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Sinister: feel the rage of Belle and Sebastian
by terry underwear 03 Oct '03

03 Oct '03

hey ho, first things first, for all my fellow little vegemites (though i should point out that i think vegemite is the spread of the devil, promite is where it's at for me. i digress) the film clip for "Step Into My Office, Baby" will be shown TONIGHT on Rage at around 12:30am. Isn't that exciting? And secondly, according to the sometimes crazy lycos mail the duke of harringay sent his email (entitled "I wanna be Bruce cos he was born to run, and Brian cos he was FunFun Fun") way back in 1970! Look: Date: Fri, 02 Oct 1970 21:46:27 +0100 From: duke of harringay <duke(a)tangents.co.uk> [add to address book] [protect or block sender] Subject: Sinister: To: sinister <sinister(a)missprint.org> Is there some kind of crazy Back to the Future III antics going on here? Only three more sleeps! excitedly yours, terry --- here's what i think: http://naivetysucceeds.blogspot.com caitlin and terry's sinister recipe tree archives: http://www.joannou.net/topofthestairs/sinifood/ ____________________________________________________________ Get advanced SPAM filtering on Webmail or POP Mail ... Get Lycos Mail! http://login.mail.lycos.com/r/referral?aid=27005 +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ Brought to you by the Sinister mailing list +---+ To send to the list mail sinister(a)missprint.org. To unsubscribe send "unsubscribe sinister" or "unsubscribe sinister-digest" to majordomo(a)missprint.org. WWW: http://www.missprint.org/sinister +-+ "sinsietr is a bit freaky" - stuart david, looper +-+ +-+ "legion of bedroom saddo devotees" "peculiarly deranged fanbase" +-+ +-+ "pasty-faced vegan geeks... and we LOST!" - NME April 2000 +-+ +-+ "frighteningly named Sinister List organisation" - NME May 2000 +-+ +-+ "sick posse of f**ked in the head psycho-fans" - NME June 2001 +-+ +-+ Nee, nee mun pish, chan pai dee kwa +-+ +-+ Snipp snapp snut, sa var sagan slut! +-+ +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+

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Sinister: the moon in june stuff
by Ian Watson 03 Oct '03

03 Oct '03

Forgive me, friends, it's going to be one of those posts. Robin said: I > do agree that Underachievers Please Try Harder is probably the better album > - it's one of the best albums I've heard for ages. To Underachievers Please Try Harder, I'd like to add Holding Hands, Feeding Ducks by The Brunettes, straight outta, um, New Zealand I think. Hang on, let me check. Actually no mention of their origin on the album sleeve, but there's a thank you to Neil Finn, so that must mean they're Kiwis, right? Perhaps not. The sleeve *does* say that the p in a circle and the c in a circle were 2002, but I've only just heard about them so I'm counting it as a 2003 release. Just try and stop me. It's one of those cute, funny, dreamy, happysad, occasionally twee, more often playful and knowing, amazing, clever, and inspiring records that makes you want to start badgering people and making tapes and passing them on, you know *just like back in the day*. Or 1997, as it's otherwise known. Robin also said: > It's funny, I've heard a few people dissing the whole "I'd rather be in > Tokyo, I'd rather listen to Thin Lizzy-oh" line, because it doesn't rhyme > properly. I find this very odd. Stuart's lyrics have never really rhymed > properly. In Lord Anthony he rhymes "toff" with "maths". I don't think > rhyming has ever had anything to do with why i like Stuart's lyrics. Anyone > can use a rhyming dictionary if they want to. I expect he doesn't want to. I agree. Two points. One: mere rhyming doesn't denote talent. It certainly has nothing to do with a great song. The best songs are always just off-rhyme, things that shouldn't rhyme but do, because of the phrasing, the delivery, the emotion, or all of the above. Two: the quoted couplet is actually very clever - you can almost see the smirk on his face as he's singing it. You have to be a good lyricist to pull off that kind of crazy shit, girlfriend. It's all very well to moan "oh, it's just sticking an -o on the end" but no-one else thought of it did they? The best ideas are always as plain as the face on your nose. The fact that, as Senor Chu pointed out at our recent coffee morning, it's actually a nod to Thin Lizzy's cover of "Whiskey In The Jar", which goes "I'll have a whiskey in the jar-o" makes it even better. Do you see? How many levels? It's working on? That's right: two. It's also funny. Which is good enough for me. Three levels then. Well, two and a half. That's about it. This album by The Brunettes is still great, by the way. Bless them. x +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ Brought to you by the Sinister mailing list +---+ To send to the list mail sinister(a)missprint.org. To unsubscribe send "unsubscribe sinister" or "unsubscribe sinister-digest" to majordomo(a)missprint.org. WWW: http://www.missprint.org/sinister +-+ "sinsietr is a bit freaky" - stuart david, looper +-+ +-+ "legion of bedroom saddo devotees" "peculiarly deranged fanbase" +-+ +-+ "pasty-faced vegan geeks... and we LOST!" - NME April 2000 +-+ +-+ "frighteningly named Sinister List organisation" - NME May 2000 +-+ +-+ "sick posse of f**ked in the head psycho-fans" - NME June 2001 +-+ +-+ Nee, nee mun pish, chan pai dee kwa +-+ +-+ Snipp snapp snut, sa var sagan slut! +-+ +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+

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Sinister: how very embarrassing.
by idleberry 02 Oct '03

02 Oct '03

Robin said� I'd rather be in Tokyo, I'd rather listen to Thin Lizzy-oh Ah. I thought he said Torquay-oh. Now I know.. and there was me getting all irritated becauseI thought the Boy Murdoch was being sloppy and not pronouncing his r�s properly. I feel rather embarrassed now. Still, it's a shit album, mind. * * * * * Everyone has been discussing birthdays, lately. Could I point out a few birthdays that ought to be mentioned? I notice that despite my attempts to market it like a second Christmas Day, people still forget. Mine. 11th October. Also, Nal (Realouch) is getting older too, before me, although she remains younger than me. She doesn�t post here these days, instead she has gone into lurkerdom, regularly reading the posts, and bitching about you all behind your backs on #sinister. ;) I need to get her a pressie, her birthday is this Sunday, I believe. I think I better make it a good pressie for that last comment. Librans are indeed, are darlings. Apparently, we�re meant to be beautiful, popular, modest, elegant, graceful, and diplomatic. I think that describes me perfectly anyway, dunno about the rest of you. * * * * * * * * Kieran told us how he fell in love with B&S. My story is a long one, as it works its way over three months or so. But here is a brief summary: March 1999: I meet my boyfriend, we get it on*, I go back to Norway where I was studying. April 1999: He sends me a tape with all sorts of music on it. I quite like one track, by some band called Belle And Sebastian. It�s called Sleep the Clock Around. I think they sound like the Wannadies. May 1999: I return from Norway (I only lasted two weeks after I went back after Easter, such was the force of love pulling me home) and spend the next two months listening to Mark telling me all about Belle and Sebastian, and Bowlie, and how great it is. He lends me their entire back catalogue, including the Gentle Waves and Looper. I�m fed up of hearing about them so I shove them into my cupboard for the next month or so. June 1999: I tell Mark I don�t really like B&S, having listened to a few tracks on the albums he leant me. I prefer Idlewild instead. It gets me in a good bitchin� mood for my days working at Scottish Widows call centre. Early July 1999: I�m starting to get bored of all this B&S talk. Like, whatever. Mid July 1999: T In The Park. I take my CD player; Mark plays nothing but B&S to me at the campsite. Late July 1999: A few days after T In The Park. I am in Edinburgh. I go into Fopp. I see someone out of Idlewild. They are playing that bloody Tigermilk record. Out of sheer �if you can�t beat em, let the fuckers just try and brainwash you� I buy Tigermilk and TWATTYBUS. August 1999: I am a convert. Take me to your leader. Incidentally, the asterisk in my last post, if you recall, was cos I thought that the interview Richard Lander linked to, was very similar to one that was published in the Big Issue, and conducted by Stacey Dahling. I might be wrong. Loving you and leaving you (but not in a quitting sinister way) Idles X *No doubt that phrase will be repeated to me in quotation marks, in the very near future. ===== http://groups.yahoo.com/group/corduroysmoke/ starting playground gossip and passing notes __________________________________ Do you Yahoo!? The New Yahoo! Shopping - with improved product search http://shopping.yahoo.com +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ Brought to you by the Sinister mailing list +---+ To send to the list mail sinister(a)missprint.org. To unsubscribe send "unsubscribe sinister" or "unsubscribe sinister-digest" to majordomo(a)missprint.org. WWW: http://www.missprint.org/sinister +-+ "sinsietr is a bit freaky" - stuart david, looper +-+ +-+ "legion of bedroom saddo devotees" "peculiarly deranged fanbase" +-+ +-+ "pasty-faced vegan geeks... and we LOST!" - NME April 2000 +-+ +-+ "frighteningly named Sinister List organisation" - NME May 2000 +-+ +-+ "sick posse of f**ked in the head psycho-fans" - NME June 2001 +-+ +-+ Nee, nee mun pish, chan pai dee kwa +-+ +-+ Snipp snapp snut, sa var sagan slut! +-+ +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+

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Sinister: Chicago release party/pubnic? picnic?
by laurel lemming 02 Oct '03

02 Oct '03

anyone in Chicagoland going to the release Monday night at Schubas? anyone interested in a Chicago meetup/picnic/pubnic before/after the show on 30 October? lem __________________________________ Do you Yahoo!? The New Yahoo! Shopping - with improved product search http://shopping.yahoo.com +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ Brought to you by the Sinister mailing list +---+ To send to the list mail sinister(a)missprint.org. To unsubscribe send "unsubscribe sinister" or "unsubscribe sinister-digest" to majordomo(a)missprint.org. WWW: http://www.missprint.org/sinister +-+ "sinsietr is a bit freaky" - stuart david, looper +-+ +-+ "legion of bedroom saddo devotees" "peculiarly deranged fanbase" +-+ +-+ "pasty-faced vegan geeks... and we LOST!" - NME April 2000 +-+ +-+ "frighteningly named Sinister List organisation" - NME May 2000 +-+ +-+ "sick posse of f**ked in the head psycho-fans" - NME June 2001 +-+ +-+ Nee, nee mun pish, chan pai dee kwa +-+ +-+ Snipp snapp snut, sa var sagan slut! +-+ +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+

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Sinister: Bhi machree Ohin trasna na farraige
by Christine Irene 02 Oct '03

02 Oct '03

so i have a tentative trip to the emerald isle in the works. yay. i found faily irresistable airfare via aer lingus so...we'll see what happens. things to do (or not do) in preparation: 1) read Ulysses.....for real this time 2) map out strategic plan for viewing all things Wildean and Joycean in the city 3) figure out how to get to finglas/ballymun part of city 4) find out how to get to st. kevin's christian brothers school (if still around) and mt. temple 5) sell vital organs to afford a night in the penthouse of the clarence hotel 6) learn how to say more than "I left my heart across the sea" and "my name is sean" in gaelic 7) try not to pester dirty vicar the way that i always do about all things irish 8) do something really important so that i, too, can be made a freeman of dublin 9) focus on NOT stalking Gavin Friday (this one will be tre difficult) 10) make sure aer lingus is not going on strike the day of my arrival or departure ~stine __________________________________ Do you Yahoo!? The New Yahoo! Shopping - with improved product search http://shopping.yahoo.com +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ Brought to you by the Sinister mailing list +---+ To send to the list mail sinister(a)missprint.org. To unsubscribe send "unsubscribe sinister" or "unsubscribe sinister-digest" to majordomo(a)missprint.org. WWW: http://www.missprint.org/sinister +-+ "sinsietr is a bit freaky" - stuart david, looper +-+ +-+ "legion of bedroom saddo devotees" "peculiarly deranged fanbase" +-+ +-+ "pasty-faced vegan geeks... and we LOST!" - NME April 2000 +-+ +-+ "frighteningly named Sinister List organisation" - NME May 2000 +-+ +-+ "sick posse of f**ked in the head psycho-fans" - NME June 2001 +-+ +-+ Nee, nee mun pish, chan pai dee kwa +-+ +-+ Snipp snapp snut, sa var sagan slut! +-+ +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+

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Sinister: how i fell in love with belle and sebastian
by Kieran Devaney 02 Oct '03

02 Oct '03

I only ever saw a double decker bus fall over once. It was the number eleven, over in Bourneville, not five minutes from the chocolate factory. You might remember the story, it was all over the newspapers at the time, with accusations of blame falling on all and sundry was it the drivers negligence that caused his death, and the death of his passengers? Was it an unclearly marked road? Poor visibility? No firm conclusion was reached, but I mention it so that if you have some recollection of the news items of the time, you may be able to piece together a visual more vivid and accurate than the one my words could ever conjure. I had just gotten off at the previous stop. It was still morning. There was drizzle in the air, a hangover from the previous nights rain, the sky was a great grey duvet and the road gleamed wet. The bus pulled away from my stop, turned a little too sharply into a corner, causing the wheels to mount the pavement, which in turn caused a nearby man out walking his dog to jump back in alarm. The bus then clipped an unfortunately positioned lamppost, teetered uncomfortably, and for one silent second lay in that awful no mans land of precariousness, between balance and imbalance, between life and death in fact. It could have been any number of factors which caused it to fall rather than simply and happily righting itself if the road hadnt been so wet, if there hadnt been so many passengers sitting on the wrong side of the bus, if the wind even had been slightly less strong that morning. All of us there, and no doubt those unfortunates still on the bus willed it back onto four wheels, held our breath, perhaps even swayed slightly to the left, but the bus, with a mind of its own and those tricky laws of physics to obey described a slow, painful arabesque, and fell flat into a puddle in the road. The contents of the puddle flew back upwards, as though mocking the bus with negative motion, and landed, soaking the man and his dog. One day in very fortnight I would skip school. You might not think if you spoke to me that Id be the sort to do that, or that Id be very good at it if I was. But I did, and I was. Usually, I would pick the day to skip a long while in advance, so I could plan exactly what to do and then ensure Id be ok to do it. Most truants know to stay away from town centres, but most truants overestimate the vigilance of our police force. If youre not wearing a school uniform then theyll leave you alone much easier to dream up a training day or a particularly youthful looking college student than to have to fill in all the relevant paperwork and make all the phone calls and ask all the questions. Anything for a quiet life. My plan for the day in question had been to go into town. I would get changed in the McDonalds toilets during the morning rush, and then sit on a bench somewhere, eat my sandwiches and watch the people until it was time to go home. I still love to do that. Or at least that had been the plan, a long tried and tested one with a history of success at that, until a couple of days beforehand a boy at school called Simon told me all about the number eleven bus. He said that the number eleven has the longest route of any bus service in the entire country. Im not sure if this is really true, and Simon was often engaging in tedious practical jokes, but this seemed such a ridiculous thing to bother lying about that I believed him then, and I suppose I still believe him now. As soon as he told me, I knew I had to ride the number eleven all the way round, the whole circle, and that the next opportunity to do this would be Thursday, the day I planned to skip. Normally I wasnt nearly so impetuous I would make a schedule and stick to it, indeed, the careful planning and execution became almost ceremonial to me, and the longer I kept playing truant the more detailed and elaborate those schedules became. Not that I ever did anything particularly daring or likely to get me in trouble so much did I fear getting caught, but even this meagre risk was more than enough for me. The thought of it fills me with a tangible sense of dread even now. The night before a truant day I would often lie awake torturing myself with the potential questions that a tawdry parade of police, teachers and parents would rain down upon me Where did you go? Why there? Whats wrong with school? I could answer none of them satisfactorily, not even to myself. I guess that illicit thrill, however much of a cliché, played a big part in why I did it, why I kept doing it, for the continuing forgery of sick notes, odd excuses meant that getting found out became increasingly likely over the months and years, and the later I actually was discovered, the harsher the consequences. But, like those who leap off mountains, or travel to the poles, or even just watch horror films, it was the proximity to danger, to fear, that made me appreciate both danger and fear, and the lack of it in my everyday existence, all the more. And how wonderful those stolen days were, spent in odd places, places I wouldnt ever dream of going at the weekend or during the holidays any bleak concrete shopping centre, or ugly cul-de-sac became an adventure, fraught with perils, but containing infinite hidden riches and excitement. I even began to think that places withheld their charm to me during my real free time, and that only in those few midday, midweek hours would they show themselves in full bloom. And the looks people would give me, the shouldnt you be in school? scorn, the envious glance, the knowing wink, I loved them all. It all filled me with a kind of succulent ambivalence which squirmed and undulated all through me on those days, and made me savour them in a way I couldnt savour any other day, everything seemed clearer, as though only once a fortnight I put glasses on and saw the world properly after thirteen days of murky half-blindness. For this particular Thursday, however, I didnt make much of a plan, reasoning in part that simply sitting on a bus and riding round didnt warrant it, but also I had an odd nervous feeling about prospect, a niggling sense of premonition. Forgive me, please, if you feel Im foreshadowing events, or that I, with hindsight, am endowing myself with the power of premonition, but I distinctly felt a slight discomfort at my hastily decided preparations. At the time I dismissed it as mere nerves at having changed my mind so soon before the allotted day, and perhaps thats all it was, but to calm myself on Wednesday night I sketched a rough map of the route, and listed all the places I could think of that it passed through from Yardley on to Stetchford, past the swimming baths, past where my best friend from primary school who I dont see anymore still, to my knowledge, lives, through the awkward junction where it crosses the fourteen route, up the hill to the Fox and Goose and on to Erdingtons rows of charity shops and the grimness of a local shopping centre dying out to supermarkets and Merry Hill, and yet further, to Aston, where I was supposed to be at school, Perry Bar, Handsworth and so on, all the way round and back to where I started. But even this list didnt calm me. Thursday morning arrived in unspectacular fashion, but I awoke feeling much more comfortable and excited about the forthcoming day. So elated was I, in fact, that I could barely conceal my glee from my mother, who looked questioningly at me. I dont think she suspected a thing though, and happily I bounded out of the house and into the damp morning. I turned off my usual route as soon as I was out of sight of the house and walked the half-mile to the eleven stop. Unusually, I didnt have too long to wait before a bus turned up, it was long enough ago for it to have been one of those grey and blue ones, the old design. I got on and showed my pass. My favourite seat was even free, which was fortunate for the time of day I like to sit downstairs, on the back seat by the window, preferably on the same side as the doors, but that bit isnt too important. Today I got the perfect seat nothing, I thought could ruin today, and I settled back. The driver took things leisurely up Stoney Lane, that pleased me, nothing worse than bus drivers rushing, and I gazed happily at the familiar territory, the health centre, the swimming baths, my old friends house, all well known to me. On we carried, up past what would soon become the ghastly new Retail Park, but was then just derelict warehouses and yet further onto the Fox and Goose, with its giant bingo hall and pragmatic post-war architecture, not a dribble of concrete wasted, not on the covered walkways of the shopping complex, not on the car park, nowhere. Everywhere bustled with the new morning, people rushing now, a bit late to school or work perhaps, and nowhere yet filled with those gangs of youths who would ask all kinds of difficult questions about your haircut. It was nice to start like this, on well known territory, and I relished the thought of the less familiar places yet to come, perhaps a few eleven stops were still completely unknown to me, and then later on the places would grow more and familiar as I came gloriously full circle. One stop after the Fox and Goose a boy and a girl got on and came and sat down at the back, by the other window, just a little down from me. I noticed them right away, so different were they from anyone else on the bus, or anyone else that you ever saw on the whole eleven route even. They looked a few years my senior, but probably still of school age, and, if you were in the right company, you might say they dressed twee. Of course that word, and indeed the whole notion was unfamiliar to me at the time. I saw a boy with longish straight dark hair, parted on one side, a sort of bowl cut, wearing glasses with thick black frames, a thick brown duffle coat and black flared cords. I couldnt see what was under the coat. I saw a girl with two blonde pigtails, a flowery blouse underneath her coat, the collar of which I could just make out, and a dark skirt which looked like it was made of tweed or something like that, black tights and red mary-janes. They were both thin and small, but they held hands and sat and whispered and giggled to each other on the back seat as though oblivious to all else. I was fascinated. I dont think Id ever seen people dressed like that before, nor a couple so quietly content. Its difficult to put into perspective now of course, but I was instantly attracted. To say I fancied either of them, or both of them would be a misinterpretation though, I was too young and naïve for such desires to be properly manifest then, rather their presence aroused in me a kind of new curiosity. Their look, their comportment, even from just the fleeting glimpse I got, suggested a kind of quiet defiance, an embrace, a clinging to even, of certain values, certain ideas of youth or of love or of the world, and an outright rejection of others and perhaps they were wrong to reject the values they did, if they did (far be it for me to put words in the mouths of those Ill never know), but on the number eleven, headed towards Erdington high street, they spoke another world to me. We carried on riding like that for some time. I stole occasional glance over at them, or attempted to eavesdrop on their conversation, but to no avail. After a while, somewhere around Handsworth, the girl pulled a walkman out of her bag, and she and the boy took one earphone each, and from then on they sat silently listening to the girls tape and holding hands. Some three quarters of an hour later, they turned the tape over and resumed listening. By now we were a good way along the route, just getting into Bourneville I had more or less left the couple to themselves, so caught up were they in the music and each other that I couldnt get much else out of them than what I already had. But I was grateful for that at least. I gazed absent-mindedly out at the pretty houses and trees and factories, enjoying myself, thinking that this wasnt taking quite as long as Id anticipated, and that maybe Id have time to go into town for a bit afterwards as well. Just then, as we approached another stop, I noticed, standing there in the small queue, and even doing that pointless shuffle forward that people about to get on buses so often do, Simon, a friend of my mothers. I cursed inwardly. I couldnt let him spot me here, he certainly wasnt the sort I could confide in, quite the opposite in fact, and even if he had been, this was my secret, and I wasnt about to go confessing it, even to the most sympathetic ear. Cursing him again, I stood up, glancing back for the last time at the couple on the bus. Apart from me they had been on the bus the longest of anyone, and there were certainly quicker ways of getting to these parts than the eleven, I wondered if they had the same plan as me. This thought, though I would never find out an answer to its implied question, comforted me as I turned away and shielded my face, disembarking just as Simon climbed aboard. Im pretty sure he didnt see me hed be the sort to say something if he had, but Ill never know that for sure either. I decided at the bus stop that all was not lost; I would simply get on the next bus that came along and finish the route. It would be almost as good. And this is what happened. The bus took a corner too fast, it hit a lamppost, which caused it to overbalance, and it fell over. The noise made by the impact was horrendous, for weeks afterwards everything else seemed quiet in comparison. People stopped. Cars stopped. I, powered more by some neglected reflex than real intention, ran straight across the road to where the bus was lying. A bus on its side is still taller than most people. The whole of the drivers side had been completely crushed. The metal twisted and distressed, the paint cracked, the windows broken, the tyres popped. Everyone on the bus had died instantly. I peered into the hole where the back window had been. Everything was slow and still and silent. Inside, bodies wee crushed and askew, stricken, some pierced by shards of glass or pieces of metal, others near invisible under piles of others, unrecognisable under seats and bars, limbs protruded at sickening angles, the whole frame had collapsed in on itself. It was hardly recognisable as the same bus Id been riding not a minute beforehand. I looked over for the boy and girl. They lay against each other, a trickle of blood ran from the corner of the boys mouth onto the girls forehead and then down the side of her mangled face, mingling with her own blood, a whole pool of it now oozed out from under the bus. And the last newspaper article I remember about the incident was a complaint from some local resident about how some of the bloodstains on the road were yet to be removed. Their walkman lay between them, strangely unharmed by the wreckage. I reached inside and managed to pull it out, there was some blood on the casing. I removed the tape, and put the walkman back inside. By now more people were arriving, so I pocketed the tape and left quickly, still prominent in my mind was the idea that I could be caught playing truant. But I knew too that this would be the last time I ever could, and the last time I could ever take the number eleven too. I walked the whole way home, shaken. That evening I pulled the tape from my pocket. On one side it said Tigermilk and on the other, Sinister, which rather dates the piece. Without bothering to rewind it I put the Tigermilk side on. All at once the words filled my room Why dont you lead me to a living end And thats how I fell in love with Belle and Sebastian. _________________________________________________________________ Use MSN Messenger to send music and pics to your friends http://www.msn.co.uk/messenger +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ Brought to you by the Sinister mailing list +---+ To send to the list mail sinister(a)missprint.org. To unsubscribe send "unsubscribe sinister" or "unsubscribe sinister-digest" to majordomo(a)missprint.org. WWW: http://www.missprint.org/sinister +-+ "sinsietr is a bit freaky" - stuart david, looper +-+ +-+ "legion of bedroom saddo devotees" "peculiarly deranged fanbase" +-+ +-+ "pasty-faced vegan geeks... and we LOST!" - NME April 2000 +-+ +-+ "frighteningly named Sinister List organisation" - NME May 2000 +-+ +-+ "sick posse of f**ked in the head psycho-fans" - NME June 2001 +-+ +-+ Nee, nee mun pish, chan pai dee kwa +-+ +-+ Snipp snapp snut, sa var sagan slut! +-+ +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+

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Sinister: Climpy*
by Paulo Stinsoni 02 Oct '03

02 Oct '03

Hello, I wanted to say something, just something, but I can't think of anything. I haven't sinisterated for such a while (been mailin' people off list a bit tho') and I just felt you needed to hear my voice, to show I haven't been scared away by the threat of rectally inserted oars. TOPIC I don't have one. Oh sure I could easily glide down the "I can't wait until the album comes out" route, or "I'm going to the gig in London", (oh that cool set in London) but I think this has been covered by so many others. Ah well. Bit pointless really. Still, it's better than working (I'm at work at the moment) OK, here's something I say when lying in bed in the dark, with Theresa Lovely, "Tell me something I don't know". It's great, you find out all sorts of stuff. I'll start you off - As well as being a musical junky, I play Dungeons and Dragons. Check that - a 35 year old playing D&D. Every week too! Now your turn. Go on tell us all (or I'll look a fool, again) Well, I'm off. See you all Paulo *PS - Climpy - I thought I'd made this word up, but it's a town in Scotland. I've been getting my son, Spike, to use it on his friends at school, to try to get it in the dictionary, or at least in popular slang. Go on, call someone a Climpy. Basically it means "a fool". _________________________________________________________________ It's fast, it's easy and it's free. Get MSN Messenger today! http://www.msn.co.uk/messenger +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ Brought to you by the Sinister mailing list +---+ To send to the list mail sinister(a)missprint.org. To unsubscribe send "unsubscribe sinister" or "unsubscribe sinister-digest" to majordomo(a)missprint.org. WWW: http://www.missprint.org/sinister +-+ "sinsietr is a bit freaky" - stuart david, looper +-+ +-+ "legion of bedroom saddo devotees" "peculiarly deranged fanbase" +-+ +-+ "pasty-faced vegan geeks... and we LOST!" - NME April 2000 +-+ +-+ "frighteningly named Sinister List organisation" - NME May 2000 +-+ +-+ "sick posse of f**ked in the head psycho-fans" - NME June 2001 +-+ +-+ Nee, nee mun pish, chan pai dee kwa +-+ +-+ Snipp snapp snut, sa var sagan slut! +-+ +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+

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Sinister: Yes, I Am Reading, Writing & Arithmetic
by P F 02 Oct '03

02 Oct '03

The Vicar said that most of what I had said about going to Dublin was true. That was true. Unfortunately I cannot write a follow-up for Ms Wesley unless I start making things up. Perhaps the Vicar could start us off on this process. Elsewhere I have enjoyed (where) the Vicar's ex cathedra pronouncements on the results of debates on late B&S. They were correct also. Chu went to Hong Kong to hear his song. That is going the extra mile for a piece. Stout Robin, of whose regular sinister appearances I in principle approve, averred that rude words are, or were, inherently funny. (I don't suppose he used the word 'inherently'. Perhaps I am traducing him; save that I am not.) I think that he is wrong. He does not even trouble to register the REAL LIFE DEBATE we once had on this question. I think we were in Greenwich Park (at the time). I think that finding rude words funny as a matter of course is lame. But so, I suppose, are some horses, which is also a matter of course(s). Like others I have been struck by the names which have popped up on sinister lately. One of them was the Duke of Haranguey (stet). He said something about SW UK place names being appropriate ingredients for pop songs, eg. by B&S. I (q.v.) agree. As I have already told him [private communication], and will now weary him by saying again, my equivalent of this occurs on ALADDIN SANE, where 'Paris or maybe Hell' ought to be, and was initially thought by me to be, 'Paris or maybe Hull'. I imagine that you can see the superiority of my version, and the way that this confirms the Duke's fiefdom of wisdom. I have not heard the new B&S record. But I did in fact hear some tracks at the house of Jerry the Nipper. My judgement on, or of, them is not reliable. For one thing, the Nipper's computer transforms the way that records sound. It makes David Bowie sound like David Jones - of the Monkees! It makes Elton John sound like Reg Presley - *his real name*. It makes Ken Bruce sound like the comedian Ken Dodd, or possibly the comedian Martin Heidegger, offering you a cheese and onion crisp. Only the one, mind. For another, I am not sure whether what JtN played was the actual content of the forthcoming record, or something else. For another, my listening was distracted and inprecise. For another, I disapprove of listening to music in that fashion, so I am battling to repress whatever it was I Heseltine, I mean, Hurd. To that extent I have not Douglas the new record yet. Is it out? JtN has somewhere said that it sounds like Squeeze. They are a band that it is quite fun to call 'Sqeeze'. I like The Squeeze, as PJ Milner has in the past appellated them, quite a lot. I am not though sure whether the B&S band should attempt to sound like them. A record that is quite good is Roger McGuinn's 'Friend'. I think that its 'lyric' may have been written by Jacques Levy, who also co-wrote 'Hurricane'. Another record that is quite good is 'I'm So Restless', on which I think that Dylan plays harmonica like Dylan in the 70s. I am occasionally doing battle with a rogue copy-editor. Perhaps I should say no more for now about this fell figure who strongly feels that the word 'keynote' should be altered to 'cornerstone', the fetching' to 'winding', and 'Strasse' to 'street'. Dav[id] Jones of the Monkees (stet) has been gearing up to release a new record about dangerous driving, called 'New Killer Car'. I wonder if anyone, possibly called "Peter", would like to report back on how it sounds. __________________________________ Do you Yahoo!? The New Yahoo! Shopping - with improved product search http://shopping.yahoo.com +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ Brought to you by the Sinister mailing list +---+ To send to the list mail sinister(a)missprint.org. To unsubscribe send "unsubscribe sinister" or "unsubscribe sinister-digest" to majordomo(a)missprint.org. WWW: http://www.missprint.org/sinister +-+ "sinsietr is a bit freaky" - stuart david, looper +-+ +-+ "legion of bedroom saddo devotees" "peculiarly deranged fanbase" +-+ +-+ "pasty-faced vegan geeks... and we LOST!" - NME April 2000 +-+ +-+ "frighteningly named Sinister List organisation" - NME May 2000 +-+ +-+ "sick posse of f**ked in the head psycho-fans" - NME June 2001 +-+ +-+ Nee, nee mun pish, chan pai dee kwa +-+ +-+ Snipp snapp snut, sa var sagan slut! +-+ +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+

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Sinister: I'd rather be in Tokyo Joe's
by Sharon Leach 02 Oct '03

02 Oct '03

Dirty Vicar said: <<I am reminded of one thing from a while back - remember how the B&S manager person laid into some poor American who was all sad because B&S weren't coming to her town? He said that the band had played there before and were now more interested in playing in places they hadn't been to before, like Reykjavik. Since then the band have basically ignored Reykjavik and played a succession of gigs in towns they've already played in. If I lived in Iceland I would be very annoyed.>> Don't worry love, they're over it. In my recent sojourn to Reykjavik, they were quite happily playing TBWTAS in Damon Albarn's bar. And at no point did they cast any black magic over the band to prove their dismay. In fact, they looked to be enjoying the album, dancing around while pouring my extortionate Schnapps. So I think they forgive B&S, unless there's a Northern European tour that I don't know about... Mr Chu said: <<If how I guess the album is going to be is correct, it's almost going to be like B&S have matured and won't be spending the whole time singing about having being odd in school and having no friends or having wet dreams anymore, but sometimes sing about having loved and hurt and a being better person for it, or choking on cornflakes. And I am going to like it.>> Well said. The band have matured, the sound has matured and the lyrics have matured. And they sound a whole world better for it. Asleep on a Sunbeam just seems to say everything about my life at the moment, the title track is practically Morricone and yay for Thin Lizzy tributes. I've been listening to the album online all week, and I can't stop. I go home at night and sing the songs to myself, eager to get to work the next day so I can listen to the album again. I've always liked B&S. Now I finally love them. This is the start of a long and beautiful relationship together :D sharon xxx *all hail Trevor Horn* ===== ________________________________________________________________________ Want to chat instantly with your online friends? Get the FREE Yahoo! Messenger http://mail.messenger.yahoo.co.uk +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ Brought to you by the Sinister mailing list +---+ To send to the list mail sinister(a)missprint.org. To unsubscribe send "unsubscribe sinister" or "unsubscribe sinister-digest" to majordomo(a)missprint.org. WWW: http://www.missprint.org/sinister +-+ "sinsietr is a bit freaky" - stuart david, looper +-+ +-+ "legion of bedroom saddo devotees" "peculiarly deranged fanbase" +-+ +-+ "pasty-faced vegan geeks... and we LOST!" - NME April 2000 +-+ +-+ "frighteningly named Sinister List organisation" - NME May 2000 +-+ +-+ "sick posse of f**ked in the head psycho-fans" - NME June 2001 +-+ +-+ Nee, nee mun pish, chan pai dee kwa +-+ +-+ Snipp snapp snut, sa var sagan slut! +-+ +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+

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Sinister: Fill Your Pants, Child, You Wank Like A Professional
by robin stout 02 Oct '03

02 Oct '03

Hullo again, It has been brought to my attention that the link to Richard's dirty video didn't work. Have a try with this instead: http://www.lesinrocks.com/DetailArticle.cfm?iditem=162182 . While watching this video I felt like worlds were colliding and all of our Sinister smut-sodden parodies over the years were finally being played out before my very eyes. A very strange feeling indeed. Or maybe it was all the darling honeys in the video that gave me that strange feeling. Hmm. I wonder if the video was directed by William G Stewart.. Um, that was all I popped in to say, but seeing as I'm at the bar I may as well buy a drink, take off my hat, and bore you all a bit longer. The Vicar said: << The new Belle & Sebastian album is called "Dear Catastrophe Waitress". Three words, shortenable to the initials DCW. So why are people inventing an endless succession of >10 letter "acronyms" for it? As an old person I feel that this was maybe funny for TBWTAS, but it has outlived its usefulness. >> Yeah, well I guess if it was about usefulness we could all just call it "Waitress". But I think I like making up stupid acronyms for the same reasons I like Ken Chu: because it's absurd, pointless and rude. Yeah, rude words are funny, basically. I was having another look at the dearcatastrophewaitress.com website last night, and there's all sorts of things to discover. The band bio is like worlds colliding again, with some great lines about Dennis Waterman, and about how Stuart David had a lot of spunk but a face like a bag of spanners. Erm, what else? Just read Ken's post and would like to say I agree about If She Wants Me being a great song. I think more people should write about how ace it is. The instrumentation - all those pianos and organs - is fantastic. Just came back from the shop, where I bought a scone, and read a review of the new album in Q. The reviewer gave it 3 stars, which is fair enough, but said something about how the lyrics follow their usual habit of being too "fey, shallow and smug". I understand the first accusation, but the second and third are a bit strange. Perhaps if he wants a band that isn't shallow or smug he should start listening to Robbie Williams, or the Strokes, say. I think we should start a campaign for Belle and Sebastian to play at the Duke's school. It would be brilliant, though I'd be worried that the band might get beaten up. bye Robin _________________________________________________________________ Stay in touch with absent friends - get MSN Messenger http://www.msn.co.uk/messenger +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ Brought to you by the Sinister mailing list +---+ To send to the list mail sinister(a)missprint.org. To unsubscribe send "unsubscribe sinister" or "unsubscribe sinister-digest" to majordomo(a)missprint.org. WWW: http://www.missprint.org/sinister +-+ "sinsietr is a bit freaky" - stuart david, looper +-+ +-+ "legion of bedroom saddo devotees" "peculiarly deranged fanbase" +-+ +-+ "pasty-faced vegan geeks... and we LOST!" - NME April 2000 +-+ +-+ "frighteningly named Sinister List organisation" - NME May 2000 +-+ +-+ "sick posse of f**ked in the head psycho-fans" - NME June 2001 +-+ +-+ Nee, nee mun pish, chan pai dee kwa +-+ +-+ Snipp snapp snut, sa var sagan slut! +-+ +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+

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