Woke up this morning (OK, yesterday morning) and wrote about the pilot episode of The Sopranos, the first shot in the revolution of prestige television.

Miles Davis and John Coltrane were both born 100 years ago. Few musicians have meant more to me. I wrote about the centennial and the special tribute shows at Scullers Jazz Club this Friday.

I am a mere Game of Thrones fan, not a hardcore fanatic. So keep that in mind as I enthuse over the charming A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms, which I enjoyed writing about largely because it let me use the word “Rabelaisian.” Score one for English majors.

The Comeback is coming back. So is Paradise. And Tracy Morgan. Ryan Murphy and Taylor Sheriden — shocker — have some new series. I look ahead at the next coupla months on the tube.

See BS News: Wrote about the verve of Nikki Glaser, the appeal of drunk celebs, and the frivolous, compromised Golden Globes.

Warning: MTV Rewind is a highly addictive reminder of when MTV focused on music videos. And we have a heroic, industrious coder to thank for it.

The Pitt returns with compassionate intensity, staking its claim as the greatest hospital show ever.

He’s Chevy Chase. You’re not. And for that you should be grateful.

Not every great pilot leads to a great series. In this week’s Autopilot I look at the blazing beginning of Brooklyn South.

In the wake of Stranger Things I wrote about the plague of TV bloat. Overlong episodes, overlong seasons, overlong series.

One of the many things I love about my new gig is that I get to write about music. I checked in on the recent albums by De La Soul and Nas with DJ Premier, both from Nas’ Mass Appeal label, both reminders of ‘90s hip-hop glory.

Wrote a bit about the internal conflict that drove the first season of Pluribus, between the necessities of individualism and communion (lower case).

You are Number 6: In my Autopilot series I look back at the uncanny, Orwell-by-the-sea vibe of The Prisoner. Be seeing you.

An honor as always contributing to The Boston Globe’s best books of the year package. I chose 12 nonfiction titles, on subjects ranging from the slam dunk to the U.S. Constitution (remember that?)

Wrote a little appreciation for the late James Ransone’s stellar work on season 2 of The Wire. His Ziggy was a tragic character who gave his pet duck too much whiskey.

Got a little granular and tallied my favorite TV scenes of the year. I will never look at a rotisserie chicken the same way.

Fallout has always thrived on a simple concept: vintage jazz and other mid-century sounds carry an ironic zing when paired with images of gore and desolation. I looked at five songs from the new second season, from Roy Orbison to Peggy Lee.

Here’s my top, er, 11 TV shows of 2025, plus some thoughts on a weird year off the screen (Kimmelgate, Netflix flex, etc.). I can’t believe Adolescence came out this year. Seems like ages ago. I wrote the words “This one goes to 11” shortly before hearing of Rob Reiner’s death. I’m glad I did.

Wrote a few words about reconsidering the late Stuart Scott, who I didn’t appreciate enough when he was alive. He’s the subject of the new 30 for 30 doc Boo-Yah: A Stuart Scott Portrait. Stay cooler than the other side of the pillow.

I watched Being Charlie, the movie Nick Reiner co-wrote and Rob Reiner directed. A troubling experience for obvious reasons; also a jarring portrait of a young addict as a raging narcissist.

RIP Anthony Geary, whose death got me thinking about how much the Luke and Laura rape/wedding storyline on General Hospital weirded me out as a little tyke.

Hamlet is less a play than a universe in which to roam. I wrote about our current Hamlet moment, including Hamnet, and why the melancholy Dane will always have a place in culture.

I’ve been digging Adult Swim’s “Smalls” block of short-form animation. I particularly like Haha You Clowns, an oddly tender project about three bull-necked teen boys trying to cheer up their grieving father.

The liaisons, they’re still dangerous. I checked in with HBO’s saucy The Seduction, a series with a notable lineage. Because cruel intentions never go out of style.

Wrote about how TV and movies play with our conspiracy-mad “truthiness” times. Remember: Just because you’re paranoid doesn’t mean they’re not out to get you. Also: Watch The Chair Company.

Had some thoughts on Netflix’s pending acquisition of Warner Bros. Discovery. I like Netflix. I don’t like monopolies. But: If the film industry is so worried about the sanctity of the moviegoing experience, perhaps it should consider making the moviegoing experience suck less.

Netflix’s new series The Abandons got me thinking about westerns that put women high in the saddle, including two of my favorites: Johnny Guitar and The Furies. Mess with Barbara Stanwyck at your own risk.

Had the pleasure of speaking with bass maestro Ron Carter, the rhythmic dynamo of the second great Miles Davis Quintet. He’s still very much active at 88. Carter brings his New Foursight Quartet to Regattabar in Cambridge this weekend.

Have some Salami. And some Coolidge. And some Thorpe. In this week’s installment of Autopilot we look back to the start of The White Shadow, as self-aware as white savior stories come. This show was 10-year-old Vognar’s jam. It also turned out to be a future directors factory.

I’m not here to start no trouble. I’m just here to write about The Super Bowl Shuffle. Or at least the new HBO doc The Shuffle, which tells the story of the ‘85 Chicago Bears novelty rap hit and video. I didn’t realize they taped the video the day after getting beat down by the Dolphins on MNF.

Everyone is doing TV these days — including the great Hong Kong filmmaker Wong Kar-wai. His first-ever series, Blossoms Shanghai, premieres tonight on The Criterion Channel. It’s set amidst the Chinese stock market boom of the ‘90s, and boasts the same stylish sensuousness as his movies.

Just one more thing: In this week’s Autopilot installment I revisit the glorious first episode of Columbo. Directed by some guy named Spielberg.

Vognar to readers: Watch Drop Dead City, a good doc about the story behind the headline.

John Edgar Wideman’s essays read like poetry and flow like great jazz. And nobody writes better about basketball. I reviewed his new collection, Languages of Home: Essays on Writing, Hoop, and American Lives.

Documentary filmmaker Brent Renaud was the first American journalist killed in the war in Ukraine. Armed Only with a Camera, now streaming on HBO Max, spotlights his compassionate tenacity.

A few months ago my editor suggested we might send our readers into a frenzy by ranking the ten best Ken Burns projects. Our readers really like Ken Burns. And I am not one to pass up a healthy frenzy.

This week in my Autopilot series, I try to conjure what it was like to first watch Twin Peaks. A damn fine pilot episode.

You say you want a Revolution: Ken Burns’ 12-hour deep dive into the American Revolution should be savored, not binged. It’s a reminder of how rich, unwieldy, and brutally violent the country’s founding was.

Claire Danes and Matthew Rhys, in an acting league of their own in the new Netflix thriller The Beast in Me.

Spoke with Rakim as Berklee College of Music prepares to induct him into its hip-hop Hall of Fame. A singular presence on the mic, he helped make hip-hop a modern art form. “I was trying to make my name in the game, but I had no idea it would resonate with people the way it did,” he told me.

My Autopilot series returns with an appreciation of Arrested Development. One of those moments when you immediately knew you were looking at something special.

In Pluribus, one woman’s rebellion against an alien positivity virus. It’s got promise, and deserves time to grow.

We got your Bad Santa. We got your Star Wars Holiday Special. And of course George Bailey. I regret never getting a drink at Nick’s Bar. In any case, here’s my holiday streaming guide.

Netflix’s Death by Lightning is about a great man (President James Garfield) killed by a delusional man obsessed with greatness (Charles Guiteau), and by some incompetent doctors. Michael Shannon and Matthew Macfayden are both excellent. It tells a good story in only four episodes. How bout that.

Not a big fan of Adam McKay’s “Vice.” But I love the scene where Christian Bale’s Cheney jujitsus Sam Rockwell’s Bush into the imperial vice presidency.

I put together a very brief, by no means complete French New Wave watch list for those looking to go deeper after Linklater’s “Nouvelle Vague.” Vive le cinema.

Introducing HBO’s I Love LA, the TV comedy for the influencer age. It’s quite funny and self-aware. And it makes fine use of the Randy Newman song.

It’s Halloween, which means Linus is still waiting for JFK Jr., I mean the Great Pumpkin.

Emma Thompson gives the second best performance in Down Cemetery Road. Which should tell you something about how good Ruth Wilson is. Apple TV has the latest from Mick Herron, the writer behind Slow Horses.

Every now and then I will embark on a fool’s errand. Like ranking the top 10 network sitcoms of all time. And forgetting MASH. Man. Lotta MASH fans out there.