It's hard to articulate the empty feeling that most Brits would have awoken to this morning.

For a time, I tried holding onto the hope that it would all pass as a troubled dream, transgressing into a sleepy head. But it soon dawned that no terror of the night would ever have been played out to an end of such elaborate and rampant evil.

No man is ever meant to be perfect. To some, the intent to strive towards that ideal never even registers. But to think that self-proclaimed men of God may have conceived the actions leading to this, makes me wary of the power that religion bestows.

The religious construct quite rightly incorporates principles for a life of peace and empathy: guidance that can still relate to any society. But with that intractably comes the prerogative of belief, which by definition is subjective and permissible even in the absence of reason.

While some things are not meant to be proven, today's events expose once again, that intrinsic conceptual flaw. That is, that belief in certain hands represents the ultimate weapon, giving absolute license for no end of evil. 

But in a world torn by disparity, religion is also one of the few undying and much needed sources of union: its binding force bridging both geographical and socioeconomic divides.

It is also undeniable that faith is capable of no end of good, as is the case with the overwhelming majority that practise it.

So where does that leave us? The very moral fabric that we depend on, has interlaced within it the one device against which there is no defence.

But hope remains still. Let there be enough goodwill between those eight men at Gleneagles to start closing the gaps of this world. And just maybe, one day, religion itself might still meet the perfection for which it was always intended.  

Right, I think a well-overdue philosophical rant is due. But getting the silly stuff outta the way first....

"A" at the Zodiac were quality. While the night was marred by yet another pricy piece of metalwork being devoured by the heaving pit, the band was on top form even if the crowd was not. "Teen Dance Ordinance", their latest offering is in stores later this month.

And from the process of educating myself in advance for this year's Reading fest comes the next musical recommendation. Alkaline Trio, though veterans of the US rock circuit, really have an emo gem on their hands with the new LP "Crimson". For anyone with the slightest penchant for emotive, heaving melody, these guys will deliver in a big way.  "Time To Waste", the opening single, is the track to carry the flag.

And as for the Scouse magic? Football fans, regardless of allegiance, must surely have been moved by proof, of the highest order, that in the grip of even insurmountable adversity there is always a way. Pride to deny the inevitable, a quality so sadly lacking in our own shade of red this season, is what makes this most unlikely of Liverpool squads the worthiest of champions.  

So, a week has passed that was, not at all, of the normal substance. Such a statement in truth is a rarity around these slow-moving parts of the world, where times seem to change at leisure and what few events are dampened to mere ripple on water.

But beneath even the calmest of surfaces may stir promise of both conquest and calamity. In mixed shades of both these extremes, the events of this past week have shaken the depths of me. Belief systems and their product cognitions, stubborn as they can be, have shifted. In some ways, the re-orientation taking place in my own mind of late, was that of which my floundering cause was most in need.

It is no secret of mine, though it is often dismissed as folly, that direction and desire have fallen from the bandwagon at some point. Life's progress once again plagued with doubt, as to where the path was leading and of whether any real hope remained of getting there anyway. Regretfully and it is with guilt that I admit this, that it is too often the grave misfortune of others that puts life's problems in perspective. How much the wiser we all could be with the sense to take a few steps back into the foreground when fate appears to lead us astray.   

To renew the dwindling evidence for my existence, I thought it might be prudent to write a short note/ update.

Played another gig this weekend, for an unusually sophisticated and more mature audience than normal, but it seems our charm is universal! hehe

It turns out that two of the groups of happy punters to approach us with congratulations at the after-party were the visiting ambassadors of sri lanka and thailand. somehow, i don't think there'll be any free trips to play in their homelands, but they were welcome and surprising compliments nonetheless :P 

A few weekends previously, when my other musical half was idling at home, we  laid down a few more recordings, some having been added to the website. Black Star, Everlong and The Warmth.

As for the near future, we're due to make an appearance on student radio in the coming weeks.

The webcast is available at this link: http://www.oxfordstudentradio.com/

I'll shout some more when the final slot and date is fixed.

Either it's my profound disorganisation or the distinctly uneventful life that I lead that best explains why these entries update as often as Chelsea throw games. But seeing as how the invincibles have decided to reveal their mortal side of late, there seems no better impetus to spout crap once more.

In the rough balance of things, pleasant surprise is tipping the scales against the dank and disillusioned right now. That's due largely to a particularly well-received show in Oxford that the band played last week, charting what must be a new performance level for all involved.

'Move On' proved a slightly nervy opening but there's nothing like a Radiohead classic to calm early jitters, 'Black Star' serving to do just that. Then came the dreaded foreign language number: words whose meaning  were lost on the likes of I, and with all the potential to make heroes or fools out of those crass enough to call upon them. In the end though, not even an instance of fleeting discord nor an attack of lyrical amnesia could detract from the rousing reception to follow.

Centrally blinded by stage parcans, there regrettably remains little in the way of visual recollection. What did however forge an undying mental entry, were the voices of female adulation (!) emanating from the dark expanse at our feet, the floral scent of the token gestures gifted to my spotlit hand and the unbelievable spectacle of candlelight and enamourous symbolism swaying lente in synchrony. To those who made up that fantastic audience, you have our heartfelt thanks.

You sure do know how to get the best out of your band! The love flows both ways guys.

From this turning-point on, the music flowed like the river before the fall: self-reinforcing in strength and finesse through the almighty trinity of 'Why Does It Always Rain On Me', 'Drive' & 'Time Of Your Life'. And then there was nothing.

With lips sealed and strings in fading resonance, we were so overwhelmed with relief, satisfaction and gratitude that the rest really is no more than a muddled tale. Beyond that adrenaline veil, all that can be concluded with any confidence is that these are the kind of moments that keep us all rocking.

Teenage kicks never get old. Well, not just yet anyway.

At long last, the new website for the band is up and running!

Hope you all enjoy it as much as we did making it:P

Feel free to leave a message in the guestbook.....

http://sub_rosa_online.tripod.com