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holiday brochure

dear subscribersplease send money!steve

dear subscribers
please send money!
steve

the time being is on holiday

the time being is on holiday


the time being is on holiday

utmw

i am becoming shocked and bemusedat whats happening with my little songin 1986 i was up at my mothers house at smiths lake, nswshe had a lovely house on a lake just across from the oceanthere were birds and flowers and snakes and everythingi was up there with my then girlfriend karin janssonwho would later give birth to anna miranda and elektra junemy first set of twin daughtersidentical as 2 peas in a podbut exact opposites of each other in almost every other waymiranda being like karinandelektra being like meanyhow this was 5 years before those twillies showed upi ate my dinner…i believe my mum had cooked somethingso we ate upstairs with hershe had a big deck you could sit on n see the seasometimes we had sandwiches n sat outside n atethe nightsky was much much blacker than the sydney skybecause we were in the countryand the stars were verily a’twinklingkarin missed sweden a bit and was always trying to find certain starsin the australian sky…tho she mostly couldntso obsessed with finding the big or little dippers was shethat some people started calling her k.j. dipper n thenjust dipperanywaybelieve it or notthis has nothing to do with the song, reallyso after dinneri probably snuck off to get out of any washing upand i had a smoke of neils purple headsor maybe it was richards caterpillarsat any ratei became as we druggies say in our vernacular“stoned”however unlike a good 95% of people who get stonedand switch off in front of the telly eating toastor retreat into headphones world with their fave music(tho i do that too n heartily approve of course)some peoplelike men ricky rene maymin grant mclennann a few others i know n know of(the beatles fr’instance)we harness the incredible ability of this plantto inspire new works of art […]

i am becoming shocked and bemused
at whats happening with my little song
in 1986 i was up at my mothers house at smiths lake, nsw
she had a lovely house on a lake just across from the ocean
there were birds and flowers and snakes and everything
i was up there with my then girlfriend karin jansson
who would later give birth to anna miranda and elektra june
my first set of twin daughters
identical as 2 peas in a pod
but exact opposites of each other in almost every other way
miranda being like karin
and
elektra being like me
anyhow this was 5 years before those twillies showed up
i ate my dinner…i believe my mum had cooked something
so we ate upstairs with her
she had a big deck you could sit on n see the sea
sometimes we had sandwiches n sat outside n ate
the nightsky was much much blacker than the sydney sky
because we were in the country
and the stars were verily a’twinkling
karin missed sweden a bit and was always trying to find certain stars
in the australian sky…tho she mostly couldnt
so obsessed with finding the big or little dippers was she
that some people started calling her k.j. dipper n then
just dipper
anyway
believe it or not
this has nothing to do with the song, really
so after dinner
i probably snuck off to get out of any washing up
and i had a smoke of neils purple heads
or maybe it was richards caterpillars
at any rate
i became
as we druggies say in our vernacular
“stoned”
however unlike a good 95% of people who get stoned
and switch off in front of the telly eating toast
or retreat into headphones world with their fave music
(tho i do that too n heartily approve of course)
some people
like me
n ricky rene maymi
n grant mclennan
n a few others i know n know of
(the beatles fr’instance)
we harness the incredible ability of this plant
to inspire new works of art n music
listen to me n listen fucking hard kids
pot may stunt yer growth
it may send nutty people nuttier
it may give ya cancer of the balls…even if youre a woman
it may promote laziness dirtiness lasciviousness
n a bad attitude towards work n war n phoney baloney bullshit
it makes yer teeth yellow
it makes yer breath stink
it makes you eat toast n watch telly
yes i agree
it is definitely addictive
SO MAKE NO MISTAKE!
but something
no one can argue with
no n.a. no scientist no sensible “straight” or whatever
can bloody well argue with
is
it is extremely condusive to certain types of art
ok
that is my claim
and if you contradict that
then you dont know yer arse from yer elbow
yes this is important to the story
no i am not advocating the use of marijuana to anyone
other than geniuses about to create art
alex grey whom i consider the greatest living artist in the world
says this in his incredible book art psalms
cannabis allows the flowing tongues of bards contact with new modes
of knowing and speaking
(and then)
opening the third eye allows the artist
in everyone access to the divine imagination

amen!
alex cautions to use cannabis as a sacrament….wise words indeed
anyway
i drift to the piano
in the garage/flat out the back
it was an old pianola n slightly out of tune
old childhood toys of my brothers sat on top
the flat was set slightly high up with a little balcony
out onto the lake and the bush
the insects were out there signalling
the nightbirds were singing etc
i sat down at the piano
i played a standard A minor chord with an A bass note one octave down
actually that was probably the way i always approached a piano
just like i always start on a guitar with one of my G chords
anyhow
being stoned
i could hear a world of possibilities in that chord
to most other muggles
they wooda heard an A minor chord
but me
being a pseudo genius n being loaded on that sacrament
i go
a ha
a ha ha ha ha
and out comes a little chord progression
gee the second chord sounds good with the A sus chord
but a ha ha ha
on the bass note is a fucking F#
not anF or a G or a D but an F#
cool
the rest o the chords kinda unfold without much effort
indeed the whole thing may have taken a minute if that
my chord progression fell out of the sky
into my random half stupid half genius lap
and guess what?
oh happy day
the melody was simply the notes in the chords modulating a little
so i start humming away
after a while (about another minute) i’m bored with this
and ive lost interest in my little creation
n just about to start mucking around with something else
when karin comes in n says thats good
i say you mean this
i play the progression again
she says yeah..thats good
we then worked on it a bit
sketched out some words
and later that night
i did a really wonky version of it on my ensoniq keyboard
which had a little sequencer in it
its the sound of most of earthed n hex etc
anyway this version was pretty rinky dink
i shrugged my shoulders
whatever…and didnt think that much about it
after all i wrote 4 or 5 songs a week….it was just one more
sometime later
i re arranged it for guitar n bass on my home 8 track recorder
the bass guitar playing that low F#
against the acoustic guitar A sus 4
is much more emphatic than when it was being done by the piano
it had a strange feeling when it hit that bit..it was unexpected
but after you heard it once
it seemed so obvious
a weird effect n i’m not sure how its done
anyway i just chuck the C and G and A minor in the middle bit
the bit where the bagpipes are…
when i did my demo
( which is very much the same as the final version)
i had left some space for something there
ie i had 16 bars or whatever of just drum machine
after that second double chorus
i was gonna put something really strange in there
this wasnt gonna be a church song after all
because the church wanted to just write together
which was a very good thing
i probably thought this song a candidate
for what would become the slow crack or something..
so i was gonna do something ambient or electronic in there
after having done the guitars n electric guitars n bass n keys n stuff
but i was tired by then
so i stuck in these most obvious of chords
put a bit of e bow on
and wrapped it up
it sat there on a reel for a while
on a shelf
unaware that it was going to be one of the most covered songs ever
to come out of australia
richard ploog heard it one day at my place n was struck with it
he insisted i played it to the group
the other 2 kinda liked it
but our manager heard it n he insisted it went on next record
me..i was kinda like the other 2
i thought it was ok
but richard (who ironically never played on it)
and manager lembo really dug it n thought it was special
the rest is history
arista immediately saw its potential
promising me it would be a mega hit
i scoffed (as did a few others )
but arista were right
now
on you tube
i was on there yesterday
i searched utmw
n blow me down with a feather
but everyone n their grandmas hyaena has done a version
theres some walloping successful acts
theres some humble gooseballs at home
just so they can post themselves on youtube playing an easy song
“its a great song..its hard to get it wrong”
says mr brandon flowers very kindly at the end of the killers live version
and thats why on youtube
there are tons of gooseballs at home strumming it on the geetar
and posting emselves on the net
utmw has become this decades knocking on heavens door
can you believe it
your humble scribe has written a fucking gen-u-ine standard
they get the fucking words wrong
they almost always get the chords wrong
they leave out bits…who fucking cares
ITS THAT KINDA SONG!!
play it how you like it
it doesnt matter
its a standard
instantly recognizable
for any occasion
from a mega-gig
to a bedroom webcam
for weddings funerals parties bar mitzvahs bah humbugs
birthdays celebrations official ceremonies whatever the hell it is
utmw is yer song
easy ambiguous inoffensive yet with that slight sense of intrigue
a bit of ye olde yearning …or something
check em all out on youtube
some fucking woeful versions there are too
get ready to have a good laugh
i did
i wasnt laughing at them though
i was laughing in delight
that my simple easy song
has gone on to become
an institution in its own right
its an extremely funny thing to watch
coming very soon you will hear more of it
in a big hbo series
and in a big movie just out
hey…its that kinda song
and……..

happy birthday joyce bennett 81 today and mother of perhaps (arguably) one of the best lyricists(of his type) in the (southern hemisphere) world!!

my mother joyce is 81 years old todayshe was born in london a long time agoone of 8 kidsher mother n father working class strugglersshe spent much of her childhood vaguely embroiled in ww2getting bombed and hiding out in the underground or in sheltersher dad was a bit of a leftie and her mum was puffing on cigs as she made the dinnerthe kids ‘ad a bath once a week n all shared the bathwaterthey all slept in the same bed too except the biggest 2joyce was thirdnot a good position to be in i guessbetter to be oldest or youngestmy mum was quite a good sortsometimes i get shocked seeing pictures of her i havent seen beforeyou can easily imagine why my dad fell for hershe is so thoroughly englishshe could live in australia or india or iceland for a hundred yearsand she would remain staunchly herselfshe would not pick up an accent or change her anglocentric worldviewas opposed to mewho is so changeable and wanting to be whatever i’m notmy mother doesnt changeshe bears good fortune and grief stoicallythats what happens when you spend your early days in a waryou toughen upyou dont sweat the small stuffand you get a bit of a distance too maybei tell you thisi never saw my mother gain or lose weighther hairstyle didnt change much over the yearsand the blonde turned to a lovely ash silver almost imperceptiblyshe always had a load of energyand she still does except her dodgy knee has slowed her downbut she still hops aroundbombarding you with loads of confusing choicesie me n the fambley drop in on herjoyce : what do you lot want for lunch…..?us : oh anything…what you got….?joyce : but its too late for lunchus : why cant we have lunchjoyce : well sonny […]

my mother joyce is 81 years old today
she was born in london a long time ago
one of 8 kids
her mother n father working class strugglers
she spent much of her childhood vaguely embroiled in ww2
getting bombed and hiding out in the underground or in shelters
her dad was a bit of a leftie
and her mum was puffing on cigs as she made the dinner
the kids ‘ad a bath once a week n all shared the bathwater
they all slept in the same bed too except the biggest 2
joyce was third
not a good position to be in i guess
better to be oldest or youngest
my mum was quite a good sort
sometimes i get shocked seeing pictures of her i havent seen before
you can easily imagine why my dad fell for her
she is so thoroughly english
she could live in australia or india or iceland for a hundred years
and she would remain staunchly herself
she would not pick up an accent or change her anglocentric worldview
as opposed to me
who is so changeable and wanting to be whatever i’m not
my mother doesnt change
she bears good fortune and grief stoically
thats what happens when you spend your early days in a war
you toughen up
you dont sweat the small stuff
and you get a bit of a distance too maybe
i tell you this
i never saw my mother gain or lose weight
her hairstyle didnt change much over the years
and the blonde turned to a lovely ash silver almost imperceptibly
she always had a load of energy
and she still does except her dodgy knee has slowed her down
but she still hops around
bombarding you with loads of confusing choices
ie me n the fambley drop in on her
joyce : what do you lot want for lunch…..?
us : oh anything…what you got….?
joyce : but its too late for lunch
us : why cant we have lunch
joyce : well sonny jim, you should have gotten here earlier…
us : well can we have dinner…?
joyce : its too early for dinner son, dont be silly
us : well ok…we wont have anything…
joyce : but you must be hungry…!
us : then lets have lunch…..
joyce : well you should have come earlier then…
etc
now my mum n dad were married for eight years before i arrived
so no one accuse em of a shotgun wedding please (not like aunty X!)
and i dont think they were expecting me to be me
and i think i was a hard child to like
i am still hard to like
despite being vaguely goodlooking n talented
you might assume this makes people like you
but it doesnt
there is an inherent selfishness
an almost cultivated stupidity combined with flashes of brilliance
an embarrassing lack of social skills (asbergers lite perhaps)
i still dont know what to do with people
i didnt know what to do with my parents
and they werent sure what to do with me
you see it was peace time
and we migrated to australia
thus accidentally denying me the chance of being a much bigger rockstar
had i remained in england
where i wouldnt have kicked against so many pricks
and i wouldnt be compared to geezers i preceded by years
anyway
they wanted to emigrate from cold bombed britain
either canada or australia
both woulda had pros n cons for me
i guess i could have been a half canadian bloke without much trouble
anyway
we come here
dad does well coz hes a charmer with the cockney malarkey down pat
and the aussies used to be impressed with poms n yanks
they still are a bit…its true…not all poms n yanks natch
but if youre a classy pom or yank in australia you gotta foot up
anyway i turned out to be cheeky
not nice cheeky neither
i had a big rude mouth and i opened it a real lot
i pissed off all my dad n mums brothers n sisters that were here in aust
and then pissed off all their other friends n rellies
my mum did not namby pamby me much n all that
neither was she cruel or hard
but she was stern
and she had that true grit to back it up
much more afraid of her than my dad
my mother didnt really have much of a philosophy
about raising kids
a wallop if needed
a good dressing down frequently
a bit frosty if you played up
she was pretty even handed
she didnt really seem that jazzed about being a mother really
i always felt that my mother could have dedicated herself to a career
like being a librarian or something
she never would have missed having a husband or kids
she always seems to have a detachment
she never worries too much
she never counts her chickens
she just kinda gets on with it without any soap opera
my mum was a good tennis player
even tho she was often attacked leaving the tennis court
by our very own boxer dog, lionel
who had a strange fetish of hanging round the tennis court
and nipping womens backsides as they went in n out
(!?)
anyway when she retired she become a state champion bowler
with many cups n trophies till her knee stopped her playing
i dont think my mother double guesses herself too much
which is one of my faults
in that she is like eve
they just do things and thats it
whereas me n say aurora
we always talking ourselves out of things
my mother was never phased that much by my ups n downs
she didnt change her attitude to me when i got lucky in show biz
it was business as usual for her and thank god
i wouldnt impress her much if i won the gold whatnot or whatever
shes like a constant in my life
no matter what joyce is joyce
and she cant n wont change
whether youre some bigshot manager
or some humble fan looking for an autograph
joyce will be the same
a few years back she wrote an amazing book
the tale of the old iron pot
my brother john helped her immensely in getting it published
it is quite an eye opener n should be rated AO for the language
tho my mother herself rarely swears …she quotes others freely
yes it is a great read
i’m not in it all that much
just towards the end
but wow it was an entertaining
if sometimes ever so slightly farfetched book
so thats a talent i inherit from her
and i hope i inherit her longevity and her energy
and i wish i could have her cool detachment from highs n lows
anyway 81 aint a bad innings
and i’m glad i had a mother who treated me fair n square
she let me be most of the time
my parents forced no manifesto on me
other than their intrinsic englishness
i was free to become me n luckily
the times permitted such a selfish luxury
because at the age i was discovering trex
my father was killing geezers in europe
so you can imagine it was a bit different for them
anyway
i love my mother
shes a real brick as they used to say
and i am thankful to her
she did what she could with me
and it all turned out ok
(in the end)

unreleased

what is the secretwhat is any secretwhat is the secret of secretsthe master secret that unlocks all othersit turns on the tap that makes it flowwell yes this universe is endless my friendlike all the universes gone beforei see it all nowi see it thru my damaged raybanned eyesi see it with a pinch of salti see it and i cant hang on to any of ittime has its tidesthe waves of the past dump you on the futureyou got a knew song in yer headyeah a regular sailor on the seize of fatefate tosses you up in africafate tosses you up in greenlandyou arrive in australia a convictyou escape and join a band of bushrangersyou play the bass you grow a little pointy beardyou ride into dodge city on the back of a falconcritics takin’ potshots at ya bang bang bangricochet zing zang sssssssssyou mount your careerflogging a dead sea takes a long time to warm updad can i buy a new amp?what happened to the last one, son?dad, that was in the last century….in a shop on cyprus buying a postcard i run into nap bhes reformed his group the imperial french armyand theyre gigging in europe soonlate for an appointment off floral streeta rare sunny day in the garden of whispering windsthe cafe is stocked with generals and peacocksi notice im dressed in black velvetand the stage is thru those yonder curtainsi walk onthe lights dazzle my blurry retinassomeone hands me my axeand i slay emthats righti blew their minds right outa bloody good showin the lear or leer jeti relax with a canister of etherand a bi carb sodawe head into miami despite the hurricaneand i get scared when i see the pilotrunnin’ up the isles singingtake me to the pilot of yer soulexiting thru a […]

what is the secret
what is any secret
what is the secret of secrets
the master secret that unlocks all others
it turns on the tap that makes it flow
well yes this universe is endless my friend
like all the universes gone before
i see it all now
i see it thru my damaged raybanned eyes
i see it with a pinch of salt
i see it and i cant hang on to any of it
time has its tides
the waves of the past dump you on the future
you got a knew song in yer head
yeah a regular sailor on the seize of fate
fate tosses you up in africa
fate tosses you up in greenland
you arrive in australia
a convict
you escape and join a band of bushrangers
you play the bass
you grow a little pointy beard
you ride into dodge city on the back of a falcon
critics takin’ potshots at ya bang bang bang
ricochet zing zang sssssssss
you mount your career
flogging a dead sea
takes a long time to warm up
dad can i buy a new amp?
what happened to the last one, son?
dad, that was in the last century….
in a shop on cyprus buying a postcard i run into nap b
hes reformed his group the imperial french army
and theyre gigging in europe soon
late for an appointment off floral street
a rare sunny day in the garden of whispering winds
the cafe is stocked with generals and peacocks
i notice im dressed in black velvet
and the stage is thru those yonder curtains
i walk on
the lights dazzle my blurry retinas
someone hands me my axe
and i slay em
thats right
i blew their minds right out
a bloody good show
in the lear or leer jet
i relax with a canister of ether
and a bi carb soda
we head into miami despite the hurricane
and i get scared when i see the pilot
runnin’ up the isles singing
take me to the pilot of yer soul
exiting thru a rear door
after tampering with the nosmo king device
i am back in baines place with my mother joyce bennett
she will turn 81 tomorrow i mustnt forget
the boys are in their pajamas
and dads out watering the lawn
in his ever present white singlet
its a warm canberran night i suppose
quite still and quiet
exams tomorrow
dad n i smoke a cigarette together in the gathering dusk
a quiet time in our lives
a plane always flies overhead
back in my boyhood bedroom
i pick up my old bass my old violin bass
and i cant believe how lightweight n mickey mouse it is
compared to a fender jazz the king of basses
i look thru my old vinyl..hawkwind the small faces jethro tull
etcetcetc
stuff i got from the record club
the sprinklers come on next door
i gotta do some study
i’ll fail my exams n then….and then what…?
who will want me if i fail my fucking exams…?
a gloom falls across my poem
i seek solace in the radio
2CA…..gee they love neil diamond
suddenly then
its over

lakshmi n saraswati

well lakshmi n saraswati go into a barnothey dontwhy would they?lakshmi the goddess of fortunesaraswati the goddess of music n artif you ever get those ladies on your side….what do you have to do to get their attention….?imagine this supernatural guiding lightthe giftthe masterpiecethe esteemthe kudosthe gracethe knowledgei wish i wish i wish i hopeperceive the singularity approachingtiny differences cause huge deviationsartists are born and madelook carefullylisten hardgo softwatch outeasynowgoddesses in some imaginary heavenwhose to saybestowing their favours willy nillythe money and the art….oh wouldnt it be niceit doesnt work like that does itits likethisyou take these idealsfortune and art personifiedand you focus on them maybe at firstbreaking thru into fuller realizations of what they representlet them in let them inlisten if they say somethingits a subtle tongue they will talk inyou have to disengage yer mindconcentrate but dont concentratewaitwaitpatience wait for patience to comeponder the levels of interconnectionunlock it for yourself using the keys you foundask the goddesses for helpit cant hurt…can it..?


well lakshmi n saraswati go into a bar
no
they dont
why would they?
lakshmi the goddess of fortune
saraswati the goddess of music n art
if you ever get those ladies on your side….
what do you have to do to get their attention….?
imagine this supernatural guiding light
the gift
the masterpiece
the esteem
the kudos
the grace
the knowledge
i wish i wish i wish i hope
perceive the singularity approaching
tiny differences cause huge deviations
artists are born and made
look carefully
listen hard
go soft
watch out
easy
now
goddesses in some imaginary heaven
whose to say
bestowing their favours willy nilly
the money and the art….oh wouldnt it be nice
it doesnt work like that does it
its like
this
you take these ideals
fortune and art personified
and you focus on them maybe at first
breaking thru into fuller realizations of what they represent
let them in let them in
listen if they say something
its a subtle tongue they will talk in
you have to disengage yer mind
concentrate
but dont concentrate
wait
wait
patience
wait for patience to come
ponder the levels of interconnection
unlock it for yourself using the keys you found
ask the goddesses for help
it cant hurt…can it..?

jack 2 (on the road usa 1991)

frill

time passeswe remain outside the wallthe pressure builds upmy head cant take iti need to breathe or somethingi cant find my way homei follow the birdsi follow the fishi follow the roadsi amble aimlesslymany things happenpeople bornpeople diethe moon glides through the skythe systems keep pumpingthe great machine with its musicthe hammers and bellsthe strings and skinsa black pianoa silver saxophonea blue notea distant yachttake metake me backtake me back to a time when i was safeand i never knew how music was madeand i was dreaming in the back of my daddies carcos we were going on our christmas holidayslisten isnt that those beatles we could hear them here and there in the bohemian streets of old surfers paradisego go girls at the jolly spotthe chlorine in the poolsthe koala parkthe bird sanctuarymy first guitar came 6 years latera violin copy made by ariaand australia pressed all around memy school and all its wonderful and strange kidsand on hot days and on cold morningsand music magically kept appearingnew music old musicsomeone lent my dad a led zepplin recordand a record by spiritand i tape recorded my favourite songs off the radiowith an old reel to reel machineand i believed in all the songsi thought they were all reali never knew it was just like people making em upand i joined and left bands in some long ago dismal pastthat seems like in some other century…well of course it wasand i was so youngand i knew nothingnobody really cared what i didand i did what i likecruising round canberrain my datsun 1300 station wagon loaded up with guitar n ampi drove out to queanbeyan n jammed with some guysone day in the heat in this community hall or somethingme plunking away on that basslugging my stuff up n down stairssmoking […]

time passes
we remain outside the wall
the pressure builds up
my head cant take it
i need to breathe or something
i cant find my way home
i follow the birds
i follow the fish
i follow the roads
i amble aimlessly
many things happen
people born
people die
the moon glides through the sky
the systems keep pumping
the great machine with its music
the hammers and bells
the strings and skins
a black piano
a silver saxophone
a blue note
a distant yacht
take me
take me back
take me back to a time when i was safe
and i never knew how music was made
and i was dreaming in the back of my daddies car
cos we were going on our christmas holidays
listen isnt that those beatles
we could hear them here and there
in the bohemian streets of old surfers paradise
go go girls at the jolly spot
the chlorine in the pools
the koala park
the bird sanctuary
my first guitar came 6 years later
a violin copy made by aria
and australia pressed all around me
my school and all its wonderful and strange kids
and on hot days and on cold mornings
and music magically kept appearing
new music old music
someone lent my dad a led zepplin record
and a record by spirit
and i tape recorded my favourite songs off the radio
with an old reel to reel machine
and i believed in all the songs
i thought they were all real
i never knew it was just like people making em up
and i joined and left bands in some long ago dismal past
that seems like in some other century…well of course it was
and i was so young
and i knew nothing
nobody really cared what i did
and i did what i like
cruising round canberra
in my datsun 1300 station wagon loaded up with guitar n amp
i drove out to queanbeyan n jammed with some guys
one day in the heat in this community hall or something
me plunking away on that bass
lugging my stuff up n down stairs
smoking stupid cigarettes and drinking chocolate milk
i was a veg so my mum gave me egg n chips n salad every night
life seemed so mysterious n unending
i would never grow old
i lay in the sun trying to get a tan
my hair got pretty long n silly
my girlfriend dropped me n picked me up again
we drove to the river for picnics
my dad put a little swimming pool in our garden
people would pop round n have their towels with them
one day electric warrior came out
i was lost in a dream
no paperwork
no computers
no mobile phones
no dvds no video cassettes
no colour tvs
the radio was king
we listened reverently
music was an aural thing
there was no visual attached
ah……
anyway……