"Previously known as the 21st Birthday Album, this is a gorgeous and goofy compilation of 45 fun and experimental electronic tone poems made for radio and TV from 1958 to 1979, some from the days when the music department only allowed the Workshop to exist by pretending electronic music wasn't music (just as Forbidden Planet was scored with "electronic tonalities"). So since no one was being taken seriously, the composers could even be women, of whom Delia Derbyshire has recently gained acclaim (in electronic-music geek circles; if you're not in one, it's not too late to join!). The longest track, 'A Whisper from Space', is 2:11; so if something doesn't grab you, wait a minute. If only all records could be this varied and entertaining. Derbyshire's immortal Dr. Who theme isn't even necessarily the best track. "

"It’s a movie that I go back to probably once every other month, and I mean, it sounds so dumb, but it’s just something familiar. And I feel like I always discover a new little thing. A new tiny joke. A new little blink or a nod, or something of that nature. It’s a comedy from the era where, as crazy as the story elements are, the actual film feels as grounded and as real as three disgraced Columbia professors fighting supernatural ghosts alongside Ernie Hudson can be. It feels like real professors who are actually kicked out from the school, and the jokes are based on these characters, and are sarcastic. It’s not a big goofy chuckle fest of what crazy thing can happen to this group of people next, you know? It feels authentic. Something in me as a kid really liked that. Something in me now certainly loves that. I have an endless endless love for the original Ghostbusters."

"When I was a kid, the ending of this movie, where Kevin’s parents touch pure evil and explode, scared the shit out of me. I know Brazil is technically the more mature of Terry Gilliam’s films, and yet this is the one I go back to again and again. I’ve watched it many, many times since then, and I still don’t understand how it works. Gilliam creates an entirely plausible alternate universe with its own unspoken internal rules. It’s nightmarish and yet taps into what every kid desires/fears . . . the need for life beyond the yoke of one’s family. That last moment—which I’m sure was just a goofy set joke—was my first taste of existentialism. It freaked me out. I still don’t cerebrally understand why that moment ends the film. And yet it somehow works. I have yet to introduce this film to my daughter. Not sure when/if I will."