That's what HE said: Fall TV 2012

I love October. I'm a summer baby, and summer is still my favorite season, but in contradicting fashion and when pressed to name my favorite destination on the Julien calendar, October it is. The first frost to vanquish my formidable allergies. The chance to wear clothes with legs and sleeves. Pumpkin anything. And of course, new fall TV shows are in full swing.

Way back when in our glory years, the summer was reserved for being outdoors; we had spent too many hours on our couches during the school year staying on top of our favorite shows and needed to be reminded what the sky looked like. For my younger readers, it should be noted that this was when the gods of TV programming told you when your show was going to air, and if that show was important to you, you made arrangements to oblige them. The time-shifting power of TiVo was nothing more than an idea at the time, and certainly not one floating around my neighborhood.

Thank God I skipped Betamax...

By my teen years, I reached the point where my annual TV viewing became so obsessive and so time-consuming that, ahead of my time in needing a DVR, I bought blank Maxell VHS tapes in bulk and became a master VHS-recorder operator, navigating the TV Guide grids with different colored highlighters and programming my front-loading silver and black box sitting atop our home's lone idiot box in its ornate oak cabinet with precision and regularity, always extending the recording time of each show by a minute on either end because those bastards at the networks would frequently lack accuracy in their delivery of the shows.

Then, on the weekends, I would try to catch up. And hours-deep into my videotaped review of the past week, my eyes would narrow in a wicked snicker as I'd blast past the commercials (take THAT!) in an attempt to shorten the viewing time of a half-hour sitcom to its true 22 minutes of content. But there were two problems. First, the reaction time of the rewind, fast-forward and play buttons was so slow that after three attempts to come out of each commercial break at the right time to pick up with the episode, I'd added all of that time back anyway. And second, I failed to label those VHS tapes, adding hours of frustration to my viewing resulting from my having to pop each one in every time, trying to figure out what I'd watched already and where there was room left on a tape to record something else.

Kids, I hope you appreciate how good you've got it...

In a recent moment of self-psychoanalysis, I now wonder if my reticence to label recorded VHS tapes was a predicting factor that I would one day be a high school teacher teaching a class called "Mass Media" and exciting students with my TV unit, which highlights a variety of shows from the 1950s through today. Do you know how many shows I already had on those blank tapes? As it turned out, I was writing curriculum before it was cool, gathering my materials for a career I had never predicted I would have. And the reason the tapes were never labeled was because the shows on them were originally recorded for one-time viewing. I was then supposed to recycle the tapes and record more over them. But I couldn't bear to erase them. So I kept buying more tapes because an inner-voice so strongly said to me: "You might need these again some day."

That voice is currently sequestered in about six cardboard boxes in the back corner of my basement, and it has yet to learn of the TV-series-available-on-DVD phenomenon, though I stand justified until the day that they finally release "Chicago Hope" in this format. I have every episode on VHS. The rest of you have NONE. Keith-1, World-0. Hey...do you have a VHS player I can borrow to watch "Chicago Hope"?

It goes without saying that the arrival of the DVR made me feel like Joseph Smith receiving the golden plates. But with great time-shifting-and-recording power comes great responsibility. One must manage one's DVR. And I didn't know how. Before long, I had stuffed mine to 98 percent and, unable to keep up, was soon pitting show against show in electronic cage matches in my brain, the loser getting the delete button to make room for something else. I needed a better solution.

I needed a second DVR.

This brings me to today, both in the time-of-my-life sense and the actually-right-this-moment sense concurrently, and with not one but two DVRs consistently storing over 90 percent of their capacities with programming waiting to entertain or disappoint me. So in desperation, I created a few strategies a few years ago to navigate the waters of each new fall television season. The rules are not pretty and they've often caused me some pain, but here they are:

1. Carefully study the fall TV grid, using "Entertainment Weekly" as your Bible. Read about the shows. Look at cast lists and reports coming out of the industry. Make some initial judgments based completely on hearsay. You won't have time to try out everything.

2. Go day-by-day through the grid, highlighting anything that looks interesting and taking note of potential time-slot match-ups. And in the event that a given slot should present you with three worthy options, curse the programming gods for their overly-generous bounty and inevitably sacrifice something.

3. Record the first episode of anything that looks remotely interesting.

4. Attempt to watch everything before the second episodes air. If not, the rule states that you must continue to record episodes of said series until you've watched the first episode, because if you decide you do like the show, you'd be screwed if you missed the subsequent episodes. This rule is where things start to get messy and "TV Left Behind" syndrome kicks in. (More on that later...)

5. This is the rule that I get criticized for the most, and it's admittedly the most careless and even insane rule I have about television. But life is short, and here it is. If I am not hooked on a show after its pilot, we're done. Yes, you heard me. One and done. I almost never give a show a second chance, and this explains why I am not currently watching shows like "Community" and "Parks and Recreation." Both praised for their brilliance by fans and critics alike, their pilot episodes were shite. I know, I know...these things take time to gel and evolve into something wonderful. But I have six boxes of tapes in my basement and two full DVRs! I don't have time!

So what am I watching this fall? I'm finally about to tell you. And let me preface this by saying that I write this under a cloud of regret for all of the shows that I wish I was watching and am not. It might not be too late thanks to all of the ways we can now access shows whose ships have already sailed. But catching up feels daunting. I'm hoping that something on this list will be worth starting with and sticking with. And since the he said/she said format I'm writing with my friend Melissa is designed to feature lists of 13, I'm giving you my notes for the seven days of the week for new shows, plus six additional categories.

1. NEW ON SUNDAY

Nothing. Wow...so far this is easy. Sundays are filled with shows I wish I was watching, like "Homeland," "Boardwalk Empire" and "The Good Wife." I buy seasons of "The Simpsons" on DVD and torture myself with watching episodes from 10 years prior when the cultural references have become stale.  But as far as new shows go, the only one I've recorded to check out is ABC's "666 Park Avenue." I haven't watched it yet, but it will have to be better than Sunday Night Football to keep my interest.

For those who always thought
Superman was gay.

2. NEW ON MONDAY

"Partners," on CBS.  Although I'm nearing gay-saturation with my TV viewing, I can't not watch a show created by and based on the lives of the two men who gave me "Will & Grace," one of my favorite sitcoms of all-time. Having Michael Urie (from "Ugly Betty") on board ups the ante, and I can't resist the novelty of a show about two men who are best friends and one is gay and one is straight, as this is exactly my life (my best friend is gay). I just have to see how this plays out. I've seen two episodes so far, and though I'm not blown away (check out former Man of Steel Brandon Routh as Urie's cardboard, lifeless boyfriend), I'm still in.

3. NEW ON TUESDAY

This is a big night. I've already checked out "Ben and Kate" on FOX. The show is getting picked as the year's best new sitcom by many publications. I watched it and laughed only once, making it the first victim of my fall viewing rule #5. Now I'm sure it will probably go on to be brilliant and win a bunch of Emmys and I'll be mad that I'm not watching it. But the rule is "one and done." I must oblige!

I've also already checked out "The Mindy Project" (FOX), which I liked a lot more, though I have no sentimental attachment to Mindy Kaling whatsoever as I do not regularly watch "The Office." I will probably give this show a few more tries to make a clear decision on it, but I enjoyed the pilot enough to move ahead.

Bryan and David: Utah's favorite couple

This leads me to NBC's two new Tuesday sitcoms: "Go On" and "The New Normal." I've seen two episodes of "Go On" so far and have recorded the rest. I like the premise and the show has promise, but I can't figure out why I haven't felt compelled to run to the couch and watch the rest of what's sitting there. Why am I not totally hooked yet?

As for "The New Normal," it's the one new show that I'm totally caught up on, and I'm surprised by how on-the-fence I still am about it. I could write an entire essay about my problems with the show, from its ridiculous stereotyping of every subset of humanity - a Ryan Murphy curse - to the fact that I cannot see the show's two leads as a couple at all. But I won't do that here. Instead, I will just say that the show's irreverence and snappy writing have kept me in the game, for now. Well, that and Ellen Barkin, who with better writing could be the 21st Century Archie Bunker. Just engrave the Emmy now. "Modern Family," your days of winning the supporting acting categories are numbered.

4. NEW ON WEDNESDAY 

Another big night. I've already watched and immediately discarded "Animal Practice" (NBC). I've recorded "The Neighbors" (ABC) but haven't watched it yet. I've heard it's not that good but secretly want it to be, so I will still check it out. But Wednesdays come down to four shows that will make me dub this fall: Guilty Pleasures Wednesday. Here's why...

"Guys With Kids" (NBC). I am smart enough to know how conventional this show is. The live audience laughing at the darndest little things. The tired sitcom jokery. But I'm stuck enjoying it because of how closely I can identify with it. Yes, my kids are older than those portrayed on the show. And yes, I don't live in an apartment complex which conveniently also houses my two best friends and their families. But "Guys With Kids" is filled with tiny moments of recognition that ring so true to a guy my age raising kids. And I have to admit that I've already developed a boy crush on Zach Cregger. So even though I know better, I'm watching and laughing.

Am I excited? Abs-olutely.

"Arrow" (The CW). Heaven help me...I'm going to watch a show on the CW. I'm a huge DC Comics fan, and the company's relaunch of its Green Arrow title with its "New 52" series last fall was a bust for me; I grew bored with the title after committing to the first 10 issues and stopped reading it. But I don't think I'm done with the character of playboy billionaire Oliver Quinn, and I'm excited by what I've seen so far in the promos. The networks are stuffed to the gills with fantasy and horror-edged programming now. I'm hoping this show will be my escape.

"Nashville" (ABC). I'm not a country fan, but I love music, and I love the premise behind this show, which I'm hoping will be my soap opera for the season. And it has Tammy Taylor (Connie Britton...RIP, "Friday Night Lights"), so I don't need more of a reason to watch, though having T Bone Burnett produce the music doesn't hurt.

McSmokey? (McSteamy was taken)

"Chicago Fire" (NBC). Dick Wolf has made a career out of cop shows, so turning to the fire department is a natural next step. This is not the kind of show I would normally watch, but I'm tuning in for two reasons: watching a show filmed in Chicago, and Naperville Central alum David Eigenberg, who played Steve on "Sex and the City." I have to support a hometown hero, and I've met Dave a few times and know how close to his own heart the profession of firefighting is. Dave actually snuck in to the rubble post-9/11 to help with rescue, even though he wasn't a "real" firefighter. He saw that horror through their eyes. I know he'll bring that to his role, and I can't wait to watch him do it. So imagine my surprise when, in the show's pilot, they damn near kill him off in week one. He's not dead yet, as promos for upcoming episodes have teased. So I'll be tuning in to see what happens.

5. NEW ON THURSDAY

Nothing. I remember when Thursdays were the night to watch TV. Not anymore. There are a few returning shows on this night I will continue to watch, but nothing new. "Elementary" looks interesting, but I suspect the British "Sherlock" is better, and I'm tired of the derivative. The other new shows look generic. I'm playing this night safely and staying out of it. Plus, it's "Grey's Anatomy" night for my wife, so I'd rather stay the hell away from the family room.

6. NEW ON FRIDAY

Again, nothing. Whew! I have too much to watch already.

7. NEW ON SATURDAY

What? There's TV on Saturday?

Okay, so I've identified 10 new shows I'm going to try out, indicating that I'm already invested in four of them for the long haul. So here's how I feel about everything else on TV:

8. REALITY TV VIEWING

So in a moment of weakness over the summer, I let a friend convince me to tune in to the train wreck that was "Here Comes Honey Boo Boo." Fully understanding the criticisms of the show, I allowed myself to get hooked. But the novelty eventually wore off, and the last three episodes of its first season are taking up room on my living room DVR like Mama June on her living room couch. I think I've been reminded that there's only one kind of reality TV I can handle.

Game of thrones

That kind of reality TV is the music competition, and the two shows I'm making time for are "The Voice" and "The X Factor." I watch the voice because I am genuinely entertained by the inter-play among its four superstar judges, and the singing is more regularly as good as it's billed. I watch "X Factor" because a former student of mine is employed as Simon and Britney's bitch, and because I like the format of the show; it's more interesting to me than "American Idol," which it's time to admit has one foot in the grave and like a knee from the other leg.

So will I watch "American Idol"? I want to say no, but I can't resist checking out the new judges panel, at least for a few weeks, for the same reason that any of us check out any real-life craziness on any other reality shows we watch. And then, once I've satisfied my curiosity and if I have any brain, I'll give it up. And television wouldn't take my brain, would it?

9. RETURNING SHOWS I WILL CONTINUE TO WATCH 

Happy Endings: adding to the English language

My favorite scripted sitcom on television is ABC's "Happy Endings," a show that comes closer to my personal sense of humor than anything else on television. Though Casey Wilson is certainly brilliant, all six leads are fantastic, and the show features TV's only gay character who doesn't spit out a purse every time he opens his mouth, a feature I actually had to grow to love because the show's creators made Max virtually unlovable at first. And all gay characters are loveable, satirical mascots of humanity, right? It's a fresh version of "Friends" with quirk for days and enough Seinfeldian outrageousness to make me wish each episode was directly followed by six quickly-passing days and 23 hours.

I am also committed to satisfying my musical theatre side with "Glee" and "Smash." "Glee" can end at any time and I'd live, but I like the curves it's throwing so far this season. Like creator Ryan Murphy's newest show, "The New Normal," I have as many problems with it as I do reasons to love it, but I can't bear to look away. And Sue Sylvester remains one of the best characters on TV. "Smash," by comparison, is a more adult "Glee," and is really just getting started. Many of the numbers created for its first season were actually quite good, and I'd like to see where it goes.

Though I'm a few episodes behind still, "30 Rock" and "Modern Family" are two additional sitcoms I will continue to watch. "30 Rock" is in its final season, and though the show hasn't felt like it's had anywhere to go for a good year now, I want to see it through to the end. Plus it's still by far the most unconventional comedy I watch out of a litany of traditional comedies, such as "Modern Family," which after you strip away the novelty of the documentary style of it has fast become the very definition of conventional. But "30 Rock" is the most surprisingly written show I watch, and "Modern Family" is so brilliantly performed that I can't dislike it. I have a bunch of last season's episodes to finish of each show, but am still invested.

Awaiting a Stefan sighting:
reason enough to watch SNL

And finally, I'm still watching "Saturday Night Live," though I never watch it "Live." Complain all you want about how each episode has maybe two good sketches and the cast has lost it now that Kristin Wiig is gone. If you ask me, that's what the DVR is for. The show has been giving us water cooler moments for almost 40 years, and I'm not going to miss one simply because every episode is uneven. With my thumb on the fast forward button, I'll continue to tune in, always looking for the show's next big star and willing to skip over anything that bombs.

Honorable mentions must go here to "The Daily Show" and "Colbert Report," which I try to catch as often as time allows but do not weigh myself down with daily viewing requirements, and cable news networks, which are my favorite way to fill smaller amounts of free time. And Sundays are still for football in my house, whether on a network, ESPN or NFL Redzone, the glorious, ADD-themed experience where the show's host (who I think is related to the host of "Wipe Out," strangely enough) sends you from touchdown to touchdown across the country, the sports version of an adult film made up of only money shots. There was a time when watching two football games in the red zone on a split screen at the same time would have made me nuts. And then I bought a bigger TV.


10. THE SEARCH FOR A GREAT TALK SHOW

I'm not ashamed - male though I be - to admit that I've had a conspicuous O-shaped hole in my life since that fateful day when Ms. Winfrey selfishly ceased operation of her daily Chicago-based talk show. I would DVR the show every day, and my decompression time after work included checking out what was on "Oprah." If the episode focused on something dealing with makeovers or lady bits, I'd simply delete. But more often, I was riveted. And ever since she left ABC, I've been searching for a replacement.

I love Anderson Cooper as a news anchor and have been disappointed and shocked by how much I have not liked his afternoon talk show. This year, it's gotten even worse, as Anderson has changed its format to include a live taping and a rotating daily co-host - one who's inevitably on the D list and virtually irrelevant. And why can't Anderson breathe during the day? I'm annoyed by his audible inhales when he talks. Diaphragm, man! In order to continue to respect him on CNN, I had to let him go here.

The thought of another TV journo-love of mine, Katie Couric, returning, also had me excited. But I watched her episode on "50 Shades of Grey" in her new show's second week, and quickly learned that Couric had lost her magic. She's reduced herself to punny jokes, themed wardrobe choices (like a leather outfit for this particular episode) and lowest-common-denominator interview questions. I am devastated and done.

Oprah: my questions, your house

Steve Harvey? Lord, I tried. He's funny as hell, and his show has no clue what it wants to be yet. His Pinterest dating game feature is a clever idea, but I don't have the time to wait for him to figure out how to make everything gel.

So my must-watch talk show as of now has to be..."Oprah's Next Chapter." What I've learned is that no one can handle the format like Lady O, so why bother attempting to replace her? Has anyone on another talk show done an interview as compelling as the one with Kony 2012 mastermind Jason Russell or even Steven Colbert? And since the show airs only once a week, the time commitment is much smaller and my guilt non-existent. 


11. SHOWS I HAVE NEVER WATCHED BUT WISH I WAS WATCHING: MY EMBARRASSING LIST OF MISSED OPPORTUNITIES AWAITING NETFLIXED REDEMPTION

"Keith, you would love 'Game of Thrones'." Indeed I would. But I've never seen it. I'll wait for the DVDs, I guess. But who am I kidding?

Meth-od acting at its finest?

"Thrones" is but one of a handful of shows that I freely admit I am not in my right mind for passing over. Shows so good that I risk giving up my serious TV-viewer card for skipping. How in the name of God did I not immediately latch on to "Breaking Bad"? Why would I pass up "The Good Wife," with that cast? Mandy Patinkin is on "Homeland"...isn't that enough, or do you need to throw in Clare Danes, too? What? She's on there, too? What is wrong with me?!?

Scorsese created "Boardwalk Empire." Why am I not watching the marvelous Steve Buscemi every week, instead of getting him in small doses via Coen Brothers films on Starz? And given my love for Neil Patrick Harris and the always charming Jason Segal, was I smoking pot for not latching on to "How I Met Your Mother"? And speaking of pot, shouldn't I be watching "Weeds"?


Coulda, woulda, shoulda. Yeah...I know. But I'm damn-near embarrassed to admit that I have yet to watch any of these shows. If you asked me today, "Breaking Bad" feels like the show I'm most inclined to pick up in an effort to correct this problem. But this leads me to my last point...

12. "LEFT BEHIND TV": SHOWS I ONCE WATCHED AND LOVED OR BEGAN TO WATCH AND LOVE THAT HAVE CONTINUED TO PILE UP ON THE DVR OR DVD SHELF, STILL UNWATCHED (A PSYCHOANALYSIS)

Damn you, handsome devil!

I own every season of "Mad Men" on DVD and rave about the show every chance I get. But I can never engage in any meaningful conversation about the show because of my dirty little secret: I've never seen beyond the first season. Sure, I recommended the show to friends who have subsequently embarked on frantic library rental binges over summers and breaks, lapping up hours of Don Draper-y goodness at a time, getting caught up with me and then plowing ahead.

But when life got too busy for me, I allowed one of my favorite shows to pile up on the DVR. I became overwhelmed and froze up. Before long, the retail releases of the seasons arrived, so I bought them to allow me to free up those hours on the recorder. I could get to them on my own time, I thought. And as time and subsequent seasons march on, I continue to spout off about how amazing the show is based on what little of it I've seen.

Not finishing things is a character flaw of mine. And while discussing the fall television season seems to be a rather trite setting in which to discuss a genuine personality flaw, I've come to recognize this "Mad Men" thing as a metaphor for other aspects of my life. I love the show so much that I appear to be saving it for some special time when it has the full attention of my soul, opting instead for the consumption of lesser things that fill my time but don't fulfill it. And soon, I am "left behind," the award-winning programming raptured up to television heaven without me.

Some of the best shows on television join "Mad Men" on my list of shame. My other favorite drama is "Parenthood." Love it! Well, loved season one. Taped all of season two, then season three. Bought season two on DVD so I could erase it from the DVR (season three was still too expensive). And now I'm taping season four. (Or are we on season five now?) In my mind, I've never stopped loving the show. But when will I catch up?

Genre shows like "The Walking Dead" and "American Horror Story"? Love them. Two or three episodes apiece. And the rest is on the bedroom DVR. And shows like "The Tudors" and "Spartacus"? I watched all but the final seasons and hope to one day seal the deals, especially considering that the shows are now over.

And, most inexplicably, I'm a season back on "The Big Bang Theory." At least with this show, I've seen almost three full seasons (if I'm not mistaken), so I have a lot more invested. But why did I stop? Ditto "True Blood," a show I always manage to be just one full season behind. So close, and yet so far away.

I am looking forward to the invention of Life TiVo, that glorious day when I can pause the universe and hit play on all of this wonderful stuff I've been missing. Until then, I will rave about all of these shows, whether I've seen much of them or not. I can't give up hope that one day I'll fulfill my viewing promises to myself.

13. PLEASE LEAVE MY BOX RIGHT NOW: THE SHOW THAT NEEDS TO GO AWAY

There is no scripted show so heinous, no reality show so devoid of morality, as "The View," a daily round-tabled cage match of peri-to-post-menopausal women shrieking about everything and anything and a show that I dare say fills the gap left by Jerry Springer, even though its aims are admittedly far more noble.
Whenever I have a day off of work, a two-minute glance at this show leaves me thankful that I am gainfully employed and unable to watch with regularity.

Taken individually, the show features some interesting and talented women. Whoopi Goldberg has an EGOT, for goodness' sake! She belongs back on the big screen. Barbara Walters has had a storied journalism career and now needs to retire. Elizabeth Hasselbeck is probably a wonderful mom and should be campaigning locally for the Republican candidates of her choice. Sherri Shepard is hilarious and should limit her work to playing Tracy Morgan's wife on "30 Rock." And Joy Behar is a bitter, once-funny comedienne who still has a show on HLN to give her something to do to a much smaller niche audience.

Put these five women at a table together and you get an absolute nightmare, and the folks who book guests are clearly gunning for the most explosive screaming matches disguised as conversations that they can find. Why else would they ask Ann Coulter to appear on the show? Look away, people. I hate Rosie O'Donnell, and even she learned to look away. So should you. "Two and a Half Men" is the most played-out, overdone show on TV. But even that is more enjoyable than "The View."

So there it is - my love/hate relationship with television. We go way back, and it runs deep. And clearly, I love to talk about it. But while I've been writing this, four hours of recorded television stacked up on the DVR. So I'd better get going. If you're still reading, find out what SHE said over at Uncomfortably Numb!

Shamon! "Bad" kicks off my new "RE:3" series

Welcome to my first in what will be a new feature on my upcoming pop culture website, a joint venture with my good friend, the ridiculously talented Melissa. When we first spoke about creating a site, I knew quickly that this was a feature I wanted to do.

Have you ever pulled out an old record, CD or tape you used to love and listened to it straight through after years to see if it still sounded as good as it did back then? I do it all the time. And after hitting rock bottom in an attempt to reclaim my childhood by duking it out in a high-stakes Ebay auction for a copy of Milli Vanilli's "Girl You Know It's True" on CD (I only own the cassette, you see) to relive the memories and decide if I liked the songs now as much as I did then (all scandals as to whose vocal cords were vibrating on said record aside), I knew that it would be a worthwhile regular project to go back to the music that meant so much to me in my formative years to either reaffirm what I felt back then and dip my pinkie in the fountain of sonic youth (see what I did there?) or otherwise have a "what the hell was I thinking?" moment as a mature adult with a wise and well-developed musical palate.

For lack of a better name, I'm currently calling my new feature "RE:3," as in "records" or "recordings," "revisited" and "reviewed" (or "re-reviewed").  

It makes sense to begin my musical journey with Michael Jackson's "Bad," as the CD was just re-released this week as a 25th Anniversary remaster with lots of bonus stuff. And although I will touch on some of that bonus material briefly, my goal is to concentrate on the original work. We know that "Bad" was so good back in 1987, breaking records for number of single releases from an album (nine of the 11 tracks were singles!) and setting a benchmark for five consecutive number one singles that held up until Katy Perry managed it this past year. And we know that Michael Jackson was possessed with trying to top the success of "Thriller," and "Bad" came the closest.

But now that "Bad" is 25, I'm hearing some critics speak the words of a heretic in daring to posit that perhaps, pound-for-pound, "Bad" is Jackson's greatest album. It's a thought that's crossed my mind for years, though I dared not speak those words aloud. And it was time to analyze that claim.

What I know for sure is that "Bad" was MJ's final album created under the principle of economy. His adult breakthrough, "Off the Wall," had 10 tracks on it, and its follow-up, "Thriller," had only nine. This is shocking considering how substantial both albums - particularly "Thriller" - feel. "Bad" has 11 tracks, and I seem to recall its final cut, "Leave Me Alone" being a cassette-only bonus track, so you could argue that it also had 10. Regardless, Jackson would follow four years later with "Dangerous," which was still brilliant song craft but bloated by comparison at 14 tracks and, maybe for the first time, starting to show that the great one was capable of misjudging a production and including a clunker or two. Jackson would never again give his fans a tight disc of audible perfection; he would begin to show his humanity and have some whiffs to go along with his home runs. And he would never again employ a producer with the force of Quincy Jones to tell him no.

In this feature, I decided to challenge myself by ranking tracks on each album I revisit from favorite to least-favorite, a task that was mind-blowingly stupid and difficult with a record like "Bad" that contained 80 percent released singles (50 percent of them number one singles). With that in mind, I can preface this run-down by mentioning that there's only one track of the 11 that I truly don't care for (though none I hate), and the songs I ranked at 1-8 are up there with any of my favorite Michael Jackson songs from any album.

So here goes. My track-by-track revisit of "Bad," in the order I currently feel reflects what I like the best:

1. Smooth Criminal (track 10)

MJ in a gangsta lean. NOW who's bad?

It's interesting that three of my four favorite songs on "Bad" are the only ones that did not hit #1 on the Billboard charts. Somewhat shocking to me even today, "Smooth Criminal" peaked at #7. Still, it was my favorite Michael Jackson song, period, when I was a kid, and whether or not that title still holds for me today (and it probably does), repeat listenings have reminded me that "Smooth Criminal" is still far-and-away my favorite track from "Bad."

Some of it has to be because of the music video, which was also always my favorite. Yes, the video for "Thriller" was the most iconic, and yes, the introduction of the moonwalk during the Motown 25th anniversary special gave us his most breathtaking dance move, but who doesn't still freak out when Michael, dressed his best in a white suit with an electric blue shirt and black tie, fedora precariously perched on his head, leans forward at what appears to be a full 45 degree angle, both feet inexplicably planted on the ground, both legs improbably straight? Jackson never looked cooler than this. It wasn't long before his clothes were punctuated with enough buckles to tighten the pants of the entire Von Trapp family and his fetish for military wear-by-way-of-a-drag-queen began to permanently cloud his fashion judgment.

Only "Billie Jean" can challenge "Smooth Criminal" as MJ's greatest story song. And they're always about women. Here, Annie is clearly not okay...the victim of an attack in her apartment at the hands of a mysterious and paradoxically debonair assailant. I always thought the lyrics were cool because they were so different, and because of them, I never made it through CPR re-certification without flippantly exploding into the song's catchy question of a refrain.

But the greatest triumph of "Smooth Criminal" is its mood. The song's sonic palate is staccato, disturbed. It's a little faster than a typical MJ beat. And it's punctuated with explosive screams of "Dowwww!!!" in just the right spots to keep the listener locked into an inescapable intensity. Layer onto this Michael's vocal, a choppy delivery that sounds like bullets being fired from a gun, just as its video would later illustrate.

Even 25 years later, "Smooth Criminal" feels, sounds and looks as good to me as it did back then. 


2. Man in the Mirror (track 7)

I remember when one's confession of love for "Man in the Mirror" was ammunition for a playground beatdown, so cheesy was its synth line and its self-help lyrics. But then, when Michael died, the song lost every existing drop of irony. It has become to Michael what "I Will Always Love You" has become in the wake of the death of Whitney Houston. It is the track for remembering Michael's heart, humanity and mission statement as an artist.

Perhaps I masked my appreciation for "Man in the Mirror" a bit as a 14-year-old, but even if I did, I always loved the song if for no other reason than the fact that I'm a sucker for a well-used choir. And "Man in the Mirror" is nothing if not a powerful showcase for half of the Winans family and Andre Crouch's choir to swoop in and convince me to "make that change."

I think "Man in the Mirror" is Michael's most important song because it stripped away his lunacy and eccentricities and, with raw emotion and direct, bare lyrics (courtesy of Siedah Garrett and Glen Ballard, as this was the only single from "Bad" that Michael did not write himself), Michael could, for five minutes, push away our memories of whatever it was about him that made his less than a truly caring human being.

Now that I'm older, I love the song more than I ever did. Few things in life make me smile as easily as overhearing one of my own children singing along to the song when it comes on. And if Michael had to be remembered for only five songs (what a cruel concept, huh?), who would argue that this track would have to be one of them?

3. Another Part of Me (track 6)
I guess "Another Part of Me" was "Bad"'s first clunker as a single, stalling just outside the top 10 at #11 after the first five singles on the album had all reached #1. Yes, stalling at #11 was the very definition of failure when you were Michael Jackson. But to me, it was the song that took MJ to a whole different level.

I could never talk about "Another Part of Me" without talking about a girl named Camille Graham with whom I shared many classes in high school. This was Camille's favorite MJ song, and she was so vocal about her love for it that we couldn't help but love it too. At the time, I had dropped my "Bad" cassette in its wooden slot in my wall-mounted cassette case in favor of sister Janet's "Control," which had just been released and had, for me, overshadowed "Bad" as my favorite of the two albums.

But Camille and I nurtured a mutual respect for Janet's "The Pleasure Principle" and Michael's "Another Part of Me" built on our shared love of all things Jackson. And while all these later I don't remember that much about Camille, I remember how easily a song can become someone's signature, or at least become my memory of a person.

As for the song itself, it's classic Michael: a propulsive and steady groove lifting positive lyrics about "brighter days." My enjoyment of the song has held up over time.

4. Liberian Girl (track 4)
I've read a lot lately about how underrated "Human Nature" is as an exquisitely-written and produced pop track, and only in my advancing age have I come to understand that "Liberian Girl" is "Bad"'s "Human Nature," its musical restraint and sonic beauty a gem for Michael's more adult listeners.

No track on "Bad" that I can think of has gone up in stock as I've gotten older as much as this song has for me. I can remember not caring much about it, and now I find it to be one Jackson's greatest moments on record. A softly-delivered female vocal part whispers in Swahili, assisted by a double downbeat-driven groove that's part Caribbean island, part African. And there's no question that the song's greatest feature is thanks to Michael's infamous studio wizardry, and that's his use of layering his own vocals until he's created a choir out of his own voice. MJ did that a lot, but I'm not sure if it ever sounded better than it does here.

5. Leave Me Alone (track 11)
By the time Michael got to his "HIStory" album, the songs he was writing about how difficult it was to be him were growing a little tiresome to listeners because of all that Jackson seemed to have brought upon himself, making "Leave Me Alone" perhaps his best self-defense track, the best song he'd written about himself. This is likely because although some very bizarre tabloid stories had circulated about the star, he was still endlessly likeable and the public had yet to discover that he was capable of making any decisions that would challenge his moral character.

Once again, the success of "Leave Me Alone" as a song is largely inseparable from its music video, a "Gullivers Travels"-inspired piece of genius in which Michael embraces - and mocks - every famous rumor about him. Only Peter Gabriel's "Sledgehammer" video contained so much whimsy and computer-generated wizardry.

When I hear the song now, I'm sobered. We didn't, after all, leave him alone. It's a somber listen today because he sings it as a humble request with a vocal largely free of vitriol. And we walked all over him for it.

6. The Way You Make Me Feel (track 2)
I bet many would pick "The Way You Make Me Feel" as their favorite Michael Jackson song from this album, but I remember this song as being the most overplayed from the album on the radio, and I think I got a little tired of it. And besides, one of the song's greatest moments never appears on record, but instead, happens in the music video, where a pop star on the prowl circles a beautiful woman on a street corner, snaps his fingers, and delivers an a cappella "You knock me off of my feet now bay-bay...HOOOOOO!" that, thanks to its naked exposure, stands as one of the greatest vocal moments of Jackson's entire career.

"The Way You Make Me Feel" is feel-good Michael at its pinnacle,and one of his best examples of a perfect-tempoed groove. He delivered the track long before we questioned whether or not the expression of such joyful feelings about a woman was a genuine sentiment. And even after all these years, the song is as ready-made for singing behind the wheel as anything I can think of.

7. Bad (track 1)
How in the hell did Martin Scorese come to direct one of Michael Jackson's most MTV-exploting and uber-choreographed music videos? How heavy was that outfit with all of that metal hanging off of it? And how could the authentically-tough-looking gang members of "Beat It" suddenly look so effeminate? I had many questions about "Bad" back then, and some linger. (I'm hoping Spike Lee's forthcoming documentary on the anniversary of the album will provide me with some closure.)

One thing I never questioned was the four ascending synth chords that usher in "Bad"'s opening and title track. It's true that we were never convinced for even a second that Jackson was as tough as he sang he was in the song, so I think we spent a good amount of time laughing at it. But make no mistake, we were grooving to one of his catchiest bass lines while we were doing it. And then, when Jackson himself expressed enjoyment over Weird Al Yankovic's second food-related parody of one of his songs, we enjoyed "Bad" all the more.

It might seem like a gesture of dislike on my part to have placed "Bad" this low on my list, but I have to be honest and say that while I've always enjoyed the song, I've also always thought of it as a bit of a novelty track for Jackson, and listening to it afresh in 2012 confirms for me that while I've made some egregious errors in judgment when it comes to my musical tastes, this was not one of them. It's a fun song, but it's also bad....in a good way.

8. Dirty Diana (track 9)
Perhaps the biggest problem I had with "Dirty Diana" was that my mom's name is Diana and while any parallels between her and the Diana Michael sings about here were absolute impossibilities, the song at least put those thoughts in my head. So I distanced myself from it a little bit.

I also didn't know what to do with Jackson's rock side yet, though I was smart enough to understand how, as he had with Eddie Van Halen on "Thriler," Jackson could please fans of almost every genre short of skiffle on one individual album. Here again is a song that opens with a crazy electronic chord, a recurring sonic theme on the album. And then a crowd comes in. This was Jackson fighting off the women, his crazy female fans. And at the chorus, in comes hair-sprayed-to-hell metal god Steve Stevens with a crisp, bracing guitar solo. And we knew there was nothing that Michael couldn't do.

Listening to "Dirty Diana" now, I can almost see it as "Billie Jean 2.0," at least thematically. It's a great rock vocal from an R&B/pop star. And it's certainly the most dramatic track on "Bad," with only "Smooth Criminal" in competition for that title.

9. Just Good Friends (track 5)
Okay, I'll admit that I skipped "Just Good Friends" as a kid on my cassette. The song was kind of a throw-away. And it still is, but it has appreciated dramatically in value by simple virtue of the fact that it's a duet between Jackson and Stevie Wonder. No matter how you look at it, the song has everlasting value for that reason alone.

The track is filled with Stevie's Moog-banging keyboard groove, a sound that dominated his own 80s output, and I'm fascinated when I listen to it now because it truly feels like a collaboration between the two, something I might not have deduced - much less appreciated - when I was in junior high.  Upon revisiting the track, I'm surprised by how much I enjoy what I otherwise know is a throwaway track if the lean "Bad" has one. But it's also a track with two of my all-time favorite artists on it, so I've had fun rediscovering it.

10. Speed Demon (track 3)
Was Michael sneezing at the end of each groove line on the intro to "Speed Demon"? "Choo!" For me, this was always the most Michael-sounding track on "Bad" that never fully clicked for me. It's incredibly mechanical, particularly in its use of a repetitive ascending-then-decending keyboard run that happens so quickly, and it's overused.  The car noises felt like gimmicks, distractions. Only a Prince-style guitar part saves the track from being completely inorganic, and that feature of the song has too low of a profile in the mix.

11. I Just Can't Stop Loving You (track 8)
"I Just Can't Stop Loving You" has always been my least favorite Michael Jackson single. I'm not sure if I still feel that way today, but if I did a full reassessment, I don't think my feelings will have changed much. This is no slight on Siedah Garrett, who's genius on "Bad" was more successfully used as the co-writer of "Man in the Mirror." But for me, "I Just Can't Stop Loving You" was always soaking wet with syrup. Not even an emotional softie like me could stand how ready-made the song was for airplay in Hallmark stores around the country.

The way the vocal enters in from that softly sustained chord is high drama, and before the end of the first verse, I've had about enough. Yes, it's a good vocal. A damn good one, in fact. And there's no doubt that there's true emotion behind it. And yes, the song builds successfully to its climax. But for me, it was too much then and it's even more too much now. 

A fresh listen to "Bad," summarized:
My revisit to bad found me feeling surprisingly the same toward most of its cuts today as I felt about it in 1987, the key exception being my new found excitement for "Liberian Girl." And though I listened to it repeatedly in recent days to write this review, I'm still not certain I can say whether or not this is the best Michael Jackson album. (It's amazing how important sentiment and memory is to determining something like this, and I have a deeper affection for "Bad"'s follow-up, "Dangerous," knowing full well that this is a much tighter album.)

I would recommend picking up at least the two-disc version of the anniversary reissue of "Bad," because you've got to hear many of the bonus tracks pulled from the era's recording sessions and included here without further production work (thank you, MJ's estate!). "Don't Be Messin' Round" is slight but light, fun and funky. "Song Groove (aka Abortion Papers)" hints at Michael's interest in tackling controversial topics with compassion. It's an extension of "Billie Jean," and it's also clear why he decided to abandon it, probably not confident enough that it would be taken in the spirit in which he intended it. And "Price of Fame" is a cousin to "Leave Me Alone," a prophetic early look at the ills that were already starting to befall the king of pop.

My favorite of the unreleased tracks is the transcendent "I'm So Blue," with its melody line and hook so catchy that it instantly becomes as memorable as anything that made the album's final cut. It would have done well on "Bad." I absolutely adore it. And I'm also a fan of "Al Capone," Jackson's first incarnation of what would later become "Smooth Criminal." It's simply fascinating to here what Jackson originally did with his ideas and listen for the pieces he kept and what he discarded. "Capone"'s groove stood on its own just fine, though "Smooth Criminal" further improved upon it.

Jackson's estate handed "Bad" and "Speed Demon" over to some contemporary EDM remixers, with results worthy of forgetting. Infusing a Pitbull rap in the Afrojack remix of "Bad" is what the song finally needed for it to live up to its title in the literal sense. Yes, the groove is freshened up for contemporary audiences, but how necessary is that for a song that is already perfectly funky? And while the Nero remix of "Speed Demon" is the less annoying of the two, it feels equally unnecessary, as if Skrillex jumped into the driver's seat of the car we keep hearing in the original and bumped MJ to the back.Why mess with a good thing? Especially when it's so "Bad."

That's what HE said: The soundtrack for Summer 2012

Summer music, when it's good, makes me feel like I've
been here. In truth, I went NOWHERE this summer...

I have been making lists – and filling cassette tapes, then CDs, then iTunes playlists – of my favorite songs since the days when I would position my boom box in the best spot near a bedroom window in my house for good-as-it-will-get FM broadcast clarity, my fingers hovering millimeters above the silver metal buttons on the dual-deck cassette player like a candy-bar-juiced child with the mallet at Chuck-E-Cheese waiting to whack a mole, poised to depress both the play and record buttons simultaneously at the first downbeat of The Jets’ “Make It Real” to add to my “Top Tunes: Summer 1988” collection. My New Year’s Eve rituals back then were decidedly lame, as I would record, on a series of blank cassettes, each year’s top 40 songs of the year, just in case I’d have missed any during the previous months. This ritual made me anti-social but for the 2 minutes and 45 seconds or so in between the start and finish of these pop treasures, time that I was forced to share with peeing or throwing some more French onion dip on my paper plate. And oh, how I hated when the DJ’s on Z95 would talk over intros and outros to songs! I’m taping here, dammit!

All these years later, I have yet to outgrow my fascination with making lists, and am even further away from the day when I’ll no longer find sheer, life-giving joy in finding the perfect pop song to brighten up the most mundane moments in life, or the hottest of summer days. I have and will continue to love music in virtually every genre, and rarely discriminate in my annual search for the best ear worms of the season. And yes, I maintain to this day a fully-functioning tape deck component to my home stereo so that I can listen to “Mercedes Boy” whenever I feel like it.

By the time the summer of 2012 began, I had already grown tired of a number of songs that would have otherwise made a list of the most catchy summer tunes, including Katy Perry’s “Wide Awake,” Gotye’s “Somebody That I Used to Know,” Nicki Minaj’s “Starships” and Maroon 5’s self-parody, “Payphone.” And since I spent most of my summer behind my steering wheel as dad chauffeur, I experienced on a daily basis the sonic waterboarding of “Turn on Radio Disney!,” slowly eroding my defenses until I’d formed a Stockholm syndrome-like fondness for “Chasing the Sun” by The Wanted, “One Thing” by One Direction, and “All Around the World” by Justin Bieber featuring Ludacris.

In an expanded playlist of 20 songs – which you know damn well I have already created in iTunes and am listening to right now – those child-chosen tracks are included. But in an effort to show some adult-like discipline and personal choice, here is my list of my favorite dozen tracks of the summer of 2012. Or baker’s dozen. Because you have to include “Call Me Maybe,” right?

1) Ed Sheeran – “The A Team”

Now for an A-team stylist...

Some red-headed British folk-soul goofball makes a wonderfully melodic acoustic ditty about a drug-addicted prostitute who’s complaining about how cold it is outside and even my 10-year-old daughter can’t help but sing along. The repetitive melody line and unrelated reference to one of my favorite TV shows of the 1980s aside, this song has a refreshing lyrical complexity (and a half-dozen end-rhymes with “pastries”!) and a compelling storytelling quality. I love it so much that I pirated the whole CD. Turns out this is the best track, and some of the songs I downright disliked, thus justifying the means by which I acquired the music. At least that’s what I tell myself so I can sleep at night.

2) The Killers – “Runaways”

If there’s a list of rock front men I love so much that I occasionally grow confused about my…ahem…leanings, then Brandon Flowers is one of them. I am eight years older than him and I think want to be him (except for the Mormon part…happy Lutheran here, no offense). And I love The Killers so much that they could have released a cover of an Outfield song and I would have foamed over it, but “Runaways” is better than that. (Make no mistake…I loves me some Outfield!) I actually waited in the kitchen for the world-premiere spin on the radio of their first new material since 2008’s “Day and Age” (not including Flowers’ under-appreciated 2010 solo debut, “Flamingo,” one of my favorite albums of that year). The track was solid, classic Killers upon first listen, but no “All These Things That I’ve Done” or “Read My Mind.” But then came the Vegas magic of the repeat listen. It just gets better every time I hear it. See you in line at Best Buy on September 18 for “Battle Born.” And while I’m waiting, I think I’m going to take a late summer trip back to “Sam’s Town.”

3) George Michael – “White Light”

Don't let the lady eyebrows fool you.

George’s remake of New Order’s “True Faith” was his career near-death experience, which he followed up with a real-life brush with the other side, so after he recovered from severe pneumonia in the hospital, he recovered from over auto-tuning in the studio, learning how to use it to complement his still-wonderful voice instead of masking it. The result is this “comeback” track released on the 30th anniversary-to-the-day of Wham’s debut single, a somewhat generically clubby but lyrically literal homage to the adage “not dead yet.” There were few songs I waited less patiently to hear upon release, and what hits as little more than a solid track upon first listen builds in quality upon repeat listens. For a guy who’s been doing a lot of downbeat material in recent years, it might be one of his strongest dance tracks since “Fastlove.”

4) Adam Lambert – “Trespassing”

Don't let the lady eyebrows fool you.

Adam Lambert goes Queen. (I’ll wait…) But seriously, although Lambert is indeed the closest we currently have to Freddie Incarnate and is actually on the road with what remains of that band at this minute, this opening album cut to his sophomore pop disc of the same name knocks lead single “Never Close Our Eyes” – a killer cut in its own right – on its ass. With the fattest, slinkiest bass line since John Deacon’s “Another One Bites the Dust” funk fest and handclaps lifted from “We Will Rock You,” “Trespassing” sounds like it was originally recorded by an early-to-mid-80s Queen or a late-80s, Nile Rodgers-produced Duran Duran. Imitation truly is the sincerest form of flattery, and there are few songs this summer that made driving my car as much fun, never mind the punishment done to the stereo speakers. I simply dare you to resist it.

5) fun. – “Some Nights”

The vocal spirit of Freddie Mercury then leapt from Adam Lambert and into the larynx of fun. frontman Nate Ruess, thus compelling me to list this track immediately after “Tresspassing.” When Ruess starts the first verse lyric, “this is it boys, this is war” after the opening a cappella vocal stack and marching band percussion intro, tell me that you don’t hear Freddie. It’s uncanny. Yes, “We Are Young” featuring Janelle Monae was the smash hit single by the band, but I’m not including it here because it was already big enough in the spring to spawn YouTube cover parodies, months before the same thing happened to “Call Me Maybe.” And, for as anthemic as that song is, I was always drawn to this one, the album’s title track, which is far more bizarre and disjointed, but also more playful. Every summer needs a “what the hell are they singing about?” song, and for 2012, this is it. I have no idea what the hell is going on or how one lyric connects to the next, and I love it.

6) Eric Hutchinson – “Watching You Watch Him”

I have a known weakness for twenty-to-thirty-something, white singer-songwriter-poppy-guitar-strumming or piano-banging solo artists who fly under the radar. If you have never heard of Dave Barnes, Matt Nathanson or Jon McLaughlan, you might not know my type. So along comes a new name to add to my list, Eric Hutchinson, with the most sunny and upbeat song of relationship paranoia of the summer. Jealousy never sounded so breezy. In fact, this could possibly be the catchiest pop song on my entire list. And thank you, satellite radio, for turning me on to this one. How FM could be so stupid as to pass this up, I’ll never know. “I love you from the bottom of my heart,” Hutchinson sings in echo-bathed denial. Eric, I feel the same way about you.

7) Demi Lovato – “Give Your Heart a Break”

Thinking I was being nice to my daughter, I bought her the new Demi Lovato CD one day in Target after having heard “Skyscraper,” the most lovely, inspirational ballad by a Disney starlet since Miley Cyrus and “The Climb.” But just as Disney rejected Lovato for being too complex, independent and rough around the edges, so too did my daughter reject the CD, saying that she wasn’t interested in Demi any more, that fallen, self-injuring harlot of “Camp Rock” fame. So I took the CD for myself. And then this second single hit the radio and now my daughter wants it back. Sitting among a lot of Katy Perry and Rihanna and a bunch of new pop girls on the radio this summer (Kimbra? Sounds like something I made from a cigar box and popsicle sticks in fourth grade music class…), I thought this was the best straight-up pop song by a young female singer this season. Yup, even better than the inescapable you-know-what, though this list wouldn’t be complete without the inclusion of that track, too.

8) Glen Hansard – “Love Don’t Leave Me Waiting”

Yes, this looks like a Charles Schwab ad.

The summer began with the Broadway musical “Once” virtually sweeping the Tony Awards and then Glen Hansard, the male main character of that story and half of the Irish band of busking origins, The Swell Season, released his debut solo album, and it’s probably the album I’ve listened to the most as a whole work this summer (as opposed to listening to individual songs). It’s a stunner, filled with beautiful, contemplative lyrics and passionate vocal deliveries. And it provided my summer with the needed respite of music with adult-level maturity. I chose this track because it’s the first single and the one getting radio airplay, at least on WXRT, the only non-satellite station I’ll even listen to anymore if my kids aren’t in the car. It’s just a fantastic, slow-churning adult-rock track, and it’s arguably not even the best song on “Rhythm and Repose,” which you should pick up the next time you’re at Starbucks. It costs the same as that venti non-fat sugar-free vanilla light foam triple-shot latte you’ll order and will stick to your ribs a lot longer.

9) Green Day – “Oh Love”

Oh, Green Day. Welcome back. You are just as good when you’re writing about love as you are when you’re writing about politics. Probably even better. Please accept my apology for not adding tracks from “Dookie” to our playlist when I was the music director of my college radio station and said that your album lived up to its title. Your crunchy guitars and raw, plaintive Billy Joe vocals have shown me the error of my ways. This song is perfect in every Green Day-sort-of-way possible. I won’t be an American idiot ever again.

10) Passion Pit – “Take a Walk (The M Machine Remix)”

He said - take a WALK!

You can find this remix to the lead single from Passion Pit’s sophomore disc, “Gossamer,” on iTunes. I slightly prefer it to radio version; it’s got a much heavier bass groove, its beats so fresh and summery that only on repeat listens do you stop and ask yourself – “Hey, are these lyrics about the plight of an illegal immigrant? Are they intelligently dissecting the debt and investment crises over sunshine-y synths and a click-pop beat? ” I thought my love for Passion Pit’s first radio single, “Little Secrets,” was a fluke. Now I’m falling in love with them. Who knew that a song could make the reality of our economic debacle so palatable?

11) Mayer Hawthorne – “The Walk”

Talk about a summer breeze! One of the hot trends in music right now is this white-boys-doing-retro-soul thing, and I’m digging it. This summer featured other tracks in the genre by the likes of J.D. McPherson and Nick Waterhouse, but at the moment, my favorite is this track from Michigan-born Andrew Mayer Cohen, a DJ/producer/performer who goes by Mayer Hawthorne, possibly the only performer I can think of who truly took to heart the idea of taking your middle name and the name of the street you grew up on to create his…oh, that’s your porn star name…well, anyway… Combining the “woops” of the Temptations in between absolutely modern kiss-off lyrics, Hawthorne juxtaposes 70s soul with a current sensibility that keeps the track from being just an old-school soul copycat track. “The Walk” is the breakup song of the summer, from the guy’s point of view: “so long, you did me wrong.” Best lyric? “You’re shaped like an hourglass, but I think you’re time’s up.”

12) Per Gessle – “Dream On”

America forgot to visit Charm School the first time.

I struggled to pick the final track in my dozen, even putting this list aside for two days to think about it. I originally went with Bruce Springsteen’s E Street-meets-Dropkick Murphys Gaelic-stomping sequel to “My Hometown,” called “Death to My Hometown” from his brilliant “Wrecking Ball” disc. It’s been on constant rotation as I’ve prepped myself for the upcoming September concert which, I think, will provide me with my last act of preparation for the rapture. Then I went with “Guardian,” Alanis Morissette’s return to shimmering-verse, hammering-chorus form. But I finally settled on this track, though you have to admire how I snuck in the other two and, technically, expanded my list to 15, huh?

Per Gessle is the male half of Roxette, probably one of my top five all-time favorite pop bands. They’re a band that just sounds like summer, and one I never, ever gave up on even after their stateside popularity inexplicably waned following their “Pretty Woman” soundtrack superstardom and smash “Joyride” CD. I cannot figure out why Roxette didn’t maintain its popularity in the U.S., but they lost their American record deal, forcing me to pay in the mid $20s for imports of their last four studio albums and three hits collections, each of which contained at least a few songs as good as “Dressed for Success” and “Fading Like a Flower (Every Time You Leave).” What’s interesting here is that although Roxette just released a new CD a few months ago and is even returning to perform their first live dates in the U.S. in over a decade (though no Chicago stop…BOOO!!!!) this fall, the song that’s been lighting up a few of my favorite Sirius-XM stations is this track from their previous disc, 2011’s “Charm School.” Even more interesting, it’s not the fully-produced version of the track “Dream On,” co-vocaled in classic Roxette style by Marie Fredriksson, but the solo demo of the song recorded by Per and an acoustic guitar. I think I ultimately prefer the more Beatle-y, fully-produced version, but this stripped-down demo shines in its own right. I am praying that some sort of U.S. resurgence for Roxette is afoot. But mostly, this track truly connects my youth to my current self, a reminder that the songs of summer are forever.

13) Baker’s Dozen Bonus: Carly Rae Jepsen – “Call Me Maybe”

How can I not? What would you argue was a catchier song this year? This ubiquitous, omni-present, cross-cultural juggernaut is so infectious that I’m almost ready to stop trying to figure out how she missed him so bad before he came into her life. And whenever I think I’m sick of it, I look in the rearview mirror and find renewed joy in watching my children bopping in perfect rhythmic unison, not missing one word of the lyrics, never falling off pitch. If it’s good enough for Colin Powell, the U.S. swim team, and a host of others, it’s good enough for me.

Now that you've seen my list, head over to Uncomfortably Numb to find out what SHE said...

Something's coming...

I'm excited about a new writing opportunity that's about to happen, so if I've misappropriated that excitement by posting this tangentially-related clip of one of my favorite songs from one of my favorite musicals, please forgive me.

Suburban Acrobat started out as a blog for an audience of one, something I created for myself because I knew that if I was going to allow myself to be a writer I had to require myself to write. I never thought when I created it that I'd ever have much of an audience, and indeed so far, I've had little of one.

If you look through the past postings, you'll see stretches of years when I ignored this blog, as well as times when it's shifted from being a place where I could ponder the deeper moral concerns and fragile observations of life. Lately, for example, it's been the only place I could think of to post reviews of the comic books I've been reading a lot of lately; certainly these posts have been of little interest to the person who has visited here to see what I have to say about teaching students or raising children.

Perhaps this new opportunity will allow Suburban Acrobat the chance it's been waiting for to more clearly establish its identity. Because my jonesin' for all things pop culture is about to find a new - and I hope permanent - home. This is thanks in no small part to a collaboration I'm excited to tell you about.

I met Melissa Elliott-Lowell a few years back when we worked together at the high school where I still teach. We weren't particularly good friends at that time but whenever our paths would cross, they'd metaphorically generate these knowing yet exciting sparks. When it came to music, movies, books, television, hell - most anything culturally related - whenever Melissa would open her mouth to express her own opinion, a voice in the back of my head would say: "get out of my brain."

Circumstances are nutty, and the story of what happened next in our fledgling friendship is not meant to be told in this moment and in this posting. But from a distance, it was Melissa's writings and worldviews I most closely found myself aligned with. It was her disappointment in herself for not living up to her promises to herself to be a writer that I most identified with. And it was her turns of phrase that I found myself laughing the hardest over.

So I pulled the trigger and asked Melissa to start a site with me. And she agreed. And I can't wait to share that site with you, a place where two Midwestern, suburban parents who love to soak up popular culture and love language will write, reflect, and hopefully most importantly, entertain readers like yourselves. This place is currently being developed. Names are being bandied about. Site features are being discussed. Options for the site's location on the web are being explored.

But I couldn't wait until we were ready to introduce you to Melissa's work. No writer has as many witty asides in their writing this side of Seth MacFarlane's "Family Guy" scripts. And no one but me is as shameless about holding up a lighter at a Barry Manilow concert on one night and being totally hipster the next. So before we unveil our first posts together, click on this link and go to Melissa's blog, entitled Uncomfortably Numb.

And trust me. Something's coming. Something good...if I can wait.

So far, it's Wonderful - DC's New 52 Review #10: "Wonder Woman"

She's the most famous female comic book hero of all-time, but she's never been given the high-quality treatment needed to carry her own book title, and so Wonder Woman has been best portrayed in comics as a member of the Justice League. So of all of DC's new line of comic reboots, it would seem like our favorite heroine from the Amazon was the classic character most in need of a fresh and compelling start.

Don't look now, but I think they've figured it out. With an engaging story by Brian Azzarello and some of the most unique art in the DC Universe courtesy of Cliff Chiang, "Wonder Woman" is as meaty of a title as any in the New 52.

Somewhere in Virginia, a young woman named Zola is being hunted. She doesn't know this yet until a strange, bluish alien man shows up to tell her that she's in danger. Two centaurs appear and send a spear right through the man's stomach, but he manages to throw Zola a key that teleports her to the London bedroom of Diana. Yes, Wonder Woman. When the two hold the key together, they return back to Zola's farm, where Diana discovers that the seriously-wounded man is Hermes. He wants Diana to protect Zola and tells them both that she is pregnant with Zeus' child.

On Mount Olympus, Hera is fully aware of the fact that Zeus has sent Hermes to protect the woman carrying his latest child. Diana learns this after taking Zola and the injured Hermes to Paradise Island, where she meets up with her mother, Queen Hippolyta, who shares the news. Meanwhile, Hermes tells Zola the story of how Hippolyta could not conceive a child and fashioned one out of clay on a moonless night, praying to the gods for a miracle and waking to find a live baby, Diana, the "perfect Amazon" because "no male seed created her."

Strife, one of Zeus' daughters, arrives at Paradise Island and taunts the Amazons. She tells Diana that they are sisters and that Zeus is, in fact, her father. Hippolyta regretfully confirms the news that Diana was not made from clay and swears that the story was designed to protect her from Hera's wrath, but Diana is inconsolable; her life has been a lie. Diana tells the Amazons that "Diana" is dead and she is now "Wonder Woman."

Hera arrives to seek revenge against Hippolyta but ultimately spares her when Hippolyta begs for her forgiveness. Or at least that's what the reader thinks until Diana returns to Paradise Island to discover that the embrace between Hera and Hippolyta was not one of forgiveness, but instead, one of condemnation; Hippolyta has been turned to stone.

Guest artist Tony Akins takes over for Chiang for issues #5 and #6, and the art, while still crisp, is noticeably more traditional and, therefore, not as striking as in the previous issues. Issue #5 introduces a mysterious man who calls himself Lennox and knows a lot about Wonder Woman, as well as Poseidon, with whom Wonder Woman spars. While Wonder Woman deals with Poseidon, Lennox is talking to Hades. After another confrontation with Hera, Hades snatches Zola and tells Wonder Woman that if she does not keep up her end of the bargain, Zeus' bloodline will end with her.

Wonder Woman and Hermes find Eros in Italy. Eros takes them to Hephaestus, where Wonder Woman gets the next big shock of her life as she is introduced to all of the male children of Amazons, rescued by Hephaestus in exchange for weapons he's created. Wonder Woman attempts to rally the men, her brothers, to help her in her fight, and is distraught when she learns that they want no part of it, or her.

Hephaestus gives Wonder Woman access to his arsenal of armor and weapons to prepare her for her march into Hell. Hermes delivers her there, along with Eros' golden guns. Wonder Woman finds Zola but Hades refuses to release her unless she delivers Hera to him to be his wife. But then, Hades notices that Wonder Woman is carrying the pistols of Eros and decides that he will release Zola for those instead. Wonder Woman agrees, and is promptly shot, her bullet-proof bracelets unable to stop a bullet from Eros' gun. Hades announces that he will marry Diana instead. He insists that Diana be bound by her truth lasso during the ceremony to guarantee that she tells the truth as to whether or not she loves him. But Diana escapes and, before leaving hell, shoots Hades with a bullet from Eros' gun.

That's how the first 10 issues end, but I've also purchased the next two, so I'll push the story a little further forward. Issue #11 returns to the team of Azzarello and Chiang alone, and I have to say that I prefer "Wonder Woman" when the two of them are in control. Sun and Moon, Apollo and Artemis, arrive as Wonder Woman and Hermes take Zola to a doctor's appointment. They take Zola and deliver her to Hera, where Apollo expects Zeus' throne in exchange. Hera acquiesces, but Wonder Woman and Hermes have already arrived to stop them.

As a fight commences in issue #12, Zola's water breaks. And when the baby is born, Hermes steals it and gives it to Demeter. Wonder Woman sets out to find the baby and return it to Zola, propelling this already exciting story further forward into future issues. The story will continue from here after September's origin issue #0.

I have loved Greek mythology ever since I was a kid, and so I've found myself really enjoying "Wonder Woman," a title I admit that I initially began purchasing mostly out of a sense of duty to check out one of the biggest names in the DC Universe at the start of this reboot. I don't recall ever having purchased any Wonder Woman comics before, except for a few special titles here and there, so I don't have much to compare it to, but I'm hearing that this is (so far) one of the stronger tellings of a Wonder Woman story. I would agree that it feels substantial and has kept my interest. I originally wanted to collect the first 10 issues of "Wonder Woman." Now, I actually want to keep reading to see what happens next!

Chiang's art alone makes "Wonder Woman" a title worth looking into. So as the entertainment gods continue to debate whether or not there will ever be a Wonder Woman television show or film franchise, here's some quality Wonder Woman storytelling to tie us over, and maybe even inspire what we'll hopefully one day see on the big screen.

He dies and comes back to life over and over...except for this one time... DC's New 52 Review #9: "Resurrection Man"

Mitch Shelley is an interesting guy. He can sense metal wherever he goes: metal plates in the joints of war veterans, tongue piercings. And he remembers the metal of the surgical tools used to attempt to save his life when he died. "Everything tastes of metal," he says.

But the next thing we know, Mitch isn't dead. He's "borrowing" an ATM card and boarding a plane. While on the plane, he meets an attractive woman who, on a dime, transforms into a winged creature who proclaims that Mitch's "soul is overdue." The ensuing chaos ends in a plane crash, killing everyone, including Mitch...

...who "un-dies" a half hour later. And so begins "Resurrection Man," one of the new titles in the DC Comics New 52 reboot.

I had never heard of Resurrection Man before and so did a little online research about him. The character, it turns out, previously existed but is nonetheless rather new to the DC Universe. He was created in 1997 by Dan Abnett, Andy Lanning and Jackson Guice and had a two-year run in print. Abnett and Lanning remain in charge of this, um, newly-resurrected version of the comic, this time along with Fernando Dagnino.

By virtue of his hesitant participation in a botched science experiment (perhaps the reason why his last name is Shelley, a nod to "Frankenstein"), Mitch experiences an odd sort of immortality; he loses much of his memory of what happened prior to each death, and is resurrected from the dead within minutes of dying. He feels all of the pain experienced with each death and is not immune to it. Even more interesting, each resurrection brings with it a new superpower unique to and informed by the situation that last killed him.

In this reboot, Mitch is being tracked down by a group of individuals who appear to share the mark of a red tear in the corner of each one's right eye. Unaware of his being pursued, Mitch visits the nursing home where his dad lived to find that he's died. Suffering from memory loss, Mitch asks the residents for details about his father. Two women who appear to have a history with Mitch show up to "retrieve" him, guns blazing. They "kill" Mitch and upon revival, he is able to take the form of water and put up a fight. He is killed again regardless and momentarily held captive in a sort of purgatory. Once he returns, he is killed  by the women again but then they are confronted by someone calling himself "The Transhuman," the same name that a man in the nursing home had earlier told Mitch was his super-villain name prior to his time there, a piece of information that Mitch would be unable to remember.

The women, identified in issue #4 as Carmen and Bonnie, engage in a gunfight with the Transhuman, but they are all overpowered by the return of the winged woman from the plane, Suriel, who claims to be a "special angel from Heaven" sent to nab Mitch. A confrontation follows that leaves Mitch so bloodied that Suriel is not even sure that he will be able to resurrect again, at least not on Earth. Of course he does, and the fact that he is alive despite the condition of his body, coupled with his confusion over who and where he is, leads medical personnel to admit him to Arkham Asylum, where he begs the guards and workers to kill him so that he can prove that the stories they find to be delusional are, in fact, true. They name him "Deathwish."

Mitch escapes from Arkham and heads for Metropolis, allowing this title to cross over with two of the most famous cities in the DC Universe. While being tracked down in Metropolis, in issue #7, a man named Mr. Untouchable (who is able to surround himself with a red glowing force field) causes the building to set on fire thanks to the presence of a meth lab in it that was being uncovered at that moment by the authorities. In probably the coolest moment for Resurrection Man up to that point, he starts to push aside his confusion and embrace his urges to save innocent people from the building and fight crime, doing most of this as a flame of blue fire. In this segment, he looks awesome.

In issue #8, Mitch is at the Metropolis Library researching clues about his past when he literally runs into a woman named Kim Rebecki who's been hired to track him down. Kim has psychic powers and knows that there's something unique about Mitch. But before they can get into it, a man called The Butcher - who hired her - arrives. "He steals lives to power his magic," Mitch is told. Naturally, he wants Mitch so that he can be eternally and powerfully refueled. After ridding of The Butcher, Kim tells Mitch that he was once the director of a military applications developer called The Lab. But once again, Mitch fails to gain more information before the two are interrupted, this time by the Suicide Squad.

The Suicide Squad plans to disassemble Mitch's again-dead body and transport the pieces separately in the hopes that it will prevent him from reviving, but Carmen and Bonnie show up to stop them. But Mitch resurrects as "living metal" and escapes. Before he finally gets away, though, his hand is cut off and sent to a lab to be studied. Nonetheless, a new hand grows in its place and Mitch can tell that there's something different about it.

In issue #10, Kim and Mitch make discoveries that could link the Transhuman's lab to Mitch's past. But dueling forces led by Suriel and the sarcastically sinister Outcast arrive to claim him, a virtual duel of heaven and hell on Earth for Mitch and his soul. Mitch makes a deal to buy him some time; he'd like one week to find out the truth about who he is and says he will then surrender to one of them.  This sets up a nice cliff-hanger for the end of the first ten issues. But since I've also purchased issues #11 and #12, I'll include them in this review.

The artwork in "Resurrection Man" begins to get more clear (and, more awesome) around issue #9, as Jesus Saiz takes over for Dagnino, and gets even better when Javier Pina joins Saiz with issue #11. Having noticed that Saiz only draws three issues and then, with #12, Pina takes over, I was a little worried about the consistency of the book. Indeed there is a difference, but I would say that they are improvements. 

Issue #12 opens with Resurrection Man flying over Gotham City. He doesn't know how he got back there or how he's able to fly. He only assumes bits and pieces about the lab that might hold the secrets of his past and how he came to be the way he is. But before he gets too far, Batman apprehends him as an escapee from Arkham, and Mitch is soon in the custody of the entire Justice League. This unexpected and thrilling crossover with the main characters from the DC Universe reach an even higher climax with the arrival of Darkseid. But even better than all of that is the end of this issue, which finds Mitch being picked up by a giant robot being operated by a man inside, who reveals himself to be...Mitchell Shelley? Huh? The last page says "Next: Issue #0...where everything is revealed!"

I have really been enjoying "Resurrection Man." I think it's one of the most interesting and engaging titles in the New 52, and it's been fun to follow a new character in a sturdy new title with a great storyline and a mysterious past to reveal. Unfortunately, only as I was researching a bit to write this review of the title did I learn that "Resurrection Man" is among four titles to be cancelled in the second wave of New 52 cancellations. I was lucky the first go-round, and I had not been reading any of the titles cancelled. This time, however, I'm reading half of them, this book and "Justice League International." This is the one that I'm really sad to see go! To say that I'm disappointed is an understatement.

So next month's issue is set to be a #0 origin story issue, which if nothing else might clarify the character of Mitch Shelley in the DC Universe and pave the way for him to show up in other titles sporadically. Still, it's a shame that readers didn't latch on to his own book, a standout favorite for me in the new 52. Here's hoping that at some point, Mitch will be capable of yet one more resurrection.

Not super enough - DC's New 52 Review #8: "Superman"

I think pretty much everybody likes Superman, but I've never loved him. In the comic book world of superheroes, I always thought he had it too easy. Batman is just a mortal. Green Lantern didn't want the task thrown at him and seemed emotionally ill-equipped to handle it. But Superman? He's just super-everything, and for me, that was always a little boring.

Now you can argue that his origins as an intergallactic orphan lend some grit to the Superman saga, and as I've grown older, I've come to appreciate that this is in fact the case, but only up to a point. And when it comes to Superman titles in the New 52, "Action Comics" directly plays on the emotions of how Kal-El came to Earth, whereas "Superman" really does not. And since this is one of the most interesting aspects of Superman, it is also the case that the "Superman" title has not - at least so far - kept my interest as well as the more nuanced "Action Comics" has.

For the first four issues, writer George Perez and artist Jesus Merino take Superman down a bizarre path, and in a manner that I found difficult to engage with. Wearing an updated costume that amounts to mostly minor tweaks when compared to "Action Comics"' more radical denim-and-work-boots makeover, a super-mysterious and slightly distant and unfriendly Superman presides over Metropolis, defending the city first from some sort of invisible enemy, then from a fire element being and finally from an ice element being that appears to have originally taken the form of (or has possessed) one of Clark Kent's co-workers. None of these beings speak an Earth language, but they appear to speak the same language, and it might be the language of Superman's home planet.

The Daily Planet building has been demolished but replaced with a new, Trump-ed up version, and a man named Morgan Edge now controls the company, putting Lois Lane in charge of its television division and thus adding a modern twist to the famous details of the Superman story we learned as kids. 

Superman is blamed for the destruction caused to Metropolis while fighting these enemies, and with each passing issue, his behavior seems less and less like the behavior of Superman that we're used to. People really start to panic after Superman appears to absorb the elements of his enemies and then begins speaking in the same alien language (Krypton?) as them. Before the end of issue #5, Superman is holding a man upside down from atop the Daily Planet and threatening to drop him. And before readers can get angry about this new, abrasive Superman, the issue concludes with what appears to be the real Superman, floating somewhere in space, somehow trapped, finding himself covered in some sort of black, dotted substance.

Meanwhile, Supergirl shows up in Metropolis and rescues the man that "Superman" almost kills. All of issue #6 is essentially a battle between Superman and Supergirl, with Lois and her camera crew led by a Jimmy Olsen who's drawn too look much to young following the brawl to capture footage. Somehow, the real Superman arrives to dispose of his impostor and repair things with Supergirl.

Had I not read further, I think I would have been done with "Superman" by the midway point of its run so far, but as was the case with many of the New 52 titles, a new team picked up with issue #7 with this title as well, generating some noticeable improvements. In fact, issue #7 on feels terribly disjointed from the first half; its story and approach are both very different. Jesus Merino remains on the title, but the book is now being written by Dan Jurgens and Keith Giffen.

At the start of #7, an alien being arrives to level Superman, who still has not fully regained the trust of the people of Metropolis. This being turns out to be a soldier for Helspont, a scorned creature with a skull head lit in blue flames seeking Superman to serve him in seeking revenge on those who once imprisoned him. Helspont wants Superman - and any other "metahumans" he cares to enlist - to help him in his quest and, in return, offers Superman control over Earth. Superman, of course, refuses the deal.

Another startling change reveals itself in #7, when we find out that when Clark Kent changes into Superman, the "S" logo on his chest, worn on a t-shirt under his work clothes, now absorbs all of his street clothes and transforms Clark head-to-toe in his Superman gear. This is achieved, we learn in thought bubbles, through something called "Kryptonian biotech."

Helspont is actually a pretty cool villain, as is Anguish, a female character introduced in #9. Superman confronts her when she robs a bank simply to take an old locket and necklace from a safety deposit box. While attempting to engage Anguish in combat, Superman learns that she cannot feel anything, making her difficult to fight. Her back story, it turns out, is that she was severely abused and neglected as a child, leading to her powers of not being able to feel anything. I thought this was a cool origin story for a character. Issues #9 and #10 were probably the best of the first 11.

There are more things I don't like about this "Superman" than things that I do. The artwork looks great, and I really enjoyed it. But in terms of the writing, so much of the narrative is being told in Superman's thoughts as opposed to through actual dialogue or, even better, simple action and the illustration of it. This Superman is too chatty with the interior monologue, boxes and boxes of it. And since the opening half dozen issues present us with a Superman who might not have actually been the real Superman, it's been hard to connect with the character. Add in the fact that the title is nearing the dozen mark in issues and hasn't really dealt much with the historical elements of the Superman mythos, save for a few cryptic connections to Krypton that haven't panned out yet.

One final trait of "Superman" that I find irksome is that the writing team connects this title to so many others, from "Superboy" to "Action Comics" to "Supergirl." If I was reading all of those titles, that would probably be a good thing, and I guess it's cool that the writers work hard to make these connections and link up this family of characters in the DC Universe. (See my review of "Action Comics" for more on where that Superman fits in with this one in the grand scheme of things.) But I am not reading all of those titles and don't plan to, and thus find myself irritated with the frequent use of footnotes and reminders to issues and titles I haven't read. In this way, "Action Comics" feels more self-sustaining, and thus is easier to read.

I feel a bit guilty that I haven't really latched on to a Superman title, but if I had to pick one, "Action Comics" might edge out "Superman," though slightly. I think my verdict on both, however, is to discontinue monthly purchases of individual issues and wait to see if a story arc evolves in either title that is robust enough to spark my interest, in which case I could get caught up again through the purchase of trades. Until then, I suspect my monthly dose of Superman will come in the form of "Justice League."