The Time Being | Steve Kilbey

a galleon came into the bay
on a winters day
some men rowed ashore
over the wild surface of the sea
and the spray drenched their beards
and the breakers drowned their talk
adventurers you see
pirates
brigands
soldiers of fortune
desperate men
their leader was no young man
he steered the boat into the harbour
where the voodoo natives watched from the trees
he called for them to row harder
against the smashing rollers that came down on them
he cursed the sea god and the foul weather
they jumped out into the foam
and pulled the boat ashore
onto the dark cold sand
onto that faraway strand in a south sea
where parrots screamed in jungles
where big cats roamed the evenings in black
and monkeys chattered madnesses in the temples
the temples
where they would find…
something the leader wanted so badly
some powerful talisman
some enormous treasure
some magical drug
who could say
no one knew
they took it on faith
killer had kept his word so far
killer they called him and killer he was
widowmaker
deathdealer
he was at 52 a ruthless cut-throat
able to survive freezing cold waters
to march for days and days
surviving on a spartan diet of dates molasses and goji juice
master of chi power
smooth of tongue
and well versed in flattery and intrigue
diplomacy
the marital arts
and disappearing
he had rounded up these 12 men
handpicked
to accompany him
on this greatest adventure
this desperate plunge into danger
this voyage to these remote islands
to find whatever it was he was after
el dorado
the fountain of youth
the astral journey
the complete dominion of the senses
now they stood on these desolate shores
his men
his comrades in arms
bolan?
yes killer?
bolan was his bo’sun
assess this situation mr bolan sir!
well killer its like this….
we have enough food n drink for 3 days
bolans soft slight lisp was hard to catch against the surfs roar
we have enough to smoke for maybe 2 days max…if we take it easy
we should hit the fucking forests quicksmart n get out doublequick
back to blighty posto hasto…
what are we waiting for then? the killer exhorted the men
a smoothfaced young man with a melodious voice stepped forward
arent you gonna tell us what we’re looking for killer ? he asked
you’ll find out soon enough mr mclennan said the killer frowning
the rest of the crew stood grumbling
have i ever led you men astray before ? their leader demanded
plenty of times actually… said a youth with a french accent
cmon arthur groaned the killer
gimme a break….
i agree with rimbaud.. said an olde guy rapped up in a cloak
merlin? youre sposed to be on my side…..
so theres sides now said an italian guy called alighiery
et tu dante? said the killer glaring at the diminutive writer
he looked up
and whatta bout the rest of you….? he demanded
ronson?
im with you killer
houdini?
count me in
tolkien?
(who nodded his head and puffed on his pipe)
lennon?
sure sure
buddha?
if you think it would help…
ian curtis?
a sullen young man sniffed his assent
presley?
why the hell not?
mervyn peake?
absolutely !
ok then
this is what we’re gonna do….

t b c

*

me and odilon redon walking down a street
he says
you know that stuff with the molasses really works
i say
yeah?
he says
i got the best nights sleep ever lastnite
john erskine and isadora telambi walk in
she saying something in her native ethiopian
erskine cant understand
but man
isadora is so beautiful
its worth a shot
pretending you know her language
i guess
erskine
he aint looking bad for his age
hair a little thin maybe
a few too many late nights perhaps
god that magic circuit can be grueling
woman tearing at him to saw them in two
all those rabbits n doves to contend with
(nah erskine dont hurt his beasts
the same dove and rabbit for years
they seem to love ‘im!)
same olde routines
telambi catches sight of me
“ooh look whos been allowed out bibi”
she finishes every sentence with that bibi
is it baby or some african word?
her accent is thick and marvellous
she sings english in a low fluid melody
isadora not a door a…. i say
an isadora equals an adorer bibi
she says singing the line in fact
odilon this isadora telambi i say
odilons my new favourite painter ever i say
cmon steve mutters redon embarrassed
telambis a bit of an art buff
on both sides of the canvas
yes man ive hird of you bibi she croons
erskine gets back with the drinks
isadoras just fiji water tonight
erskines drinking the green absinthe in flames
odilons got a red wine
steve i got you a goji vodka molasses jaeger nutjuice shake
with ginger powder? i ask
you kidding me killer says the magician
no i aint …jesus..it needs the ginger powder to potentiate the..
you should coool out bibi
says/sings telambi into my face
erskine slops my drink down
just fuckin’ drink it killer
odilon laughs beneath his funny hat
cheers
yeah!
cheeers bibi
odilon did this amazing pic with pastel of buddha i say
i love buddha says odilon
yeah he aint a badde guy bibi says isadora
do you….starts odilon
no laughs telambi
most of us ethiopians are christians bibi
been playing any sax? i ask her
any what bibi she says
any sax bibi i say
its not bibi its bibi you clown bibi she laughs
yes i have been playing constantly since we last met
oh all kinds of things you know
rock revival shows in the states
african stuff you know bibi …tv
she played on remindlessness i explain to odilon
yes and got paid with only 2 joints and a taxi money bibi
says telambi
i wonder how old she is
anywhere between 35 and 50
impossible to tell
her skin is black and elastic
it seems impossible for it to wrinkle
it just stays smooth when she laughs
once we’d been real close
a long time ago
now she kept her distance
we argued a lot over the sax stuff
telambi threw one at me one day
and lemme tell ya it had hurt
she also challenged me to get even a squeak
out of her little straight one
whats that called?
im not a great sax lover to tell the truth
odilon redon says
whos that big muscly guy plays sax in all those eighties vids?
rafael ravenscroft? i venture
ever the font of rocknroll knowledge
yeah whatever says redon rudely
anyway
whatta joke you know in all them tina turna vids
that big guy honking his sax with his head thrown back
telambi frowns
why is this so funny bibi?
i dunno says redon starting to laugh
erskine guffaws n slurps on his drink
i hate the eighties he says
me too i say tucking into my cashews
i wander into the gents for a wee wee
paulie klee is doing a line on the counter
fucking hell paulie i say
killa he says standing up n patting his nostril
hows the impressionism paulie i say
i aint an impressionist…am i? say klee
whatever i say
i hate that says klee
what? i say
people who say whatever
he says
when i get back
odilon n isadora have gone off together
jesus i say
erskine stares off somewhere
get over it killa
he says
im over it
i say
completely

im feeling pretty low
im feeling pretty blue
my life seems a struggle
seems one argument after another
seems i am kicking against the pricks
wish i could accept it
im hooked on good times
and i cant handle the bad
i see people take serious knocks
and they get up n keep going
i get dismayed so easy
i get put off the track
i get dislodged
my anger has flared up n burnt me up inside
used me up in one useless flash
in sydney its miserable winter
wet cold ugly weather
there wassa bitta sun this morning
but it vacated the premises about 1 oclock
the houses in sydney are freezing
i know what cold weather is..
i lived in sweden
it was minus 25 outside
but i was warm in comfy inside
no draft
no heater blaring forth electric rays burning n drying yer skin
(oh the poor being has sensitive skin)
no blower heater blowing dry dead air at ya one side
while the other side freezes
it was always about 73 degrees
the radiators came on n went off
the place didnt even need them
double glazing n good materials
eg a decent threshold that stopped drafts
theres a gale half an inch high
blowing under my doors
i put those snake things there but the kids move em
or when the door opens which the thing hinders
or they concentrate the draft into a small whirl of intense damp draft
look i know i shouldnt complain
but im burnt out n freezing
the internet is playing up here
so im lucky there is a blogge at all
n dont get fluffed up if i aint returned yer email, gmail, phonecall, letter
telegram,smoke signal,wave, message,indication or whatever
im nihilated
its school holidaze next week
n i can only imagine this weather plus cabin fever doodles
someones done something to the falcon n its leaking
pam n perry just came over
so ive hadda smoke n im drinking some green ginger wine
plus some fucking neurofens (the ones with lotsa codeine)
but i still feel like halfaman
im listening to brian eno another green world
and quite frankly i wish i was there
somewhere else
somebody else
or cancelled out
i dont want to die
but i’d like to go into suspension for a while
i had some nice dreams last night
i have a magic recipe for you to try
especially if you have trouble sleeping
in one glass of warm/hot water
add one tablespoon of blackstrap molasses
2 tablespoons cider vinegar
1 quarter a teaspoon of bicarb soda
drink before beddy bedtime
and if you dont have the best creamiest night sleep
(you’ll see what i mean…no mr humphries jokes now davem)
then you can pay me double the subscription back!!
you see it alkalizes yer body
mmmm alkiline good
acidic badde!
you better believe that it works
or i wouldnae have recommended it to yas
whew i just turned the brightness down on my ibook gee4
so much fucking electric pollution in yer beings system
i once had this check for pollutions
my electro magnetic contamination (at that point in time)
was litchrally off the dial
i was fulla the stuff
todays no better with electric heaters
ipod
ibook
i dont know what
all the electricity bombarding me
i’ll end up like the bat
hanging fried upside down on a wire
ive pushed my tough(on juicy wallops side) working class
english genes far enough
i havent eaten all day n i have a lean n hungry look
god you never know what to expect from a mirror
all my life ive been alternately attracted n repelled by my own visage
i mean
what is a “face”?
do you ever think about that?
why do we place so much emphasis on faces?
why does a straight nose n grey eyes go much easier on the eye
what makes my white beard quite so attractive
how do you look olde n young at the same time?
my face my face
all those dead handsome men
all them dead beautiful women
all the fatskinny people
all the nobody people
all the somebody people
what will it mean when youre gone
i hate it when im impressed by prettiness or handsomeness
even tho the owner seems vacant mean or useless
but some deep sense of human aesthetic gives us knee jerk reaction
you have to educate yerself to resist
like the monks n the priestesses n vestal virgins
but to most of us
the right human geometry facially can blind us
good looks…..think about it
would you rather lose face or lose your face?
beauty is skin deep
and skin is flimsy stuff
like mine
dry cold tired epidermis
big deal
being human isnt always that much fun
even when theres nothing really wrong with ya
like me
always complaining
about something

im dreaming
in this dream im hanging out with grant
hes alive and im still a junkie
im so sick
im weeping in the dream but i cant get the stuff into me
it always slips thru my fingers at the last moment
grant catches me stealing from him
im at some holiday place
nk is there too
she looks on concerned
everythings going wrong so wrong
and im just struggling thru these blinding tears
trying to acheive my nebulous directive
feeling hopeless
i get up
a hacking cough due to cold n too much pot
my skin is stretched too tight in this coldweather
i feel dry and itchy all over
my hands feet n nose never warm up
the waves are huge
i climb in the baby pool
its so full of seaweed n marine debris
smells like a fish market
the water is cold n turgid
huge waves still crash over the sides
the vacuum of them pulls you down
if you come near
they hurl seaweed n sand n stuff at me
i climb into the sauna waterlogged
at least its blisteringly warm in here
i sit and watch my sweat drip drip drip
i heat up and up
my feet n nose n hands want more
but the rest of me is getting cooked
two handsome young brutes argue too noisily in a foreign lang
not russian but sounding like it
an olde friend of mine is in there
we talk a bit
i have a shower
put my nice warm clothes on
i go over to the edge of the deck n start my xi gong
justa like every otherday
i swing from side to side
breathing on different sides
i start my practise
a big ball of xi im holding
yeah
do the going round n round one
do the hands in n out one
now im doing the fish move
i got my eyes closed as yer sposed to
imagining the xi
the suns come out a bit
beginning to feel better
my hands fishtail to the left
i breathe in that lovely xi
fill me up o energy
im getting into it when…
slap
like a giant bucket of cold water
chucked all over me
freezing seawater
a freak wave
im drenched standing there still in the fish mode
all the people on the deck cheer n laugh
very bracing says a woman doing yoga
i never saw it coming
i trudge home totally wringing wet
my boots my socks
my pants n my shirt
i take shirt off
n just wear jacket
wish i gotten round to mending all the buttons on it now
my ipod got soaked but miraculously is unscathed
i feel like the uni-fucking-verse is telling me something
miserably wet wretch squelching home
wheres the glamour?
do interviews with nz
i hate hearing me going on about me
really i do
ho hum
the 1st guy catches a stoned rave
that must have filled up his quota
with my 1st answer
a long winded rambling discourse
on art life music love and death
none of which he will or possibly could ever use
every answer i go on n on
interrupting myself with footnotes puns n analogies
at the end of each answer
ive totally lost track of where i started
vigorously answering questions no one has asked
what can we expect he asks
a fair enough question and possibly the most pertinent
suddenly i see myself onstage in some gig in nz
its fucking freezing cold outside
there i am onstage in front of a few people
what am i doing?
am i struggling with my 12 string
muffing all the chords n forgetting all the words
if you dont think i can play guitar listen to the solo
on she counts up the days on remindlessness
its a beauty
or didja know thats me playing lead on film off p=a
i played thru petes rig
n he played bass
so i can play guitar…
but suddenly on my own there..
my fingers freeze up
my voice dries out n i croak n warble
the kiwis are going
what the fuck ….?
play the hits
you see they tell me
that our first 2 records did ok
in nz
i wouldnt know
stunn records went arse up
n we never never got paid
ditto with carerre in europe
hey davem n gareth n all the rest of you pommy gits
got any carerre records?
they never paid us….
ha!
mind you they paid thru the nose
for that duran duran tour…
but they never paid me a farthing
but im not bitter…..much!
anyway i guess i can shtrumm a few choons
from the stunn days ….
or maybe not
actually i have no idea what i will do
do they really want that old guff?
oooh new zealand…aint been there for 24 years
they never asked us back….
maybe we’re ready for each other now
a lovely song by dimmer came on my shuffle
yeah hes always good shayne carter
you can trust him to do something good
always got some integrity
thats very nz i reckon
theyre high on integrity in their pop music
cmon
split enz
the crowdies
the bats
the chills
the fits
dimmer
even dragon
and jesus
theres someone ive forgotten
the verlaines…?
yeah them too
and sam hunt that walking living breathing example of a poet
will sam grace the stage with me
and blow me offstage like he did at the po fest 04 qld
jesus a real poet at last
sam…will you come n see me somewhere
(i expect hes too busy declaiming verse somewhere)
and sam neill
sam
if yer reading this
i felt like
we coulda been almost brothers
until the meat advertisements
im sorry sam
im disappointed in ya
so no
i wont be signing yer copy of the straw peoples utmw
number one in nz for 3 years straight
which means it sold 76 copies
and andrew broughs bike is good too
he was in the fits
anyway
its about a month away
i hope the 2 matt davidsons can duke it out
and may the impostre be deposed
and stop clogging up my comments with this tripe
anyhow
im sitting home freezing my ass off
im gonna do some yoga
maybe thatll get me warm
after that
if it doesnt work….
only one thing comes to mind
?

cold rain numbs me
i no longer care if im wet
hurrying down this coldmorning street
puddles ripple with sizzling drops
phone call waking me up from wherever i was
someone talking at the other end….where was that?
and then im out the door
and on my way
a bus goes by
full of people crammed in
their breath steaming the windows
branches have fallen down during the night
a bat hangs electrocuted on the wires
i see my car
damn !
i cant believe it
a flat tyre
oh no
not now
not today
present continuous tense
this cant be happening
let it be a memory
but oh no
im standing here right now
its raining
the flat tyre
cars zoom pass throwing up water
i open up the boot and look for the jack
everything in rusty disrepair
im struggling with the wheel
a car pulls over
a man offers me a lift
where to i say
wherever youre going he says and smiles
he must know who i am i think
hop in he say
i cant place that accent….american or maybe not
i jump in
its a bmw alright
we drive off
my car sitting there useless
theres a woman in the back seat
good morning she says
hello i say
doubtfully
nice car i venture
isnt it he says
hes young and looks like a soap opera star
she is the female equivalent from what i saw
through the rains blur
in the darkness of the morning
i feel suddenly sleepy relaxed
the car purrs through the traffic
the music is making me sleepy
the music playing in the car
some kinda new age world music thing
where am i going ? i hear myself ask
as if from a distance
we want to have a chat with you she says from the back
the driver laughs and concurs
a little chat
is this about my blog? i say dreamily
this elicits more laughter from him
well i thought maybe you could tell me he says
have i been drugged? i struggle to say
again soft laughter from the driver
something like that

i awake in darkness in a stuffy room
my head pounds
my eyes feel full of sand
im in a dentist chair
powerless to move
the man n woman sit patiently on either side
armed with syringes and electrodes
just smiling
suddenly with a superhuman burst of xi energy
i break free of my bonds
and burst out of the chair
they pull out revolvers and shoot
but im either lucky or stupid
cos they cant seem to hit me
i knock them out
and round up the whole gang
a whole international gang of interpol wanted villains
i commandeer a helicopter and fly back to bondi
i jump out over the sea
and i ride a dolphin in
i am decorated by the mare of bondi
the right honourable gg chestnut
the delightful star of bronte
inlaid with enamel
at last after much blue cheer
i return to the scene of my car
where a grateful citizen has changed the wheel
a street procession cheers
children offer me flowers
today will be declared a holiday all over the world
i will be paid a million bucks a retelling of my heroic story
i will be so rich and comfortable
i will be immune to winter in artificially warm n lit greenhouse
i will lie in bed in the morning and laugh to myself
i will dream of the sun
i will go into its light

among the twisted terraces on a winter day
leaves swirl down from a grey roof
inside where its so warm
so warm being here with you
i dont know what im liable to say next
do you?
words pound n hound me thru the daylight hours
i am not mad
i cant go mad
its impossible
some sane english core
holds me to the light
the way you hold me to the dark
in the dark room
the door is always closed
what goes on in there?
what is obtainable in there?
muse : what do you want?
whatever youve got…
(sound of faraway mocking laughter)
i knock at your door
you feel me outside for a moment
before i suddenly enter
its so dark
a heady smell permeates the room
the darkness is blinding me
i know youre here somewhere
so white amongst the black
vanished into an other dimension
waiting on the turning seasons
now im all at sea
i feel giddy
i feel uninvited
i feel a little weekend
i standing illuminated against city lights
sydney pulses n throbs along outside here
the drizzle comes back and floats in the porthole window
the curtains are still in the stillness
the music….what is that?
piano mournful strings soft washing drums
a man sings something
a dead man now im sure it is
dead for a long time now
the music is very old
no now i recognize this song
why its….
no
it cant be me
no it cant be
oh i can make out the words
is this the kind of thing you do
with everything i gave to you
did you ever stop to see
you never gave yourself to me
the violins slur and blur
the french horns answer sadly
the man whistles the melody
like hes walking along a deserted euro street in november
you can see his raincoat and the cigarrette smoke
is this what you wanted me to see?
i mistakenly open the wardrobe
and i see myself in the mirror
oh im looking olde and young
muse : where did all that time go?
as i move my face back n forth in the half light
planes and angles are revealed and concealed
lines and wrinkles appear and disappear
my grey eyes are vague with swollen pupils
i grope at the clothes hoping to find something
that obviously eludes me
baby where are you ?im calling into the quicksilver dark
i say quicksilver because it also eludes me
i remain somehow outside of it
baby? you say in your soft voice and lovely accent
and the word slides around changing into foreign syllables
until i cant understand it at all
baby how do make all that stuff up? youre asking in the candledark
what stuff? im trying to say but my mouth is full of darkness
its acidic taste curdles on my tongue
setting my teeth on edge
baby what are you doing here? shes asking
the room feels more like outside to me
i mistook the cold for warmth
i am in the alley
out the back of….
somewhere
i guess

light
camera
action
pull it out of thin air
reach up and take it
as fast as it can fill you up
overflowing freely
endless as it is
better than pleasure
better than hedonism
subtle movement
ongoing motion
better than sleep
better than food
what
what could be….
what could be that good
lover ?
but
oh no
no but
but there is a but
i dont want another but
childe theres always a but
a catch
a loophole
a condition
but i just want the thing
the thing you spoke of
the thing beyond things but not thing
no longer any things
anything at all
you mean
yes
union
reunion
you mean to become part of
you mean penetration of things
you mean interpenetration
you mean swallowed
you mean digested
you mean no longer myself
you mean say goodbye to all this
no no no no no
my time beingness
future
past
all are thought
now
now!
not when or then
the time being now
only ever now
where am i?
you know who you deeply are
where am i?
you know everything
already
oh time being in gloria excelsis
oh time being in hell
oh time being on earth too
oh time being to kill and brutalize
oh time being to heal and reunite
oh time time time
where was i?
now
now?
right now
if you can remain now for 3 breaths
everything
for 3 breaths
i see such ugliness out there
deformation
senselessness
the cold
the repulsive and unloved
i try to love them but i fail
the sad and the sick
i try to empathise but i feel
nothing
pleasure comes again
resistance is futile
tangled up in all these pleasures
like weeds in a lake
the deep lake of myself
the real time being
the eternal
yes i am eternal
you cant even touch me
so deep deep down i am
a million miles above
steve kilbey and some others
the shallows
the baby pool
still holding on to the side
afraid to let it go
holding on to themselves
playing with themselves
never never imagining
underneath it all
union
calm
peace
cessation
pure unending bliss
nothing to do
nothing need to do
but art
but music
but life
all lead here
no i cant believe it
you should believe it
no i cant fathom it
no you cant
noone can
until you enter it forever
until then
kilbey you are made of the elements
reconstituted fragments of space
from the big bang
from the creator who created his creatures
kilbey you are stardust
kilbey you are linked to everything
just not feeling it
feel it man
no i cant
well maybe a bit
yes i can feel something now
its kinda warm
its kinda moving up my spine
the chakras go ping as it ascends
power
will
life
my desire for life which reconstituted the stardust
my need to live kilbeys life
dont talk about me like im not here
kilbey you are anywhere but here
or now
here = now
but you are not in the equation man
what is this …a poem…or what?
nothing
im just talking out loud
im just borrowing your male homo sapien fingers
to type this message in your english language
so that you may yourself understand
kilbey does not equal kilbey
kilbey + more
kilbey – the bad bits
is there anything left?
kilbey as a saint
you want to be a saint so much dont you
yes yes yes
then take it
oh i cant
not me
what about….
go on
well i dont have to tell you do i?
oh yes
that
and
that
and
some other thats
thats n buts
reduced to 2 words
time being
but that
steve kilbey
but that
the killer
but that
now remains here
always

ok this is easy
i get to listen to my fave tracks
from pod playlist
and write about em

in no particular order

the only ones : peter and the pets
i saw em play at the lyceum in 78
richard lloyd came on n played
they were average, im sorry to say
i sat at a table with perretts mum n dad
they gave me his phone number and told me to call him
they gave me a lift home in their white jag
his mum was from vienna i think
they were very nice
i never rang the number tho
then in 1982 after many only ones comparisons
the lead guitarist tracked me n ploogy down in london
and organised a jam
which really meant backing him on some demos
not perrett but the big ugly guy
he was a smacktragedy
as was his ‘orrible missus
nodding off n nearly setting things alight
i was horrified
ploogy was laughing his dutch head off
cos the guy was trying to get me to sing back ups
on one of his songs
and i REALLY didnt want to
i didnt wanna be there at all
jesus can ya believe that was 25 years ago….
anyway this is a great great great track
lazy drawling detached narcotic slurry lou reed
oh yeah you gonna like this one!

eno n budd : their memories
brian eno
i could write a book about his contributions
to rock
here he and harry budd
conjure up their usual melancholia-dust trail
the pianos find simple phrases
their reverberations trigger distant sounds
like strings
evocative

king crimson : the talking drum
all manner of sounds
like the buzzing of flies
bongos n bass n drums
the guitar is sick
it swerves n slides side to side
it doubles up
a violin
i feel like im eavesdropping on a conspiracy
paranoia builds up
atonal probe enters from the right
what emotion does this conjure up?
i dunno

blonde redhead : heroine
this is one of those albums
almost every song is a good un
like everything all mixed up
vaguely shoegazery
understated
easy on the ears
beguiling words n melodies
you may like this very much
you may already like this very much!

elo : 10538 overture
stunning!
the arrangement is so….
the downwards guitar is fucking spectacular
the french horns come in off in the distance
the cellos saw away at the song
its an epic
it was big hit in early seventies
its a true classic
impeccable magnificence
put this one down as one i wish i’d done…

the faces : wicked messenger
a dylan song
the faces slop and stumble thru it
and the result is real rocknroll
feel and emotion
guys who can really play
each occupying their own space
all going on at once
intertwining with each other
the bass playing is a riot
the organ is brilliant
but what would you expect its ian maclagan
ronnie wood on guitar
you can see why the stones wanted this guy
k jones on drums
what a walloper
he gives that kit a fucking good seeing to!
and he always seems to keep going at the end
when the other instruments stop
his trademark
rod stewart belts it out
like his life n soul depended on it
there was a wicked messenger from eli he did come..
oh fiendss this is a lovely mess

hawkwind : seven by seven
the true derangement of drugs n space travel
the place where astronaut n the hierophant meet
the warlock as the captain of the capsule
blast it off!
seven times he cursed their seven tears
the astral path is now your fortuitous role
fiendss
this is your captain speaking
your captain is dead

jobriath : what a pretty
sick stuff
a dead gay rock star
like if bowie had come from texas or wherever
an ugly dark song
short and nasty
weird

john cale : antarctica starts here
whispery strange unlikely
oh what perfect lyrics
itll chill ya to the bone fiendss
the anaesthetics wearing off
antarctica starts here….

paul williams : old souls
from soundtrack of phantom of the paradise
reincarnation song par excellence
our love is an old love baybee..
i should do a version of this
people ‘d think i wrote it myself
it is achingly beautiful

lou reed : lady day
melodramatic gothic elegant
a huge towering song
a song of helplessness
trying to warn someone who died a long time ago
listen to the way lou sings
after the applause had died down
and the people had drifted away
its very touching
awww
no no oh please now lady day

magazine : shot by both sides (original version)
razor sharp sleek unbelievable when it came out
i was smitten
intelligence AND rock
yeah it can be done
devoto leers sneers and shouts his way thru this classic
its not punk its too good
its not new wave its too good
its …rock!
i was shocked to find what was allowed…

margot smith : bellyman
before tori amos n a whole loada others
there was margot
you know those slightly loopy geniuses with the amazing voices
this was produced by eddie rainer from split enz
its disturbing primitive gorgeous so so sad n weird
native choruses break into the song from somewhere
im the bellyman come to fill you up when you cant get full
nothing on toris new album is a patch on this song
so so before her time
worth seeking out
youll fucking love it

mick ronson : slaughter on tenth avenue
a theme from an old movie
ronson gave it the treatment
magnificent
ohh lovely guitaring
whatta master
lovely lovely arrangement
ohh you should hear this fiends
amazing little piece of music
itll uplift you in a lovely way

skyray ; jet stream summer
futuristic fluff
skyray are a wonderful instrumental band
like themes to imaginary shows
aqua cool gliding shimmy shammy shimmering glimmering
effortlessly groovy
all skyray stuff is good!

see ya 2morro peepull

in no particular order of preference
but in the order as the come up
on my playlist on eye podd

bob dylan : a sweetheart like you
yeah i love this song dont i
bobby d the master
the big one
the guy who showed lennon how to express his spite
how it could be done
oh this is a corny sentimental song
its got marko knoppflah playin’ guitar n producing
it aint iggy n the stooges thats for sure
but just real real smooth and makes me feel good
hey remember that
music that makes ya feel good?

the cars : all mixed up
i dont like the cars much except for this song
which i really really like
it was a big influence on me round the time it came out
i wanted the church to sound like this, i guess
and the lyrics are right up my alley
only ruined by a rinky dink synthy-sizer
which trills in towards the endo

chapterhouse : autosleeper
amazing lyrics
produced by robin guthrie of the marvellous cock-toe twins
dangerous vacous bliss
blind angel move through me
its kinda shoegazery n biblical n dreamy n creamy
verily i wish i had done this

i am the cosmos : chris bell
one of the best songs ever! ever!
if you like the early chursh this was an ideal
ploogy n i used to play it ad nauseam
but were too in awe to attempt a version

crystal japan : david bowie
you want futuristic?
you want music for drowned continents?
you want grandeur and heartbreak?
you want atlantis’ anthem as she sank below the waves
this piece is an obsession of mine
poignant to the max!

gravenhurst :the velvet cell reprise
youre zooming along on some delicious substance
and stuff flies past ya
its really exciting
instrumental
extra cool
like something i wish i dreamed i did in 1985

jeff buckley : dream brother alternate take
divine exquisite man
beautiful songwriter n genius
different lyrics here to the original
its a gentler take with some kinda tablas or something
transporting
suggesting
compelling
mysterious
every good rock characteristic
can be found in this one excellent song

mississippi : john phillips
another doomed genius
this song was a minor hit in canberra in 1970 or 71
its a real real nice song by the writer from the moms n pops
ex hubby of the once (and maybe still?) lovely michelle phillips
i didnt know what a bayou was in 1970 or 71
but i liked the bit where he sings
mmm i like your dress

pete wylie n wah : hope
a grandiose eighties tearjerker
and yet when it hits that chord
and he strains to hit the notes
and everything
you lied to me…but i wish youd believe me
oh yeah
the 80s werent all badde
be warned :its tres romantic
and it goes on n on

joy division : atmosphere
a huge influence on me
this song
wow
the belltrees
the reverb
the tribal drums surfing the song
the insistent bass gnawing at your brain like mice
doomy lyrics
walk in silence
dont turn away in silence
more goth than notre dame baybee
oh sad tragic eternal

levitation : embedded
one of the great shoegazer songs of all time
one of the most complicated guitar bands
find lev records fiendss n enjoy
everything seems to bounce a long on a cushion of pink haze
the guitar playing is intelligent and executed with aplomb
most of you would like it
i met bick backstage in leeds a few years back
a kindred spirit

normie rowe : it aint easy
an australian singer,
who did this amazing flop single, 1968
it had everything
what went wrong?
if you love the walker bros
and righteous bros etc
please check out this
its a great overlooked song
and its got everything but the kitchen sink
it sunk normies career inexplicably when it failed
but why
its a fucking amazing torch ballad

peter hammill : the lie( berninis st therese)
more gothic than peter murphy nick cave and robert smith in a sack
darker than almost anything youve ever heard
bitter nasty intelligent diatribe against religion:
grace is a name like chastity like lucifer like mine…
a piano gets pounded
a church organ joins in ominously
hammills voice becomes lost in dark shadows in echoes
he rants in the empty church a flaming lunatic
i’d embrace you…
but that would be just another lie

primal scream : higher than the sun (american spring mix)
so called because of the preponderence of a harpsichord (sound)
like brian wilsons wifes band american spring
if you like to take psychedelic drugs
then this is a song for you
you can almost feel the ecky coming on
oh baybee i feel so straynge…
the only thing they ever did that i liked
but i adore this song
itll give ya a contact high you wont believe

the stones : street fighting man
the quintessential rock song
exciting wild shabby stumbling and lurching
it always does it for me
and a lotta olde stuff dont
but this one does
get down

santana : singing winds, crying beasts
one of my favourite instrumentals of all time
and the way when the bass comes in
it just simply propels the whole thing along
carlos guitar sounds amazing here
the percussion like small things running in the desert
the cymbals swell
the electric piano floats
wow!

sigur ros : svefn-g-englar
its something to do with angels im guessing
by the sound of that last word
but in a made up language
with bits that sound like bits of scandic or anglo
which is really no surprise i guess
bowie had his own language on side 2 of low
a band called magma always sang in their own language
(and they say my lyrics are obscure!)
anyway this is sublime
beyond description
and its not unlike grandiose off mats
well just a little…

the small faces : afterglow
2 genius songwriters
ronnie lane and stevie marriott
both ripped off blind by the bizness
they earned NOTHING despite being huge uk n us
sold millions
earned NOTHING
anyway
what a rollicking rolling rocking number
all the trademark ingredients
that grinding organ, all creamy
the drums wallop
its a goody!

smashing pumpkins : tonight tonight
amazing song again
pompous huge arrangement
corgans weird high pitched little voice
beautiful melody
a heartbreaking little song
then suddenly it explodes
tonight tonight
you filled with hope
this song and disarm i wish i’d written
yes i really do
they dont come along this good so often

tom petty n the hbs : the wild one forever
what a corker!
romantic
desperate
at the end of yer tether
melodic
things jingle n jangle
his best song ever

tori amos : a sorta fairytale
nk bought toris new record yessaday
funny watching her listen to her faves new record
seeing the bits she liked n the bits she didnt
this is both of our fave tori
i dont really like much else as much as this
tori pulls on this persona
a damaged sad waitress from south dakota or something
a lovely song of lost possibility
if yer heart dont melt when she sings
and i rode alongside of you
till he lost me
wow
we decided to name our daughter after this album
on the steps of the opera house
after tori blew our minds
but i fear she may be somewhat “lost”
looking at n hearing the new one!

ultravox : i cant stay long
travel again
like gravenhurst
the plains n skies open up
longitude latitude
we fly over swamps n we pass thru walls
exhilarating
moving
always going straight ahead
straight on n on
insistent
dreamy stuff

the who : mary ann with the shaky hands
i like this side of the who
what a great melody
great harmonies
short n sweet
funny and wistful
or is this a kinda rude joke??
(eg is she especially good at “hand jobs”)

there you go
my computer came up with this list
somehow
i dunno
but what a great buncha tunes
youll see lotsa things in there i nicked im sure
bye bye
ttb

oh im so happy imagining my fiendsss
in the northern hemisphere
celebrating summer as they should
swimming in gods cold ocean
swimming in that aitch too owe
sweet sweet summer
oh northern summer
oh the englishman in me is called home
a b and b in ramsgate?
up in findhorn in scotland
where the earth spirits have been contacted
and lo
theyre growing some tropical fruit
the great god pan is alive!
and the naiads and dryads dance at midsummer
in glades and dells
dwarves and elves and faery folk
enchanted summer
leafy oaks and brooks and country lanes
the being sits in the void of southern winter
here in my kitchen with a p-coat on
my fingers n feet n nose freeze
oh i wanna gambol in those english woods
i wanna eat tartex and kneckebrod in a skane skog
dive into that black scandic lake
deep and fucking ancient!
in hungary the rolling hills and plains
life goes on as always in tiny hamlets n villages
in the twilight evenings couples stroll through the countryside
lovely germany and its warm generous summer
shady forests and soft beds
america with its beaches and its lovely trees
oh those lucky natives before the arrival of” the man”
why oh why did we have to do what we did?
here n there
n everywhere we go
we middle aged english speaking males
couldnt we have stayed home n enjoyed our own misery?
ooh we paid a high price for our tekk-nology
oh all the blood on our ancestors hands
i cant seem to wash it all off
sometimes i feel guilty just being “white”
although only parts of me are actually white of course
where my stupid little bondi icebergs swimmers go
the rest is a kinda beigey dirty off-white
i go red when im burnt
i go green when im sea sick
i go blue when im cold
i go grey when im anxious
i go yellow when im jaundiced
you could say im a man of colours
resist ice-house comments
iva biggun davies
“you are awful….but i like you!”
hey this blogging lark is easy
look i can write anything i like
muse : yeah…they noticed
the woolly headed doodles pile outta bed
they like to scare each other
and now they have to “take” each other
to the bathroom
or theyre too scared to do a wee on their own
but i dunno what kinda spook would be put off his evil
just cos the other doodle was there
but i guess theyre not thinking it thru
you often hear a wail
as the minder doodle abandons her post
leaving the other one sitting on the toilet
and vulnerable to attack
from whatever monstrous ghoul inhabits the bathroom
the doodles got new drawing pads and charcoal pencils
and theyre churning out flowers n butterflies (eve)
and chipmunks squirrels n the inevitable rabbits (aurora)
reading the hobbit to the doodles at the mo
last night a passage where theyre eating rabbits
aurora looking at me horrified n gulping
christ
looking at a rabbit dont make me feel hungry either, honey bunny
muse : uh oh here we go again…!
we take doodles n bumper to a park in surry hills lassanite
me n nk got a nasty craving for pastizzi
and guess what?
oh joy oh joy
they do a lentil pastizzi
mmm ttb enjoys his pea n lentil pastizzis
n his tomato dipping sauce
watching the doodles tear around like mad things
while the bumper sits atop a little horse saying giddy up
actually it sounds more like gigga ahh
but nk who understands bumperish
says it ruffly translates as giddy up
giddy up?
what does that mean?
i’ll never say that
if i ever jumped on a horse
and i wouldnt
cos i dont believe the horse wants to be ridden
why would it?
you gotta “break” em in 1st
that means breaking their spirit
kinda like what the good guys do at guantarunta fucking bay
davey hicks face down in fluoro light for five years
oooh he must be a badde guy!
real real badde
he musta threatened freedom the skinny little wretch
glad they got him
i can sleep so peacefully now
i dont believe in breaking anything or anyones spirit
do as you would be done by
thats the fucking golden rule aint it?
would you like a horse to break you in?
you wanna be treated like davey hicks without even a trial?
you want smart bombs dropping on your neck of the woods?
you wanna be rounded up n slaughtered?
you wanna be tracked n harpooned?
you wanna be napalmed or defoliated?
you want your kids killed?
come on
im naive n dopey
but cant this world reflect a little love
before i go to that great ibookG4 in the sky?