in some fevered forgetful state i record snippets of music

after all logic can do anything and so can i

but mostly i’m leaning towards music from an ancient world here

stories from harsh and glorious times transmitted to me

through the haze of my present incarnation

music is ready to be created

you can be focussed or you can just go with it

music and logic are just toys to me

in some dream i plug in and i record music buried in amnesia

stoned crazy dream music from my deep past bubbles to the top

visions anchored in a pool of vague memory

its 2014 and i am everyman on the edge of everytown

this gadget that creates music i come to it and i fool around

i just start anywhere i like

and sometimes its happy and sometimes its sad

and sometimes its so full of conflicted feelings

music and words are always there

they fall out of the sky whenever i want whenever i dont want

music from ancient civilisations baby as well as cute pop songs

music from the dim remote interior locked up from us

but nevertheless trickling out

music oozing out of the atmosphere from other places

foundering its way into logic and then unlocked by me

miscellaneous sparks from miscellaneous fires

every style no style

vienna parades by

and then Alexandria in her former glory

i compose those stories written as music

i start and i stop and i leave off

and i rediscover

religious order gives way into chaos

the centuries roll on

the guitars scream oh i dont know

its just kilbey in his bedroom and hes got some new music

hes trying for that biblical sound

the sound of some phoenician blues band

music songs words fragments of a vase

music from the morning of the earth

some stuff we just made up

alices poison became  bittersweet in strings and spades

find the pathos in anything boy i tell you

and then i believe it all myself

i knock out music and i do

music knock me out sock it to my jawbone song

swing on lightly by

music from the moon

kilbey in his room again

knocking out a song or two

half finished half forgotten

ssshh its late at night he works in the light of logic

working playing singing but not saying

it doesnt matter

miscellanaea swirls around my fingers on the keys and frets

whatever all these instruments are in the banks of sounds

i dont know what i’m doing

its glimpses of something

its bits and pieces of all my lives here and there

some words too but much more music

music which aims to be mostly strange to provoke some thought

which will someday mean something

even if not now

from the rich eventful past of sound trumpets fanfare in suite garden song form

thanks to all the people who bought MISCELLANAEA

and made it my fastest selling record to date