Baptism is Better than Coffee



  • Was I Bap-a-tised? – Clip from Geordie Shore
  • Jesus Was a Capricorn (Owed to John Prine) – Kris Kristofferson
  • Love, Love, Love – Unknown Artist
  • Light – Sister Irene O’Connor
  • The First One in Heaven – Haruomi Hosono
  • Falling Asleep – D.R. Hooker
  • The Surface of the Water – CIRCUS UNDERWATER
  • Above the Below – Throbbing Gristle
  • Bury Me Deep – The Sisters of Mercy
  • Walking with Jesus – Spacemen 3
  • I Believe – Alan Vega

That day when I was accidentally baptised, it never occurred to me that their “would you like to join us for a cup of tea?” actually meant “would you like to be baptised?”

One “yesu” led to another and there I suddenly was—dressed in white at the back of a church with my adult body fully submerged into a pool of water by a stranger I’d just met.

Time moves slow when you’re underwater.

As a child, I went to Awana every Tuesday night for the biscuits and cheap coffee. At the end of the night, the church would drop me off at home just in time for me to turn on the TV and watch South Park. As I emerged from under the water and out of my “accidental” baptism, I felt bewildered joy. They clapped and congratulated me, offered me warm tea and coffee afterwards, and for those few hours, I suspended belief just to bask in the warmth of their happiness. Some say that they experience an epiphany after a baptism but mine hasn’t arrived yet—unless that epiphany was that I have a caffeine addiction.

Nonetheless, I went back home later that day and searched for the next available baptism at the nearest church.

This audio mix is an exercise in aquatic thinking: swimming through Christian folk, oceanic ambience and psychedelic rock to contemplate Jesus, failed transformation and acceptance.

About the author
Yoshiko Teraoka is a London-based writer whose work has recently been featured in Hainamana. She makes mixes when she should be working at her day job.
render the marbled faith

have your fears been anthropomorphising themselves into wolfhounds? you may be hoping that their prey is a mere facet of you. that’s easily solved, isn’t it? but remember, the chase is already woven into their design.


clasp collar on your thought in time

the wolfhounds are with me and give me form. the wolfhounds are with me taking breath faster than the wind and air moving against them. their strong paws are used to the green fields but their temperament has not changed in the red parched dust. their footfall matches my heart filled with hatred for them and their purpose.
              i am above the wolfhounds; i see the ridges of their back and fur snarled by the elements. i am angling above them yet they keep the world from me. i see what they are pursuing beyond the torrents of broken branches and exhausted soil, a single rider that splits from the darkness. i will scream to alert them, noticing the panic in their curved spine, their legs pressed to their horse in fear. they can hear my wolfhounds. they can hear my heart.
              my eyes follow the fastest of them all, whose shape terrifies the atmosphere around him, and his coat perspires and throws off ash and silt here and there in contained echoes. the scream from my lips is lost. this chase is empty and my throat cannot make anything.
              that is not deterrence for the wolfhounds as they reach their prey in the destroyed gully and meet in a pack to drag it from the horse it rides on. the fastest has one of its feet; the others make a horrible synchronised leap for the mount’s legs. it happens in moments as i thunder directly behind with the hooves of my own horse making small work of dust turned to drowning silt.
              the fallen rider has become passive and resigned; perhaps the dispatch has taken them swiftly. it is not a matter of mine now. i will not stop to look or hear or smell anything.

About the author
Tybalt is from Tāmaki Makaurau. She has a weekly substack named "while you were idle" that regularly features music and insecurities.