A Christmas Carol Moffatized

There is a school of thought that goes out of its way to excuse the garish excesses of Doctor Who Christmas specials on grounds that they are, well, Christmas specials. These are the same apologetic members who have indulged the worst of the Russell Davies era, an overabundance of silliness, visual chaos, and Disneyesque non-narratives. In their heart of hearts I suspect some of them confess the truth: that The Runaway Bride (2006), Voyage of the Damned (2007), The Next Doctor (2008), and The End of Time (2009) are so bloody awful they could turn a saint into a scrooge, quite amusingly, the opposite of their intended effect.

Steven Moffat, however, is not Russell Davies, and the special he has served up this year is a gem. Gone is the usual cacophony and in its place a brilliant spin on a splendid classic, with plenty of soul. Though I tend to think Scrooge gets a bum rap, and I'm certainly no fan of the holiday season, there's something about A Christmas Carol I've always found endearing. It has little to do with Christmas per se, about which Scrooge's opinions actually have considerable merit. Dickens' story, at heart, is about a bitter man who wants to be happy but can't do so without taking a hard look behind, beside, and in front of him. That's a story for any season -- and one that happens to work perfectly in a Doctor Who context. Our Time Lord hero fills the roles of the ghosts of past and future, while sidekick Amy Pond appears as a hologram shade of the present, and between the two of them, with a little help from a dying woman, they manage to liberate a tormented man. That in the process they save over 4000 people from dying at this man's whim is almost ancillary.

The tormented Scrooge character is Kazran Sardick, an industrial overlord who despises all forms of good will, played brilliantly by Michael Gambon who channels even a bit of Albert Spica. Kazran is that grim (if not quite as oafish and vulgar), and I dare say this is Gambon's best performance since the infamous one in The Cook, The Thief, His Wife, and Her Lover. For him, unlike Spica, there is redemption in sight, though at serious emotional cost as he comes to terms with himself and the scars left by an abusive father.

As for the Doctor, he's in top form, and at his most scheming. Frankly he hasn't been this manipulative since The Curse of Fenric, when he used Ace as a pawn and put her through sheer emotional hell. Though he tried to save as many people as possible in carrying out his personal vendetta against Fenric, there is no reason why he couldn't simply have taken the flask he trapped Fenric in and dumped it in a black hole like he did with the deity-skull in Image of the Fendahl. Likewise, in A Christmas Carol, there's no reason he couldn't have gone back in time to prevent the Starliner from taking off in the first place instead of jumping through hoops to rewrite a man's life on the slim hope that he'll change his mind. As in the Fenric classic, there's a part of me that thinks the Doctor is getting off on using people as pawns, rewriting their lives, as Kazran rightly charges, "to suit himself".

Then there is Abigail, fated to die, who hit me rather hard with her transcendent singing. Never mind the absurdity of sharks being lullabied; I was almost as smitten as the young Kazran, and have to agree with Doug Chaplin, who writes:

"I never thought I would be moved by seeing a woman singing 'In the bleak mid-winter' to calm a hungry Jaws-style Doctor-chasing shark lost in the fog. For a scene that on every rational level ought to have been ludicrous, it was astonishingly affecting. In a sense that stands as a paradigmatic miniature of the whole project. This episode manages both more powerfully and more naturally the kind of emotional payload that Moffatt strained after (rather ineffectually, I thought) in The Beast Below."

That, incidentally, is a good comparison. While The Beast Below was decent (I gave it 3 stars), it was undercut by a lack of emotional payoff (unlike Abigail in A Christmas Carol, none of the kids who fall to the beast actually die) and a true sense of menace (after the opening scene, the Smilers weren't terribly threatening). Kazran is menacing on multiple levels. Not only will he let thousands of people die because he doesn't care enough to pull a switch, but there is a personal menace owing to inner demons. His transformation on account of Abigail, engineered by a master-manipulating Doctor, is so convincing, and I'm not sure whether that owes more to Michael Gambon's brilliant acting talents or the amazing script. Both are in full force as we see Kazran's nastiness crumble and give way to joy and inner peace, and he and Abigail share her last day of life together. In this sense, A Christmas Carol is a character piece -- a welcome change from the alien invasions of other Christmas episodes -- a lot like Dalek, Father's Day, Amy's Choice, and Vincent and the Doctor. That's pretty classic company, and Moffat's special is classic indeed.

Rating: 4 ½ stars out of 5.


Overview of all Doctor Who Christmas Specials

The Christmas Invasion -- 3 ½
The Runaway Bride -- 1
Voyage of the Damned -- 1
The Next Doctor -- 1
The End of Time -- 1
A Christmas Carol -- 4 ½

Read More

Dexter: The Seven Seasons Ranked

I'm still reeling from the season-seven finale, and if I were wise I'd probably wait a few weeks before attempting a list like this. But forget emotional distance, I'm going for it now while everything's still fresh in mind. There's no question that the crown jewels of Dexter are seasons 2, 4, and 7, and any one of these could qualify as my top favorite; it was hard deciding how to rank this trio. The others fell into place without much thought. I have high hopes for season 8, as the show writers have proven they can still go to the right places. Laguerta's death left me speechless like Rita's. Dexter and Deb are now bonded in the unspeakable, and their fate will surely have to be as tragic as Walter White's. That's a lot of tragedy coming next year!

#1. Season Two: The Bay Harbor Butcher. 5 stars. The show has always been at its best when Dexter is the one being hunted, and Doakes is a more punishing adversary than someone like the Ice Truck Killer precisely because he's a good guy. Season two has all the wild supplements and roller-coaster rides that make it impossible to stop watching for a moment -- Dexter's whack-job girlfriend Lila, who fuels his dark passenger under the guise of therapy; FBI hound Frank Lundy, by far the most compelling guest star of the entire seven seasons. It's wonderfully ironic that Dexter's "recovery" from serial killing in episodes 5-7 comes from Lila's sponsorship; he then goes back to accepting his bloodthirsty nature when he returns to the normality of Rita at the end of episode 8. And it says something about how strong the script is when even the deus ex machina of Lila finding Doakes and burning down his cage (thus getting Dexter off the hook in more ways than one) plays so beautifully without feeling like a cheat. It's also worth noting that episodes 5-7 are the center masterpieces which play on Batman, a Soderbergh film, and the children's book "Where the Wild Things Are", respectively.

Best four episodes. (5) "The Dark Defender": Dexter takes a road trip with Lila to kill the man who murdered his mother. He fights his urge to kill, and has fantasies of himself as a comic book superhero. (6) "Dex, Lies, and Videotape": Dexter struggles with the lies Harry told him, and with threats of being discovered by Lundy's surveillance and Doakes' snooping. He begins a wild fling with Lila, and kills the copycat Bay Harbor Butcher -- not because he "needs to", only because he "has to", insisting on his free will and choice, per Lila's therapy. (7) "That Night a Forest Grew": Dexter seizes control on all fronts, sowing confusion amongst his colleagues, breaking into houses to have sex with Lila, and making an innocent man look guilty in order to make Doakes look bad; Doakes attacks him. (9) "Resistance is Futile": Dexter gets dragged in front of Lundy and Matthews, with his blood-slides waiting on a table. He and Doakes fence off in the Everglades.

#2. Season Seven: The Bay Harbor Butcher, Take 2. 5 stars. Jennifer Carpenter carries the drama almost entirely, and runs a gamut of emotions that frankly most actors wouldn't be able to pull off. I've re-watched her intimate scenes with Dexter so many times, they're that powerful: from learning Dexter's secret, to tortured attempts at understanding and reforming him, to near acceptance alongside guilt-ridden lust, to finally, committing cold-blooded murder in order to protect him. It's refreshing to see Laguerta finally pulling her head out of her ass, as I always found it incredible that she wouldn't have been suspicious of Dexter once Rita was killed by Trinity (out of pattern) and Quinn started hounding her about the sketch of Kyle Butler. The mafia boss Isaak Sirko is the best guest star since Trinity, hell-bent on vengeance only to bond strangely with Dexter in the end. And Hannah is the best woman to happen to Dexter since Lila, a killer who sedately accepts her own nature as much as his. This season marks an incredible comeback after the low-point of season 6, and I'm optimistic that season 8 will go out with the pulverizing tragedy that Dexter demands.

Best four episodes. (1) "Are You...?": Deb struggles with Dexter's killing of Travis. (2) "Sunshine and Frosty Swirl": Deb learns Dexter's full secret. Hand-in-hand with the first episode, this one showcases the most powerful Dexter-Deb moments in the show's history. (8) "Argentina": a gorgeous and artistic episode that features harrowing dialogue sequences between Dexter and everyone -- Deb (she pours out her guilt-ridden urges for him), Hannah (acceptance of each other, nature vs. need), and Isaac (who is moved by Dexter even while craving vengeance against him). (12) "Surprise, Motherfucker!": the highest rated episode in the show's history, for obvious reasons; Deb killing Laguerta outdoes even the shocker of Rita's murder at the end of season 4; I was left utterly speechless.

#3. Season Four: Trinity. 5 stars. An astounding comeback from the mediocrity of season 3 (much like 7 after 6). Here we have a villain who makes the Ice Truck Killer look like a home boy, a narrative crescendo that escalates without fail, and a script that matches the relentless tension of season two. Frank Lundy's return is used to great effect; his shocking murder causes Deb to meltdown big time (her scene from episode 5 had me in tears). But even that has nothing on Rita's demise. I had to rewatch the end of the finale after I first saw it, I couldn't credit what my eyes were telling me. As in seasons 2 and 7, Dexter finds himself out of control more than usual, killing his first innocent victim (the film director instead of his assistant), and letting Trinity get the upper hand too many times. The only slight weakness of this season (the reason I put it below 2 and 7, I suppose) is the side love affair between Batista and Laguerta: I didn't buy it at all. Did they have to throw these two together just because they're Hispanic?

Best four episodes. (5) "Dirty Harry": In the aftermath of Lundy's murder, Deb has a serious meltdown; Dexter sees Trinity kill his third victim and follows him home to his family, realizing that Trinity is "just like him". (9) "Hungry Man": Dexter spends a disturbing Thanksgiving with Trinity and his family, and ends up attacking him. (11) "Hello, Dexter Morgan": Trinity zeroes in on Dexter and confronts him at the police station -- in my opinion, the greatest cliffhanger of the entire seven seasons. (12) "The Getaway": the second-highest rated episode in the show's history -- Dexter desperately tries to get the upper hand, finally kills Trinity, then realizes Trinity killed Rita first.

#4. Season One: The Ice Truck Killer. 4 ½ stars. It's hard to remember the days when an insecure Rita gave Dexter a blow-job in Halloween costume, Deb was just graduating from blue uniform, and Astor and Cody were the size of hobbits. It was the season we got to know Dexter through his most iconic slayings (the child molester, the drowner of destitute immigrants, the psychiatrist counseling rich women to kill themselves), his trademark inner voice loaded with humorous subtext, and flashbacks of his childhood weaved brilliantly into the storylines. While an excellent season, the show was finding its footing, and the overarching drama doesn't carry the same unrelenting tension of the above three. The Ice Truck Killer's identity unfolds to a perfect beat -- revealed as Rudy at the end of episode 8, Dexter's brother at the very end -- as do our hero's repressed memories. This is classic Dexter.

Best four episodes. (6) "Return to Sender": Dexter is horrified to learn that a kid saw him kill the married couple who were drowning Cuban immigrants in the previous episode; great foreshadowing of season two, with Dexter so close to being discovered by his own police team. (8) "Shrink Wrap": Dexter seeks counseling from a therapist who encourages his depressed patients to commit suicide; great fencing between these two as Dexter sits on the psychiatrist's couch. (10) "Seeing Red": Dexter remembers his childhood trauma, triggered by a bloodbath left by The Ice Truck Killer; he also takes care of Rita's bullying ex-husband. (12) "Born Free": Dexter confronts the Ice Truck Killer, who is his own brother; this season finale is of course legendary.

#5. Season Five: The Barrel-Girl Gang. 4 stars. As in season three, Dexter acquires a partner in crime, but this time someone who remains faithful to him, even falling in love. Unlike season three, we now have engaging subplots: the Fuentes brothers, one of whom Deb ends up shooting at the night club, and of course Quinn's hiring Liddy to spy on Dexter. In fact, this season could have been a 4 ½ if they had only (a) cast someone other than Julia Stiles in the role of Lumen and (b) provided more payoff in the finale. (Deb confronting the "vigilantes in love" through the curtain without demanding they show themselves was preposterously unbelievable.) The idea of a fun-boys' rape club was a good move and offered something new in place of isolated and unrelated killings Dexter carries out in the other seasons. And the "Take It!" episode centered on Chase's convention was a jaw-dropper.

Best four episodes. (1) "My Bad": the aftermath of Rita's murder; Dexter comes to terms with grief. (4) "Beauty and the Beast": Dexter keeps Lumen locked up until he can trust her; shades of Doakes. (8) "Take It": the season's high point -- Dexter attends Chase's convention fueled by manic mobs; Cole Harman seizes Lumen, and Dexter executes him; Lumen realizes that Dexter kills not for justice but because he needs to. (10) "In the Beginning": a strong fan favorite involving a lot -- DVDs of the barrel girl victims getting raped and tortured; at the station Dexter quietly promises Jordan that he'll be safe from the police, though not from him; Liddy closes in on Dexter; Lumen's first kill.

#6. Season Three: The Skinner. 3 stars. Even the worst of Dexter is better than most of what runs on TV these days, but this season is relatively disappointing, especially in view of the top-notch seasons that sandwich it (2 and 4). Most of the subplots and side-stories go nowhere, and we don't care enough about them even if they did. Dexter gets increasingly domesticated by Rita who becomes rather irritating. The main feature, Miguel Prado, is however superb, and offers a fascinating sketch of what friendship with the true Dexter looks like, as well as the inevitable outcome when Miguel can't control his demons. The narrative crescendo reaches its peak in episode ten, then peters out to something less than impressive over the last two episodes. Dexter's marriage at the end is the inverse of Rita's shocking murder at the end of the next season: unpromisingly banal. As for the Skinner, he remains off-stage until the very end. It looked as though Dexter was on a downslide with this season, and few would have believed that the raging comebacks of seasons 4 and 7 were possible at this point.

Best four episodes (2) "Finding Freebo": Dexter questions the code Harry taught him, kills Freebo, and is caught by Miguel who thanks him for the murder. (6) "Sí Se Puede": Dexter has serious inner arguments with his father about having a friend like Miguel; he and Miguel abduct a convict being transferred. (8) "The Damage a Man Can Do": Dexter introduces Miguel to parts of Harry's Code, and they both kill a bookie together. (10) "Go Your Own Way": Dexter contemplates (a) killing Miguel, (b) dissolving the friendship, and (c) gaining the upper hand, until he realizes only (a) is the viable option after a big blowout.

#7. Season Six: The Doomsday Killer. 2 stars. The lowest point of the show's run consists of being jerked around by the obvious for too long, as it becomes clear by episode 4 that Gellar is imaginary. Travis Marshall is the true villain, and not a very good one. The season jumped the shark in other ways, such as with the "Nebraska" episode (the worst in the show's history), Deb's love-urges for Dexter (though lemonade was made of this drama in season 7), and the entirely unrealistic showdown between Travis and Dexter, as of course nothing bad will happen on a show like this to a child like Harrison. What saves this season from a rock-bottom rating of "1" is the apocalyptic backdrop: the Doomsday Killer is a great concept, and his tableau killings some of the most demented slayings that have ever been on display, from the dismembered horseman riding down the streets of Miami, to the angel of death, to live baby snakes being planted in a victim's abdomen. If this material had been worked around decent plotting, this season could have been very good.

Best four episodes. I honestly can't come up with favorites for this season. There are compelling moments with Brother Sam, who is well played by Mos Def. And as I mentioned, the Doomsday tableaus (the chopped up horseman, the brutal angel of death hanging, etc.) are priceless. Not to mention the scene where the homicide team stumbles into Travis' trap and gets dumped on by buckets of blood. But is there any episode which really impressed me on whole? Not really, no. The season's focus is on a mind-puzzle that we solve from the get-go, and once it is revealed, the rest of the season is substandard drama. I was personally let down by the over-arching theme of religion that had such potential but really went nowhere.

Read More

The Lion, the Witch, the Wardrobe, the Prince, and the Dawn Treader

Before reviewing the films, I need to be upfront: Tolkien had it right about his friend's wonderland. Narnia is a horrendous mishmash of a fantasy world, a hodgepodge, a sophomoric blend of different myths -- Norse dwarves, Greek centaurs and fauns, Santa Claus + Christ -- its over-arching Christian allegory betraying a woeful lack of imagination. In my youth I just couldn't stand the Pevensie kids, but even then I was aware of Lewis' creative laziness. The books didn't come with maps, and even if they had, the world was too superficial and underdeveloped to appreciate. Narnia had nothing on the richly textured places I was inhabiting as a teen -- Middle-Earth, The Land, Earthsea, Pern. It was an afterthought, forgotten as soon as I put the books down.

So I'm surprised to be enjoying these film adaptations so far, The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, Prince Caspian, and The Voyage of the Dawn Treader. They're not great by any means, but impressive all things considered -- certainly better than the Harry Potter films (two of which I slept through), and I'd take them over a train wreck like Willow any day. Andrew Adamson and Michael Apted have made Narnia entertaining enough that I can forget why I hate the place.

For the most part anyway. The Pevensie kids are still insufferable snots, except for Lucy who's impossible not to love. In the books she drew no sympathy from me when she was ridiculed and disbelieved, but now I feel for her. Her character dominates differently on screen, in contrast to her bratty siblings. Oppositely, the White Witch is a frightening piece of work, played very convincingly by Tilda Swinton. With Lewis' witch I could only imagine a caricature, but Swinton's incarnation is anything but (I was glad to see an evil witch with blond hair for a change), oozing fascist ice with glares and intonations. And the CGI Aslan looks like the real thing; Liam Neeson's voice was made for it.

The climactic battle between the forces of Aslan and the White Witch, described by Lewis in the space of two paragraphs, is appropriately drawn out, more gritty than you might expect in a PG film, and it doesn't hurt that CGI works wonders these days with arial views and other effects. Though if you've seen the vastly superior Lord of the Rings films (which were PG-13), this stuff is pretty substandard. Where The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe really triumphs is in the parallel "passion" climax, where Aslan allows himself to be humiliated and killed for Edmund's treachery. It's rather intense (for kids), and while the Christian allegory is intrusive, the emotional power makes up for it.

The second film is even better for its darker tone, less obvious biblical allegory, and the way it pushes more envelopes in a PG context. Adamson takes more liberties with Lewis' text to good effect. There's a particularly chilling scene where Caspian is tempted by the shade of the White Witch; and the business of Lucy seeing Aslan but having a hard time convincing the others is handled much better. There were gratuitous rip-offs of the Lord of the Rings films, but strangely enough they didn't bother me, probably because they were just so spectacular. Jackson's flood at the ford was superseded with a vengeance, and the Huorns were also outdone in a climactic tree-attack. I should say that Aslan's How was my favorite set piece: antiquated, dark, and haunting as hell.

The dark moments in the first film don't compare to those in the second, as noted by a reviewer:

"Times are dark in Narnia, and that's reflected in Prince Caspian's almost shocking violence. I don't remember huge amounts of mayhem being visited upon humans in the first film, so the fact that this movie's comic relief is a throat-slitting mouse should tell you how much the ante has been upped."

For a children's film Caspian is pervasively violent. The battles go on and on, though of course that's the story: the Narnians are fighting to take back their home from invaders. (With regards to Reepicheep: he delighted me to no end. It's of course ridiculous -- even in the context of a children's fantasy -- that a mouse wielding a sword the size of a needle could decimate human warriors left and right. But no matter, the scene in the woods where he kills Caspian's pursuers is hilarious.) Less magic, more savagery, less fate, more uncertainty -- especially without Aslan around for guidance until the very end -- makes the second film dramatically superior.

Many critics disagree with me and favor the first film, though the The New Republic is a refreshing exception:

"In technical terms, Prince Caspian is an improvement on its predecessor in almost every sense. Yet, like the book on which it is based, it lacks much in the way of deeper resonance. It is a considerably sharper entertainment than the first film, but little in it aspires to do more than entertain... The dialogue is crisper, the sets and staging more spectacular, the pace more lively (despite one or two plot twists too many), and the action sequences far more riveting. It may still lack the narrative depth and complexity of Jackson's Tolkien films, but those are difficult qualities to conjure in a film whose cast is made up almost entirely of teenagers and talking animals... The final act is more satisfying, too, striking an elegiac note of opportunities past, friends departed, dreams outgrown. Prince Caspian may be less full of innocent wonder than its predecessor, but it is a smarter, better film. Like its young stars, the Narnia franchise has, for better and worse, grown up."

Perhaps it's the "deeper resonance" of the first film that holds it back slightly. Perhaps Lewis should have been striving for plain entertainment all along with these stories. I'd rather take Aslan at face value, on his own terms as a primitive lion-deity, instead of a "supposition" of what Christ might look like in a child's fairy land.

Speaking of which, Aslan has always been a curious Christ-figure. He approves warfare and even glorifies it. This is a crusader's deity whose subjects are ever ready to take up the sword and kick ass. There's not much about turning the other cheek in Narnia, moments of warrior-mercy notwithstanding (like Peter and Caspian refusing to slay Miraz). Don't get me wrong: that's not a complaint (my complaint is not about the kind of Christ-figure Aslan is, only that he's a Christ-figure to begin with). I've made clear in my series on the medieval crusades that the crusaders have been overly maligned, and that Jesus' words themselves were pressed into a warrior mindset. I just find it curious that Lewis chose to fashion a Christ-figure for children in this image. It's hard to get a lion out of a lamb.

Which segues perfectly into the third film, which if faithful to the book would have at least given us a glimpse of the "Lamb of God". At the end of Lewis' Voyage of the Dawn Treader, Caspian and the kids come to Aslan's country and are confronted with a bleating sheep who invites them to a meal of cooked fish, obviously calling to mind Christ and his disciples in Jn 21. The lamb then turns into Aslan, who tells a despairing Lucy that she can never return to Narnia and must learn to know him by his name in her own world (i.e. Jesus). The same happens in the film, but without Aslan first appearing as a sheep, no doubt to tone down the Christian imagery for popular consumption. But the fact remains that only in the book of Revelation is Christ depicted as a feline warrior -- "the Lion of the tribe of Judah" (Rev 5:5) -- the lamb being the more abundant symbol (Jn 1:29,36; 1 Pet 1:19; Rev 13:8).

In any case, The Voyage of the Dawn Treader is as good as Prince Caspian, though in a different way, and takes even more liberties with the text. It was always my favorite book of the chronicles (not saying much, I know), probably for the same reason The One Tree is the best of the Thomas Covenant series. There's something about sea voyages to exotic lands that lends to an episodic pacing in which conflict isn't as necessary to the story. Gone are the big bad-asses like the White Witch and Lord Miraz, though we do get an impressive sea serpent, as well as a sinister mist that messes with your mind and gives literal life to nightmares. Caspian's quest for the seven lords has become a quest for their seven swords -- which must be placed on Aslan's table to banish the mist and liberate its captives. It's a refreshingly introspective film dealing with fear and temptation.

So despite my hard feelings for the books, the films work pretty well and allow me to suspend most of my dislike for Lewis' creation. Out of five stars, The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe gets 3, Prince Caspian gets 3 ½, and The Voyage of the Dawn Treader also 3 ½.

Read More

Top 20 U2 Songs

The American Songwriter compiled what he considers to be The Top 20 U2 Songs, but you know these lists, they always cry for clearance. Here are my own essential 20 U2 songs, rated in descending order, which in some combination make their way onto playlists and CDs -- like the one I burned this weekend. Note that in many cases I prefer a live version over the original studio (or put them on equal standing). There's nothing from Zooropa or Pop (the band's nadir period), nor much from the most recent albums. Songs from Boy, War, The Unforgettable Fire, The Joshua Tree, Achtung Baby, and All That You Can't Leave Behind reign supreme here.

1. Ultraviolet (Studio, 1991, or Live, Sheffield, 2009)
2. Bad (Studio, 1984)
3. Where the Streets Have No Name (Live, Slane Castle, 2001)
4. The Fly (Studio, 1991, or Live, Boston, 2001)
5. Drowning Man (Studio, 1983)
6. Until the End of the World (Studio, 1991)
7. Kite (Live, Slane Castle, 2001)
8. With or Without You (Live, Denver, 1987)
9. Beautiful Day (Live, Slane Castle, 2001)
10. New Year's Day (Studio, 1983)
11. Stuck in a Moment You Can't Get Out of (Live, Slane Castle, 2001)
12. Red Hill Mining Town (Studio, 1987)
13. Out of Control (Live, Slane Castle, 2001)
14. City of Blinding Lights (Studio, 2004)
15. A Sort of Homecoming (Live, London, 1985)
16. Mysterious Ways (Studio, 1991)
17. Sunday Bloody Sunday (Live, Denver, 1987, or Live, Slane Castle, 2001)
18. Pride (Studio, 1984)
19. Running to Stand Still (Studio, 1987, or Live, Tempe, 1987)
20. All I Want is You (Studio, 1987, or Live, Slane Castle, 2001)

I was quite pleased to see Red Hill Mining Town in The American Songwriter's choices. Along with Drowning Man, Ultraviolet, and A Sort of Homecoming, they are terribly underrated songs, almost never played live, and I don't know why.

Read More

Deane Galbraith's Biblical Studies Carnival

The monthly carnivals have been falling off my radar over the last year, but Deane Galbraith's November roundup is mighty impressive, and not just because he awards The Busybody the #2 slot in "the top 30 biblioblogs worth reading for November 2010". Deane has canvassed quite a lot of material, and it's the best carnival I've seen in a long time.

Read More