Fellow Sinistreens, This is my first posting to the sinister mailing list. I will, therefore, briefly introduce myself. My name is Gordon, I am 29 and work as an 'architect' (final examinations lurk... it takes ages to become one) in Scotland. If I am known at all to readers of this list, it is under the indulgently pompous persona of 'Rousseau' in the associated chatroom. The grandiloquent ellipticality demonstrated there to occassionally controversial effect does actually have some of the 'real me' in it, so if you can't stand Rousseau, then you know whose posts to skip! Belle and Sebastian I'm currently enjoying the *Tigermilk* album. I'm still not sure about the suitability of the lyrics, largely sighs over things not going quite right, and the music, which is winsome and jaunty. A more comprehensive companionableness is offered, I suppose: sympathy in the under-par times and happy if you are. For example, the notes upon which this email is based were written one sunny lunchtime to which it played as a perfect soundtrack. It should be said that I'm skirting only on a superficial critique of an album that all of you know very well. I don't wish to be impertinent in seeming to 'sum up' the album as 'not a dull track on it/love it to bits' but you get the gist of my affection for the band and its output and, dare I admit it, I only bought *Tigermilk* a couple of days ago. I bought *If You're Feeling Sinister* in 1996, Virgin Records, Oxford Street. With reference to a recent posting, nobody's arm was on fire at the time. It was on one of the listening posts, I donned the headphones, fancied the girl on the cover, thought 'this is a breath of fresh air' and made the purchase. I also liked the song titles and especially the descriptive bit on the back,which is indicative of the particularly engaging style of Belle and Sebastian and, I think more significantly, the whole culture surrounding them: I like the people that like them. The Religion Thread My standing on the matter (for what it's worth) is this: One should first of all distinguish between the concepts of religion as it pertains to the functioning of a society and as it intimates the spiritual. Religion is, in the first sense, a vehicle for the dissemination of rules and aspirations of and for behaviour such that a society might progress along a traditional path. To disagree with religion here is to posit an anarchic potential or else is an explicit preference for an alternative societal model, such as secularism. In the second sense, religion offers a shared framework for experiencing the potential of life beyond the concepts established within mundane experience. To disagree with this is either to suggest that beyond mundane experience is nothing or to put that aspect of one's existence in an inexpressably personal form. I reckon it is possible to further analyse specific acts in the first category, and beliefs in the second in order to establish, respectively, their desireability and truth. The above stance precludes me from being either 'for' or 'against' religion as a hermetic and monolithic entity. Stop Press Fold yer hands, child, is currently available from Sainsbury's supermarket at £9.99 a pop. Another Concert I recently attended a small pop concert in Edinburgh, at a good venue called *the Attic*. I was thinking of writing a little review of it for you lot, being pop fans and all, but my mind wandered somewhat, to the effect below... by the way, I use non-prose writing when it comes naturally. I make no claims for it: songs from the Attic (an architectural term in two etymological senses and ... with love to Athens) were I to say the whine of feedback makes my day:- and the beer-soaked dinky wee floor; cigarette butts galore, was an aesthetic pre-amble, then:- need I say more? some people want catharsis; some spread their arms wide, some are happy; -to be part of it- others hide. Some pose Expectantly, because it is what they are accustomed to, and all around is noise; musical noise of the rock-god whore. 'STARSKY': the band, starts with a slow number:- lots of phased guitar. A soundless, sweaty clap at the end reminds me of speechless, sweaty dancing, leaden drums offering the lumpen rhythmic cue, to the love of my lost teenage angst; the inarticulate passion that, inexpressible and unactable I rationed out I did not even want Except for the feeling: I want that feeling again As always for a first post, one is anxious about all that one does and says, but in reading your own posts I have felt companionship, comfort, amusement and occasional reading, which is something I've enjoyed so far. I look forward to being part of that. Gordon +----------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ Brought to you by the undead Sinister mailing list +---+ To send to the list mail sinister@missprint.org. To unsubscribe send "unsubscribe sinister" or "unsubscribe sinister-digest" to majordomo@missprint.org. 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