"At Trinity" genre: Industrial
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	A contemplation of the social and the individual.
	CD: unreleased Credits: Instruments and Vocals - Daniel
	Story Behind the Song "At Trinity" is a tale of intellectual mentoring and rebellion. It was written in 1990, while I was travelling in England. Trinity College at Cambridge University is the intellectual capital of analytic philosophy. This song is specifically about the academic relationship between Ludwig Wittgenstein and Bertrand Russell. This "relationship" struck me as almost one of parent and child - where rebellion is the inevitable outcome. However, in the case of Wittgenstein, the rebellion grew out of a genuine disagreement in philosophy. Wittgenstein had "grown up and out" so to speak.* I'm sort of proud of the line about "dancing along copper wires." Since this song was written long before the amazing rise in popularity of networking and the Web I feel like it was perhaps predictive of things to come - or maybe I'm just full of it. Dan added "Never mind" to the lyrics during the recording. Perfect. - Andy *Wittgenstein had studied under Bertrand Russell at Cambridge during the beginning of the 20th century. Being a true apprentice, Wittgenstein had absorbed much of Russell's thinking into his own. His earliest work, the Tractatus, published in 1921, was a groundbreaking work that borrowed much from the logical approach Russell had pioneered. Twelve years later, after having given up professional philosophy, Wittgenstein returned to Cambridge with a radically different view of language and thought. His so-called "later philosophy" drastically altered the landscape of current thinking once again. In later years, he and Russell had very little in common, each often deriding the other's approach. I urge you to check out Ray Monk's book "Duty of Genius" for more about Wittgenstein. Bertrand Russell's autobiography is also pretty good - it's titled, aptly, "The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell." Lyrics Where the blue and the brown meet the black and the green, I'll see your underwater problems circling the sandy bottom into familiar patterns. I'll disagree. When the gold vaulted ceilings meet the grey common rooms We'll see your milestone choirs dancing along copper wires out of transcendental fires. We'll change our tune. Never mind. When the touch of a tongue brings the drops from the dung I'll see your wounded feather fortunes dropping into empty dustbins Of colossal social functions Thy Will be done. Where the sad and the torn meet the gifted and bored We'll see your imitated riddles welling up from rusty puddles Into overflowing needles And we'll ask for more. When the familiar and strange meet the cold light of day We'll see the ends of forever slamming into dormant tethers Woken by screams from stretchers That hold the vain. If these are questions for all of us, then they must be questions for each of us. There are rumors about the last Trump, and I don't want they're lies. But at least give me the chance to climb into them and make them mine.

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