Welcome to The Boundaries Issue, readers! Over the next few weeks we'll take a look at some people, places and ideas that build, blur and break boundaries: from queer life in Bangladesh to online dating to gender terrorism. We've got it all.

For this, our first installment, we'd like to share an interview with musician Jyoti Mishra aka White Town. You may remember our posting on White Town's song, "Your Woman" way back in September. Well, it seems Mishra's a reader (or has a network of spies scouring the internet for his name), because he later sent us an email thanking us for the kind words.

Needless to say we were flattered and promptly started an email correspondence with the man who's pop-friendly music takes aim at the political establishment. Of course this is nothing new for the Indian-born, Britain-raised troublemaker. He's been testing the limits of social and political norms since his days as a youthful Marxist.

As we started planning this issue, we asked Mishra if he'd like to do a little interview with Queerty editor Andrew Belonsky to celebrate his new album, Don't Mention The War.

Gracious as always, Mishra agreed. Read what the boys came up with, after the jump.

Andrew Belonsky: There's a misconception about White Town. Namely that it's a band. Actually, you and you alone are White Town. Why not just go by your name? Also, why White Town?

Jyoti Mishra: White Town did start off as a pretty conventional indie guitar band, back in '89. I formed it [because] I wanted a change from doing synthpop, which I'd done from '82. The new band worked well for a while and then fell apart. The other members left until it was just me!

As for the name, two reasons. I'm Indian. I was born there and we emigrated to Britain when I was three years old, in 1969. I chose the name of the band to represent some of the experiences I had as a kid, growing up brown in predominantly white towns. As you may imagine, it wasn't exactly a barrel of laughs.

I was also alluding to this bit of history: "Around the forts the first signs of segregation were already apparent – the European and Indian communities lived in separate settlements with very distinct characters. In the case of Fort St. George, Madras, the main fortifications surrounded the warehouses and other military buildings, and the so-called 'white town' had another ring of fortification separating it from the 'black town'."

AB: Do you still feel the remnants of colonialism?

JM: Not as much as thirty years ago – Britain is finally getting used to being a post-colonial country. I still find it amazing that we have honors conferred by the Queen like O.B.E. - Order of the British Empire. What Empire? Where?

Like Terry Jones, I feel that the current empire be-striding the globe is the American Empire. And this leads to a lot of muddle-headed anti-Americanism from poorly read Brits. If you look at all the finest cities in Britain, they were financed by a rapacious empire... I think Brits forget that when they get on their moral high horse about US imperialism.

AB: You used to be part of the Marxist movement, but left. Why?

JM: The reasons were myriad but, basically, I lost my virginity.

It's very easy to be a preachy lefty when you're a virgin, when you've never fucked someone or been fucked yourself. When the real world of sexuality explodes into your life, it becomes harder to toe a party line. How can I nod my head in an approving manner [as] a comrade is saying that all women hate porn when I know that my girlfriend loves it? Do I, like a lot of lefties, become a hypocrite: saying one thing in public, but acting differently in the bedroom?

Socialism begins at home. You have to start by being honest about yourself and your sexuality. I am a man that is hugely attracted to women and, to be honest, more than a little obsessed by them. But I found that my sexuality was censored in left-wing circles, it was viewed as offensive and oppressive. Similarly, a lot of lefties pay lip service to gay rights, but they're very uncomfortable with the actual sex. A great deal of contemporary Marxism is a new strain of Puritanism.

Nowadays, I'm probably too anarchistic to ever join a vanguardist party. I have a problem with authority, whoever is wielding it!

AB: As you know, I absolutely adore the song, "Your Woman". While it's a great song, it's important to me personally because of its queerness. I remember listening to it in the car while my mom drove and thinking it was so out there and wild and broke all sorts of boundaries. Of course, I was just a mere fagling at this point, so it really struck a chord of difference. That's something that I think make's your music unique - you're married to a woman but incorporate queer sentiment into your work. Do you ever get flack for that? Do you consider yourself queer?

JM: In my world, we're all queer, there are just degrees to our gayness.

The last time that I fancied a boy, I was around 14. I had a huge crush on a classmate, I thought he was fabulous at everything and whenever I saw him, my little heart leapt. That was years ago, but who's to say that I won't see a man in a year or a decade who I also fancy?

When I wrote 'Your Woman,' all that was in my brain as one possible interpretation: gay man singing to unattainable straight man. But it was also an ex-girlfriend of mine singing to me and a straight girl singing to a gay guy. All those were mixed-in to make it as ambiguous as possible and confuse people. And it worked!

I got loads of anti-gay hate email at the time, telling me that I'd burn in hell. I also got loads of email asking if I was a woman or a transsexual [and] a handful of emails berating me for pretending to be gay to sell records.

All these labels and little tags! Why do humans love to put themselves and each other in these boxes?

In the late 1970s, the Nazi right in Britain was on the rise. The major group, the National Front, even had TV political broadcasts. Asian families like mine were being petrol-bombed in their homes and the police did nothing. I remember lying awake at night, trying to listen out in case we were attacked. I was 12 or 13: a kid scared shitless.

In 1981, I heard a record by a new band called Heaven 17. It was called (We Don't Need This) Fascist Groove Thang. Even though it was banned by the BBC, it got to 45 in the charts - a song that was anti-racist, anti-fascist, anti-Thatcher and anti-Reagan.

What was important to me is that H17 turned out to be three white blokes. You see, if they'd been black or Indian, like me, although the song would have still been brilliant, it wouldn't have been that surprising: you expect racial minorities to be anti-racist. But because they were white, I felt a little less isolated, a little less fearful of the white population.

When I wrote 'Your Woman,' I wanted to try and do the same thing. I wanted to write a song that was undeniably pro-gay, because my assigned label is 'straight.' I hoped that some gay kid somewhere would hear my song and maybe feel a little less isolated, a little less alone.

AB: It goes without saying that Don't Mention The War is an explicitly political album. There's been a lot of debate over the state of politicized music these days - or, rather, the lack of a state of politicized music. During Vietnam you could barely turn on the radio without hearing a tune informed by the war. There's been a relative silence on the war in Iraq. Why do you think that is?

JM: I think in order to say that, you have to examine all genres of music. At the avant-garde end, you do have people like Matthew Herbert making strong anti-war statements. And in hip hop: The Perceptionists, Sage Francis, Pipi Skid, Hangar 18, Sweatshop Union have also all nailed their anti-war colors to the mast.

What I think is true is that rock and all its micro-genres have seemed mostly toothless for the last three years. The rock-pop that you hear on the radio has had the same apolitical, blinkered stance. Politics in pop now equals trouble – look at the poor old Dixie Chicks. They're hardly revolutionary Commies, yet the way they were vilified is extraordinary!

What most irks me [are] the bands [that] pretend to be rebels have said fuck-all about the murder of 655,000 innocent people. You see them on telly, shouting above heavy riffs and thunderous drums, but what are they protesting about?

Nothing.

AB: One of my favorite songs on this new album is "Death in Kettering" - again, you seem to be singing to a boy. But, as is the case in so many of your songs, the relationship also seems to be speaking of something else. So, basically, what the hell's the song about?

JM: I'm glad you like it, took me ages to get the lyrics right! Well, apart from a being a rip-off of 'Death In Venice' (Dirk Bogarde!), it's a lot to do with what I was waffling on about in reply to your [queer] question.

It's about being gay pre-legalization in Britain and the fear and uncertainty that must have loomed over gay people's lives. In that sense, it's also influenced by another Bogarde flick, Victim, which is one of my favorite films.

When I wrote it, it was simply a matter of me remembering that teenage crush and transposing it to being my age now. But the orientation is irrelevant beyond that: it's a song about obsessive love, about someone going on about their normal lives when they're suddenly de-railed by meeting the right (or wrong, depending how you look at it) person.

Whomever we fancy, we've all been there.

You could also call it a sci-fi song in that it could be set in the future, perhaps a future where the Christian right in the US gain power and start locking up gays? Or a future Islamic state?

I don't think we should ever take our human rights for granted. There are groups of people only too keen to remove them.

AB: Who are your biggest influences? Which artists do you feel deserve more attention?

JM: Oh, I could go on all day with this question! But I shall give you a brief answer for a change.

Musical: Kraftwerk, Depeche Mode, Leonard Cohen, McCarthy, Minor Threat and loads of others.

People who need more attention: I'm currently obsessed with new Swedish indie pop, so I'd say: Jens Lekman, Suburban Kids With Biblical Names, Vapnet, Agent Simple, Cats On Fire (who are actually Finnish but Swedish Finnish).

Note that all the above are songwritery. I do love loads of non-song-based music, but it's not that relevant to what I do myself. In that respect, I'd love to see someone like Venetian Snares become a superstar.

AB: What's next for Jyoti Mishra?

JM: Here's my to-do list:

1. Recover from the parotitis currently making me insane in the membranes.
2. Finish my bleeding Crimbo shopping.
3. Play some gigs next year in Sweden and Finland again.
4. Do the next album
5. Develop theory that enables the quantization of gravity.

But the last one might take longer as I'm pretty shit at math.

(Illustrations Courtesy Jyoti Mishra's website, Bzangy.)