Sinister: Bis cover Joy Division!

[Liz Daplyn]

  No, really, it’s as true as I can make it.  It’s a fantastically bleepy 
vocoder’d version of ‘Love Will Tear Us Apart’.  Slightly sacreligious, one 
might feel if one could be drawn to make judgements like that, but what are 
icons for if not, well, ‘clasting’?  Watch a space of your choice.

  Of course, I’ve already made my pronouncement on it by not immediately 
spitting in its general direction.  The malaise of not being able to stand 
up for or follow ideas through properly is an infuriating one prevalent in 
these alienated times.  If something is worth thinking about in the first 
place, it’s worth developing thoroughly and bringing to a positive (or 
negative, ho ho) conclusion, and it’s maddening to come across people (and, 
of course, one’s self, annoyingly) being smugly non-committal with their 
vaguely postmodern laziness.  Sitting on damp cold fences gives you piles, 
kids.

  My personal comfort blanket at the moment is ‘Stood On Gold’ by Gorky’s 
Zygotic Mynci.  Just to see its small yet perfectly formed vinyl loveliness 
begin to spin round (even before the music starts, just listening to the 
slight hiss through tasty Technics speakers) makes my bone marrow melt and 
my knotted intestines unravel with joy.  And when it’s finished (and 7”s 
finish so sweetly) the fragile arm of the cheap record player shifts from 
its active hovering position to glide silently back to the resting place 
where it comes to an halt with a tiny but definite click of satisfaction.

  Likewise the happiness of hearing Camera Obscura playing on the radio the 
other night.  They r!o!c!k!e!d!, in particular showcasing the ivory-tickling 
talents of the (most likely glamorously fishnetted) Miss Carey Lander of 
this parish.  I was a tad merry, having shared a bottle of Pinot Grigio with 
my mother over a most exciting green curry, and as the room revolved slowly 
about the central point of my futon in time to the gorgeous sounds from the 
stereo, all was well.

  Having spent far too much time _this_ weekend putting up my Mum's 
floor-length brown velvet curtains (very decadent and yet rather boring), I 
hope to be in London _next_ weekend to look at a house, go to the pub, and 
partake of at least a smidgen of the visit of the fragrant Ms Fruitloop.  
Oh, and maybe look at some art.  So if I see any of you there, don’t be 
offended if I seem absentminded.  I shall probably be drunk.

  Which reminds me: I really should refrain from boozing quite so much at 
gigs.  It’s all very well, but my quality control goes right out the window, 
so the old critical faculties aren’t really up to appreciating the music.  
Or maybe I’ve only seen fantastic bands lately.  Brixton in only a couple of 
weeks!

  If people are interested, there are some photographs of last month's 
Brighton extravaganza at
  http://photos.yahoo.com/wintryme
along with some other stuff from the latest batch of pictures I got returned 
with the aforementioned through the post.  I love mail order photo 
development.  Whoever it was that said they’ve become addicted to buying 
things on the internet, I’m with you there.  Getting parcels in the post is 
so exciting because you never know precisely when they’re going to come, or 
whether the item purchased is going to live up to or even exceed 
expectations.  It’s the pleasurable uncertainty that one craves.  Like being 
in love, no?  Mmmm.


  Liz :x


---
        Tsuki-Yuki-Hana

Twitch the blind and peep at the moon
The big round moon like a piece of soap.
It washes the daytime out of your eyes
And fills them with night-time.

          Ivor Cutler
---






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