So much for a sabbatical...

First off, I hope everyone's new year has gotten off to a pleasant start. In this house, 2026 has been a rickety one so far. Ended up taking a longer time off than originally planned for personal reasons, sank a lot of time into various things but came out the other side with fuck all to show for it and gave some serious consideration to sacking off doing art for about the millionth time, but we're not getting into that.

In other news, I chucked a cranberry-scented fizzer in the bath one morning and accidentally summoned the ghost of fucking Countess Bathory.

In the nothing-much-happening lag after the new year, I also checked out the early 2000s version of Randall and Hopkirk Deceased and, to put it bluntly, fucking hell, it's bad. My interest was piqued because Reeves and Mortimer were involved, but not even they could shore up that program. In an effort to be fair to it, I stuck it out for three episodes, hoping that it might find its stride, but if anything, that just put its shortcomings under the microscope. A few things ground my gears, like the robotic dialogue; poorly executed plots with awkwardly lurching tone and pacing; mawkish musical cues that kept coming up like a bad case of acid reflux - just painful. There was one scene where Hopkirk was kicking up a supernatural breeze to lift up some prim-and-proper geezer's toupee and that genuinely made me laugh, but that's about it. One funny scene of a ghost being a bit of a shit-stirrer is not enough to carry a whole show. Alas.

On a more positive note, I also checked out Session 9 after seeing a brief summary of it in one of Totally Pointless TV's videos and it's a really interesting film, a decent slow burner with plenty of smouldering tension and intriguing ambiguity throughout; it invites the audience to come to their own interpretation, which I always enjoy. The cast do a great job in their roles, complete with savage banter; you really get a feeling of mistrust and conflicting motivations there and it neatly conveys that mismatch between how much you know someone on the surface, compared to the things you don't really know about them. Oh, and man alive, the visual storytelling there is just so well done. Sometimes you have these claustrophobic shots slap-bang in the middle of the blokes while they're having a blazing row; other times the viewpoint lurks at the bottom of a staircase or peers through a hole in the wall and spoilers! but in one scene where we see some poor sod's had an orbitoclast jammed in his eye socket, the viewpoint lingers for a long time at his side, in an uncomfortably voyeuristic fashion (I'm not normally squeamish but that was a bit much even for me); it's well thought out, expressive and impactful - I bloody love it.

Onto music now and over the holidays, I got majorly back into Coheed and Cambria (well, their stuff up to about 2010, anyway) - so yes, when can we have a fancy vinyl reissue of Year of the Black Rainbow? Not sure if the tide has turned since its release but it seems that album was none too warmly received when it first came out, but I loved it then and it's still my favourite of theirs now. It's a compelling album with a lot of emotion to it (and surely the whole of humanity can come together for once and agree that When Skeletons Live is a stone cold fucking banger.) Also, revisiting The Second Stage Turbine Blade 15 years after I first heard it (!!!), while I was initially lukewarm towards it, this time 'round there's a lot more to love. Delirium Trigger has some delicious sci-fi horror vibes; Devil in New Jersey has some proper catchy hooks; Everything Evil has an oppressive mood of lingering tension about it (although I take umbrage with that line, "Write me a letter and paste it on my refrigerator door" like, mate, just use a fucking fridge magnet like a normal person!) and God Send Conspirator is really relaxing, like you could just stick that on, get comfortable and disappear into it for a bit, it's pretty melancholy, but lovely all the same.

When it comes to No World for Tomorrow, though, I am still not to be swayed. Sure, it has its moments; the title track and The End Complete are cathartic, striking songs (also the drums in those songs are to die for), but the album overall just feels like a non-event of a thing, really. Not even the fan darling, Feathers; that one always struck me as a bit maudlin, to be honest.

Oh, and because it would be remiss of me not to mention it: From Fear Through the Eyes of Madness sounds like an apocalyptic version of the Roobarb and Custard theme tune. I will not rest until everyone is aware of this. Don't get me wrong, it's a fun, weird song, but that bouncy, arpeggiated tune did conjure up some long-buried memories of the prancing green collie, and it amused me a lot more than it should have. Thankfully there's nowt on that album reminiscent of Mary, Mungo and Midge or we would have a problem (the animation style on that program is fucking abhorrent.)

About the same time, I also went rummaging through some more Tomita albums, which involved some ups and downs. The Planets left me a bit cold on first impression. It has some lovely moments (Venus is especially pleasant), but overall, it felt too unfocussed and meandering. My main gripe is with Jupiter; that tune is a long-standing favourite, and the track I was most looking forward to hearing; my expectations were high and the result was one hell of a disappointment. This version is interrupted by some irritating synthesised radio chatter and it lacks the majestic atmosphere of other renditions (seriously, I had a musical clock at one point that played a cute chimey rendition of Jupiter, and that had more oomph than the version on this album.) Still, the moments that did appeal have enough draw for me to give it a second chance sometime; maybe I'll have a change of heart at a later date.

On the opposite end of the spectrum, The Ravel Album/Daphnis et Chloé is a real show-stopper in the best possible sense. It's light, dreamy, joyful, whimsical; done in a glossy, elegant manner with plenty of lively flourishes and trills for good measure. It's a real beauty from start to finish, delightful and uplifting but not fully pitching over into being sickly sweet. It starts off feeling delicate and finishes strong with a grandiose, triumphant fanfare - just such a satisfying album. Maybe my #1 album of 2025 (yes, it was released in 1979 but that is entirely beside the point.)

Pictures at an Exhibition was included among this bundle of records and while it didn't strike me quite as strongly as Daphnis and Chloé, it's still enjoyable. Some folks might recognise the opening notes of this version of Promenade, as they were used in an RCA VideoDisc ident. The arrangement on this album is suitably fleshed-out, with the quirky and experimental aspects that you'd expect from '70s Moog music. In particular, Ballet of the Chicks in their Shells is made up of iffy synthesised tweeting birds, it's fucking bizarre, kind of hilarious, and frankly, a more sensible approach would've just been cowardly. It's a fun interpretation, and if you like odd, experimental, early electronic music, then you can't go wrong with it, really.

Also, finally, Danes Moss Audio is up and about (for now), and there are a few playlists to go at. I'm about halfway through recording and uploading the obscure folky records in my collection, but once that's done, it's likely to go quiet again. There isn't much out there that is lighting my fire right now and picking up records for the sake of keeping the channel going just isn't my style.

Anyway. That's a lot of rambling. Not too sure how to finish up this post so we'll just leave it there and have done with.