Well, bind my wrists and call me Suzy, it's been a funny old week. First up, we're told that the Antarctic's gone all melty and by 2200 the first floor flat above the butcher's on Glossop High Street will be the only dry place left in Britain. Unless I can decorate the place myself, I'd rather drown. The Minister For The Next Ice Age (a former associate of mine: we used to co-edit Gehirnglasschlacke in the 70s - "the magazine that talks to people as if they were stupid") was forced to resign in some disgrace and no little confusion. I told him to give up the booze and the one-night stands, find some quiet little town and forget about everything. I used to think it was so easy... Secondly, I carelessly threw a tin of Sun-Pat at Isobel Campbell at a fun-fair and knocked all her teeth out. Every single one of them - even those hard-to-reach fellas at the back. I think *they* went down her throat. No, hang on - I've never been to a fun-fair in my life. Oi, Starry - are you beaming stuff into my head again or what ? Stop it - it makes my nose tingle. Onto happier matters... Though the Belles have been quiet for a while (too long), their influence continues to spread, slipping its tender tendrils into the most unexpected places. Three gems I'm currently giving headspace to bear the Mark of Murdoch: "Hospice Epiphany" by Malediction Gnostic - their third release for the OxBlood imprint, a single-sided 10" of amusical chaos, asphyxiating dread and tape-death. Three minutes and forty-six seconds in, the clammy fog lifts briefly and a grief-stricken bassoon chews its way across the stereo image. It pauses, distressingly clogged, and a cardigan zipper can be heard. "nu beleef" by Nixxy Cashwreck & DJ Dispute - a shockingly intense slab of Granular ShamGlitch, which seduces as it unravels. Sure to be a big noize with the Controv set for the Teresa Gorman sample alone, it's opaque slink-beat lets up just long enough for a young male voice to syrup-coo an ode to a salesgirl at BHS. The flip is the usual fleshy cackola from DuckDuct - avoid. "Drizzle On The Fens" by Ghyllis Sourhardy - at first I thought I'd struck gold: that rare 1977 Sanguine pressing of the late tenor-flautist's most miserable work ? The one withdrawn shortly after release following concerns over the insufficiently dour sleeve-art ? No - it was the reissue, lovingly packaged on SupaDense vinyl, complete with Sourhardy's original essay "Friends are just strangers you've learned to hate". But the '98 bonus track - recorded shortly before Sourhardy's fatal encounter with a puma - reeks of bouncy trumpet and choppy guitar, hesitant recorder and nervous cello. It's a lovely, sunny piece, though one is reminded of the endless indeterminacy of meaning here and there. I want to go home now. {st'e'a-d-y} mik'e. __________________________________________________ Do You Yahoo!? Thousands of Stores. Millions of Products. All in one place. Yahoo! Shopping: http://shopping.yahoo.com +----------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ Brought to you by the reborn Sinister mailing list +---+ To send to the list mail "sinister@majordomo.net". To unsubscribe send "unsubscribe sinister" or "unsubscribe sinister-digest" to "majordomo@majordomo.net". WWW: http://www.majordomo.net/sinister +-+ "legion of bedroom saddo devotees" "tech-heads and students" +-+ +-+ "the cardie wearing biscuit nibbling belle & sebastian list" +-+ +-+ "sinsietr is a bit freaky" - stuart david, looper +-+ +----------------------------------------------------------------------+