hello. i'm new here, can anyone tell me where the toilets are? okay, so that's a lie, i seem to have been here forever. but i still don't know where the porcelain is. and honey, i *still* think that there should be a delete button to remove those posts from the archive that a body now regrets ever sending. just glad i have since changed my name. crawled out from under this rock to mail this because for once i can actually claim to have b&s content. this, however, could be ruined by the fact it may already have been posted, but i can't be sure because for some reason i can't collect my mail. so apologies if this is a repeat. where was i? oh, yeah... in today's scotsman (under a picture of stu m with the caption 'belle and sebastian: stuart murdoch's corduroy crew have produced a gem wrapped up beautifully in christmas mischief'): ---------------------- belle and sebastian this is just a modern rock song jeepster, £3.99 * * * * * (yes, that's five stars of out of five, and you can get it from coda or fopp for £2.99) recent changes to chart rules mean band can now only put three songs on a single where previously four were allowed. in protest at this - or, as is more likely, because they are scotland's most contrary rock group - belle and sebastian have released a four-track single. or a very mini album, depending on how you look at it. consequently this is just a modern rock song will feature in neither the singles nor the album charts, which is a crime because it deserves to be in both. it will, however, sell in bucket-loads - sales figures released yesterday show it would have charted in the top 20 had it been eligible - so the shy and retiring glaswegians will make pots of money and still not have to do the christmas top of the pops. if only the spice girls had thought to do the same. that belle and sebastian have ended 1998 with such a tour de force is a great relief. on the boy with the arab strap, the bands third album, murdoch and his muse looked in need of counselling: not so now. the seven-minute title track alone shows the pair have rediscovered each other's intimate bits, though in murdoch's case you suspect that means nothing south of his funny bone. the ep features the gate, sung by cellist isobel campbell, whose is it wicked not to care? was one of the last album's highlights; i know where the summer goes; and slow graffiti. but it is the title track which is the real triumph. on it, murdoch's uncertain voice is once more shown to be perfect for his quirky lyrics. the song's string parts and three-cord drone recall the velvet underground, but the achingly beautiful harmonies and the slow, weary melody are pure belle and sebastian. power without noise is murdoch's forte and the power comes, as always, from the weird little world he paints. you can picture him riding a bus trip up the byres road, scribbling lyrics into a notebook he keeps in his duffelcoat pocket. 'we are four boys in our corduroys, we're not terrific but we're competent,' the group sings. it's the same tone that edwyn collins adopted in the early days of orange juice: self-referential and charmingly self-mocking. meanwhile, the band members' foibles are analysed in a comic inventory which plays on their reputation for being publicity-shy: 'stevie's full of good intentions, richard's into rock and roll, stuart's staying in and he thinks it's a sin that he has to leave the house at all.' stuart murdoch harmonises on the first two lines then bows out before his own name is mentioned. well, it's only polite isn't it? barry didcock ---------------------- and while i am here, i shouldn't let the chance pass to add that modern rock song and slow graffiti float my boat. actually, they float my boat out the harbour, against the rising tide, through the atlantic breakers, round the headland, and out into the deep blue sea. did i say my boat was pea-green? me? sycophantic? nooooo. and i think i can sneak this in too, seeing as i have mentioned b&s.. to all those i promised packages: the books, cds, tapes, badly written letters, cards, scraps of paper, stories, pictures, underwear, and love poems have been mailed, albeit a day later than the last for christmas post (hey, i'm slow, okay? but they should all arrive before crimbles). the only thing i haven't mailed is the lightswitch cover i promised a darling soul, but it'll be on it's way soon, and you really don't have to do this, especially when your hands are so full =). oh, and thank you to the other sweet soul who so kindly helped with the documents and the call to the estate agents, you didn't have to. a park road address is not too far away. i'll call you tonight. and to everyone else, the flat-warming'll be sometime in the new year. =) and yes, it *is* possible to do uptight friday, and divine *and* the egg on saturday. but the taxi'll cost you £50, and the contents of your stomach. and thank you to miss s.H.v, for the tape that allows me to recreate the divine experience in the privacy of my own home, but without the slurring, lushing, and general lary-ness. well, maybe some. okay, i'm done. i'll disappear for another year. hope everyone is well, and have a wonderful christmas and a pissed-up new year. maybe see you in 1999, unless of course, you see me coming first. andy xoxo ps. keithyabas, where's my cd-r? =P hope you don't mind being reimbursed in liquid currency =) and hope you are feeling better, you looked knackered at the egg the other week. +----------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ Brought to you by the Sinister mailing list +---+ To send to the list please mail "sinister@majordomo.net". 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