The Time Being | Steve Kilbey

yes
ok
we were pretty good
my oh my
thank you brisbane
that was more like it
you made my day
the audience completed the loop
enhancing and redirecting back at us
our own attempt
at measuring the feeling
o tivoli what an ideal place for the chrunch to play
such a lovely mild brisbane night
beforehand
backstage i paced a la le panther mangey
my fingers curl n uncurl
people talk to me
and somewhere miles out there
some drone in autopilot
answers along the party lines
my eyes are not fixed
they wander
my mind is swimming
as i spot check my memory
see if i can remember the second verse to this song
see if i can remember the double e minors in that song
but that too at a superficial level
under are more mes
one me is excited to fever pitch
another me is calm n collected
another me imagines the doodles in bed
and the twillies in sweden..what time is it there now?
i meet some people
one guy
he had fraternal twin daughters born same day n year
as les doodles
one dark, one blonde
just like them too
so jus’ remember folks
you think that yer unique
and yes yes
you are
but there are other people out there
with the same goodnbad things happnin’ to them
azacktly the same as you
anyway eventually we go on
right in the middle of a george harrison song
cos i was jus’ too impayshent to wait my fiendss
like waiting for the dentist
like waiting for some thing delicious
going on that stage
thats a whole trip in itself
have you got the balls?
i stride on pick up the bass
whoops
im playing ye olde telecaster guitar in firstsong
start plucking the chord
pete starts the piano
(actually on the record its the reverse
i do piano, he does guitar)
timbo comes in
the drums are like the sound of an armys bootheels
hitting the resounding ground
mwps crow wah-wah starts up
its all sounding good in my in-ears
its gonna be a magical night
after that point
i dont remember
some geezer called something out nice
another geezer called out something nasty
people vainly screamed out for songs
they hoped for
but somehow must have known we would not play
the band played very very well
thats all really
thats my review
its hard to review it and do it too
im in my own world up there
just like getting out of your tree
strapping on some 2 thousand dollar headphones
putting some very loud spacerock on
and jamming along on yer air guitah
except that you actually are doing a bit of the music yerself
its easy
its hard
its great
its disappointing
its exciting
its boring
its a whirlpool of emotions
whirling out into unremembered places
something has changed tho
something is streamlined
something keeps us in the sky
flying for another day
afterwards
back to my room
the open windows stream in the blue air
the curtains move gently in the breeze
i then had to get up early today at 6 am
drive to heiroport
fly home w/ all argy-bargy associated with that
but now im here
had a picnic in glebe
weathers turning sultry
i bet the trees love to sway around in the wind
looks like thyre dancing
but who has seen the wind?
the palms out the back grope blindly
in the torrents of air
the sky now grey getting greyer all the time being
on aeroplane home listened to low spark of high heeled boys
r.i.p. jim capaldi
drummer n co-songwriter
tell me if ya think this is a brilliant couplet..
the percentage yer paying is too hi priced
and yer living beyond all yer means
and the man in the suit has bought a new car
on the profit hes made on yer dreams
and today ya just swear that that man was shot dead
by a gun that didnt make any noise
but it wasnt a bullet that laid him to rest
was the low spark of hi heeled boys
and the whole thing just grooves along o so nicely
it came out in a weird lp cover too
with the corners cut off
n a 3D effect thing
the next album had a cover like that too
but i dont think its quite as good
steve winwood a beautiful soulfull o voice
piano just drips out n glides
distorted organ
a guy from africa rebop kwaku something
(r.i.p. him too)
playing some extra in the groove percussive stuff
this is my ideas ground when i think about percussion actually
a cat called chris wood on winds (r.i.p. on drugs)
rick grech a fluid n mellifluous bass player
therese 4 bona fido true classics on this disc my fiendss
its essential in my universe
tho its influences may be hard to detect
or maybe never really had the wherewithal
to play this kinda jazzy thing
anyhow
traffic
what a group!
now my body is sick of typing at this blogge!
a nasty electric feeling nerve is shooting up my leg
the glasses perched on my almost perfect nose
they make my olde eyesache
my fingers which can pull bass strings for 2+hours
wither as i tickle the lapptop for too long
my head weighs a hundred weight on my swanlike neck
my shoulders droop with gravity not gravitas
being onstage is like shooting a cocktail of the best stuff there is
but ya gotta gotta xcept the comedown
(cue in music)
when its good
you really are higher than the sun
and that aint the fleur de lis talkin, mister
its a privelege to explore these realms n thoughts
for you/with you
i didnt fucking write my songs for no reason
its all starting to come back to me
its all beginning to fade away
we’ll probably never get to the bottom of all this
just diggin’ n delvin’
in side yer sweet head, childe
where the darkness holds sway
and the light that could blind you
burns in your sacred heart
these are the voyages of the nevets yeblik
legendary time being
mapper of unmapped space
deceiver n disillusionist
charlatan n clown
renaissance bloke
dealer in nothings
a ship flown by shadows
shibboleth
ingolstadt
the spear of destiny
the hammer and nails of the gods
the consolation of the deadheads
war n roll lovelock
warlock of rock
with a hole in each sock
there is no stopping me
until i meet the end
im invulnerable now
except for all these gaps everywhere
im immortal until i die
im forgotten until im remembered
my tomb is desecrated
and my skull is used
as a drinking vessel
by a new barbarian emperor
its ok
this is all years in the future
right now tho
its just some tomato soup
and something relaxing
goodnight n goodluck
sk

oh i dont know
im backstage at the tivoli
they got wi-fi here
im blogging
gee i cant remember too much about eumundi
i kept my head down n i did my gig
it was good someone said…
we stayed ay a lovely bed n breakfast joint
with a huge sloping garden filled with plants n flowers n birds
spring sunshine n blue skies
i did yog n chi on ye olde verandah
the gig was down a grassy hill from the accom
an arcadian bushland setting for a full moon stroll to gig
pan appears from behind a tree with a dryad
his pipes begin their lull
the dryad curtseys n dances around her tree
her arms raised up in exstacy
wow i havent even hadda drink yet
the gig is smallish n solde out
my in-ear monitoring disorients me
encaging me within my own stereophonic world
i pluck the bass i sing the song
i lock into a groove
and the music does the talking
i dont always know what its talking about
but thats ok, i guess
the stage is about 5 inches high
theres no drum riser either
and its a bit cramped for me to run around
rocking n rolling like a lunatick
as i normally do……
we do some encores
i spose they musta liked it
the next day
which was this morning
i wake up
and at the bottom of the hill is a huge market
i mean huge
this baby was huge
bigger than all the markets in sydnee put togetha!
im baffled by choice
so i dont buy nuffink
tho i coulda got loadsa different stuff
didjeridoos, furniture, tiedyed baby outfits
handmaid chockies, pickles, tea, hats, shoes, paintings
windchimes,toys, capes, smartarse tshirts,
creams which fix arthritis n footnmouth disease
oh and lots n lots more
then me n pablo vee the chrunchs trusty cameraman
have brekky in this caf
i have avocado salad with macadamia nut dressing n lemon juice
some bread with hummous baked in somehow
what a nice way to start ye olde day now already fled
so i drive to brizzy with jordene bareback the chrunchs mixah
trevore j, the chrunchs lighting man, n pv
check into yonder hotel
same one year after year
same people working behind the desk
same bar of chocky in the fridge
i ‘ave a showr
i do chi gong n yog
im cooled out n calm as a cucumber
i call a cab
another cab rolls in
the cab i call has a sikh guy
hes never heard of the tivoli
he makes a feeble effort to look it up on his map
why dont you take that taxi he says angrily
i jump out
go over to other taxi
can ya take me to the tiv-o-lee?
yep
didnt that arab know where it was? he says
he wasnt an arab, he was a sikh i say
same fucking difference mate he says
we get to tivoli
lovely olde theatre in middle of brizzy
n olde brizzy aint a badde town fiendss….
not too badde at all in fact
come on a long way
since an idiot was in charge here
everyone knew he was an idiot
but he seemed to have rigged things
he was a born again religious ratbag too
gee sounds kinda like some other little tyrant
and now we all laugh about this idiot
like we will about that other still extant idiot one day
we do a long n tedious soundcheck
the bass droops round my neck weighing a hundred tons
my voice croaks out n falls flat n sharp to the flaw
my cut up finger is sore n opened up
the band all muck around with their gadgets n stuff
its loud n cold n lonely up on that stage
we rehearse some songs
gonna change it a little tonight
so that leaves me here with you
waiting for my thai tofu stir fry to materialise
bare footed, its pleasantly balmy outside
people keep interrupting me
as i attempt to write this blogge
D-railing my trains of thought
never never mind
thats it
in one n half hours i hit the boards
a rocknroll warlock
unleashed n set free
calling up the racket
my heavy staff
gently throbbing under my fingers

“and in the planes above us
the slightest prick is felt
when we break down
when we just melt….”

6.30 friday morning
flying to queensland v.soon
must pick mwp up at 8.15 in paddington
listening to ashra
kraut rock
wow true to my stereotype!
have already smoked pre-flyte nerve calmer
will have more layter, i guess
maybe half a val. if flyte is bumpy
or if i get the wrong seat
wedged between 2 huge ladies
clostrafobia coming down fast
its a little stormy lookin’ today…
(gulp)
you see the chrunches adventure in the plane with the explodin’ engine
used up my last bit of blase-ness about flyin’
it fuckin’ scares me now
i cant relax
i dont relax
i have to do it all the time
fly here n there
for long 15 hour flights
or a 9 then a 12 then a 2 hours to get to sweden
i have 2 states on planes
anxious or sedated
please no advice unless you put the airmiles in that i have
anyway
at the end of flyte is tropical queensland
eumundi , a grroovy little town on the sunshine coast
we talkin’ floridian weather n palm trees, fiendss
balmy nights, jellyfish dawns, hot blissful days
lotsa timber houses in bushland settings w/skylights
surfie boys n girls running along in wetsuits w/ boards
holidaymakers
mumsndads w/ kids
models w/fake tits etc
lotsa healthy cafes
anyway we gonna play tonite there
bring that house down
tropical rock w/sultry bits
maybe we got some holiday accom
with a fancy swimming pool n gold faucets
all day menu n wi-fi
fluffy robes you can wear n even buy!?
a chocolate on the pillow when the made terns the sheet back
you dont get that one too often tho

the australian audiences……
oh my my
it aint like playing in the states
it just aint!
which is why bands always like to tour the states
cos the audiences enjoy emselves!
here…..
i dunno
the audience pays their money
they can do whatever they like
i spose…
i dont wanna order em to enjoy emselves
enjoying yerself doesnt necessarily mean
screaming n waving n stage diving
my mum came to gig in london where there was stage diving
she couldnt believe it!
then a big black man told her to fuck off when she tried to get in backstage
it was quite a night for my mother, i can tell you
anyway
you can enjoy yerself on a chair sitting still
you dont have to dance or writhe baybee
(tho its nice when ya do, childe)
just dont be intimidated by my good looks n apparent genius
thats all i humbly beg of ya, my cherished aussie audiencer
yes its the chrunch, we’re magnificent n we’re legends
but just treat us nicely, ok?
we’re not the local youth club band
we need a little encouragement
ah thats better
pretend that we love each other
and it will come to pass
you see its the way its meant to be
we need to turn each other on a little
or we’ll become sullen n distant
and then ya wont getcha moneysworth
its so easy to let go n enjoy it…
but its kinda hard as well
i know
i know
i been in the audience a cuppla times myself
but please
trust us
as i must trust mr pilate today
in yonder flying can of metal
put yerself in our experienced hands
let yer mind stretch out n relax
let tension evaporate
let anxiety cease
let a dreamy n thought provoking mood come down
listen to the bass n drums
follow the blooming guitars
the words are telling you a story
see, its quite pleasant
isnt it?
have used the liquid bandage
finger still a little open
hey queensland
you better make it worth my while
see ya tonite then
in eu-fucking-mundi
and have bells on!

nk n i decided some indian food mite be nice for dinner
i chuck on my ipod n i duck down the road
as fast as fast can be
nimbly stepping round the slow walkers n bumbling dolts
who crawl along the pavement
past the nirvana beach liquor store
i move like a ghost in the darkness
popol vuh on ipod very much lately
all of em
i recommend all of em
sometimes the guitars almost sound like us
in some strange ways
sometimes a girl sings in a very teutonic medieval style
sometimes its all kinda indian-y and ambient
some times its very gothic n architecture
sometimes it rocks quite hard
sometimes its very mysterious
of course i cant remember the titles cos theyre in german
but this ones called hosianna mantra
buy it for someone “straight” for their birthday
they’ll say “what the f….” and give it back to you for sure
then you can enjoy it because at least you tried
to turn that square on,
and cos its brilliant in its self
oh so easy baby i digress
i start out doin’ one thing
i always end up doin’ the other
i begin on the high road
i finish on the low road
at the temple of low men
i guess sometimes
but where was i….?
oh yes
so i order the food
palak paneer
dal
naans
aloo tikki
rice
ten minutes before its ready
i nip round the corner
and listening to ipod
standing outside a bookshop
which seemed to have loadsa intriguing books
in its shelves
and im digging the p.v.
and staring at the covers of yonder bookes
when a face pops into view like a dolphin
swimming up to a camera n looking in
blow me down its laetitia,
a spanish gurl and mac guru
who helped me get my lapptopp going
she was filming us at revesby too
much to my surprise
but there she was
anyway ive just said hello to her
but who should walk past
a famous actor fiendss
one of my favourites over the years
a beautiful young man
now a very handsome olde devil
terry fucking stamp
i say to laetitia do you see who that was
terence stamp
shes excited cos shes a fan too
we follow him round to the fishnchip shop
hes just standing there in shorts n an old shirt
very suntanned n statuesque
a real top class british gentleman charmer
rob dicko eat ya heart out
anyhow he buys some fishnchips
(surprise , surprise)
and sits there eatin’ it at a stool n table
l and i are staring thru the window pretending to choose lobsters
but we’re watching stampy
no one recognising the druid at all!
go on go n say hi to him i say to laetitia
we’re both giggling n carrying on a bit
wow i dont often see guys that get me going like that
but terence stamp, cmon!
he who defined swingin’ london with julie christie
forever glorified in waterloo sunset
as epitamy of grooviness
with those glassy blue eyes
now at 60 something
hes slim n upright
striding purposefully down the street
with a spring in his step
and woofing down bondis famous fishnchips
i’d like to say
that i walked up n said terry?
n he looked up n said
steve? steve fuckin’ kilbey from the chrunch!
and then he said
kinda quiet like
got anything to smoke at home , olde bean?
and this led to merry evening
with stampy sittin’ round the kitchen table
regaling us with stories of marlon brando
and his brother chris who co-managed the who
and the swinging bloody sixties..
sipping on cognac and puffing on the vapouriser
and then he invited me onto the film set
and i got to play his underling villain
a criminally insane old ‘ippy
driven nuts by years of dope abuse n rocknroll
but still with a neatly trimmed beard n nice accent
so the viewer aint sure whether to bleedin’ well trust me
or knot…
i could look dapper in a black tux at a gaming table, terry
(tho i lost 70 bux playin’ the pokies at revesby)
or i dont look too bad in a wet suit (i hope)
if theres any underwater argy bargy to sort aht
and not only that
but i score the friggin film too
and get nominated for an oscar
which they decide not to give me
cos they know i hate all award ceremonies
(ANATHEMA)
and they also know
they cant trust me
that if i do turn up
i’ll stick it to the man!
yeah just they way everybody hopes someone fucking will
but everyone needs the man too much to do it!
and then….
oh sorry
terry,
terry stamp , if you are reading this
i will behave myself at the oscars this time
for you
and for olde lang sine too
so i am available
ive had a little acting experience
um i was shylock you know
and thats a big part….
anyway
dont let my blog put you off, terry
if hollywood is beckoning me….
i could be available
lemme look at my calendar..
hmmmm
how about in five minutes…
terry
terry?
terry??
TERRY????!

o prima vera !
italian suns burn hazy over me
wandering in these woods
for a thousand years
stumbling thru the warmth
the lovely girls and good companions
drink food laughter
wine and brown flesh
the clear rivers and their grumbling stones
sweet creatures lap from its waters
we paint our faces with masques
in the haze of an eternal morning
making simple music in the open air
we live at the centre of the world
at the centre of time
our rough bread and our virgin olive oil
our strength and our youth
our victories
the deep earth yields up her bounty gladly
the rain falls in gentle downpours
birdsong in the forests
harmony , melody
call and response
fruit ripens on the tree and vine
men and women slip off together
somewhere
the sun moves into midday
and shadows vanish
children dive in the river
blue kingfishers and skylarks
at dusk eventually
after the long afternoon
the sun appears red and huge in the sky
a crescent moon shortly follows
a tiny star at its southern point
under trees we prepare long tables
we sit and talk and drink and eat into the night
the night mingles in the wine
which becomes dark and sweet and strong
hands take your hand
leading you into the darkness
lips whisper at your ear
fingertips find you tenderly
in the warm black spaces
and you find your way home
while the spirits of the trees guard your bower
and the spirits of the night walk abroad
and in the black-blue sky
shooting stars arc across its dark face
music seeping from far away
celebration of springtime
this blessed planet
this holy night
this memory of joy

another cloudy morning
6.43
ipod on shuffle
cat power half of you
yeah its ok
kinda desolate
uh oh
coldplay white shadows
can i write blogs to this kinda stuff
maybe i gotta get back to oophoi
or eno
or something gentle n undulatin’
yep
sorry chris, you wont feel a thing!
ah thats better
peter baumann romance 76
i dont like other words intruding on my words
i love to paint to songs
but i need to write to instrumental music
unless its in another language…
that works for me
scarlet bumper wakes up early
so i got up n meditated
with her sitting in my lap
crosslegged on the sofa
she immediately goes back into a deep dreamless sleep
works every time
eve n aurora arrive at the table almost immediately
they start asking questions
i say auroras a “piker” if she wont come to the pool
with me n evie
then i have to explain what “piking out” means
i sound like some olde cs lewis codger
explaining the slang phrases of 40 years ago
do people still say “piker”?
theyre both sitting at kitchy table now
looking at me expectantly
like a pair of small puppies watching you eat
what do they actally want i ask them
they dont know
they just want to vaguely hassle someone…
ive sliced my right index finger on a razor
and its ahurting me to type
oh boy i hope its better before our next gig in eumundi
its my main plucking finger….!
(gulp)
its gonna be a real mess if it aint healed by then
but
as some loathesome greasy manager once said
the show must go on
and i’ll have to pluck more with middle finger
or use a plectrum
whatever, pray for my finger, my fingerlings
so that i may rock once again
due to xtreem racquet the band is generating at moment
i am wearing in ear monitoring
which is those things jammed in my whole ear
flesh coloured torture instruments
to block out le rackette
and
to give me feed of all instruments
unfortunately its hard to be chatty with them on
your voice coming back in reverb like the voice of god
filling up yer head with yerself
the audience aurally recede to whispers milesaway
its hard to be “natural”
just when i wazza getting my showbiz spiel together
long overdue too, it was
gee am i imagining it
or are australian audiences more hesitant n reticent
than the u.s. n europa?
whats wrong with ya?
are we actually scaring em into a frightened gawk?
they hang about
not that excited to see one of the best space opera bands ever?
whats wrong with em?
by now
the baby is on my lap
shes woken up n she wants my lap
and nowhere else will do
its flattering and annoying!
everytime i leave the house for a while
she gets upset
she sits on my lap
gently wriggling
softly saying dad dad
it sounds very cozy
but what with my sliced finger
and big fat baby in ye olde lap
every letter becomes excruciating
such is my love for you, devoted reader
my imaginary companion
you who exist on a screen somewhere
a shadow , a flicker
aurora colours in
eves playing a complicated game
with a load of little animals
baby bumper slings her foot up on the table, imperiously
she sighs, a little bored quite frankly
but shes content too
shes like a little beast in some ways
and a little angel in lotsa others
oh dad
dont worry
i aint about to get all fucking sentymentle on ya
kids are kids are kids
like the dawn , n the trees n the wind
there will always be kids
i have a lot of kid left in me still
the little bugger refuses to vacate
and let olde mr avuncular wisdom move in
the kids are alright, i guess
someone hadda raise me
now its my turn
i guess im lucky none of my ones
are as obnoxious n precocious as i was
tho each can be shockingly naughty on occaisions
i was like having dr zachary smith join yer family
smart arse comments, mutinies, disappearances
setting things on fire,general ratbaggery
bullying small cousins etc
i couldnt stand myself
but i couldnt help myself either
i was the sorta kid that i would detest now if i met ‘im
i have only very very recently become even vaguely nice
and if they hadda had bloggs way back when
you woulda seen a different manne…..
actually its very nice to give the bumper a cuddle
shes warm n smells of vanilla
she digs kraut rock too
baumanns sequencers keep her jigging about
although shes also trying to kick my lapptopp
she wants to do some typing with her heel!
nice one bumper
now i have to constrain the foot w/ left hand
i leave ya there
e n a furiously colouring in
bumpr riggling on my lap
soft grey clouds
bridge n tower obscured
romance 76 going in the corner
flowers in vases
ganeshas n photographs
fridge magnets
fruit
finish

lord have mercy
a beautiful spring day
“weekend shoppers still swarm to the games
they burn their bridges
and they fan the flames
alone in the crowds forgetting their names
and fade on the way to the exit…….”
oh thats just some lyrics to a song i wrote 30 years ago
years ago living in canberra writing on my teac 4 track
getting my whole trip together
formulating my approach
you see
i knew i needed to know how recording worked
the few times i’d been in recording studios
the engineers had talked down to me
and dismissed all my suggestions
i heard sounds in my head
but i didnae have the vocabulary to communicate
nor did i yet have wherewithal to execute it
according to my plans
all i had was ambition
and a feeling i was surrounded by idiots
let me tell ya if i’d been living in london
instead of canberra
things mighta been different
but nobody could really dig my vision there
they didnt believe that i knew what i was doing
fair enough
getting underestimated toughens ya up
it is a very peculiar trip that i’m on
i dunno how to even describe it
its escapism, i guess
but on a beautiful day like today
the otherplace hovers within our reach
ive always rejected the commonplace n ordinary
my mum read me alice in wonderland when i was 4
it was a taste for the dreamlike reawakened
things that could transform or be transformed
the search for music n films that took me where…?
somewhere i need to remember so badly
im looking for clues
ive got my ear to the ground
and my eyes on the sky
i know youre looking for that place too
or why else read this stuff
which pours from my fingers like manifest ash
music is the last resort
its the 1st resort too
and all resorts between
the unusual combinations
make it sad n triumphant
use all the words from your one thousand lives
put some fucking love into it for gods sake
if its gonna be obvious
make it gloriously obvious
give me something for my heart
let my feet tap
let my mind quicken
let the blood flow to certain veins
dischord can be theatrical
but beauty n harmony are the true goal
to uplift yourself by your own strings
in the orbits tremor
the slightest string is pulled
ah fiendss
im having you on
no
im definitely not having you on
ah fiends i love you all
no
i definitely dont love you all
your breaking up
the outside falls away
the facade rebels
you wonder whats he on about
whos the biggest hood wink?
sittin inside on yon sunny daye
hunched over a screan
typing this doggerel
meanwhile the holiday is very quiet
the suburbs lie silent
birdsong muted in the springtime trees
i will go outside again
feel the sun n wind on my skin
the air is so clear n clean today
blowing across the vast oceans
bringing the antarctic ions to me
i also love fiji water
mmm its really good
drink up that lovely stuff fiendss
if ya wanna get to 52 and still rock hard
if ya wanna jump thru them fiery hoops
if ya wanna transmit the message
about the search for more space
if you understand the need for travel
outward n inward
if you desire the feeling of immersion
if you can ignore all the nonsense
if you can dig it all
and dig you must
and delve too baby
cos delve rhymes with twelve
and ya never know when ya gonna need a rhyme
so you put words like delve carefully away
in the back of yer mind so to speak
the lure of outdoors is almost irresistable
i should go out on the balc n do some yoga
stretch out my olde bones n sinews
pour some power back into my batteries
open up my heart so it has more space to beat
drawn down energy from above n below
yoga …what a cliche, huh?
oh but it works, it works….
so subtly you wont even notice
but you gotta do it every day fiendss
no days off from goode things you lazy fiendss
pursue it as you would pursue sex n drugs
pursue it as you would pursue money n power
this is the important thing
this is where you might find out
this is where it used to be
this is this
and thats that
over n out
happy holiday
ha ha
sk
1 30 sunny holiday arvo
nsw austraylia
bye bye

is everyone sleeping
sleeping on a sunny afternoon
lazy sunday afternoon
got no time for worry
type my blogge n drift away
sunday afternoons fiendss
nothing could be better or worse
sunday afternoon has a way
of calling a spade a spade
(in spades)
sunday afternoon can be light n bubbly
like a glass of champers
or it can be cold n gloomy
like a hangover
sunday afternoon i know ya!
all the sunday drives with my family
yeah thats when dad ‘d come into his own
drivin’ along , cracking jokes
singing n whistling
commenting on the “geezers” on the street
“look at his bleedin’ barnet, slim…”
(look at his hair)
“youre not bloody havin’ yer hair like that geezer!”
up until i was sixteen
my dad didnae want me havin’ long hair
“if it aint cut tonite , i’ll hold ya down n do it meself”
he’d say half joking
then he bought these comet combs
they were one of the first tv market campaigns we ever saw
and the giant food chopper which could chop thru a boot..
youd see someone getting a really groovy hair cut with comet comb
but uh oh
when yer dad used it on you
it took great hunks n chunks out of the sides n back
leaving you wandering round bully high
with the other comet comb laughing stock-outcasts
whose parents had recently mutilated their hair dos
then
one day
when i was lookin like prince valiant
i was about 16
my dad just looked at my hair
he said
“i thought i told ya to get that bloody lot off…!”
dad its not even long, you should see roger caputnicks..
“he aint my bloody son….”
gee these conversations seemed to follow a course
like a river in its bed
but this time my dad just said
if you want to bloody look like that
you bloody well can….
and
that was it with the long hair bit
i bet these days hippy pairents are beggin their boys
to grow it long and not the spiky n product look
how times change
my dad was slightly miffed when i dyed it red however
he just didnt get david bowie at all
nor did my auntie lu lu
“he’s sick” she said
when i showed her the middle foldout in aladdin sane
trying times for the oldies what with glam rock n bisexuality
jesus tho
what a lot of olde toffee it seems now
the moment marc bolan 1st donned a glitter jacket
is when i stopped liking him
i dont like glitter
or tinsel
or stuff thats sposed to fix up something drab
but in those days it seemed almost de rigeur
i was still slapping on the olde eyeliner in 1984
olde glamours die hard
i see mr gary glitta himself is doing time in thailand
for general deviancy n disgustin behaviour
he was always a lewd olde fruit even when he first appeared
i never even knew it was a wig he was wearing!
how naive am i?
the funny thing with yer glam rock was seeing macho brutes
donning blue eyeshadow n lippy
over the topp of grizzled features n lantern jaws
bolan looked so much better without the makeup
it never suited him
he went from being a tree spirit
to a ninny with some glittery stars stuck on his dial
overnite
the sweet were not so sweet either
check this lyric out
you cant push willy where willy wont go (!?)
of course chin n chapman wrote that for em
the same pair of guys wrote for
suzi quadroped
the mudd
the sweat
oh a whole bunch of idiots
they churned this glam bubblegum stuff out
like max martin does over in sweden nowadays
knocking out hits for everyone
gee i wish i could do that
i’d be hard at work right now if i could
writing a power ballad
called
a stitch in time ( saves nine)
i’d get wretchie samborer to play guitar on it
i’d have the huge muscly guy playing that wild sax in the vid
id have some really cool dance routines too
and someone holding up wads of money with a clock round his neck
and i’d have a girl rampaging thru her “x”s house smashing up stuff
(in slow mo we see the fish tank explode..
guppies suspended momentarily in the air)
i’d have some homies who are down with it
some boys with the chronic who get jiggy w/ it
i’d have some beautiful girls with artificially enhanced bosoms
hangin’ around as if that was jus’ the way it always was
i’d have jokey bits that made me seem human n wacky
i’d have risque lyrics bleeped out
i’d have tim burton direct it or gus van santaclaws
i’m gonna get the guy whos job it was was to make that lady
in heart look thin
while she was actually getting bigger every moment
im gonna get him to put the squeeze on me
give me the full vaseline lens treatment
soft lighting
blurry focus
computer out my beard n wrinkles
i’m gonna find gary glittas olde wig
(or is it in jail with him)
i’ll get a butt double if they tell me too
im gonna scmooze n network too
this idea is solid gold easy action
“a stitch in time saves nine
and then i shalt bee thine
many hands make light work
and every cloud has a….silver lining…!”
its poetry, pure poetry
aurora is painting one of those cardboard drink take away things
its her weird hobby
as soon as ya bring one home shes painting it
evies sittin’ there in her damp rashie
i say take that damp rashie off eve
she says ok ok i’ll take my damn rashie off…!
tomorrow is a holiday
things are very quiet on the backstreets here
a few tarted up old rich bitches in jewellree n gas guzzlahs
a few lunatics muttering to their bag of bags
a few skateboarding layabouts…put em in the army
cars with families looking for a car park…good luck folks!
pigeons gulls n mynahs
sunsinking behind city
harbour bridge in stark relief against golden blaze
ooh its so quiet
has everyone gone to the moon?