i feel your feverish need for some communication
i am touch with spirits good and bad
gin and rummy
none of us can lead each others life
my life is so fucking weird and so fucking fucked up
held together with a chord progression and a cool bass riff or something
the real me has come on tonight
you have no idea who you are dealing with
who does anyway?
hollywood night spot honey
i play a gig with jeffrey cain and gregory kuehn and some cat leslie
i already like leslie cos thats my dads name right
i have devolved towards that simplicity
the gig is a blinder
the 3 musicians with no rehearsals nail down a wild gig
i mean this was beyond my wildest rehearsals baby
these cats fucking took this stuff and they played with it man
listen to me and my yanqui cliches my dude
but thats what happens
if ya hang around long enough you get pals like kuehn and cain and co
and ya give these cats like a bare framework they can ornament it
or whatever it is
beautiful wonderful divine stuff
and rumours of some film
this was a remarkable gig
maybe seventy people there max
no stage no nothing
we conjured up some stuff thats all you can say
me on bass
me on guitar
sometimes me reading the words with my fucking glasses on like a fool
i hear robin danars beautiful mix
even from where i am
my voice
its raw after 21 gigs with the church
i got the swagger and sway of nailing every fucking gig but so what
the church is a machine
tim powles obliterates the drum kit
peter and haugie fucking rock
they fucking rocked every night
after 21 gigs of one kind or another we nailed it
i was confident for 2 hours a day
as the spirit came down into my tired head
the spirit of the gin
the spirit of my beloved weed
the spirit of the sold out crowd waiting for ya behind the curtains
but some other spirit too
oh yes oh my you know its true
and the night in hollywood with caino and gang was a true little blinder
thats what musicians can do when theyre excellent musicians but under-rehearsed
the edginess fucking kicked it along
leslie was back there banging and strumming along
the piano and guitar
and i listen to that voice
i’m listening to my own voice coz i am lagged and drunk and frazzled and arrogant
in my head i am fucking alex chilton and jim morrison only im from australia so what?
i dont fucking care if theres 70 people there
the gig was advertised the day before
the place is small dark and red
im playing these borrowed and beautiful instruments
i’m listening to my voice
i’m listening to the 1000 things it can do and imply
its old and husky buts its oh so suddenly velvety smooth
the stupid voice impresses even me
oh what a kind man he must be to have a voice like that i stupidly think
as it plumbs some quiet lyric which is suddenly so unbearable poignant
for a moment i am an oracle and to each person in the room a different message
briefly we all glimpse something we wanted to see
even me with my eyes shut listening to my authenticity and my affectations
my airs and graces
it no longer matters
i stumble around of course and lunge about it but it always mercifully works out
i have an old face but my body is suppler than you think it can be
of course that is only due to yoga which allows me to bop and rock
how fantastically ridiculous and charming and gauche to try to combine all this stuff
i cant make up my tiny mind if my voice is good or bad and i argue with myself onstage as i go on singing
i swim in hotel pools as blue as the sky
i eat fries and hemp milk shakes
i get a vitamin b shot in the ass from a black chick at a clinic in la
yes i definitely recommend that
i travel through night and day in a bus
i an am alien and confused just woken up somewhere
i go down to the station and im an overnight sensation
i have tomato soup for lunch in new york
no chicken stock smiles the lovely strange latina waitress
it doesnt matter what i write its all just words
i laid down my fucking credentials in wilderness debentures
some nights i guess i just hit it once in a rare while
with a little help from my friends
let me roll it to ya
home april 1 fools and tools day
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