Time is Relative - Season 12: Revenge of the Cybermen

Well good evening. How thrilling to see you.

You join me on my romp through 1970s Doctor Who, and you're just in time for an exciting adventure with the Cybermen.

Don't worry if you don't know anything about the show. My fidelity to accuracy is not strong. If anything, you'll know less at the end that you did at the beginning.



Revenge of the Cybermen

This week, Sarah Jane finds herself on a space station, surrounded by many, many dead guys. She looks worried that someone is going to come along and say "Hey Sarah, why have you murdered all the guys?"

That seems unlikely. She can say some hurtful things, but she's no killer. She's probably just wondering how to keep Doctor Who away from them. She knows he'll instantly start peering at them close up and scratching bits of their skin off to put in bottles, and then showing the bottles to their loved ones while going "Aaaahhhhhhh?!"

Meanwhile, in a different bit of space, some Cybermen are hanging out in their ship.

It's a very poor ship, if the truth be told. Look at the walls. It's like a student house. And I think the sitting-down Cybermen know it. Their faces may be blank, but there's an unmistakable sense of ennui to their demeanour. "This is worse than rubbish," they're thinking. 

The standing-up Cyberman is trying to enthuse them, though, isn't he? "Come on, lads!" he's saying. "Don't worry about the fact that our flight deck is like a nightmare about a toilet. Soon we'll get to kill a load of humans. That'll be fun. Won't it? Eh? Killing? Ooh, they'll be dead. And we'll be like, Yeah!"

Also in this story we have these guys. They are called Vogans, and their planet is made of gold!

Here, a bunch of insurgents are having some kind of revolution. I can't remember why. I think we're meant to care about their politics, but they all look a bit too adorable for the viewer to think anything other than, "Aww! Look at their weird little faces!"

Here, for example, I think they're having a moment of high drama. But it's impossible to be thrilled, because they look like a bunch of Oompa Loompas who've formed a Glam Rock group.

On the space station, Sarah gets jumped on by this metal Cyber-Snake thing. She's clearly repulsed by the whole idea, and is pulling a face like a drunk is trying to kiss her at New Years.

I think it's meant to be a secret Cyberman Infiltration Snake Thing. But it's really huge, isn't it? How did that sneak anywhere? Maybe it's not trying to attack Sarah. Maybe it just needs someone to listen. "They expect me to sneak around the station. But look at me! I'm massive. And shiny! No-one understands how difficult my life is!"

Doctor Who, meanwhile, has been wandering round the space station, trying to work out why so many people are dead. His attention span is notoriously short, though, and he's constantly being distracted by new things.

What will he do next? Investigate the interesting noise he just heard? Try to cut his own hair? Suddenly wander off in search of biscuits?  It's anyone's guess.

To everyone's delight, the Cybermen finally turn up.

In the old days this would have been a scary and exciting moment. Here, it is just rather pleasant, like a visit from some mad old relatives. The Cyber Leader is making calming hand gestures, as if to say, "Don't worry, we're not staying long, we just needed to get out of our awful spaceship for fifteen minutes."

The one behind is having some trouble, isn't he? He looks very much like he's trying to navigate a difficult series of obstacles, but... there's nothing there. Is there? Maybe he's been sitting down for too long and his legs went dead? Or he's simply overcome with joy because the wall behind him is a colour other than Dreary Toilet Spaceship Grey. 

Alas, the Cybermen are easily antagonised, and it's not long before there's something of a ruckus. 

The Leader starts jabbing repeatedly at a button which makes multi-coloured fire shoot from his forehead. His companion on the left, meanwhile, is giving the humans a mad-hard stare, daring them to comment on his leader's flamboyant methods of attack.

The one on the right just looks deeply embarrassed. "Every time!" he seems to be thinking. 

Eventually the Cybermen agree to stop murdering everyone if Doctor Who takes them down to Voga and helps them blow it up with bombs. 

Doctor Who has one of the bombs strapped to him, I think, but he doesn't really seem to mind. He's probably not properly paying attention, and it's possible he hasn't even registered that the story has started. 

They haven't even teleported down yet, but already the Cybermen is wearing the heavy shouldered slump of someone realising he has to put up with Doctor Who being weird and abstract for the rest of the afternoon.

This is the last photo I took of this story, which suggests that the climax was less than thrilling. If memory serves the bombs don't work, and so the Cybermen start madly improvising, with ever diminishing levels of success, until they just explode or collapse into tears or something. 

These Cybermen look pretty good, though, don't they? I like to think that, once they were away from their lavatory themed spaceship and idiot Leader, they looked at the world with fresh eyes and realised that there was a different life. A better life. Together.

If you enjoyed that, and there's no saying you didn't, maybe you'd also enjoy Doctor Who's previous adventure: Genesis of the Daleks.

Or you could look forward in time, and thrill to the next story: Terror of the Zygons.

Easter mistakes or: How it sometimes takes more than three days to rise again

I really like Easter weekend. It's better than Christmas, in my opinion. You get a bunch of time off work, except you don't have to spend it visiting everyone you've ever met, and you can just stay in eating M&Ms and mini-eggs, watching Raiders of the Lost Ark and laughing. 

There are some particular significances, for me, as well. As I write, on Easter Saturday 2020, it is eleven  years since Easter Saturday 2009. Which was quite a day, and not just because David Tennant was on TV, sharing chocolate eggs with strangers on a bus in space. 

Eleven years ago today I was in the middle of a very, very big mistake. 

Have you ever done that thing where you rush madly towards something, absolutely convinced that it's a good idea? Everything feels right, the music is playing in your head and there's no way that this is anything other than the most glorious, triumphant conclusion to all your wishes and desires?

Well, I'd done that. I'd run towards a number of things over the preceding twelve months. If you've seen Braveheart, try to imagine that bit where Mr. Braveheart runs at all the bad English guys, utterly confident of his ability to take them all on and chop their stupid racist heads off. 

If you've not seen it, try to imagine a very stupid Yorkshireman staggering around with a bottle of wine, getting engaged to someone for no good reason and then buying her a house. He doesn't chop anyone's head off, although you may be forgiven for thinking that his own brain has been removed. 

It wasn't a good idea, you see. The engagement was not a happy one for either participant. I became increasingly miserable and angry, and all my previous confidence melted away like the butter of optimism on the... um... toast... of... erm… realising that you can't even stand going on holiday with someone, let alone spending the rest of your life with them. 

Good metaphor. Wonder if it will catch on?

So, anyway. Easter Saturday found me very much on a cross of my own making. That's right - I'm comparing my suffering to that of Jesus. Except in this case Jesus isn't the Son of God. He's a cretin. And he's the one who made the cross. And bought the nails. And spent ages trying to hammer nails into himself, even though all his friends were saying, "That's probably not the best idea. Plus, how are you going to do the last hand?"

I didn't want to get married, but here I was with a wedding all booked and planned. I didn't want to share a home with this person, but, oh look, there's a big expensive house with both our names on the mortgage. I was scared of alienating everyone I knew because of my stupidity, and I was terrified of the emotional damage this would cause a number of people, and the way this damage would ripple out and bounce off surfaces, and hurt and hurt again. 

Eleven years later, this seems like no decision at all. The disruption caused, the ensuing depression, the several years of battles through solicitors - all that was worth it, to make the right decision in the end. 

But at the time, this seemed insanely difficult. Impossible, even. I only made it due to the help of a few friends who, quite wisely, encouraged me to take the right path. "You are an idiot," they said, "But this is not a new thing for you, and we expect you to continue living."

A few months ago I had a conversation with someone who'd made a mistake of their own. They were in a bad place, and couldn't see any way out. Could not envisage any time in the future when this mistake would not be the defining feature of who they were. 

And I was able to say, "Great news. I am also incredibly stupid, and have made many stupid decisions. But behold - I am still alive, and have an amazing collection of BluRays and action figures! So, you see, there is hope!" They did not look as reassured as you might have wanted, if I'm honest, but maybe these things take time. 

It might have seemed flippant to compare myself to Jesus earlier, but it wasn't without reason. There's something very significant, isn't there, about that story - of failure and the death of all hope. Of even the Son of God going through the worst of times, and trusting that this, also, shall pass. We can do that. Our defeats are not, necessarily, the end of us.

Not because we're 'fighters' or 'winners'. That kind of narrative is weak and helps us not one jot. We're losers, and fools, and we get things wrong. But those things don't define us forever. My particular tomb - made up of depression, financial loss and legal struggles  - lasted about three years. Bits of it linger, I suppose, and I can still get pretty angry about some of the injustices that never really found resolution. 

But, I got out of that tomb. Thanks to my friends. Thanks to some good luck. Thanks to time. 

And thanks to the story of a God who fell, and died, and lost the battle. And somehow got better anyway. 

Happy Easter

Rob's Amazing Film Collection: Part Three (Armageddon to Awakenings)

Well hello. Like most of you, I like to spend sunny afternoons browsing through my extensive DVD and BluRay library, thinking things like, "Ooh, I haven't seen that in a while," and "Why do I even own that? What was I thinking?"

For your pleasure, here are my thoughts on some of the films I own. Why would you care? Why indeed. Maybe I've become famous in the future, and you are writing a biography. Yes. That's probably it.

Here's the section we're looking at today. We did Argo last time, so we'll be starting with Armageddon. And let's end with Awakenings, so that we can start a whole new letter of the alphabet next time. See how much fun this is?





Armageddon

I haven't seen this since the late 90s, I don't think, and I'm not sure why I own it. I seem to remember it being quite enjoyable, but also very preposterous. 

Are there a lot of power ballads in it or something? That's what flashes up in my mind when I think of this. Slow motion, and soft rock. And lots of people who were big box office in the 90s, being heroic and not really acting, in any meaningful sense. Is it quite bland? I bet it is. 

The 90s had some great films, but its blockbuster game was way off. Things are better now. 

The Artist

Who remembers when this was a massive hit, and won loads of awards, and ushered in a new wave of silent cinema?

OK, maybe not that last one. But I do remember everyone making a big fuss. It felt like one of those films you 'should have' seen. You'd say things like, "I haven't seen The Artist yet," in the same way that you'd talk about doing the weekly shop. It was kind of inevitable that you would, eventually. 

How delightful, then, to find that it was really good. Clever and funny, making great use of its central conceit. Very modern storytelling, drawing on an era that was more sophisticated than is generally acknowledged. 

I've not watched it since. It feels like a 'good to have seen' film, rather than one to revisit. I bought it because HMV were selling the BluRay for £2, as part of their desperate, "Please god buy things or we'll all starve" sales.

I should give it another go. 

Art School Confidential

I can't remember anything at all about this movie. Apart from the one thing that I knew going in, which was that Sophia Myles is in it, and she gets her kit off. 

I'm slightly ashamed to say that this was probably a large factor in me deciding I wanted to see the film in the first place. Not the only reason. The title is interesting, and I was watching a lot of 'clever arty sensitive' stuff at the time. But I'd be lying if I said that the promise of nudity wasn't a factor. 

I'd like to say that I'm a better person now. But the fact that I can't remember literally anything else about the film, and haven't watched it since (she's not naked for very long), suggests otherwise. 

I'm sorry. 

The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford

Another film I can't remember anything at all about. I'm beginning to wonder if I should be sharing this information with the wider world.

In my defence, this film is quite long and I remember it being very thoughtful. And meditative. And slow. And sometimes I'm in the mood for that, and sometimes I'm not.

You never hear this film being talked about, do you? Which kind of suggests that no-one else thought it was worthy of discussion. So let's just say that I'm right, and the film is boring, and that my lack of recollection is nothing to do with the film not being set in space, or in dinosaur times.

Assault on Precinct 13

Now this film I do like. A cool, engaging thriller with a strong central premise and some excellent moments. 

I got into John Carpenter in the late 80s, mainly due to my obsession with Halloween. I watched all his other stuff, and - for the most part - liked it. He has a singular, focused style which lends a certain unity to his body of work. Slowly creeping camera work. Shots carefully composed to direct - and misdirect -  the eye of the spectator. Minimalist, atmospheric scores. 

Assault on Precinct 13 particularly impressed me with the scene I've pictured. A little girl goes to get an ice cream from a van. The guy in the van, however, is a villain, just pretending to be an ice cream guy. He gives her an ice cream anyway, so that she'll go away and he can get back to his villainy. 

But - oh no! - he forgot to give her sprinkles. So back she goes...

It does not end well. I like a film that's prepared to go to these dark places. 

Atomic Blonde

This film was very much sold as "John Wick - but a lady!" The trailer was unbelievably exciting and I was very eager to give these people my money. 

It turns out that the film is not quite the no-hold-barred oestrogen smackdown that the advertising suggested. There certainly are some great combat sequences, and there's a pleasing amount of incredible violence. But this has more the flavour of a European spy thriller. And it is very great. 

I can see why they went for the John Wick angle. The film has an unusual, distinctive flavour which is hard to sum up, and would have been tricky to promote. It's quite bleak, but a bit funny, and gives the strong impression that it doesn't give a fuck what you think about it. The soundtrack is among the best I've heard, leaning strongly on pounding electronica and late 70s/early 80s pop. 

In short, I liked it. But I can see why people might not. 

Atonement

Everyone loved this when it came out, didn't they? They were all, "Ooh, the long tracking shots," and, "Ah, the complex emotional pull of its sensibilities." 

Or something. I wasn't really listening. I'm not one for period films, even ones where there's some exciting swearing and people shooting at horses. I can't really remember anything about it. I think there's a letter... which someone reads, except they shouldn't have?

I don't know. Perhaps I'm being deliberately contrary. It's probably very good. I just have a bit of a knee jerk reaction against these kinds of 'quality' films, as they seem to be part of a notion that some films are more worthy than others. That said, I have a feeling that if I watched it properly, I'd find that the film is deliberately trying to subvert that very notion. 

But who has the time? I have to watch Dead Man's Shoes again before I get round to this. 

Attack the Block

This is quite a fun, smart sci-fi/comedy/action thriller hybrid that benefited from being released in the wake of the Pegg/Frost/Wright films. It is very much its own thing, though, and is a lot better than many of the British comedy horrors that lumbered after Shaun of the Dead's zombies. 

In hindsight it also benefits from some lucky casting, with Finn From Star Wars and Doctor Who teaming up against the brilliantly realised alien things. 

Nothing exceptional here, but it tries to do some fun new things and it passes the time agreeably. 

Austin Powers

For some reason, I only own Austin Powers 1 and 3. What's that about? I like The Spy Who Shagged Me best. So why don't I own it? What's wrong with me? Will I ever be happy?

The first Austin Powers was a burst of joy and colour, back when it came out. I remember watching in the cinema, surprised and delighted at the constant invention that burst joyfully from the screen. The music was exciting, and captured the 60s retro feel of the time far better than the stodgy meanderings of Oasis and the like. 

I can imagine people tiring of the knowing comedy of these films, and I think it was pretty much played out by the time Goldmember came along. It's all very quotable and imitable, and sort of tiresome in that respect. But the silly, free spirited nonsense of those first two films makes me very happy. 

Due for a rewatch, I think. 

The Avengers (and Age of Ultron, and Infinity War, and Endgame)

It seems a bit redundant to say "I like these films," doesn't it? Everyone likes them, apart from professional contrarians who have to dislike fun things to retain their edge of "cool". So no, I'm not clever or unusual for enjoying them. But good grief, they're good. 

It's easy to look at "Avengers Assemble" now and go, "Yes, that's very good." But it could very easily have been a massive, embarrassing failure. Look at DC's clumsy, ham fisted attempts to do the same, to see how easy this would be to get wrong. And even Marvel hadn't been knocking it out of the park at this stage. Incredible Hulk is badly structured. The first Thor is quite a mess. Only Iron Man and Captain America had really made it work, at this stage.

Watching Assemble at the cinema is one of my happiest cinema experiences. I laughed so much that friends sitting at the back of the same showing came to find me afterwards, having realised I was there from the volume of my joy.

It's a fantastic piece of work, and the standard has been pretty high since. Yes, Ultron is quite flawed and tries to serve too many masters. But Infinity War is quite the ride, and Endgame pulls off the should-be-impossible job of providing a satisfying climax, while remaining surprising, nimble, smart and creative. 

A fantastic series of films. 

Awakenings

 I first saw this on VHS with a bunch of people at a friend's house. I've not seen it since, but I definitely should. I remember it being very moving, and saying some not insignificant things about identity, hope and how we should treat people.

Great work, also, from two actors who were starting to prove variable in the quality of their performances. Williams is in "Beard = Good Performance" mode and DeNiro is proving, again, that he is at his best when he's doing 'understated'.





That's it for now. That's the end of "A". Hope you enjoyed my inability to remember most of the films I own. See you next time, for "B".

If you want to explore my thoughts on films that had the temerity to exist earlier in the alphabet, you can look here:

Previously: (Almost Famous - Argo)

Next: (Babel - Be Kind Rewind)

Time is Relative - Season 12: Genesis of the Daleks

Well hello there, you beautiful thing. 

Here's what's going to happen. I'm going to show you some pictures. No, nothing frisky. These are pictures I took off the television, while I was watching old Doctor Who stories from the 1970s.

What do you mean why? Because it's awesome, that's why. And because now you can look at those pictures, and read my accompanying notes about what was happening in the story when the pictures were taken. 

I've done my best to recount the basic events of the story, but I must admit, I sometimes get distracted, and confused. And consumed by the desire just to make bits up. I'm sorry. But, on the other hand, I'm not. 

We're into the reign of Tom Baker, and this story is super good. 

Genesis of the Daleks

Pow! This story is about some Space Nazis, and how one day they decided to make Daleks happen.

This guy in the middle is one of the top Space Nazis. He's called Nyder, and he's put a lot of effort into looking evil. He's dressed in super-severe black clothes, including the kind of gloves you'd wear if you were considering murdering a child. He's got nasty little glasses on. He's slicked his hair right back, to remind everyone that he means business, and is totally in charge of everything, and that includes which way his hair points.

And he's surrounded by shadowy soldier guys, who are excitedly shooting everyone they meet. 

Excellent 'Being Evil', Mr. Nyder. Well done. 

Sarah Jane Smith turns up, in a terrifying Forest Of Death. Once again, she's got separated from Doctor Who, and now she's lost in what looks like a 1970s Public Information Film about not playing near the Old Canal.

She's probably regretting her choice of clothing, now. What she needs is something understated, which could provide camouflage in the bleak, misty forest, while also suggesting, to anyone who does see her, that she might be a dangerous soldier or something. 

What she's got is this bright yellow nonsense of a garment, which clearly signals, "Here I am. Come murder me in the woods."

After a bit, Sarah stumbles upon this guy. This is Davros, and he's the worst of the Space Nazis. Or the best, I suppose. He's very good at being a Space Nazi, and to prove it, he's invented a Dalek. 

It looks like he's already had a go at making himself into a Dalek, but got bored half way through. He's only got the bottom half, you see. But his top half is just a regular person shape, albeit one with a hideous face.

Or maybe he was going to make all the Daleks like this, but then thought, Hang about! The bottom bit is great, and good for whizzing about and annoying Nyder. But how much better would it be if the top half was a massive turret with loads of guns sticking out of it?

It's a shrewd decision. If all the Daleks looked like Davros, you'd be able to see their faces. Which means you'd be able to see when they were anxious, or sad, or just not really paying attention. I think people would take them less seriously, and say, "I'm not obeying you - you look like you're on work experience."

Davros controls all the Daleks from here, on his built in desktop. 

It's never specified what the buttons are all for. I assume some are for Evil purposes, like "Make Daleks Shoot Everyone" and "Release More Wolves". Then there must everyday, functional stuff to do with going to the toilet and such. And I'm assuming that one is some kind of bell, used for summoning Nyder and demanding more sandwiches. 

It doesn't seem much, though, does it? You'd think he'd have an iPad or similar. How does he get any designing done? How would he lean over a desk to do drawings of guns and eyestalks? No workplace adjustments have been made! No wonder he became Evil. 

Davros takes Nyder back to see all the leader guys of the planet, so he can demand they make more Daleks, and make him king, and call him Super Great Science Best Guy.

He looks fantastic here, doesn't he? Really iconic and menacing. It must be very inconvenient to have to live in a Dalek Skirt all day, and it must start to smell after a bit. But worth the price, I reckon, to look this cool when you come through doors. 

Doctor Who is in this story too. He's on a mission, which is a bit unusual for him. Usually he just sort of collapses into a situation, randomly chooses a side to be on, and then spends the rest of the story being such a collosal nuisance that all the bad guys promise to behave from now on, and/or die.

Here, he's been sent to Change The Past. Apparently, in the future, The Daleks will become such a massive bunch of jerks that everyone decides it would be better if they literally never existed. So the Time Lords tell Doctor Who to go back into The Past and make them Never Have Happened. 

They give him a pretty open brief on how to achieve this, but it's strongly implied that he employs the most violent tactics he can think of, and that no-one will really blame him if, for example, everyone on the planet ends up crying and on fire. 

After a bit, Doctor Who gets captured. This always happens to him, generally because he's incapable of sneaking about and insists on bouncing into rooms and laughing and being weird at the villains. He's relatively unbothered about being caught. He's sort of listening to Davros, here, but he's also wondering what he'll do once he's escaped, and if this planet has anything resembling pubs or dog racing. 

Davros, meanwhile, is shouting excitedly at Doctor Who, who he has discovered is from The Future. He's asking what The Future is like, and are there robots that look like people,  and does he get famous for making the Daleks, and do they make films about him, and who plays him in the film, and does he ever get a girlfriend, and how does Nyder die?

Nyder and Davros have clearly had some kind of massive argument here, and it's hard to tell who is being more immature about it. Nyder, at least, looks like he wants to talk it over, even though that's probably just so he can use some of the passive aggressive comments he's got lined up. Davros is plainly just engaged in a massive sulk, but will definitely deny it if he's asked and say he's fine.

I can't remember what they're sad about. I think maybe Nyder is sick of Davros going on about the Daleks all the time, and what can they do that's so great, and when's the last time a Dalek helped him fill in a funding application?

Doctor Who makes a massive bomb which will kill all the Daleks forever. Here we see him with the wires that will make the bomb explode. But - oh no! - he's having an Ethical Dilemma.

Doctor Who doesn't know if he should go around murdering everyone, just because they might annoy some other guys in the future. This is quite a change from how he used to be when he was Doctor Who Number Two. He was basically a psychopath, and liked nothing better than to destroy entire civilisations and would often laugh hysterically while doing so. 

Sarah has no time for this nonsense, and is whispering, "Do it. Kill them. They're scum." Harry, meanwhile, appears to have only just realised what the basic premise of the story is, and is saying things like, "Steady on old chap," and, "Careful with those wires!" 

Anyway. Doctor Who doesn't go through with it, possibly because his stories with the Daleks in are often the most fun, and always the most popular. Destroying them would seriously hit his income streams, and also it would mean that the Cybermen would become his Number One Foes, and they'd be insufferable about it every time he saw them.

As it happens, the bomb goes off accidentally anyway, and doesn't make much difference. So the whole thing was a total waste of everyone's time. 

That's the end of this story. 

Go here to see Doctor Who's previous adventure: The Sontaran Experiment. 

Or zoom forward in time, to witness The Revenge of the Cybermen

I Made You a Mixtape - Autumn 1993

Back in 1993 I used to make mixtapes to play in my car. This was great for me, as I loved music and considered my taste in music to be amazing and without parallel. It was not, perhaps, so great for my passengers.

The advent of Spotify has meant that I can revisit this wonderful dynamic. I'm recreating, as best as I can, those early C90 cassettes full of carefully curated pop hits. Except now you don't even need to get into my car to enjoy them. They're right here!


This one is from my first year out of college, living in a shared house and working in a LaserQuest. It is maybe the worst thought out collection of songs you will ever hear.


You can play bits of the songs below, or engage with the full horror here: Autumn 1993






Here's the listing. Don't say I didn't warn you.

Too Much Information - Duran Duran

This is a pretty good opener, actually. This is a great album, and one I played to death as Summer faded into memory. I was never much of a Duran Duran fan - they seemed too lightweight and brash during their imperial phase. This is great stuff though, and I'm still happy to listen to it now.

Demolition Man - Sting

This, on the other hand, has not stood the test of time. A terrible song that shows Sting at his worst. I assume he got this gig off the back of the amazing Ten Summoner's Tales album. Everyone loved him again, and then he went and did this. Turgid, aimless drivel.

Sting is at his absolute worst when he's trying to sound hard.






Don't You Forget About Me - Simple Minds

And then, bang, we're back on top, with one of the best pop songs ever. If only I'd left Demolition Man out, this would be a great tape, and people riding in my car would have said, "Get a load of this cool guy!"

Thinking about it, did I even have a car, at this point? No. I've just remembered that I didn't. I sold it to the man across the street from my girlfriend's house, and then moved out the same day. I can still see him, watching me with suspicion as I walked up the street with a suitcase, and he tinkered with his appalling new car.

This song perfectly nails the feeling of being in love, with the world open before you like a never ending Summer sky. Even at 22, I felt like I'd missed out on being young, so songs like this allowed me some vicarious pleasure.

In The Valley - Midnight Oil


Not the best song from this album. I'm pretty sure it was just a single, a "50p Our Price Bargain Bin" purchase, bought because I was wandering round town trying to work out what to do with myself. If you buy a CD, you've given some purpose to the day, you see.

Michael Caine - Madness

Ah, this is great. I seem to be going for a "Good one/Bad one" sequence.

This song doesn't remind me of '93, so much. It's more rooted in its time of release, which I'm guessing is mid 80s. Madness were my first real love, and this song marked a shift in tone that mirrored my own awkward adolescent growth pains.

They'd always been bouncy, crazy, endearing scamps, with music designed for running up and down like a lunatic. And then there was this peculiar thing. Dark and melancholy, but still with Madness's offbeat whimsy and ear for melody.

In retrospect, this was the perfect backdrop for a teenage boy who had built a persona entirely out of quirks and slapstick, but felt dark emotions uncurling inside. Like all teenagers, I didn't know what to do with these feeling, and so probably just became more of a jerk. But at least Madness seemed to know what was going on.




Tongue Tied - The Cat

I'm very sorry.

In my defence, Red Dwarf was very popular at this time. It had been required communal viewing in college rooms, where everyone would gather round someone's portable TV and spend the rest of the evening quoting half remembered catchphrases from Kryten.

For our shared post -university household, Red Dwarf had become something of a mythic text. We watched and rewatched, memorising huge swathes of the script and becoming increasingly insufferable as a result. People who didn't know or care about the show would look on with pity and/or anger as we responded to everything they said by bouncing up and down and saying things like, "Ah, Space Directive 352!" and laughing to ourselves.

Anyway. One day they released this single, and I was in town, and I thought, "How cool will it be if I return to the house with this?"

The answer was, "Not."




Losing My Religion - REM


In '93 I probably mapped the meaning of this song onto my experience of Christianity, and it became part of the never ending tangle of thoughts about whether I actually liked being part of a religion or not.

I don't think it's about that, though.

Fool's Wisdom - Malcolm and Alwyn

Now, this isn't quite the version that was on the original tape. Sorry about that. The version I had was by two other guys and doesn't appear to exist anywhere. But I also liked this version, and I think it's close enough to count.

It's a lovely bit of a song, and I used to enjoy trying to play the descending guitar part when I was first learning how music worked. But it's another of those songs that I'm a bit embarrassed about now.

The whole tone of the song, and indeed most of the Christian music I liked at that time, seems pretty patronising now. It's built on the assumption that Christians know all this cool, universally significant stuff, while non-believers are just a bunch of jerks who really need to get their act together.

Experience was definitely proving this to be absolute bollocks.

Extra minus points for the verse that goes "Hey hey, what a day." Which just sounds like someone realising they have 30 seconds to finish writing the song.





Another Day in Paradise - Phil Collins

This is one of those songs that is literally there because I had to fill up space on the tape. One of my housemates had a Phil Collins album, and I deemed this to be the least worst song on there.

Which all sounds very defensive, now I come to type it out. Sorry. Wonder why that is?

It's not a bad song, I suppose. I guess it gets a bit of stick for its well meaning, hand wringing, do-gooder tone. Phil Collins fell into that "Sting/Bono" bracket of rich rock stars trying to sound hip while at the same time committing the crime of getting older and more thoughtful.

That attitude does annoy me. I very much dislike the inverted snobbery that renders music worthless simply because its popular, or has any kind of value system. It's hard not to slip into that way of thinking, and define yourself by how much you dislike, say, Coldplay, as if that makes you in any way cool or hip.

But.. it's not the greatest song, is it? It's definitely not one that earned its place here.

In the Air Tonight, now that I should have included.




Back to the Future - Alan Silvestri

A fantastic piece of music, providing an ideal soundtrack to life, adding Race-Against-Time excitement to the most mundane activities. We were very into this, in our house, for a number of reasons. But chiefly, I think, there were two strong events that cemented its appeal:

1. We played it while driving to the funeral of a friend's mum. We loaded into a minibus, raced down the M1 and yelled hysterically as we realised we were going to be late. Yes, just like in Back to the Future.

2. We built an entire church service around it. Back then, we were the 'young people' in our church, and once in a while they let us take a 'youth service'. The older generation rightly regarded these with horror.

The concept we came up for this particular service, in 1993, was staggering in its arrogance.

The idea was that the service would start as normal. Then I - being Doc Brown - would charge up the aisle, stop the service and start yelling about the future. The conceit was that I was from a version of the future where this particular church sucked and was really unpopular, because they had just kept running the church in the awful way they were doing things now.

Luckily for everyone, I had come back to tell them all how to change the entire way they did things, to avoid this terrible catastrophe.

As I recall, the first five minutes ended with someone saying "But what about the order of service," and me turning to the already-very-angry congregation and declaring, "Where we're going, we don't need an order of service!" Cue the Back to the Future Theme!

(I Can't Help) Falling in Love With You - UB40

I have absolutely no idea what possessed me to put this track on. It's just terrible, in every respect. I don't think I even liked it then.

If I ever develop time travel for real I'm going to go back to 1993 and do two things. First, I'm going to go to that church service I mentioned above and shout, "I actually am from the future, and this is all pretty much accurate." Then I'm going to ask my younger self why he put this song on this tape.





Stick It Out - Right Said Fred

Ugh. I mean, what is wrong with me?

It was for charity, I guess. But that doesn't excuse putting it on here. I suppose you should at least give me credit for being honest, and putting it on this reconstruction, when I could have just pretended it was never there.

Shiny Happy People - REM

Is this song any good? I honestly don't know any more. It's so ubiquitous. And it appears to be mostly ironic. So even if I'm enjoying it, I don't know if I'm meant to be, so I feel bad about it.

And his voice is quite whiny, isn't it?

It's quite fun to listen to, though. So maybe I do like it.

All The Things She Said - Simple Minds

This is a pretty good song, and I wish more songs were like it.

There's something a little weak about the production of Simple Minds songs though, isn't there? The bit where the guitar kicks in could be a really strong moment, but it's so low in the mix, without any real attack, that it just seems underpowered.

Stadium rock was not a good development for anyone. Interesting bands surrender their idiosyncrasies and start to build songs around Big Moments rather than letting them breathe. Songs like this are lovely, but you can't help but feel the push towards hand waving triumph. And for some reason that annoys me.






It's Probably Me (live) - Sting

This comes, I think, from that Demolition Man CD. I really got my 50ps worth from those bargain bins.

The live versions of the songs from Ten Summoner's Tales are excellent. I went to see Sting twice around this time, and was always amazed by the interaction of the musicians he assembled. I also had a video that purported to be the making of the album, where we were treated to live versions of the songs, played in a country farmhouse by the band.

I love watching music being made, and this live version really lets you hear the musicians doing their thing.

A Day in the Life (live) - Sting

At this point in the construction of my mixtapes, I was very concerned that the songs flowed into one another. I couldn't bring myself to cut into the applause at the end of the last track, so I let it run into this one (which does fade at the end, so it's OK).

I think this was my first real introduction to this (brilliant) song. I must have heard it before. I listened to Sergeant Pepper a fair bit in 87, when everyone was excited about its 20th anniversary. But I guess it didn't sink in, until I heard this.

It's not the best version ever. But it introduced me to an amazing piece of song-writing , so lets give it credit for that at least.



Endgame - REM

We're getting towards the end of the tape, now, and you can probably tell. Nothing wrong with this, of course. It's delightful.

My main memory of this comes from much later, in 1999. I went to see Marillion play in Manchester, with a small group of ladies (my life was very exciting at this point). Before the show, this song came on over the PA and the four of us started humming along, and swaying. It was a glorious, happy moment of unity and warmth.

Perfect Day - Lou Reed

Pre-Trainspotting and BBC adverts, this was just a lovely, weird album track, as far as I was concerned. I'm a big fan of enjoying the little moments, and expressing low key, offbeat sentiments.

Now, of course, I can't hear it without automatically doing all the Bowie bits from the BBC version.




Ordinary World - Duran Duran

Why is this so late in the listing? It's not only the best song on this playlist, it's one of my favourite songs ever. A gorgeous, sweeping piece of romance and melody, with a sublime guitar break than builds and breaks and soars out of the middle eight.

Ah. So glorious.





It Must Be Love - Madness

OK, I was wrong. This is the best song on the playlist.

I now realise what my younger self was up to with that REM song a few tracks ago. It was a deliberate pause, to give us chance to regroup for this fantastic last act.

Turns out that when I look like I'm being incredibly stupid, I am, in fact, just playing a long game that everyone else is too blind to see.

Let's say that, shall we? And forget about the Right Said Fred thing.

Until The End of the World - U2

A very good lyric, and a solid piece of song-writing all round. Let down somewhat by muddy production. However, as we have established, my love for U2 at this time was all consuming. We will be listening to them for a long time to come.

Some of that time will be deserved. Achtung Baby is a great album. But I'm not sure this is quite the killer finale that I thought at the time.



Shotgun - Duran Duran

On the original C90, this little piece of nonsense fit pretty much exactly on the remaining bit of space before the tape ran out. So that's why it's here.





There you go. That's the tape. It's a mixed bag, I grant you.


If you're interested in the tape I made before this, go to Summer 1993.

Or go forward in time to Winter 1993