2011 didn’t turn out like it was supposed to.

It was supposed to be the year that the electro-Europop ushered in by Lady Gaga completed its rise to total airwave domination. It was supposed to be the year hip-hop gave up trying to be as relevant as it was in the ’00s. It was supposed to be the year rock staged a comeback. But none of those things happened.

Sure, electro-Europop was big, but it came via Rihanna and Britney Spears. Gaga had moved on already. While hip-hop is struggling to have as many big hits as it did five years ago, Kanye, Jay-Z, Drake, Nicki Minaj and Donald Glover continue to push the boundaries of what we expect of the genre. The biggest surprise of 2011, however, was the explosion of soul and folk music. Parents bought Adele’s 21 at Wal-Mart while their kid’s downloaded “Rolling in the Deep” for their iPod. British folk quartet Mumford & Sons not only landed a top 40 hit, but their two-year-old album rose to  No. 2 in the album charts. Bon Iver shared Grammy nomination categories with Katy Perry and Bruno Mars.

The death of Steve Jobs caused reflection on how digital music has changed the record industry, and the year it finally sees in increase in annual record sales (thanks Adele), Spotify comes and threatens to change the business model once again.

2011 wasn’t supposed to happen this way, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Honorable mentions: Lil Wayne feat. Drake: “She Will,” Strokes: “Under the Cover of Darkness,” Beyonce: “Countdown,” Kreayshawn: “Gucci Gucci,” Tyler the Creator: “Yonkers,” Britney Spears: “Hold It Against Me,” MNDR: “Cut Me Out.”

25: Jimmy Eat World: “Coffee and Cigarettes”

[Interscope]

On “Coffee and Cigarettes,” Jimmy Eat World proves they can still make flawless, airtight pop songs even as hits like “Sweetness” and “The Middle” celebrated their tenth birthday.

24. Foster the People: “Helena Beats”

[Colombia]

I’m almost positive the state legislature passed a law requiring everyone to ask “Do you know what this song really means?” every time “Pumped Up Kicks” came on. Well, this is Foster the People’s other song. And it’s better.

23. Lady Gaga: “Marry the Night”

[Interscope]

“Marry the Night” is the thesis for Gaga’s overblown second album, Born This Way. The song opens with church bells before giving way to Springsteen-esque verses that let Gaga wail like Whitney and dance like Madonna.

22. Drake: “Headlines”

[Young Money/Cash Money]

Drake raps about the perils and promise of fame on “Headlines.” Hard to believe he can speak from experience about such topics, but remember, before he was featuring on Lil Wayne tracks, he was on Degrassi.

21. Cults: “You Know What I Mean”

[Colombia]

The earnestness of Madeline Follin sounds like a long lost Ronettes hit updated for the 21st century. And it makes you want to let out a sad, slow sigh.

20. Emeli Sande: “Heaven”

[Virgin]

Emeli Sande’s “Heaven” is to 2011 what Janelle Monae’s “Cold War” was to 2010. And in much the same fashion, it will probably be just as quickly and unjustly forgotten.

19. Mumford & Sons: “Roll Away Your Stone”

[Glassnote]

Roll away your stone and show me yours and I’ll roll away my stone and show you mine. Marcus Mumford sings about opening up in the final single off the British folk group’s debut album.

18. Beyonce: “1+1″

[Colombia]

The lyrics seem a little dumb at first, but when you think of it as a modern day “Nothing Compares 2 U,” they aren’t so bad.

17. Lights: “Toes”

[Universal]

Canadian folktronica singer Valerie Poxleitner goes by the stage name Lights which is a good thing because A) Poxleitner is hard to spell and B) Lights is the name of the Ellie Goulding album, which like “Toes,” is really quite good folktronica.

16. Nicola Roberts: “Beat of my Drum”

[Polydor]

A handful of brilliant songs on every underwhelming Cheryl Cole album doesn’t justify Girls Aloud continued hiatus. Nicola Robert’s “Beat of my Drum,” an indie pop anthem at the crossroads of Pitchfork and Popjustice, at least makes the UK girl group’s break a little more bearable.

15. Kele feat. Lucy Taylor: “What Did I Do?”

[Glassnote]

Bloc Party frontman Kele Okereke gets lead credits on the song, but it’s really his back-up singer, Lucy Taylor, who shines on the track, a stopgap between Okerek’s first solo venture and his band’s fourth LP.

14. Robyn: “Call Your Girlfriend”

[Konichiwa]

Robyn gets her heart broken on most her song, but on “Call Your Girlfriend,” she gets her man and plays home wrecker.

13. Adele: “Someone Like You”

[XL]

Adele’s simple but emotional performance of the song at the 2011 MTV Video Music Awards was chill inducing. And I think it made Britney Spears cry. Adele’s performance rocketed the single to the top of the Hot 100 becoming the first No. 1 song to only feature vocals and piano.

12. The Naked and Famous : “Young Blood”

[Universal Republic]

MGMT stopped making music we expected MGMT to make, so New Zealand’s The Naked and Famous did it for them.

11. Drake feat. Nicki Minaj: “Make Me Proud”

[Young Money/Cash Money]

Drake outlines his ideal woman on “Make Me Proud.” A woman with a future, a past and a little attitude who runs on the treadmill, eats salad and has a couple things due and she always gets them done. Naturally, that woman ends up being a militantly feminist named Nicki Minaj, but Drake disarms her: “You don’t love them boys? … F*** that noise.”

10. Kelly Rowland feat. Lil Wayne: “Motivation”

[Universal Motown]

The award for best song by a Destiny’s Child alumni goes to someone other than Beyonce this year.

9. M83: “Midnight City”

[Naive]

Thanks to Spotify notifications on Facebook, you can see in real time how big the song got after Pitchfork put it at the top of their list. Not a bad pick for a year like 2011 though. After all, it ends with a sax solo!

8. Rihanna feat. Calvin Harris: “We Found Love”

[Def Jam]

At what point does “We Found Love” replace “Umbrella” as Rihanna’s signature song? I’m thinking sometime this week when it becomes her longest reigning No. 1 song.

7. Nicki Minaj: “Superbass”

[Young Money/Cash Money]

Nicki Minaj had a problem. All her cameos on other artists’ tracks were good, but none of her own songs were. That was until she released the bonus track “Superbass.” Hey Nicki, fire the A&R guy who signed off on Pink Friday’s tracklist.

6. Bon Iver: “Holocene”

[Jagjaguwar]

The popularity of this song is some sort of turning point in popular music, but I’m not sure what it all means yet. Rise of an unlikely (and reluctant?) “pop star,” Grammy nomination for his song but not his album (while the guy who got him there, Kanye, was shut out), folk goes mainstream, hipster backlash ensues, Justin Vernon stars in a workout tape. Or something that that.

5. Britney Spears: “Till the World Ends”

[Jive]

Luckily, the world didn’t end on May 21 like that Pastor Harold Camping said it would, so we’ll be able to reuse Britney’s Rapture Eve anthem in 2012 when the Mayans said the Apocalypse will really come.

4. Jay-Z & Kanye West: “N***** in Paris”

[Roc Nation/Def Jam]

“No one knows what it means, but it’s provocative.” My friend thought it was about the NBA lockout. Even though lockout is finally over, lines like “that sh** cray” and will never get old.

3. Childish Gambino: “Heartbeat”

[Glassnote]

For someone who spends much of his time writing for 30 Rock and The Daily Show, Donald Glover sure knows how to spit the venom. The best example of this would be “Heartbeat,” a slamming synth rant about sleeping with an ex.

2. Lady Gaga: “Edge of Glory”

[Interscope]

You know a pop song has reached the ultimate level of cultural saturation when uttering a line from the song incites singing (think “it’s getting hot in here!”). If you used the word “edge” in a crowded room at any point this year, nine times out of ten, someone would wail out “of glorrrayyy.” If they didn’t, they were at least thinking it.

1. Adele: “Rolling in the Deep”

[XL]

Everyone from hipsters to hockey moms to high schoolers liked Adele’s biggest hit of the year. It was a perfect combination of the neo-retro style popularized by Amy Winehouse and the open diary authenticity perfected by Taylor Swift. It was the rare song that united listeners across an increasingly splintered musical landscape, topping the Hot 100 for seven weeks not to mention also charting on Billboard’s pop, adult contemporary, rock, dance, hip-hop/R&B and Latin charts.

Top 25 Songs of 2010

In an episode of Louie this summer, Louis C.K. walked off the set of a fictional sitcom based on his own experiences in the TV industry. C.K. was frustrated by the bogus version of life in multi-camera sitcoms — the schlub with a wife out of his league who just nods along agreeably, kids he just can’t relate to, a job with wacky coworkers/friends — and all he wanted was some authenticity. Would it be too much to ask for that schmuck’s hot wife to not go along with his tangents and schemes? Would the show really be worse off if said schmuck had a character arc, learned some lessons, and (gasp) became a decent husband and father? Of course not.

The multi-camera sitcom exists in a stasis where the only lessons learned are that the man was right all along — and his family was silly to ever doubt his wisdom. Rinse and repeat for 24 episodes, for 8 seasons. But this sub-genre of sitcom had (very recently) almost died out. In a post-Raymond world, few examples of the family comedy existed. Once According to Jim and ‘Til Death ended their reigns of terror, this form of show was nearly an artifact.

Enter Tim Allen.

Indisputably one of the masters of the sitcom, Allen chose to make his long-delayed return to television with ABC’s Last Man Standing. It must be far from coincidence for him to choose this particular show — in it, he plays Mike Baxter, a man’s man with a wife and three kids. If you don’t notice the face-value similarities to Home Improvement, go turn on any local station around 4:00 tomorrow afternoon for a refresher.

Mike Baxter comes off as Tim “the Tool Man” Taylor on crack. He’s a guy that’d fit right in at a Tea Party event (of course, I mean Tea Party politically — Mike wouldn’t be caught dead at something as “effeminate” as a tea party). He’s got a superiority complex, he’s prejudiced, he’s bigoted, and most of all, he’s a stone-cold sexist.

I don’t mean that in an Entourage-y, “bros gotta look out for bros” kind of way. Mike is a man not just frustrated by, but deathly afraid of a world in which AAA will change a tire for you, and men drink things like “lattes” and “cappuccinos.” In Mike’s world, men, REAL MEN, don’t go to the mall or browse that thing called “the Internet.” They don’t play fantasy football — hell, a real man wouldn’t go near anything with the word fantasy in it. This worldview is decidedly stuck in another time period, most likely the early ’90s. I had to wonder if men like this truly exist?

It’s not that Last Man Standing isn’t just unfunny. It’s an entirely watchable show, even when it’s devoid of laughs (which it is), and that’s to the credit of Allen himself, as well as Nancy Travis, playing his mostly subservient wife. They’re both old pros at this multi-camera act, and it shows. It’s rare in modern TV to see actors completely comfortable in that studio-audience world, and seeing Allen at work makes one long for him to have better material.

What’s most offensive about the show isn’t any specific aspect — it’s the entire premise. The idea that we’re living in a post-masculine world full of men who don’t know how to be “men” isn’t just a backwards idea. It’s almost offensive in its disdain for anything other than Mike Baxter’s point-of-view. What may be even worse is the inherent model of the multi-camera sitcom, and the idea that the protagonist will never truly change. The writing staff, ironically or not, is firmly in support of this kind of thinking, and if the two episodes shown so far are any indication, Mike’s wife and daughters will succumb to the alpha male of their family every time.

What’s worst of all, though, is that there’s not just Last Man Standing hitting ABC this year: there are not two, but three of this type of show (see: Man Up! and *shudders* Work It). These three shows are saying something truly unsettling about where TV is heading at large.

In the last decade, the idea of women on TV being inferior to their male counterparts, both in a character sense and in importance to the overall direction of a show, has all but disappeared. Even 20 years ago, Shelley Long made Diane an equal counterpart to Sam Malone — in fact, she was the educated, logical character of the two. Even before, and absolutely after Cheers, women have been allowed, and encouraged, to be more than just window-dressing on TV.

Modern television became a place where Tami wasn’t just Coach Taylor’s wife on Friday Night Lights — she was his other half, and integral to the show’s resonance with its audience. Showtime made an entire industry out of strong female leads, between Weeds, Nurse Jackie, United States of Tara, and now The Big C. Look at Mad Men — a show set in the 1960s, no less — women are characters with freewill and the ability to make major decisions. Would Mad Men be nearly as powerful if Peggy were a subservient weakling who obeyed Don and Co.’s every word? Feminism on TV has come a long, long way, and the likes of Last Man Standing are a step about 50 years in the wrong direction.

TV is no longer a man’s world, and for good reason. Some of my favorite shows this season are centered around smart, strong female leads (New Girl, Suburgatory, Pan Am). Those shows aren’t fantasy — they’re our reality. A show like Last Man Standing exists in an entirely different dimension, one that hopefully doesn’t truly exist on a large level in 2011.

Sadly, ratings will likely be strong, and the “real men” of the world will praise the show for giving back that masculinity that was so wrongly lost. But do yourself a favor, and don’t buy into it. Tim Allen deserves better, and frankly, so do we.

There’s always a silver lining, though —  if this (or even just Man Up!) gets cancelled, it only means we’ll get back to Cougar Town even sooner.

I get the feeling that we’ll be talking about this one for a long time.

Back in July, nobody, not even Vince Gilligan himself, could have convinced me that Breaking Bad would be able to top its third season. Equal it? Sure. But for me, its third season was the an apex of dramatic storytelling on television, a milestone that would rarely be paralleled by any future show. Here I am, thirteen weeks later—and I’m eating crow, because they did it again.

Breaking Bad topped itself, and holy **** was it one crazy ******* ride.

(Sidebar: I’ve refrained from any spoilers in this post, as it’s a review of the season as a whole. If you want to talk specifics, comment, or find me on Facebook or Twitter. This is mostly a plea to get everyone to catch up and watch this outstanding show.)

I don’t know if the world deserves television this good. I fully understand how hyperbolic that statement might seem, but I truly believe it. We’re in a golden age of TV that probably has no precedent. I doubt, though, that when we look back on this creative renaissance, we’ll find many examples of greatness that are quite as great as this tale of a good man gone horribly wrong. But where does someone begin to praise the show that’s heard every ounce of praise? Of course, there’s the acting—as magnificent as anything that’s ever been on the small screen. Then there’s the writing, the unique camerawork, the music…but we’ll get to all of that later.

No show can mess with expectations like Breaking Bad. I spent all summer theorizing what would happen during the fourth season—and I was only right on the most vague of levels. That’s the most incredible aspect, that when looking back on a season, the broad strokes of the story are all plain as day. It’s the way that the show takes the audience there that’s nothing short of amazing. All that aside, I’ve still run into a few holdouts—detractors that say Breaking Bad is “too slow for them,” or that “there isn’t enough action.” If someone is looking for “more action,” they can go load up their old 24 seasons. I guarantee they won’t be a tenth as satisfying.

What makes the pacing and the journey of Breaking Bad so special is the writing staff’s tolerance, or even encouragement, of taking things slow. This is a show that can get away with over a third of its 13-episode season being set-up. It’s earned the ability to be a slow burn, to focus on those small character interactions that pay off in dividends come season’s end. This method also builds an almost-unbearable amount of tension by episode 11 or 12. When things move so slowly, uneasiness and fear begin to set in—a fear of when the proverbial “it” will hit the fan. A show centered around the world of meth is one with built in expectations, ones of gunfights, explosions, and lots of screaming. Instead, when each week is filled with muted conversations, tense games of cat-and-mouse, and endless waiting, it gets to you. And then, when those aforementioned elements come crashing into the picture, it’s a beautiful thing to behold.

Everything about this season has been on that same beautiful level, though. If the first three seasons were showing how capable Vince Gilligan and Co. are at ratcheting up tension, Season 4 is a master class. Likewise for the actors: Bryan Cranston undoubtedly deserves another Emmy for portraying Walter White in his descent into a Hell of his own creation. What will be most interesting at next year’s Emmy ceremony is the battle for Outstanding Supporting Actor. While Aaron Paul would have been a lock for a repeat win for his tortured performance as Jesse, another role on the show became a megaton performance, one that will be remembered as one of the most iconic of this TV era. Giancarlo Esposito absolutely killed as Gustavo Fring, the cold and calculated puppet master of Albuquerque’s meth operation. The everyman fast-food manager/drug kingpin was a marvel to watch each week, and the finale gave him scenes that will never, ever, ever leave my head. Just give the man an Emmy now.

As well as getting even better performances from its actors, so too did Season 4 get an even better “performance” from Albuquerque itself. When Lost was on the air, the on-location Hawaiian filming was universally praised, giving the Island a sort of character of its own. While that show’s location brought a form of claustrophobia to its storytelling, Breaking Bad’s New Mexico sets are incredible. The open desert vistas create gorgeous backgrounds, while the interior shots contrast by seeming even more cramped when compared to the openness outside. It provides for striking work behind the camera, and a true sense of place that is unmatched.

Season 3 of Breaking Bad incorporated motifs and a lot of stylistic choices from gritty crime films, which played nicely with the season’s themes of Walt and Jesse’s initial descent into their own true darkness. But for this season, one that has been described as a “giant chess game,” that theme shifted to that of the classic Hollywood westerns. The camera was almost constantly paying homage to the great films of the genre, and throughout the season, the inevitable showdown between Walt and Gus was always looming as the final confrontation between good(?) and evil(?). During the final weeks, the atmospheric music and lighting seemed to only be building towards that spaghetti-western-style showdown—but what we got was that, taken to a level of insanity that only Breaking Bad could provide.

It was, in few words, a beyond-incredible end to an equally amazing season. It was at times contemplative, thrilling, hilarious, and terrifying. It was a character study in good and evil. It was a horror movie. It was a dark comedy. It was a sometimes-heartbraking take on the dissolution of a family. It was brutal. It was wonderful. It was just another season of Breaking Bad.

Where does the show go from here, though? I’ve now learned to never bet against this team when it comes to beating themselves, but after a finale that left almost everything resolved, what’s left to mine in the Albuquerque drug world? I have a sinking feeling that given this season’s events, things are only going to get much, much darker. Walter White’s story has always been described as that of “Mr. Chips becoming Scarface,” but now we have confirmation that there’s very little, if any Mr. Chips left in Mr. White. Season 5 will likely be an exploration of the depths of depravity that Walter will sink to to “protect his family,” but with only 16 episodes until the series finale, it appears he’ll be hitting rock bottom in the near future—a fact as scary as it is exciting.

There’s not a show on TV, past or present, that’s trying to do what Breaking Bad is actually accomplishing. It’s turning a man from a hero in Season 1 to its ultimate villain, while still keeping the audience rooting for him. As the last batch of episodes start airing next summer, though, it’ll become harder and harder to stay on his side. Even though it may become harder to watch, I don’t doubt at all that it’ll be any less gripping. We’re stuck with Walter White in this nightmare he’s created— and we’ll be going down with him.

(Find Breaking Bad on Netflix instant streaming or on DVD for cheap at Amazon. You won’t regret getting hooked— and you will get hooked.)

Chart Watch is 17 Tracks’ weekly look at the happenings on the Billboard Hot 100 with chart expert Hunter Schwarz.

Apple marked the passing of its co-founder and former chief executive Steve Jobs Wednesday, calling him “a visionary and creative genius.” In the coming weeks, much will be said of Jobs and how he revolutionized the  way we live. Evidence of his impact can be found in pockets carrying app-filled iPhones, DVD collections sprinkled with Pixar films and of course, the Billboard Hot 100.

Before the launch of the iTunes digital store in 2003, the record industry was facing the unprecedented threat of online piracy. Consumers were freed from forking over $15 for an album with one hit song and a tracklist full of filler by file sharing services such as Napster. Suddenly, an industry that had made record profits in the late ’90s with this model (think Chumbawamba, Eiffel 65, Natalie Imbruglia, etc.) scrambled to restore revenue by resorting to lawsuits.

Apple provided an alternative when it signed deals with the five major record labels to offer their artists’ music on the iTunes digital store, which made Jobs, a man who didn’t even play an instrument, one of the most influential men in popular music history; the “father of digital music,” as Billboard called him this week.

An ingenious marking campaign with silhouettes dancing with their iPod earbuds in ensured that Apple’s product would be the king of MP3 players. In 2005, Billboard finally added digital downloads to its tabulation of the Hot 100, and suddenly, the sleepy charts of the early ’00s came alive.

The period from 2002-2005 were a rather dull time for chart watchers. Record companies had killed off the physical single to force consumers to buy full length albums which meant the only way to have a chart smash was to rule the airwaves. From 2002-2005, the only songs to go No. 1 on the chart were hip-hop and R&B songs which occupied the penthouse for weeks on end and the occasional American Idol coronation song. The streak was broken by Gwen Stefani’s “Hollaback Girl” in May 2005 (it was No. 1 the week I graduated high school) which also became the first song to ever sell a million downloads.

The following year, the chart landscape was completely different with hits by artists as diverse as James Blunt and Justin Timberlake who rubbed shoulders with Chamillionaire and Ludacris. The charts were democratized in a way never before possible, and the charts reflected the true diversity in musical tastes. While there were only eight different No. 1 hits in 2005, there were 18 in 2006.

The effect of Steve Jobs, the iPod and iTunes is felt in the charts this week. Adele’s “Someone Like You” returns to No. 1. The song first shot there a month ago on the strength of digital downloads and returns as radio catches up, a common pattern for songs in the digital age. Rihanna also scores her 20th top 10 hit, setting a record for the fastest time to do so among solo artists.

The span between her first top 10 hit, “Pon De Replay,” to her latest, “We Found Love” feat. Calvin Harris, is six years and four months, besting previous record holder Madonna by five months. Interestingly, Rihanna’s recording career lines up with Billboard’s embrace of iTunes. Her debut single was released six months after the Hot 100 began tracking digital sales. While there are other reasons the singer has tabulated so many hits in such a short time, such as her rate of releasing new music or constant feature credits (half of her top 10 hits feature another artist), it’s not a stretch to say her success is a product of the iTunes era.

But Rihanna isn’t the only artist to have rewritten Billboard’s record with the aid of iTunes. The cast of Glee, Kelly Clarkson, Lil Wayne and Taylor Swift are among those who have made a significant impact on the chart made possible by iTunes. Records held for decades by legends like Elvis Presley and the Beatles have tumbled in the past five years as hits materialize on the Hot 100 entirely thanks to rabid fans downloading songs. But how long can it last?

Facebook’s F8 conference held in September introduced new ways of integrating music into social media, and noticeably absent from the conference was the “old guard” of music distribution. But “old guard” meant more than the nation’s biggest music retailers like Wal-Mart and Best Buy. iTunes, Amazon and eMusic weren’t invited either. Instead, streaming services like Spofity and Turntable.fm were promoted, suggesting that the record industry might be headed into a digital revolution 2.0. What implications that has for the Hot 100 is unknown.

Rihanna is the perfect pop star for the digital age. She has yet to produce a No. 1 album, but in just over five years, she has racked up an incredible 10 No. 1s (If she continues at her current rate, she’ll break the Beatles’ record for most No. 1s—20—by 2017). Her chart record suggest consumers are willing to spend $1.29 for a song, but don’t necessarily want her whole album. Marketing an artist like her before iTunes would have been an entirely different beast and in the age of streaming music, it could change again. If streaming digital music is the way of the future, how will Billboard react? Will there be even more people willing to stream a Rihanna song than there is to download it? Will different artists benefit from it more?

Billboard has always adapted to the times when compiling its lists (even if they’re one or two years late), so the answers to these questions will come. If Spotify and streaming music do indeed make iTunes a thing of the past, however, they’ll still have Steve Jobs and Apple to thank for laying the foundation for digital music in the 21st century.

Here’s what happening on the rest of the Hot 100:

• Foster the People’s “Pumped Up Kicks” holds at No. 3 for a sixth consecutive week. Anyone know the record for most weeks in third place? They’ve got to be up there by now. The song’s sales figures are dropping but airplay is on the rise.
• LMFAO prove they’re more than a one-hit wonder. Summer might feel like a distant memory, but “Party Rock Anthem” is still a top 5 hit while “Sexy and I Know It” moves 10-6.
• The week’s highest debut is B.o.B.’s “Strange Clouds” feat. Lil Wayne. Remember how I said Lil Wayne has iTunes to thank for his chart records? He does, but he can also thank the countless artists who have asked him to contribute a verse or two to their song.

Here’s this week’s top ten:

1. “Someone Like You” – Adele
2. “Moves Like Jagger” – Maroon 5 feat. Christina Aguilera
3. “Pumped Up Kicks” – Foster the People
4. “Stereo Hearts” – Gym Class Hero feat. Adam Levine
5. “Party Rock Anthem” – LMFAO feat. Lauren Bennett and GoonRock
6. “Sexy and I Know It” – LMFAO
7. “Strange Clouds” – B.o.B. feat. Lil Wayne
8. “Without You” – David Guetta feat. Usher
9. “We Found Love” – Rihanna
10. “You Make Me Feel…” – Cobra Starship feat. Sabi

It’s back — the granddaddy of all (network) reality television. And not a week too soon, either. Survivor returns (yes, along with the unfortunate Redemption Island wrinkle), with a brand new group of castaways. Brand new, that is, except for the two returning “heroes” Coach (the self-proclaimed Dragon Slayer) and Ozzy (he of the indomitable immunity challenge record), who are playing for their third time each.

And the show wastes no time pitting the two “heroes” (sorry, I can’t ever actually call them heroes without the quotes — it’s just too ridiculous) against each other in a reward challenge, which Ozzy predictably dominates. At this point, we’re thinking “Oh, poor Coach” since his whole tribe is giving off an undeniable “Ah crud, we’re stuck with Coach” vibe. To make matters worse, Savaii tribe thinks Ozzy is a complete rockstar, blowing off building a shelter in order to just swim and “kick it.” This in turn causes Dawn to flip out and break down emotionally, marking her as early elimination bait.

But Dawn is saved by one of the single worst immunity challenge performances I’ve ever witnessed. Semhar adamantly volunteers to throw coconuts into a net, then when it comes time, sort of just underhands them straight up into the air while mumbling “sorry” and saying “I’m so tired.” The net she’s aiming for is about 8 feet in front of her. Spoiler alert: she gets sent to Redemption Island.

Besides the end result, some interesting story lines developed. First, Russell “Pure Evil” Hantz’s nephew has made his way into the game. Contestant Brandon carries with him a big bulls-eye by virtue of his sinister uncle. He’s so nervous about this connection to the biggest Survivor villain ever that he refuses to let anyone know about it. He even goes swimming with his shirt up over his neck and back where “Hantz” tattoos are visible. Whatever. At this point I’m not sure what to make of this.

Second, Ozzy turns out to be all brawn and no brain. Apparently he’s here to play strategically and not just own immunity challenges. Well, in that sense he’s not off to the greatest start — basically he gets John the Harvard law student to question everything he’s ever known about himself because he offers his (John’s) name for elimination ’cause he (Ozzy) wants Semhar to stick around — he thinks she’s pretty. So he starts drumming up all these unfounded doubts about John’s viability just so the girl he’s in love with will stick around. To his credit he, along with the rest of the tribe, vote Semhar in the end. But why the trip down anxiety lane for John? Pointless.

Plus, Coach turns the tables in one of the biggest surprises so far. Working from a very natural place, he forms an alliance with four other Upolo tribe members and leads the team to an immunity challenge victory. And the organic nature of everything is what is so shocking. For as you know, Coach has historically been the least natural person on the planet. His social skills were, you could (should) say, lacking.

After an eventful first week, Survivor: South Pacific starts to (already) hit its stride. Kudos to the show’s producers for uncovering the hidden formula to success, i.e. land contestants that are increasingly crazier with each passing season.

Case in point: Tonight’s episode begins with about two minutes of Semhar on Redemption Island going what appears to be quite literally insane. It doesn’t help that she freestyles all this poetry at random, all the while sort of rolling around on her bed of bamboo and swatting at bugs. If the show wanted to show you how crazy people go on Redemption, they did a fairly decent job of it here. (This all serves to put Matt’s run on RI last season in even more impressive context. How did he do that?)

Who else joins the ranks of the crazy? Well, where do we start? How about with Brandon “I’m a Married Man” Hantz? He feels close enough with Coach (!) to share his deep dark secret — that he’s the nephew of Russell “Pure Evil” Hantz. Coach responds with the appropriate amount of alarm, but eventually realizes it’s no big deal, and the whole affair seems to serve as a bonding moment for the two, complete with a closing prayer.

But what makes Brandon so particularly crazy is his unfounded paranoia regarding tribemate Mikayla. Completely unprovoked, Brandon has marked her for elimination. He is unyielding in his quest to send her to RI, and his rationale is, you could say, suspect. Basically he finds her attractive, is married, and has made up his mind that she’s nothing but trouble. This despite absolutely no advance from Mikayla. In fact, when tribal blew up (thanks, Coach), and Brandon admitted he’d stirred the pot against Mikayla, she looked genuinely puzzled as to who this kid even was. It was like a “Wait, what was your name again?” type thing. Just bizarre.

On top of that, since everyone was pretty much decided on Christine after Upolu lost the immunity/reward challenge, when Brandon went on this Mikayla Must Go kick it sent the entire camp into the proverbial tizzy. This culminated in Coach absolutely loosing his stuff at Tribal, indirectly calling out Brandon and contradicting himself too many times to even think about firing up the DVR and recapping here. In the end, sanity somewhat reigned as Christine went to Redemption and no one cast a vote for Mikayla. Thank goodness.

Pretty quiet night from the Savaii tribe, with the exception of Ozzy finding the hidden idol up in a tree that was completely unclimbable by anyone in the tribe but Ozzy. So someone’s going to have to get up pretty early in the morning if they’re going to try and convince me that the show’s not giving Ozzy a little help here.

Also, John Cochran is just a titch neurotic and he’s breaking the cardinal rule of early round Survivor (borrowed from Ocean’s 11, of course): You’ve got to make them like you, then forget you. Well, Cochran might be failing on both accounts. Let’s hope for his sake that the next couple weeks allow him to sort of sink into the background. If he doesn’t, he’s next in line for an all inclusive stay at the looney bin on Redemption Island.

Michael Scott was and always will be one of my favorite characters of all time. Some people called him an inconsistent character, but I always saw him as one of the most complicated and wonderful icons of the last decade of TV. Going on without his presence seemed almost impossible last year — and then The Office went on with life as usual.

Those last few episodes of Season 7 had some fantastic moments in them (read: the entire Dwight-as-manager episode), even if the whole wasn’t as strong as the sum of its parts. After the finale, I hoped the producers would pick James Spader as the new boss. He was magnetic, in the most disturbing way possible. He stood out in stark contrast to the rest of the cast, and I thought he would bring a fantastic new energy to make everyone forget about Steve Carell’s absence.

Well, I got what I wanted — kind of. Over the summer, it was announced that Spader, rather, Robert California, would not be the new regional manager, but the new CEO of Sabre, after “taking one look at the office and driving to Florida,” where he convinced Jo that Harry’s Law needs her more than this show does. So, once again, the Scranton branch is missing a manager.

Enter the Nard-Dog.

Andy was far from my first choice for manager. Personally, I was rooting for Darryl to get the job. But I found myself falling for this new development. I deeply enjoyed all of this episode, even the broader moments like the planking fad and Stanley’s new catchphrase. (On that note, did Stanley’s philosophy on work completely change after Michael left? In any case, I like it a lot.) Andy seems like a perfectly capable manager, at least for this branch, and I was particularly moved by his confrontation with Robert at the end of the episode. But there’s one catch.

I realized that most of why I loved Andy in this episode is because of him acting in much the same manner Michael would have. Is there anything Andy does that wouldn’t have made complete sense coming from Michael? For a season fixated on change and transition, it seems a little risky to keep the manager very much in line with the past characterization.

The new season’s true agent of change is Robert California himself. While he has been neutered considerably from his strange and cold performance in last May’s finale, he still brings a huge, mysterious presence to the office, as is evidenced by the employees’ panic at their new CEO’s ominous list. I think there’s a lot to be mined from this character, and he’s a nice break from what we’ve come to believe about the way Dunder-Mifflin works. He isn’t as grounded in reality as say, Charles Miner, but I’m excited to see where this show’s particular brand of crazy takes him.

Most of the cast was given a shining moment in the premiere (most notably, Toby’s brief screen time indicates that he has severe psychological issues after years of being berated), but outside of Andy and Robert, Jim and Pam’s story appears to be heading into more than just another season of wheel-spinning. It’s not entirely evident in this episode, but I’m predicting that this season, PB&J will be facing some real conflict — REAL conflict — for the first time in their marriage. The Office isn’t afraid to go dark, and with Michael gone, who better to focus on than the world’s cutest couple?

I’m sure I’ll have more to say in other weeks, but for now, I’m just happy The Office is back. It’s a relief to see that, yes, the show will go on without Michael. If the premiere is any indication, the creative hot streak that began midway through Season 7 is still going strong. It’s too early to write the show off yet — with much of what we saw last night, The Office has a new lease on life.

Well, what would you have done?

Leslie was faced with an incredible decision in the final moments of season three— run for city council? Or stay together with Ben? Nobody in their right mind would have thought her to try to have it both ways (this is the noble Leslie Knope, after all), but nonetheless her decision was a heartbreaking one. Even though she and Ben ended things amicably, and of course in their own dorky-cute way, this won’t be the end of this conflict. Not by a long shot.

It’s hard to choose between love and dreams. It’s even more difficult when both options are synonymous. Leslie may have chosen her political ambitions tonight, but she’ll likely spend much of this season wondering what could have been with Ben. On the same note, will the period of time that the pair dated secretly ever come to light? If so, the consequences and scandal will be equally large for Leslie.

This could be the beginning of the season that finally gets Parks and Recreation the respect it deserves. Anyone who wrote the show off as an Office clone early on owes it to themselves to give it a second chance now. None of those people would confuse Leslie Knope for Michael Scott anymore. Leslie has become one of the strongest female characters on television, a representative of hope and optimism in a TV landscape where being female isn’t a flattering prospect (this being even more true in a pilot season filled with tired female stereotypes). Her political aspirations may have seemed silly in season one, but now, they’re quickly becoming a reality, and the Parks crew has made it as believable and potentially poignant as any story arc.

Andy is facing a challenge similar to Leslie’s in tonight’s episode. He’s realized that shoe shining is far from a sustainable lifestyle, especially if he is to meet his 5-year plan of being the biggest rock star on the planet. Luckily, April has already jumped into the manager role, acting not so much as a manager for MouseRat, but as a “life manager” of sorts for Andy. When offered a job at Tom’s Entertainment 7Twenty enterprise (which apparently exists solely to put logos on items, but not even that officially), April savvily volunteers her husband to be Leslie’s assistant. Andy’s movin’ on up.

Elsewhere, another scandal has hit City Hall. A picture message of a penis has been spread to all the women in government, an obvious dig at this summer’s Anthony Weiner scandal. The subplot is slight, but has some winning moments, including Chris’s ever-increasing seriousness about the rampage of penises. Also noteworthy are winning turns from Sewage Joe (whose firing is hopefully temporary) and Ann, whose eventual apathy to the number of explicit texts on her phone. Of course, this subplot lent itself to the most wonderful revelation of the night— Jerry’s one true gift in life, and a sweet victory for him. Or, as the doctor put it, Jerry has “the largest penis…I have…ever…seen.”

The premiere went out of its way to give us some of the show’s strongest relationship, that between Leslie and Ron. After taking his 228 accumulated personal days upon the mention of Tammy 1, Ron executes his brilliantly hysterical emergency escape plan from City Hall and flees to his cabin. Leslie, too, runs from her problem with Ben to consult with Ron, and their conversation is one of the more moving ones Parks has ever done. Just as Leslie has been developed, so has this bond between her and her boss. Ron would never have allowed Leslie to talk to him about personal issues in those first episodes, but here he is, not only listening, but following her advice and returning to Pawnee to confront Tammy 1. It still may seem crazy for the headstrong Ron, but she is Leslie F***ing Knope, after all.

Leslie and Ben also share an incredible scene during their breakup. Adam Scott and Amy Poehler deserve endless praise for the manner in which they play this emotional moment for the show. Ben’s simple show of support for Leslie, with his custom made “Knope 2012″ button, expresses more love to her than any number of their make out sessions could—or, of course, an L-shaped eclair. Leslie will win her election—here’s to hoping that Ben’s still around when she’s finished.

Parks is, simply, a wonderful show that can mine beautiful moments out of almost any combination of characters. It’s a joy to be able to return to Pawnee after the summer break, and this world beginning to feel like one of those timeless sitcom places, like Springfield, or Jerry’s apartment, or Cheers. It’s a place where, for one half-hour a week, we get to be immersed in a world of happiness and optimism that can’t be found elsewhere on TV. What other show could pull off scenes like Leslie and Ron’s heart-to-heart, and transition straight into a meeting about an inbox full of penises? Parks has risen completely from The Office’s shadow, and in many ways, has even surpassed its big brother.

That’s the power of Leslie F***ing Knope.

When I was in high school, I didn't want to imagine life without my tight-knit group of friends. There were five or so of us that knew each other completely, a group of confidantes that regularly relied on each other. It was a strange group, but it was still a family of sorts. Once college hit, all of us went our separate ways, promising to stay in touch and remain close, but of course that didn't happen. We still communicate, and see each other, but it isn't the same anymore. It can't be.

Letting go is frightening. Nobody expects to be removed from their support group, to be uprooted and forced to move on to life's next stage. But one of life's most bitter lessons is that we are destined to change, and grow, even though we want to believe that we'll stay the same at our core—and more importantly, hold on to those close to us.

Such is the place we find the study group at the beginning of Community‘s third season. Summer break has healed the wounds that Pierce and paintball inflicted at the end of season two for everyone—except Jeff. Still angry and resentful towards Pierce’s actions, Jeff refuses to allow him back into the study group, concocting an excuse around the group’s full biology class. After being kicked out on the first day (more on that later), Jeff finds himself in the role formerly inhabited by Pierce, an outsider to his own surrogate family, sending him on a journey involving monkey gas and an extended homage to 2001′s finale. But nobody is reading this for recap anyway.

Before discussing the study group’s journey itself, I need to address the Omar in the room. Yes, Michael K. Williams is here as Professor Marshall Kane, the biology professor on his first teaching assignment after leaving maximum-security prison. Williams doesn’t exactly deliver; in fact, he’s more of a device used to spout the important lessons of the episode. However, I’ll give the writing staff the benefit of the doubt, and assume that there’s better things to come from him. After all the hype surrounding “Omar on Community,” maybe I expected more, but it’s about time the study group faced real consequences and a real antagonist from a teacher, instead of using a class as a simple framing device for the season. I’m more than excited to see where this goes.

Faring much better is the incomparable presence of John Goodman. Playing the Vice Dean of the Greendale Air Conditioning Repair Annex, Goodman is tremendous. He employs his comedic gravitas with a sinister air that is both terrifying and hilarious. His interactions with Dean Pelton are a highlight, and he’ll bring the kind of outside evil that Community has needed for some time outside of its City College episodes.

Jim Rash has finally been promoted to regular status, and it’s better late than never. Dean Pelton is going to be even more of a delight this year, as he butts heads with Goodman over the allocation of Greendale’s funds. As it turns out, the Air Conditioning Repair Annex is the only profitable part of Greendale (think of it like a Big 10 football program), and the sleeping giant has been awakened by Dean Pelton’s enforcer-attitude at the episode’s beginning. After declaring that there will be no more “National Lampoonery” at Greendale, the dean realizes that he is cuckolded by Goodman, and that “things won’t really be different this year—there’ll just be no money.” Innocent statement, or meta-commentary about Community itself?

A lot of people have been complaining about the opening musical number, which I just can’t comprehend. It was a great distillation of both the common complaints about the show itself, as well as a mechanism to show Jeff’s fantasies about a perfect life at Greendale sans Pierce— one that also involves bedding Annie. Consider me thrilled to see that story development!

Around the rest of the study group, Abed and Troy are moving into together, after an announcement that initially may have played as a coming-out. Britta has finally declared a major, *shudder*, Psychology, which she will utilize in the most terrifying and sour-faced way possible. Annie and Shirley remain on the sidelines this episode, save for the hints at more of a romance with Jeff. Chang is restored to a position of power, having spent the summer living in the vents with Annie’s Boobs. His new role as security guard will be one of the more fascinating through-lines this season.

But this is Jeff’s episode, and if the cryptic interviews from the cast are any indication, such will be the case with the season at large. Dan Harmon envisionsCommunity as a four-part story (fifth season or not), and this third year is where he says Jeff will face his demons and deal with the most dark of challenges. At the end of season two, Jeff had finally learned to love the study group, and accept them as his family. Now, though, they’re all drifting slightly apart, becoming comfortable and feeling secure.

Abed and Troy are slowly splitting into their own alternate reality, Britta is discovering something she truly wants, and presumably the rest of the group will begin to grow up as well. This season looks to be about discovering what life is really about, and nobody in the group will have a harder time discovering that than Jeff. He is a man who’s coasted through just about every obstacle, and he’s beginning to face true challenges without much of a clue how to overcome them without his friends. At this point last year, he was just discovering that he needed the group— now, he’ll begin to realize what life would be like without them.

The study group’s table being “magic” may seem like a stupid metaphor, but it’s a resonant idea. We cling to the items that remind us of those we love, be it a note, a movie, or even a table. Jeff as an outsider can’t bear to see the group, around the table and happy, without him. Finally being in Pierce’s role makes Jeff realize what would drive Pierce’s evil in the second season. This moment of clarity only comes after Pierce takes the fall for Jeff—an act of respect that would never have felt genuine in season two. But, a lot can change after one summer.

This season will be an enormous journey for everyone at Greendale, and it appears that the show’s crew is deadly serious about becoming more grounded while retaining all the ambition. While I’ll miss zombie apocalypses and paintball wars, it’ll be a wonderful ride to see where TV’s most unpredictable show will go next.

Oh, and Alison Brie is still as adorable as ever.

Haven’t we seen all of this before?

Mitchell and Cameron have CRAZY quirks, and those quirks affect their parenting of Lily. Claire is a loud and commanding shrew. Phil is vying for Jay’s respect. Is it just me, or are these Season One’s stories with a flashy new paint job?

Don’t get me wrong, I love Modern Family. It’s consistently one of the highlights of my week, and there are few shows that deserve consecutive Outstanding Comedy Series Emmys more. But something seems wrong— it seems like the show is spinning its wheels, something that “The Show That Saved Sitcoms” would have never done a year ago.

Of course, I understand the philosophy— introduce new viewers to the most accessible character interactions and  broadest stories. It’s better safe than sorry when a show is competing against Simon Cowell and The X Factor. I’m positive Modern Family will return to matching its potential in the coming weeks, but as for tonight, it was a solid, if unspectacular, opener.

In the first half hour, the Dunphy/Pritchett clan vacations at a dude ranch in Jackson Hole, Wyoming, where they are hosted by an “authentic” western type played by the always-great Tim Blake Nelson. Phil is worried about Jay’s level of respect for him (“Phyllis, my son-in-law”), especially after seeing the manner in which Claire treats Dylan on the trip. Oh, Claire— one of my favorite characters from season one became almost intolerable during the following year. I couldn’t stand her shrill, antagonistic plots, and I was hoping the writers harnessed Julie Bowen’s energy into something better this year. They did not.

After reluctantly allowing Dylan on the trip in the first place, and mistreating him from the outset, Phil confronts Claire and tells her to lighten up. She meets with the master-songwriter and horse-impresario and apologizes for acting like, well, herself. Dylan takes her apology as a come-on, because ha ha, it’s funny, right? Dylan later proposes to Haley, gets rejected by both mother and daughter, runs into the woods, and is written out of the show in a manner so silly, I wondered if I was still watching Modern Family, or if I’d turned the dial to CBS. It’s a shame, too, as Dylan was one of the more reliably-hilarious bit characters on the show.

Elsewhere in the episode, Mitchell confronts his lack of manliness by blowing things up in the manliest way possible with Luke, Jay plays hero while saving Gloria from “the horny cowboy,” and Alex falls for a young Tony Soprano in one of the stranger subplots the show has taken. A pretty hilarious episode, but an uneven one too, albeit one that newcomers will be sure to enjoy.

Tonight’s bonus second episode was pure sitcom schtick, with more of Claire being Claire, and Mitch and Cam reenacting Generic Mitch/Cam Story B, in which they realize that THEY’RE SO DIFFERENT, BUT IT’S OKAY! Jay’s family has a predictable subplot involving Manny stealing a girl’s locket (which seems ridiculously out of character for the usually wise-beyond-his-years Manny). Everything dovetails in that Modern Family way, with the entire cast in one room, bouncing off of each other. An abrupt and clumsy ending ruined most of the goodwill built up during the episode, and left me a little cold.

Of more important note is the adorable little girl chosen to play three-year-old Lily. Never will I ever hear a more heartwarming delivery of “Kill the baby.” It’ll be a delight to see Lily get more to do as her dads work to adopt another child— but this one from America, or “buying domestic,” as Cam puts it.

For an introduction to Modern Family, I can’t see many better examples of episodes to break a new viewer in, providing a great entry point to all the characters. For longtime fans, these episodes will be a bore, potentially. However, if there’s a show out there that can rebound from a merely-passable episode spectacularly, it’s this one.

When I started my junior year in high school, I imagined that when I looked back on my four years there, I’d reflect upon it bitterly and with a lot of spite. Of course that wasn’t healthy, but up to that point, my school life hadn’t exactly been rosy.

I grew up in a small town where I fell outside both the religious and political majorities, and my life outside of home was affected because of both. I wasn’t talented athletically, or a social butterfly, but I always had a close group of friends who had similar interests and were pushing for the same thing—to be recognized and respected in the school. By my senior year, I had achieved that more than I would have imagined a year earlier.

Perhaps my trials in high school were what drew me to a pilot that aired after American Idol my junior year, and those experiences are why I continue to have blind faith in that same show — Glee — one that I both admire and loathe at the same time.

There’s not a show on the air that I have a more complicated relationship with than Glee. My roommates will often ask me why I keep watching it when it only leaves me angry and frustrated at the end of every episode. I’ve expressed on this very website some of my biggest complaints about Glee, but since that was posted, my issues have only grown tenfold. A show that once suffered from a minor identity crisis became one that doesn’t remember any of its previous identities at all.

I was finished in May. I had reached my breaking point with Glee and wasn’t going to look back. If I never had to watch Matthew Morrison on a screen ever again, I’d have died satisfied—but here I am, reflecting on the season premiere. And it’s your damn fault, Glee. You got me again.

Last season’s finale, the magical New York adventure that Glee briefly reminded us that it’d been building to all season, was largely a disaster. It brought out the most inconsistent qualities in the show, and settled multiple story arcs in a haphazard and unconvincing manner.

In a perfect Glee, New Directions would have won nationals and had to deal with the aftermath and fallout of reaching success in season three. Instead, they lost, and the show set a giant reset button. The episode ended, the season was over, and then I looked at my watch— there were still ten minutes left. I wondered what kind of wheel-spinning the show could pull to pad out an undercooked finale, and then…

…I was taken aback. Glee spent its last ten minutes of an abysmal season focusing on small character moments that tied every disparate thread up with a bow. It was wonderful, and it was the Glee I remembered from the first season. It remembered that it was a show about high schoolers, trying to find their place and get out of their tiny Ohio town. It was, in short, wonderful.

Here we are, four months later, with the third season premiere, “The Purple Piano Project.” All the promises about character work and smaller moments over the summer have seemingly been abandoned.

Sue Sylvester is again a villain, this time running for Congress on a platform of banning arts in public schools. Why would she revert to this, after the emotional turnaround during her sister’s funeral? Because Ryan Murphy said so.

Sam “Trouty Mouth” is gone, as is his budding romance subplot with Mercedes. Ditto for Lauren Zises, who even started to become a three-dimensional character by last season’s end. Why? Because Ryan Murphy said so, and because he ran out of borderline-offensive weight jokes.

Will Schuester is back to being a scab, becoming a white knight of sorts against Sue’s campaign, complete with viral videos and “glitter bombs.” He’s also making jokes about morning wood while cohabiting with Emma, and presumably, once again, not getting laid. Why? Because Will Schuester is one of the most infuriating characters on television, a cad and a liar who has lost any redeeming qualities he had in the pilot. Oh, and because Ryan Murphy said so.

Lest I forget, there’s also a new character who is immune to auto-tune and has “self-diagnosed Asperger’s.” You know, funny!

Even though Glee is, by large, taking few steps forward and a good many back, there’s something beautiful brewing under the surface, and it’s focused on Kurt, Rachel, Finn and Quinn. With this season as these four characters’ final one (at least on this show), the writing staff finally seems to be taking them seriously.

Kurt has always been serviced well by Glee, and Chris Colfer’s awards are well-deserved. He nails the nuances of his character’s confusion and inability to adapt to his surroundings. He was the one bright spot among the mire of season two, and that looks to continue, with his now-boyfriend Blaine transferring to McKinley, providing for less of a storytelling barrier by separating the action between two schools. While I don’t necessarily buy that Blaine would hang up his Warblers uniform, not to mention that it’d be quite the leap from a private academy to a middle-of-the-road public, Kurt deserves a win—and I’m sure this story will go somewhere solid.

More important is the Kurt/Rachel story that will likely drive the season forward. Their quest to be accepted to a prestigiously generic New York arts school took a great step forward in the premiere when the two visit a mixer for potential applicants. Kurt and Rachel exist in a bubble where they’re the most talented people in the room (even though Kurt had a bit of a reality check when he met Blaine), but the mixer provides a scene in which the two are not the stars, and their fears finally feel legitimate. Glee just got some stakes, and I’m ecstatic to see where it goes.

Conversely, Quinn and Finn are again questioning what they’re doing in Lima, Ohio, and where they’ll end up once high school is over. Quinn’s transformation into an extra in a Ramones video is complete, and her story this year will undoubtedly focus on her finding a reason to become upwardly mobile again, a journey that will likely drag Finn along. This story will become much more concrete in the coming weeks, I’m sure, and it’ll look to add some real tension to a show that needs more of it.

My high school experience followed a pattern over the four years: anonymity, failure, rebuilding, and finally, respect. Glee spent its first two years following that same path, although its popularity shows that it didn’t completely fail. If the groundwork laid in this admittedly messy premiere says anything about the new season, this will be a year of rebuilding leading to a wonderful sendoff for the show’s seniors. Hopefully, this season’s ending will leave me satisfied enough to finally leave Glee, and leave it with some respect.

But seriously, this is Glee’s last chance.

I mean it this time.

Really.