily make a film good, and once you get past the gee-whiz factor of the cartoony Waking Life visual treatment of the film’s material, what do you really have? You’ve got a documentary that’s somewhere in between indulgent and boring, relying on the “oh this is serious stuff” aura that journalists will cheerfully hype about absolutely any inferior creative work related to the ongoing Israeli-Arab conflict. Pretty cartoons do not redeem it.

“Lollipop” by L’il Wayne. L’il Wayne has so much awesome work under his belt that it seems a cruel trick that this, one of the most annoying songs he’s ever written, should be his biggest mainstream hit ever. It’s not catchy, it’s just repetitive.

Countdown. It seems almost besides the point to mention how fucking terrible Countdown was, because everybody remembers how fucking terrible it was. But people deserve to be reminded of how shitty, how absolutely crap every fucking week of this fucking shitty comic was, in case they are considering buying a DC “event” comic. So: Jason Todd spent a long time becoming Red Robin. Then he quit being Red Robin. Mary Marvel became a magic-eating psycho whore. Then she stopped doing that. Then she started doing it again. Kamandi finally got the origin story nobody ever demanded. God only knows how many pages were spent detailing the slow death-by-superdisease suffered by Karate Kid, which would have been compelling if the payoff hadn’t been “they fail and he dies anyway.” (Memo to Keith Giffen: I know you’re proud that you’ve managed to kill off Karate Kid twice, but at least the first time it only took you one issue.) We met the Earth-3 “good guy” version of the Joker. Then they killed him off. Jimmy Olsen fucked a bug. Then the bug dumped him. Then Jimmy Olsen fought Darkseid. Again: Jimmy Olsen fought Darkseid, and they were serious about this, which gives one new respect for George Lucas because as bad as the prequel trilogy was, at least he never had C-3P0 fight the Emperor. And finally, a series ostensibly intended to “count down” to Final Crisis in the end turned out to have absolutely jack shit to do with Final Crisis, which begs the question what the point of this shitty, shitty comic was in the first place.

Four Christmases. I sat through this when a friend of mine’s son and I couldn’t get into The Transporter 3 and we needed to see something. Sitting outside in the cold for two hours would have been preferable to sitting through this lifeless, unfunny waste of time, a movie which just screams out “we only did it for the paycheque” en masse. If I ever see Vince Vaughn in real life, I will punch him in the cock.

Heroes. Okay, yeah, Heroes always sucked, but I am gratified that this was finally the year where everybody else figured out that it sucked too. Masi Oka, one of the few actors on this show capable of more than two facial expressions, got saddled with plotlines and dialogue apparently designed to make everybody hate his character. (It worked!) The writers continue to come up with new ways to not deal with the fact that right out of the gate they created three characters (Sylar, Hiro and Peter) who are massively overpowered compared to everybody else on the show and who need permanent power-downs or else the show’s idiocy level will rapidly become terminal. Of course, before they do that they need to figure out how to write a basic plot worth a damn. Also, if I ever see the guy who plays Mohinder in real life, I will punch him in the cock too.

The AI in Call of Duty: World at War. When I play the solo mode I want to really feel like I’m in the middle of the biggest war of all time. This is tricky when you have American GIs and Japanese banzai solders shooting at their respective opponents while standing literally shoulder-to-shoulder because the GIs are stuck in “shoot pointlessly at enemy” and the Japanese are stuck in “shoot pointlessly at you.” Do not even get me started on the Russians and their propensity to throw grenades at the same time they’re calling for you to charge something.

Indiana Jones and the Crystal Skull. Introduced “nuked the fridge” into common parlance to complement “jumped the shark,” wherein the former means “movie franchise jumping from beloved icon to joke nigh-instantaneously,” but the phrase could have just as easily been “swing with the monkeys” or “watch the alien spaceship.” This movie is stupid, where previous Indy movies were so pointedly not, and that is the greatest disappointment imaginable. Shia Labeefs’ status as “Next Big Thing In Hollywood, No Really, We Mean It” aside, he sucked in this. Of course, everybody else sucked in it too – even Harrison Ford for god’s sake – so he’ll probably be fine.

DCU: Decisions. What was the point of this comic, anyway? Never mind that simply getting Judd “I’m A Liberal!” Winick and Bill “I’m a Conservative!” Willingham to tag-team-write a comic doesn’t actually ensure any sense of political balance so much as it boils down political positions to ludicrous cariacature (Lois Lane and Power Girl are Republicans because they’re for “strong national defense,” and Green Arrow is a Democrat because he’s a big enviro-hippie!). Forget that the plot made no sense. But seriously, who was going to care about this comic when real life was more important and interesting than figuring out who Batman would vote for? (And before anybody says “well, they scheduled it months before anybody knew Obama was going to be a candidate” – whatever, any real American election would be more interesting than this comic.)

The third season of Dexter. Oh man I have never seen a show go this badly off the rails before. What was previously sharp and savage got dull and indulgent real goddamned fast. And Jimmy Smits? Jimmy Smits is never bad in anything. What the hell happened? Did they put something in his water? Who is poisoning the waters of Jimmy Smits? I will discover who is doing this thing, and I will harm them!

“I Kissed A Girl” by Katy Perry. Any music critic talking about this piece of shit being “catchy” is trying to earn populist cred. Sometimes shitty popular songs are just that and nothing else. The only thing more annoying than the chorus and the lyrics was the ginned-up “controversy” about Katy Perry (WHO IS TOTALLY STRAIGHT EVERYBODY AND IT IS JUST A SONG) endorsing bisexuality. Christ, like James Dobson needed something else to get him hard?

Comics fanboys pre-emptively whining about The Dark Knight getting ignored by the Oscars. Heads up, guys: Heath Ledger is already practically a lock to win Best Supporting and that’s great. But you know what else? The movie is half an hour too long at least, the sonar thing was distracting and hard to watch, and that middle bit where Jim Gordon is dead and Bruce decides to quit being Batman then Harvey says he’s Batman then it turns out it was all a trick to catch the Joker except why did Bruce tell Alfred he was quitting being Batman – that bit made no fucking sense and Christopher Nolan, that clever little bastard, was just figuring we’d all cream our pants over everything else so much we wouldn’t notice and he was mostly right about that. The Dark Knight is a good movie, close to being a great one, but it wasn’t even the best superhero movie this year (that would be Iron Man). So please shut the fuck up.

Because everybody knows the King of Spain vacuums the turf at Skydome.

(ASIDE: Note that a much younger Jian Gomeshi performs in this video. Of course, Gomeshi is now better known as the host of Q a fine show upon which I shall be appearing today around 12:30-1 p.m. on CBC Radio 1, available on Sirius Satellite Radio (channel 137) or via the internet at the CBC website. How coincidental that this should be the case!)