pink freud
low hangin’ garden of sky
seaside suburbs under long grey
tiny rocks n stones white against orange
sandy soil throws up palms and arms
the idyllist at his work …no ordealist….
oh that theme from some a place
threw and threw those waves washed through
swimming between the oceans legs at woonona
dad says steven wake up we’re nearly there…..
oh my dad who now lives in my heart guide my fingers over piano
dad look i have done this and this and this….
the unmistakable sound of an empty room
i am not talking to nothing…am i…?
that old devil Mr Doubt……
soft laughter in the distance today …oh how kilbeyesque…..
i spit out songs like gods hurl out suns
42 years on the bass has paid off hand some lee in spades
oh how my hands glide and roam
i still like the simple stuff
the perfect equation of notes within the bar
the slight muffling on certain sections of inter string dialogue
the way the wood has soaked up your vibe deep and big time
oh my old friend how i bless the day i first laid my hands on you
softer than silk you effortlessly throb
your slender neck yet so easily strong
your notes linger on in sex in darkness in acrid scorching summers
i wrestle with your weight then youre nothing but light
the idyllist and his bass alone in this holiday planet abandoned
the idyllist with his songs from shallow callow youth and on
down swims idyllist and bass
down down down into specific ocean
into underwater realms and green shelves of melting ice
the steady pulse keeps me locked down
we pushing a gain white door polar vanilla
the idyllist wakes up at his desk
here are his pastels
here are his songs
the songs other people bought to sing to their wife
the song i cut short because it threatened me
the song i wrote about you that you hated
the songs with the meandering hippy razzmazzataz carryon palaver
the songs i didnt mean to be so mean
and the songs i didnt mean at all
drift deep child now
listen to your old soft sugar daddy dreaming under cloud
listen to the idyllist touching his bass
it is almost inaudible
listen to the rings ear that resonates on after universe is gone
listen to the monkeys in lemuria chatter like swans
my songs interrupt me who want to be fed
what did you come up with kilbey today?
how is that cold ocean water laps round your heel
how is that sound of seagull so magically done
oh mister my bass is playing your song
that song about that woman who done did you wrong
you begged to her to shut up you begged her to stop
a pity she was engaged to a cop
my songs on the verandah are growing fine hairs
my songs up the chimney that mantelpiece scares
my songs under rocks in pools by the shore
singing i wonder why our steven dont come down here no more
some woman giggling a few windows away
while over her antelopes nice zephyrs play
and inside her garments of flesh and of soul
the love that is healing her blind as a mole
just like some mother licking a foal
i shot up sea creeks and each tiny shoal
my bass leans against the wall havin’ a sleep
i tether my thoughts with a gossamer chain
and neither of us will ever be unhappy again
but my bass grunts derision my bass starts to growl
my bass is murderous beast on the prowl
with the talons of eagle and the fins of an owl
with the razor snaked line the goes round the block
some of those gathered had walked right through rock
theyd arrived in a cloud but they left in a blaze
they gathered in storms with summoning gaze
they asked for more songs more songs for idyll
idyll man
idyll woman
idyll photospheric stream of dream pumped down to me
idyll idyll on the wall
who idyllist of them all?
oh you mighty time being you freckled man hag burn
oh you mangy panther decked under halls of tile
oh you white hippy moses who leadeth his people to……nirvana
oh you nevets yeblik thrice cursed with empathy entropy and ache
moving in all angles your idyll mansuit captures experience
you are the universes fawn
you are st steven beloved of summers and idylls and caravans
flippers and snorkel and spear and mask
oh its is you time being
you are the true idyllist
there is none
can be none
will be none
more idyllistic than you!
the bass was too saturday-fied to respond
the songs were still hungry
the wind waited
what does kilbey do next?
I don’t know about that (none more idyllistic than you)…..(!) You haven’t met everyone yet…(!!!)
UNFRETTED:
I think I’ve heard it said
I hated your song
Brother Moon and Sister Sun
but someone must’ve got me wrong.
It’s not that I hated the song.
It’s more that I couldn’t do the maths.
See really we wrote the song
and such was the pleasure
I thought that was wrong.
But I cannot rationlise
anything anymore to do with that.
The song is about
enduring love
of all kinds.
Some apparent,
understood by minds.
Others already conjoined
in some possible now behind time.
steve….
question..
does this kind of stuff just fall out of the ether,
kinda-like automatic writing?
i struggle to create one short coherent sentence!
yeah
it just appears in my head
i cant turn it off
it’s good to share!
What makes you want to take a particular set of writing and make more of it, embellish it, etc? Or do you just leave it all out there pretty much ‘as is’ with no further work? Your way of working is endlessly fascinating!
i dunno. interesting question. i usually leave things pretty much the way they came
Sunday morning, outside raining,
Listening to “African Jesus”
again and again…
it is now in my mind forever
and in my ideal list of songs !
that makes me so happy to read that michel
You?
listened to the song twice. a nice jingly jangly thing it is too.
we’re all african aren;t we…deep down
that photo of you with your very looong, well hung bass made me feel rather inadequate though.
your literary output here continually amazes me.
i’ve finally said it.
thank you mr crash!
Steve-that was one of the best yet.
thank you !
you and your bass got a sweet thang goin’ on…….
<3
Sam here – After an overwhelming response to our release for ‘The Idyllist’, followed by a few emails and some crafty manoeuvres, we have managed to ‘up’ our manufacturing and are offering an upgraded packaging to you our first few hundred buyers! ’The Idyllist’ will come in a jewel case with a limited edition 4 panel lift out showing extra shots from our cover photoshoot, a foreword and only for print poem by SK. This means we are now able to offer the next 100 purchasers this upgraded packaging (don’t fear those who also managed to secure the poster, you’ll get this too). After this we will be going back to the cardboard sleeve (retailers will not be receiving the upgraded packaging). Place your online orders fast as we’re counting down, we will email you with your order status if you are wondering about whether you made it in… it’s like the Willy Wonka Golden Ticket around here lately!
Yay! I like jewel cases better for CDs anyway, since I don’t plan on sticking them in the recycling bin anytime soon.
Daaaaannnnnm! That’s Freakin’ Cool Mawn! Tanks! I’m an SKPer and didn’t know i get the download on the 1st too? Shoot, would i have gotten that even if i wouldn’t have ordere the CD? Oh well, i prob would have ordered it anwayz! Can’t wait! Cheers! This is my Idyll of a good Deal!
Steven, do you still do actual automatic writing where you’re not a consciously aware of what you’ve written until you look at it afterwards or these days can you get much the same effect without using the actual process?
more like the second option ‘ i’d say
Not glum in a deeper shade of bubble gum
Steve, while the white hippy moses predominates now, you used to be renowned for your skill with the icy putdown and withering acid wit. I wonder – has that left you now or do you still think like that but control it more and just not actually say it as much?
gee you ask a lotta questions under different aliases , dontcha?
i still got a few nasty putdowns etc up my sleeve…but so what?
i’m trying to be nice to people these days…its better that way
and yourself?
Me? Still ‘uncertain how to be alive’, I guess. But I hear ya, dude.
i think you’re fun – all of you(s)
Idyllwise oh Idyllweis… Oscar Widyll… Billy Idyll… got the widyll widyll life (mr. biznuss man, uh-oh-ohhhh… checking out the interstate)… not sure about that last one; gotta lot more but they’re getting worse – and then there’s the barber in Mayberry – he’s a pink Floyd (on a billboard… on that interstate): most idyllic of them all.
Did you know there’s actually a place named Ide Hill (Kent UK)? It’s fraffly idyllic, Bondi to Ide Hill. Sorry to interrupt. Still an ideal idle Sunday idol, figuratively speaking.
I prefer calculated 4 x play for momentous bemusement (today).
what a shame to hear that Doc Neeson is really ill, a true original and a mesmerising performer!
Another brilliant read, I love how you put words together Steve.
Dear TTB-ers,
Today I had the great privilege of listening to two sonic joys coming our way from sk…one is his forthcoming album, Idyllist…another pointillist psychedelic gem from Steve with his usual flair for lush arrangements, mesmerising and magical melodies and insightful, sensitive and poetic lyrics. And then songs from his next album with Martin Kennedy…this is classic sk mixed with the soaring transcendent sounds that Martin produces….psychedelic sonic landscapes that transport you to long beaches at sunrise and luminous summer skies. You have the gift Steve….and the gifts continue to come our way folks…stay tuned!
nOwhere
I sit outside at the back of my parent’s house, punch drunk with valium brain fog staring into the nothing as I light another cigarette inhaling the sadness and exhaling the regret.
I ‘m 40 now yet my life doesn’t even feel like it has begun; yet somehow I feel like I have done most things and been most people, but was never there at the time; I’m exhausted and old, but young and naïve too. The last five years has been busy; enrolling and dropping out of law school, suicide attempts and heavy drinking. Nothing adds up any more and then I think was it ever supposed to. The same old questions still plague me; I live in a limbo of why.
I have always looked to music and books for some sort of connection to know that I’m not the only one that feels one particular way or another but even the attempts to find some kind of solace that way eludes now like a junkie looking for a vein.
Seated in a wicker chair I contemplate that while things could be definitely better things could also have been significantly worse if not for my long suffering loving parents. For at this present moment in space and time I am insulated and afforded the luxury of a cool summer breeze with the promising scent of rain as I sip on my ginger beer with nothing more to do than enjoy the comical chirpings of Indian miner birds as twilight approaches. My world at present has a gentle stillness upon it, whilst in the outside world others are experiencing all matters of things from the down right brutal and chaotic through to the supremely beautiful and sublime. Billions of different lives being led all at one time, billions of different moments having been led in one person’s lifetime. Places been and faces seen, people intermingled and separate hoping for more or less of something, some conscious, some unaware, most both. Without reason we feel naked. What’s the time again? The simplest of things complex and intricate depending on your vantage point. This is the start, the beginning, upside down inverted and reversed. It doesn’t matter if it was a dream or for real my senses believed in what they could feel.
nicely written!
This is my kind of morning. Steve, been a fan of your music for years, somehow just stumbled upon this site in a morning quest to answer for myself the exact last question you put forth above. I have to say I am incredibly pleased to have the reading of this post be my first taste of the deeper dive. Now: Joined. Following. Hello in here. Feels like home already.
welcome aboard then !
I have been where MJB has been…music saved me…literally…and the love of family and friends and the never-ending gift of God…
nic potter formerly of VDGG died in hospital last night from pnuenominia.
prior to his tenure with hammil & co he was with another legendary band ‘the misunderstood’.
he was a fine bassist.
most of you won’t have heard of him, but i bet steve has…..
i think he’d just hit 60.
grab every day and shake whatever you can out of it,
plenty enough time for inactivity when you’re laid to rest.
rip nic. i know who he was!