posted on August 24, 2015 at 6:31 am
underground club

underground club

a long night lurching down the road

in my black bunk like a cryogenic time traveller

i shiver and shudder and i fret over the potholes in my brain

have i ever been here would i know

another america another kilbey another era

another guitar another gig another ride

oh but sweet hot summer burns all around

the greenery and the scenery and the long hauls

the memory dreams other times other tours

other eyes have seen it all

the audiences oh the audiences

they clap and cheer and shout as the music comes out

we accelerate climbing above the turbulence

in the theatre of absurdly beautiful birdsong

the guitars chirp in my stratosphere casting  squalls of notes

the drums beat on no one asks why

in my mirror theres no one there or home

we swoop low over mountain range

i wake up and blow my mind with good music

i roll along on all my songs

tremolo vibrato crescendo

so tired tho


i go n have a little lie down somewhere


posted on August 23, 2015 at 7:28 am
the summer mankind

the summer mankind

touring baby you gotta love it

we play a gig in an old church in pittsburgh

we play some big theatre in royal oak michigan

the lights have dazzled me

the sound has baffled me

my own words resound at night with buses engine

in the blackness of my air conditioned bunk the bus lurches on

the fans get autographs and pictures

i get to kiss n cuddle guys wives with their full encouragement

as they snap pic after pic

hey thats showbiz! .. right…?

my bass practically plays itself by now

i am cut free and adrift

the band is sounding great says old mr modesty me

ok meet n greet n soundcheck ahoy

thats a performance in itself now

see you soon


posted on August 21, 2015 at 9:12 am

dressing room new jersey

the crying guitars wept up by the mid 20th century

will rail against the dyeing of the fleeting light

i’m on tour just like i dreamed when i was kid little lamb

when i was jung oh so long ago so many moons and dunes after

staying in hotels

gliding through the american summer days like a dream

i meet and greet the fans i am stunned to see they are all doctors and lawyers

imagine their serious complicated lives

and then they listen to the church to forget themselves

i think thats kinder cool

i love everyone who loves the band

if they have heeded this vague call

gigs fly by and out of memory

i do yoga and stay tuned

i am sensible and healthy

in crowded rooms and vast lonely places

in the humidity and the A.C.’s icy blast

in the drudgery and romance

in the packing and unpacking

in the stupidity and the brilliance

in the limelight and in the emptiness

in the anticipation and in the release

in the many and in the only only one

goddess of music lay your favour on me babe

saraswati out there some where jamming down her sacred groove

many splendid evening the strings i pull go right through them

a piano falls from the sky and crushes my shadow

the notes explode radiating out in arcing cadences

bass a serpent wriggling in my earth like worm

i plug in and i’m flying through cities like a witch

the magic comes when it wants it goes when it wants

it is elusive illusive and divisive

magic god music yoga peace pot

a secret transmission from beyond via a daft old popsinger

what is music anyway i still don’t understand

what is a song even?

what is your bass guitar?

what is the time that you go onstage?

what is the first note in the first song?

what is the last note you will ever play?

where did it start and how will it end?

watch this space i guess



posted on August 19, 2015 at 1:40 am
somewhere near you soon

somewhere near you soon

lets see last time i wrote anything but damn I’ve lost track

we played in philly we played in a huge round tent at cape cod

george who is a local fire lieutenant and his friend chris

pick up me and haugie and take us to the cape cod beach

wow water a lovely temperature

and i just love the east coast beaches in summer

and i love how forlorn they are in winter too

but this beach was hot and sunny

george and chris had cold waters and towels and deckchairs and everything

these guys might have been big and talked like tony soprano(to my uneducated ears)

but they were fucking lovely geezers and george even shouted us breakfast

even though he had none himself

it was so cool to hang with those guys

later on chris got excited at the show and was standing up yelling out stuff

but it was fucking hilarious banter and i was smiling my head off

the show at the cape cod gig was ultra short but the crowd went bananas

they go a bit more bananas for the furs but thats ok because the furs are pretty good

richard butler has one of the most instantly recognisable voices in rocknroll

i have always admired and rated him since the first record

he is a cool guy and he and the rest of the furs and crew are gentlemen

except their front of house person and their keyboard player who are real ladies

its a great treat for people to see two vintage bands who still are rocking

music for discerning adults maybe

I’ve run out of definitions

sitting in back of bus now riding into nyc

irving plaza tonight

important gig i guess

the church will rock

you can be sure of it

over n out

its almost 100 frickin’ degrees outside

I’m five foot and 11 inches if you wondering

and i weigh about 12 stone

and i got a ton of things on my tiny mind

aloha you cool creatures

posted on August 15, 2015 at 7:57 am
the night

the night

we  drive on into a deep summer day

cool dark dressing rooms out the back of the gig

off the bus on the bus

pleasant green surrounds

the smell of pines

do yoga alongside bus in the shade

pleasant young lady copper drives up

I’m smoking mother nature which i hold behind me

she rolls down window

she is quite a cutie in her uniform

dark skin but blonde hair

sir i’m just making sure everything is alright back here

yes quite alright quite alright

the damn spliff burns on behind my back

the officer smiles

sir i don’t mind if you smoke back here

phew i say

I’m doing yoga too i say for no good reason

i wish i could do yoga too she says laughing and driving off

ok ok

I’m getting confused where this was now

we get on the bus and pop up every day somewhere new

the seaside with all the amusement parks rising bold and stark

the saltwater taffy and the knick-knack shops

i saw a good t shirt which said

what goes on at grandmas place stays at grandmas place

yeah i jump in the sea for 5 minutes its pretty cold

now we are up in maine in portland in the eastern tip i think

we are doing the blurred crusade plus show tonight

had some delicious mexican with haugie

wow this is a weird life

but its all rushing past like in life speeds up

i walk out there and theres the bass

patiently waiting for me like a hound

this is the big moment right

when i pick it up n sling it round my neck

yeah somebody cheers

as i walk up to the mic

i begin to pluck it

and the voice glides out of throat

just like yesterday once more



posted on August 12, 2015 at 6:31 am
smoke detective

smoke detective

set free at last to rocknroll m’lud

i sleep with my bass guitar in realms of royal marine

shooting down the long warm summer highways in darkness

asleep in a careening hunk of tin and all its little motors n engines

cooling system heating system

the system that checks the other systems

white widow whispering in back of my mind

the air rushes in an open window

the blank emptiness around us

i get up and talk to the pilot for awhile

as we fly over flyovers and layovers and underpasses

we get to somewhere and we go for a swim in the pleasant murky atlantic

the rocks are hard studded with cockle shells

as the blurry summery night comes down

as we dream up our music in a motel mirror

as we stroll across open fields around the beach with families in picnic

and their blasters blast out something incomprehensibly beyond my ken

an über guy arrives

he’s young and a latino (i guess)

and driving a lexus

he is impossibly sharp looking and handsome in a tough way

he is a kickboxing champ

he is a big rolling gambler

he is studying criminal psychology

he talks about his life and suddenly he fixes his eye on me in the mirror

i’m gonna do something you know what i’m saying…?

coz i came from absolute nothing..!

our eyes lock for a moment in the rearview

and we exchange some brief shot of mutual empathy

he understands that i understand and a goofy smile crosses his stern face

i hope this man succeeds he has won my admiration for his chutzpah

we find a good vegan restaurant i drink deep of hemp milk

woe upon the idiots who demonised hemp , such a useful plant

i do yoga consistently

flexibility remains a side effect of whatever yogas main agenda is

yoke me to the fucking universe because I’m starting to feel it

it had to take this long to understand because thats how long it just fucking takes

my bass guitar strapped to my frame i stride across a stage belting out my numbers

my bass goes right through me and then through you

it is warm and round and blurry like a summer night

the rain goes on falling out there in the  north east bits of america

its all pretty gorgeous in the sweet sweet summertime

onstage i am repossessed night after night so i live it up to the hilton

i crouch and lunge and i bounce and i hammer on and off

my words flood my head waiting to get let out like all get out

the guitars conjuring up all that sound

surges of power jolt me and i feel like i could maybe levitate

regardless which version of the band you like

this band right now with craig and with ian on board

is the righteous slayer of audiences

a machine now lean from a load of shows

and ready to crunch down and rock

yes rock and fuck it if you don’t like rock

because rock can be thine deliverance if you would just let it be

anyway rock has got me now i can feel it

i walk in its presence and i dream in its shadow

i labour in its blistering groves n grooves

where the trees bear riffs and bloom power

in stately arcs the keys flower around

i am quite gone

we meet some people but i am gone

we drive away but i am already gone

doing this every night has a strange effect on my feeble brain

i miss my five beautiful daughters

i imagine miranda and elektra doing their gigs somewhere

the noise and the lights have dazzled me tho

i am an efficient machine

a rocknroll soldier or something

a delusional itinerant old bassist

and yet

the show must go on

posted on August 10, 2015 at 7:20 am
dressing roomed

dressing roomed

sitting backstage at the fillmore in baltimore

waiting for a soundcheck

spoke to white widow made me see the light

the p.furs are lovely people and their crew

they are a great live band too and richard is still very cool

first gig in toronto

(no davey rundelle that aint the toronto just outside newcastle nsw)

we do blurred crusade plus another mixed bag like in australia

wow they liked it although the gig was far from full

a lovely part of toronto the gig was in

cool bohemian and leafy with a perfect summer temp of about 75

buffalo is a weird place

but the gig and audience response were incredibly good

we are certainly a muscular rock band as well as all the other stuff we can do

its fun to flex that muscle thats for sure and the people in buffalo really responded

it was a perfect venue too

i was quite delighted

it all seemed good and the whole band is playing like a machine

theres a lot of love and expertise there

anyway I’ve had enough of this

its very warm and humid here

we drove on the bus overnight to maryland

silver springs in fact

the gig is impressive its big and feels like an important gig

a gig where punters get their tiny minds blown by seeing the best bands

in the world do their thingy  live

like tonight

a pairing of 2 classic bands of a certain ilk

we certainly loved the furs in the church and held them in highest regard

its great to be part of a package delivering this kind of quality blah blah blah

thats it

the church honed by much gigging are alive and slaying em wherever

i never woulda put my money on this turnaround but there ya go

you knever know your luck in the rocknroll lottery

snakes n fucking ladders my confidantes reading this wherever you are

we are on the much talked about road

yeah rock on its better to burn out cos rust never sleeps

we hurtle headlong into a thousand possible futures

and any slight motion might send us off into some unknown unmapped places



posted on August 3, 2015 at 11:43 pm
strange street

strange street

grove of stars a universe of trees

wonderful wonderful thunder full sky

i slink along like a rat in a hold with an old burden

the streets are all the same when you lost in a garden

loki like look alike implicated in such subtle stupid mischief

what a shock when you realise yes magic does exist

god exists spirit exists endless succession of lives

weight of all my incarnations crushing me sweet beetle like

all those hundreds of people back and through time

on all the planets on all the planes

suddenly they are all mine to wield

i get the best of them now

if i say dance the dancer dances

if i say listen then all become listening itself

if i say hold still and be quiet they hold off for a while

when restlessness sets in i face a rebellion

the thousand gone versions of me against the one living me

we want this and that is rushing in my blood streams out and out

when i go i will join them

an impression in some newman as yet inchoate

restless roaming phantoms at home in my head

whispering prophets obscure mumbling madmen little jerks

long dethroned kings talking to themselves somewhere in my heart

melancholic girls i was once was sifting through the fading sands

the errand boys and the footsoldiers of endless wars forever forgotten

in some matrix or field i marshall my people warrior and hag

the sailor the corsican the african the thief

the intruder the conductor the priest and the midwife

the singer the veteran the waitress the wife

the hunter the milliner the fletcher the doorman

the squire the prisoner the accused the nobleman

the petit bourgeois the oracle the idiot the architect

the wizard the teacher the sister the salesman

the ballerina the cripple the boxer the coward

the saracen the persian the celt and the anglo

the hindu the writer the guard and the farmer

swirling and whirling in their worlds within whorls

i discharge universal energy straight out of my palms

but i dont understand how to pull on my shoe

songs fly to me in some one elses dreams

i drink them from ruptures where reality bursts

god talks to me drowned out by silence

its so hard for them all to be still to listen to hymn

where the places intersect you’ll find me with a net of words

sitting under the ashes that grow from the banks of Icelandic flow

the languages baffle me but the thoughts are always the same

where today and yesterday merge

at that very second split forever by the date

in the ringing darkness of my room

i enter sleep

and the doors to all the memory is flung open

and all will have their way





posted on July 28, 2015 at 8:41 pm


oh slippery sliding snakes and elusive ladders

plunge among the falling ones

yonder mister tomb stoned angel indeed i am

dream robber the subtle thief all clothed in doubt

entangled in a mesh of thoughts congealed in sleep

as winters bitter words are described  in a seldom read chapter

or down by the wild sea all froth and spray or in some dim cafe

dreaming that we all die but of course it will come undone soon

splendid in the grassy plains of some other king of spades

in elysiums forgetful glades gliding distracted and fading

in tangential turns then burns up in atmospheres

i imagine the worst which is usually the first thing

in memory’s jaws i stop and pause

the doors to some kingdoms blocked locked out forever

cloud like stud like storm like bed like mouth like earth

i shrink down inside these dreams tumbling through the membranes gaps

in tormented freezing nights i awake over and over to find i am gone

i’d reach out but there are a thousand yous and only one me

weeping weeping as youre sleeping sleeping

i am leaping from thing to thing swinging on a star

i am singing in your ear i know you sometimes cant hear me

the ground resounds to the unbound soul of power

therefore slake your thirst take it first

and shake it

for another hour




posted on July 22, 2015 at 11:33 pm
mince trill

mince trill

the mechanistic universe eludes me

i see magic in all good things

i superstitiously give names to objects

i look at the ants and see different personalities within them

i look at rubble and i understand its inherent beauty

a crack in a pavement with a tiny green weed fascinates me

the names that i catch of children you were in love with at school

i believe my god has fixed the planets in their courses

look at that all going exactly to plan

i follow whims

i indulge hunches

i remember tomorrow

then i try to forget tomorrow

i pledge my whole life to music

music that strange flimsy powerful spell

by manipulation of vibrating frequencies

by the arc of a well placed string of words

by the insinuation of an indefinable attitude

by romance by anger by insistence

i stride on a stage somewhere in europe or america

oh look at me in my shiny black shirt with the little black velvet flowers

oh how do i remember all those words all tumbling out in constant streams

some people out there seem to really love the music you making

where am i though?

who am i and why am i doing this and what does all this ritual mean?

i march on stage i pick up my bass and i aim the sound at the audience hoping to slay them

i stupidly think that my electric bass guitar is in cahoots with me

and that it stores and discharges energy

and that it helps me to play itself when its in a good mood

and i think about the sound of my voice floating round the room

and i think about the first day i went to high school

and i thinking about my father and hoping one day to run into him again

and i thinking bout scarlet kilbey and hoping she is happy there at home

and i thinking about hawkwind and big star and sigur ros

and i thinking about mickey finn and greg lake

and i thinking about tony banks and nico at her harmonium

and im thinking bout peter cook as drimble wedge

and i thinking of how fucking cool elektra and miranda come across

and im thinking about the tiny weed in the crack again

and im thinking about that girl i knew in lyonesse

and im thinking of south america and all its magic realism

and im thinking of north america and its great industrial cities

and i’m thinking about how my fingers just know what to do

so my fingers and the bass are taking care of things i guess

some energy flows in from somewhere

where does it come from nobody knows

the performer perhaps feeds off the people

and they willingly give and all are consumed in the white hot passion of the rock spectacle

the performer and the crowd sated and satiated and satisfied

the sheer ear splitting volume

the incredible technological sound effects available

the interweaving sounds of a five man ensemble

creating and implying sounds no one can even understand

poignance is invited

significance is summoned

unsayable things are somehow being said

expressing inexplicable emotion

overcoming all resistance some people the devoted ones hearts will melt

all that equipment

all those years

all that practice and trial and error

all the other shows there ever was and everything you learned

while the songs go flying past

new songs old songs bought song sold songs

any old song will do

we transmute them as lovely arrows and we shoot through you

and i am thinking of a hazy italian summer sky here

and i am thinking of my mother one day at a picnic

and i thinking about a gang of boys riding their bikes through the bush

and i thing about some real fucking rock stars i met

and how some were so cool and some were real fool

and i thinking about a million bills i have to pay

and i thinking about the aztecs and the inca and the mayans and the tupi

and i thinking about sweet hot lemuria were i was once wizard

and i thinking about all the mistakes i made

all those fuckin’ bitter regrets

but then i’m the guy who feels everything everywhere in some muted dimness

my bass is sad too having been chopped down and cut up

nevertheless some vague spirit now permeates the instrument

something with a desire of its own

sometimes it switches off

it is nothing just a lump round my neck and shoulders

othertimes with a crowd being oh so zealous

the instrument responds and sucking in all that mana

it literally sings and it croons its own subtextual tunes

the bass and i recharge each other in a perpetual cycle

the pounding drums the screaming guitars the throbbing bass

the keys accentuate and give new perspectives

the ritual has its forms and its own rituals within rituals

its a game its a performance but its also something different

something you could never explain to someone who did not love rock n roll music

its a refinement an acquired taste

but i’m thinking of the pacific ocean and its delicious water in the southern winter morning