The Time Being | Steve Kilbey

hello
nk bought goldfrapps new album yesterday
oh its very lovely….very lovely
steeped deeply in the beatles
its a dreamy creamy melodic techni n sepia colour trip
a dvd came with it for a song called a and e
ali goldy singing in a forest full of leaves
suddenly these leaf-men jump up and start dancing
scarlet kilbey whose accidentally watching is delighted
oh monsters she exclaims happily
then the trees come to life frugging around floppily
you could see scarlet having a pivotal moment…
when the video stopped:
play the monster song again she says
yes this 4th album is their best i’d say after one days listening
some sublime melodies abounding
some weird place where childhood and nascent sexuality intersect
(a very tricky area)
sample :mahogany titties that live on n on
(my spell check says ive misspelled titties (ha ha ))
but the sexuality is imbued with some kinda detached buddhist thingy
the whole thing is like a memory very watercolour very warm n hazy
all of this is achieved thru copious use of mellotron
such was the beatle boys impact upon music
that the mellotron will often be always associated with them
the mellotron (some of you may know this)
was invented in the 60s…very revolutionary n brilliant idea
a machine was built…a mechanical contraption, a keyboard
which consisted of a number of playback heads
which would play a small 7 second loop of tape
when its key was depressed
the mellotron company then recorded
some beautiful and very characteristic sounds
imagine they take , say, the flautist
he plays a C for seven seconds
they record it and transfer it to the little loop that
will play that 7 seconds of C flute when the C key is depressed
after 7 seconds the little loop needed to rewind
so it could play again
just like a cassette tape but much much shorter
ok so the mellotron company records
all the instruments
solo and together
vocalists n choirs
pianos …everything
so now for the first time ever
a single keyboard player had an entire orchestra or choir at
his fingytips
mellotrons were not that stable live
the tapes would get stretched and get jammed
you can imagine…
after an initial wrangle with the musos union
who said (wrongly or rightly?)
that the m-tron would take work away from real musos
the mellotron was taken up and used very much by los beatles
its on a lot of the psychedelic stuff esp the flutes on strawberry fields
the moody blues gave it a caning on almost everything
walling up their sound with slabs of m-tron strings
genesis are the main m-tron fiends
and probably my favourite users of this wonderful machine
almost everything has it
their widescreen n archaic weirdness not possible without it
listen to watcher of the skies
the intro has about 2 minutes of just m-tron
anyway things going backwards n mellotrons
both popularized by the beatles
and now their very use automatically brings those acid days back
its a bit of an easy trick in a way
but still very alluring
the m-tron has such a characteristic sound i avoided it for so long
only recently succumbing
now its on p-killer and new church n shriek….everything
anyway goldfrapps new album is simply stunning
the video went on first thing this morning
and the woofle came out all bleary eyed
plonked herself down and devoured it again
i like the tea she says
referring to the bit at the end
where will drinks a cuppa
also coming with the excellent vid
is a rather silly n slightly demystifying film
(ha! i should talk!)
showing that strange artists should remain strangely silent
ali goldy comes across
a bit like “whatever happened to baby jane”
gee the album is a corker tho
and the the fact my kids have watched the vid 50 times
means there is room in the world
for a kids tv show set in a forest with walking trees
and talking creatures
but done with a magical aesthetic that grown ups could dig!
if you get the funding im the man to do it….
the last word on goldfrapp from scarlet kilbey
to doodles after turning the vid off
“put my monster back on
put my monster back on…FOR GOD SAKE!”
amen

went bike riding in royal national park on sat’day
with brothers
very zen in a way
its very peaceful and calm
but youre rushing along on these sandy stony woody paths
one false move and its all over
so you gotta concentrate
and serious consequences if you dont ….
(i fell off once when ironically i was saying
how you had to have yogic concentration to do it!)
but within the concentration
a calm core builds up
after a while the words fall to the back of your head
and you enter a wordless world of textures and bumps
and reading the track ahead of you
occasionally other cyclists would zoom past going the other way
at ridiculous speeds too
a collision would be disastrous
after all thats why my right eye is more closed than the left
(a bike accident at 13)
anyway i had an amazing time and felt thoroughly invigorated afterwoods
nice to re establish connection with brothers
who after all are my brothers right?
yesterday went to tims with whole fambley
tim and i worked on
so that love may find us
our new 17 minute epic
that puts the fox back in trot
its prog
its traffic
its genesis
its pink fluid
its can and cant
imagine
the church jam for 17 something minutes
pete on piano
marty on bass
me on 12 string acc
tim on drums
then
peter comes back and lays down lead and strings and backgrounds
tim sprinkles mellotron n backing vox
and i come along and put a load of disparate bits n pieces
but voila with a bit of (w)oofle dust
the whole thing suddenly yesterday sat up before our eyes
like the monster on its slab
its two frankensteinian musicians looking on
its like suppers ready meets lowspark of high heeled boys
but with things that only churchy does
its a real beauty and we were both excited
tim n i are getting really good at this
getting a piece of inchoate music and shaping and refining
going with the natural contours the music itself suggests
putting words and backing vox
doing all the tricks we learnt with shriek an afterword soundtrack
i know i rabbit on here
about all these records that never seem to be available
but theres some real treats coming down the tubes to the true believers
this is the best stuff ever
believe me
if it was dismal i’d tell ya
or i’d avoid it
gee whizz our own bona fide 17 minute prog rock epic
(guaranteed with no gratuitous bits)
oh its shaping up to be a goody
mixing in june
oooh you fiends will like this one
meanwhile upstairs from tims studio
the doodles a woofle and a doobs (miss brynn p)
were running rampant
eve (who i now call “the show off person”)
was in fine form flouncing about in bathing suit
with a feather boa and a toy headset
ordering her mother around if she wasnt paying enough attention
aurora was armed with mic and clipboard announcing upcoming events
while brynn bounced around dancing and singing
and the creature known as scarlet kilbey
running around like a very noisy headless chicken
in the studio
the racket was of baby elephant proportions
tim also having a rib injury from soccer
(he doesnt want your sympathy!!)
but despite all
plus some jam on toast n strong instant coffee
we hammered out a bloody good days work
and
had a good time doing it
those bloody noisy kids tho’
AAAARGHHHH!!!
nevermind
thatll all be forgotten
and you’ll be enjoying
so that love may find us
forever
you read it here first
io ao io

be obsessed
that focus and determination may be good for you
i was obsessed by pop music
i was obsessed by the hair by the guitars by the personalities
i was obsessed by the record sleeves by the producers by the money
i wanted in
i wanted in
i wanted in!!
at first when you want in
you cant always see youre own way in
you wanna go his way or her way
you see a picasso in a museum
oh i wanna be a cubist you think
you hear the ramones
ok now i wanna be a punk rocker
you read dylan thomas
hmmm now im gonna write in fiddly archaic detail…
this is ok
this is perfectly normal
we are idolising creatures
i love to find people to idolize , dont you
yeah you know bolan was the first
when i completely fell under someones spell
you give yourself up to some artist
whose work fills you with such bliss
bolans records were like drugs
everytime you had em you got high…
the bedroom door closed
the needle would hit that groove
“we are the children of rarn…”
slim lays down on his narrow single bed
its lyneham 1970 but this boy is in some arcadian haven
while i was blissed out and dancing with the nymphs n fauns
another part of me
the sk computer was in overdrive
in my brain a team of scientists was slowly deconstructing t rex
trying to find out why this stuff was so effective
how could we use bolans mojo for our own purposes
like capturing an enemy aircraft
it was taken apart bit by bit
strangely enough
such is the magic of certain great artists
even when you think you can “see” how its done
it doesnt lessen the thrills….
eventually came bowie and kid strange and bill nelson
john foxx and all the others
all different aspects of who i was aspiring to
pop music aspirations are funny things
you trying to get it right on many levels
you gotta look right
you gotta sound right
you gotta say the right things
you gotta choose the right people
you gotta have thick skin
you gotta be cold too
you gotta be harder than you could ever imagine
of course i didnt know any of that
was it my sheer ego arrogance and laziness motivating me
after all i didnt have much fucking chop being anything else
unable to concentrate
physically unexceptional
no people skills
no motivation
no real interests outside music
sullen foppish and poncy
i was a perfect candidate
after all show biz was where they accepted my type
but i drove other musicians up the wall too
i formed bands
did dismal gigs
wrote rotten songs that sounded like the sweet on bad acid
i flounced about in silly clothes dyed my hair etc
looking for myself in there somewhere
my obsession was a raft i clung to
through all those times lifting amps up stairs
hefting drums and p.a.s into vans
paying off loans to the bank for equipment
playing to people who ignored me
going deaf and hoarse
narrowly avoiding electrocution
long drives to places where they hated us
my obsession was a little fire warming my heart
it wouldnt couldnt let me quit
i was like a fisherman with his line in the sea
for 10 years without even a bite
but still i couldnt pack it in n go home
i had no home
rock was my home
my house were the words n chords of my heroes
my creed was the latest reviews in the nme
my garb was the tight pants and high boots of the rocker
my hair was dark n long
my face was starting to look ok
i could play and sing but no one understood that i was any good
i went to england in 1978 and stayed with numerous rellies
i sent copies of my latest meisterworks to every frickin’ label
and got a rejection from everyone
i was sure the english was gonna understand but they didnt
i was constantly faced with the thought that maybe i was rotten
maybe i was having myself on…..
for some reason tho’ that thought couldnt take hold
i refused to believe i was useless
even tho’ it was looking grim out there
i just kept on writing
i kept on writing and i started to improve my presentation
i had thought that such was my genius
people wouldnt mind me singing out of tune
or that the guitars were scrappy or whatever
my demos were like a chinese torture garden
no one coulda listened through the crud to hear the good stuff
in fact eventually i was operating in isolation
my last band baby grande
had kicked me out
and tried to sue me
and make me pay off a p.a. they were intending to keep
i was the singer n songwriter n they kicked me out
my songs were useless
my singing was useless
no gigs
we had signed a deal with emi
but they dropped us after one days recording
thats where i first met ed kuepper but he wouldnt remember
he was doing the saints up at emi at the same time
we had the same producer
any way
no one in the whole world liked what i did
my girlfriend a the time wasnt even interested
only my brother russell understood
and he was 14 or 15….
i was working in a vacuum
still i believed in myself
still i made music for myself
hundreds and hundreds of songs
i loved em n i left em
some lovely songs still in there
forever maybe to be undiscovered
but baybee
although i did not know it us such
i persevered
i was resilient
my belief in myself at a cellular level
the future whispered to me
its coming its coming
i continued to write
if you continue you usually improve
people get put off when theres no progress
i did too
but i still fucking kept on n on on
just for myself
because a real artist cant just stop
i never stopped
i wrote lyrics all day at my “job”
i read the music rags religiously
every last chart and advertisement
i memorised whole chunks of writings which
i regurgitated at appropriate moments
which impressed absolutely no one
but i kept on believing
look
never under estimate luck
in the end i got lucky
it coulda turned out
i was still sitting in a bedroom somewhere
no one ever hearing the songs i write
no one ever reading my words or seeing my art
i was lucky that circumstances finally came together for me
you can help your luck along of course
things got better for me when i moved to sydney
i didnt have ONE friend in canberra
but in sydney i started to meet all the freaks i needed
i’d meet people at the markets
theyd come round n i played em my stuff
my abstract model
insect world
chrome injury
like a ghost
it was late 79
for the first time
i had cats saying
hey man this is rough but its good!
remember what i said about not showing your stuff
to people who dont understand the genre…
if you make death metal dont play it to yer aunty flo
if you do avant garde poems dont read em to the post man
see
you gotta find an appropriate audience or get yer heart broken
so eventually
a combination of luck n perseverance paid off
of course its easy to look back on it now
and see it as such
at the time i was just so hot headed over music
then as the church started to take off
i had a magical transformation
i got skinnier and paler
my hair got longer and darker
i adopted the second hand shop psychedelia look
it was just a stab in the dark
but it had resonance
my group looked like a group
everyone could play
and when ploog arrived the puzzle was complete
nick ward had been shooting us in the foot the whole time
he had demoralized n destabilized us from the inside
plus he was a lousy drummer
he fucking carped on at me n marty all the time
when he was gone we were allowed to become ourselves
so note that well
jettison callously any ninny holding you back
i used to get kicked outta bands the whole time
and i will sack any slacker who thinks hes gonna ruin it for me
of course marty n peter n i argued all the time
but we didnt demoralize each other like nicky the murray ward did
choose your cohorts well
and then we all believed
the 4 of us
we believed vehemently and unquestioningly
we persevered thru thick n thin
we still do
just keep on going
manufacture luck as best you can
ie big cities n interesting friends
vacuums are hard places to work from
but if thats all you got
embrace that void
my isolation in canberra
(from any other groovy likeminded people)
helped me grow and get it together
a more distracting city could have distracted me
see? i turned the bad luck into good luck
accidentally
go with the accidents
go with the flow
what have you got to lose
and when ya get there
to those lofty hallowed heights
tell em kilbo sent ya!
and then hit me with yer biggest cheque
and give praise to the gods of art n music
n send me another cheque
n
keep on keeping on!

i have 2 daughters here
eve and aurora
eve is all intuition
eve was making models of the opera house
with play-dough and clothes pegs at 3
she sits down and she does things
she never questions herself
she never asks can i do this …she does it
give her complicated instructions tho…..!?
aurora her twin and her opposite
she thinks things thru
this leads to some self-doubt and second guessing
as well as some very pithy ideas
everyone has these 2 sides
one dominating more than the other
me….im an aurora
not enough eve in steve
gee i wonder where she got her intuitive gifts
but i do have the intuition
it struggles underneath the intellect to be heard
nurture the weakest …be it intuition or intellect
dont underestimate yourself
i find everything in this world is 90 % bluff
so go ahead bluff yourself
i do
i say hey killer bet you cant do a great blah blah now
but look
im churning stuff out
funny thing
the more you do of whatever
the better you (should) get
thats right practice makes perfect
as it must be
when i first starting playing
i was pressing down so hard
my fingers traversed instruments like sausages
i tried to think it all out
remember songs like they were a test at school
i tried too hard i gave too little out
my hands n arms froze up
i still can get spooked playing and freeze a little
no one is immune
anyone can make a mistake
have a good look at the mistakes
is it possible a mistake could contain the seeds of your
great leap forward?
dont show your work or play your songs to ninnies who wont understand
my heart was broken over n over in my earliest days of 4 tracking
i’d play my weird stuff to ninnies who wouldnt know a can record
from a can of beans
if you want feedback avoid people who dont understand your genre
sneak up on yourself
thats right
come upon yourself unaware
and snatch whatever you see from the thin air
i tell you the world is full of things ready to be converted into art
i was painting some clouds on my latest painting
they werent looking good
its hard to imitate natures random patterns convincingly
i look up
blow me down
there are some clouds drifting by
ah…now i see the way it should be
thank you up there
dont despair…its the worst thing
evie ..she never despairs
she just sits down in utter faith
no one has ever told her she couldnt draw something
and she’s never told herself
her drawings become more and more ornamental and wild
she just follows them along
seemingly unquestioningly she makes stylistic breakthroughs
one by one the childish things disappear from her work
and start to move in an unmistakable artistic flow
she jumps on Word and starts banging out a beautiful story
Fox with his red flaming eyes and cold heart….it begins
she just follows some dialogue in her head (presumably)
she sings in a lovely voice with vibrato
but again she doesnt think about it
aurora meanwhile sometimes struggles copying what eve does
or doubting her self too much
even presenting her stuff in a more pessimistic way
eve just goes:here dad
but aurora has a bit of a explanation preamble
and an unconfident attitude
yet it seems she would superficially be the more gifted twin
she can analyze art or music more eloquently than eve
but evie has that self belief and thats the main thing
i write this not to write about my children today
but as an example of where you coming from
and how it affects where you will go
you can take almost anything and turn it into something
eve does
she takes pizza boxes and makes little laptop computers for example
whatever elements at hand work with em
dont blame your tools or lack of time
dont blame your art materials…use their cheapness to exploit some new thing
dont blame your dodgy studio…feature its faults
dont get hung up on peripheral stuff
dont waste time arguing with ninnies
if you have a vision , insist or walk out
believe me
people’ll try to fuck with your creative trip
jealous people
people with no faith
remain steadfast
yet
incorporate valid suggestions if any
take your 3 biggest heroes
say johnny lennon, rimbaud and vinny van go go
can you believe they were just blokes sitting down
with silent instruments and blank paper or canvasses
before they made that big jump into the unknown
thats right
with only access to the same old ingredients
they just sat down n started
a note
a word
a dab
now take these masterpieces you pay homage to
and dissect em
oh its hard isnt it ?
their brilliance tends to dazzle the admirer
you gotta look long and hard to see how it was done
be aware of techniques being used
see why this has emotional resonance with you
look at combinations and juxtapositions
what are the elements that make these song/poems/paintings classic?
can you imitate ? can you approximate?
is there room in this for your own innovations?
or is this your opposite?
will you work with this as a negative
replacing elements with their opposites?
can you take just one small thing they did and blow it up?
can you imagine what they would do next?
imagine youre one of them
write like them
paint like them
dont weaken yourself with doubt
i really believe that everything i do will be good
and most of it is
dont give up on things right before the breakthrough
but dont waste time on things going nowhere
in your heart of hearts hold a brutally high standard
for yourself and for others
there is room for more good art
people are demanding more good stuff
it hasnt all been done
it can never all be done
the possibilities of art are infinite
its combinations and re-combinations are endless
create
analyze
move forward
pull your idols work apart bit by bit
put it back together your own
listen to the great collective unconscious
respect archetypal forms and shapes
but be prepared to abandon all rules
if necessary
use common sense
dont let art baffle ya
i believe in you

keep your eyes open for the smallest idea
it wont announce itself with pomp n pageant
when you find it believe in it cling to it
examine it
what is that inkling in our midst
what is that foggiest notion….?
look at everything
is that my idea?
be on the lookout for something ordinary
something you wouldnt normally even think of as an idea
consider all the variables
can any of them be manipulated
examine every aspect
go thru all the details
rapidly assess and discard all non-suitables
keep having faith in yourself
youre working with all the same elements as anybody else
everything is available to you
the colours
the sounds
the words
the great collective unconscious
your only lack has been self-belief
listen to that hunch
its whispering the key
be imaginative
assume you are the greatest
always searching for new input
gadgets and devices
drugs and moods
disciplines and collaborators
if you dont love it stop right now
who else will if you dont…?
maybe someone….
but better to love from ground up
build it on the foundations of love and belief
believe that the greatest symphony begins with one note
the most incredible painting with one dab of colour
the best story starts with one word..or a title
titles so easy to dream up
imagine your own titles
come on a title is painless
steal a title
get your title in place
you can title last if you want
but if things are slow start with a title
even if you have no other ideas
take your title
why did you pick it?
something buried in there telling you something
some satisfied connexion
maybe you think
oh my title will never be as good as so n sos title
until he uses it
then you’d like it
thats the kind of thinking to avoid
seize your title
embrace it
yes its yours!
its your beginning
its your masthead
its your flagship and vanguard
roll round on your tongue
write it down
print it out
make it go thru its paces
oh yes your own title
just stay with it awhile if you like
try it out on people strangers
pretend that theres more to it
watch their reaction to your title
quickly seize upon those imagined impressions
in other words
you meet x on the train
you say my new work is called ****
watch xs reaction
jump in behind his eyes
what is he seeing
you can almost pick up his thoughts
oh x says
i like that!
sort through his thoughts
anything you can use
any clues where your title wants to take you
sometimes the title is just a launch support
to be jettisoned as you take off
sometimes the title is oblique
cleverly oblique
or meaninglessly oblique
sometimes the title is the heart n soul of the whole thing
sometimes its a name
sometimes its a description
sometimes the 1st thing is an afterthought
when you got your title sorted
play with your variables
play with length
play with speed
play with the edges
play with the key
play with the tuning
play with the technique
play with the brightness
play with the shadow n echoes and obscurations
play with manner matter method
play with your mind
play with your settings
play with the truth
play with yourself
of course
you saw that coming
detect that good idea under all that dross
be prepared to throw stuff away
be prepared to take it back
be not afraid to be wrong or right
be careful
thats correct
take care
do it up properly or itll come undone
trust in the process
muddle through
know when its over
can you afford to drag it out
a slight return
reprise
refrain
when to end?
the poker players dilemma
yours too
not overdone
but not underdone either
finish it good
do it right
dont rush the end
let it take as long as it needs
dont lose interest now youre nearly there
bang
its done
dont look back
move on move on
a new title
start again

a thick thick fog has silenced sydney
on the top floor of a small house
surrounded by whiteness
surrounded by gentle quiet
i open up my mind and let it run free
i dreamt for a thousand years
who am i?
oh so many oh so many
like us all
enfolded encoded
the years like a coil
i am accessing something deep and submerged
something like a land
something where all senses are one
yes there is that place
the disciplines bleed into each other
oh i am only learning
learning so fast
racing the ominous second hand
as it traverses its monotonous loop
the songs write themselves
the paintings paint themselves
the words lay down on this page before my eyes
still the fog increases
pressing down on the marine city
swooping out of nowhere
sounds muffled in its white darkness
the flowers in the garden glow through it
like many incandescent points
machinery vaguely hums
a door slams somewhere
a car accelerates and another breaks
recognizing universal forms now
certain lines certain progressions
of course no real artist can enjoy their own work
impatience and familiarity
my brush glides
my eyes observe
my mind calculates
my mind has to know when to intervene
when to let things flow
the process is like a snowball effect
the tiniest idea will cause a landslide if its true
you can never run out of ideas
even if you live to 54
even if you like me
can enjoy this journey into the future
improve!
that must be my imperative
i must improve
i will improve
i am improving
this is not just my affirmation
i work so hard to improve
ah just like everything
the results for me are slow
but sometimes i’m a tortoise splitting hares
sometimes im the last one to understand
but when i do
i can do so much with so little
a little is all you need
my gifts were never the way i wanted them
my face and hair neither
i was put down in the wrong place
my past lives didnt understand me
something still makes me behave erratically
what are the forces pushing me around
again, the mind must know when to intervene
dont get in the way of magic
but dont let fiascos long endure either
be friendly but beware
the fools think there is no magic left
but its there on every minute level
the fog seems to be losing its grip
the city pops up here and there
the harbour bridge still hidden in the distance
sydney oh such a beautiful city
with its waters and its cliffs
its views its oceans its clouds its blue may skies
stockholm too …it must be getting pretty there now
elektra and miranda leaving in 2 weeks
we look at each other with a certain resigned sadness now
the feeling of temporariness
i know we will hardly ever speak when they return
turning seventeen in the warm skandic summer
oh the long days
oh the beautiful scents drifting in the country air
lovely blessed sweden never far from my thoughts
my little flat in bastugatan
waking up in the long dark nights of snow
alone in my loft bed before i met natalie
sweden all around me
i wanted to be swedish but i never could be
i never could be anything i wanted to be
i could only be the things i stumbled into
im not even a proper australian
when i get yabbering im usually too much for most aussies
englishmen rightly treat me with suspicion
my freckles my drawl my laconic laziness betrays me
i could pretend to be american but why?
they like me better the way i am….luckily
i have realized something lately
i am not everyones cup of tea
socially musically whatever
i rang up mem the other day
out of the blue
can you believe this guy answers the phone:
killer?
see
the web is tightening
anyway i liked talking to him
he was on my wavelength
but uh
its funny what is it that makes some aussies uncomfortable
i was on the bus with my kids
and i’m talking to em
you know my usual tripe
people all slack jawed around me
listen to the long words he uses to his kids
ok i think
if i’m so smart howcome i’m riding on a bus?
the more i appeal for riches and wealth
the goddess of fortune smiles and waves her head….no!
you have to be unconcerned
you have to be detached
life and maya and the family
a minefield
an obstacle course to negotiate
i love my children
but i love my work
which will i attend
when all children need you
or all children ignore your advice
trying to be the best painter and best father
my kids are incessantly drawing and colouring
they chew through the paper like demons
sorry about all that paper though i guess
see …eveything is verily a dilemma
many hands make light work
too many crooks spoil the brothel
ha ha
i just made that up
see…
the fog is dissolving in sunlight
the childs wake up
the baby will soon be stomping around
looking wild and disheveled
aurora with her wide bunny face
eve all warm sleepy and husky voiced
the dismal sounds of incessant construction reappear
but the sky is the most royal blue
and the sun is yellow
and now it 8 oclock
the real day begins

good fortune to my generous subscribers!
jai jai
hail to vishnu preserver
after visit to skin cancer clinic
i was given the all clear
uh huh a million freckles
but touch wood
no cancers………(yet!?)
you see i got burnt all the time
red shoulders red nose red chest
i knew the whiff of calamine lotion three summers off
i was burnt
i was peeling
they didnt know in those days it was so bad for ya
each time the skin came off more freckles
amazing they let me be such a big star with all these freckles
ha ha ha
anyway the doc was an old chinese gent
he was a real comedian too
as soon as i took my shirt off he said
oh i can see theres nothing wrong with you already
ha ha ha
then he ran this like whitelight thing over me
what do skin cancers glow when this thing hits em?
anyhow
i was worried about a couple of places
on my cheek a weird faded white spot
no thats not cancer you just getting old giggles the doc
then he sees this little knotty scab on my back
its been there a while …i figured it could be something nasty
no its just a ….(indistinguishable)he said
with the skinquacks thick accent n my ringing ears
i couldnt catch half of what he said
then a real benny hill moment
i thought he said i’m just gonna squeeze it
what? i say
youre gonna bloody squeeze it?
no says venerable olde doctor wong (i kid you not)
not bloody squeeze it ….FREEZE it!
oh
next minute this nasty little (never did find out what)
is getting the frozen treatment
i explain to doc that im pretty deaf
thats why i keep getting it wrong
the doc has a good giggle
boy you in good shape for yer age…you all clear!
i said doc im gonna get out before you do find something wrong
he giggled again
boy you right get out of here now!
so there you have it
it aint got to me yet….that evil wicked sun
but its still not over
now
back to greg dulli
having obtained gutter twins legally
n then blackberry belle n she loves you
n even his solo album
amber headlights
a little less legally
i can only say
im sorry if he nearly ran you over
im sorry if hes a booze artist or whatever
but i gotta say
i love the mans voice n his music
when he hits his fuckin’ stride
hes like every huge american hit single you never heard
unstoppable powerful gut wrenchin’
the guitars cut deep
the bass drops away
the high pitched backing vox hit
last night
last night was alright
dulli sneers and begs at once
how can those ordinary words sound new and vital
ah the transformative power of rocknroll
dulli has absorbed the beatles n stones n dylan
and he refilters them
through his engine of excesses
yes the characters in these songs are boozers sexfiends n addicts
dulli is a modern brel charting this seedy territory
but at the end of all that champagne n cocaine and pussywillow
dulli wants to wake up the next day redeemed
dressed in white
like an angel
and then it starts all over again
remember how the gallagher bros were s’posed to be?
edgy mouthy genius backed up with street cred sneer
but actually they were both just thick planks?
dont look back in anger?
dont make me fucking laugh!
look dulli is a mastersongwriter
hes like springsteen if he looked under more rocks
hes like got all that big u.s. fm power
but hes harnessed it to a fleur du mal sensibility
he is the baudelaire of rock
songs from the brothel
songs from the vampires own mouth
the disgust and loathing
then in amazing technicolour contrast
the aching love
the tenderness as the characters crumble and fall apart
is that mark lanegan croaking
ok you fucker time to settle up
lay it down slow them im gone….?
dulli throws away one liners like
not saying its easy to have it all or nothing at all
but man
you gotta hear it
jaded cynical brutal glorious rock
this stuff bleeding all over the place
i give all these records five stars
no dud songs
this stuff is the true spirit of rocknroll
lousiana perches
down n dark n dirty
a can of worms
i tell ya
i’m totally sold on dulli
amen

hail to my subscribers!
oh well met!
oh well come!
the generous ones
without any reward
putting hands in pocket
making the effort
helping me out of impecunious clutches
being my patrons
sponsoring this old big cat
from behind my bars of flesh
from within ,this caged creature
paces up n down
thoughts ceaselessly traverse my mixed up mind
i read a story drowning in colours
my brain photographs sounds automatically
i peruse the lists of embarrassments i have been involved in
i churn my perceived enemies names in my minds oceans
i disdain the offered social condolences of those who read my words
those so shallow that cannot grok this slightest bit of honesty
why come to me if you want sunshine every day
has that ever been my strong suit?
bah! you fools
dont peer into my cage looking for ice cream sundae
old and contained i may be but in my heart i am wild
i know the darknesses of our zoological sequences
i bite any hand that comes thru my bars
much to my regret
allow me to roar and pace and whimper
allow my to lick my wounds
allow me to refuse this black water
if you need to laugh
there yonder lie the monkeys aplenty
parrots squawk in the distance
i believe they feed the “straights” everyday between 12 and 1
i believe you can buy a bag of stuff n feed the baby pigs
i believe the snakes can be quite scary
me….i run through my thoughts
i write music and i plot revenge
i remain silent for hours then i explode
my eyes will bore straight through you
i see your soul and i see your ambition
your platitudes fall on my deaf ears
your advices remain unsniffed
you look out for me
but i am in the back of my cage
wheres its black and hot
twitching in some fevered dream
you could never know
i descend down chasms where words give no light
i climb mountains up into pure lit vistas where i see everything
i dream of the circus and its flaming hoops
and i snarl
they whipped me and i clawed at their brandished chairs
i made every mistake, no doubt
let me seethe then if that be my humour
let me be in my smouldering huff
let me growl in my solitude
seek not to admonish me for my ill moods
i who allow this honesty between us
ever seeking the truth of ye olde rat race
giving you thus ever insight
you stand before my bars
you who have paid your money
you
a day
the zoo
electronic friends fiends patrons and voyeurs
i bid thee
fond adieu

ah i forgot what i was gonna write
i’m sick of being a genius
guess i’ll be an idiot for a while instead
clouds roll across a blue bondi sky
a dismal garage band is out there thumping away
buses grind
distant construction bangs n ‘ammers away
my ears ring
my skin feeling cold and dry…is this old age?
my patience is short
my list of things to do is long
my understanding imperfect
still the bull in a china shop
a fragile bull tho’
a mangy panther
a turkey who wanted to fly
a worm who turned too late
descended from a monkey
who descended from a dino
who descended from a little piece of blechh
in some primordial bloody soup
my life is apparently meaningless
the uni-verse is random
everything is an accident
and then someone else put the boot into tom cruise
who cares what religion he follows…he’s an actor
its a lovely day anyway
but my procrasti-nation wont let me enjoy it
i am my own worst enemy
as it ever was
i shot off my mouth and blue off my foot
what will it all matter when i’m gone
rhymes easy but reason is harder
my grey eyes will stare sightless
nothing will bother me again
people may say this or that
but what can you do
there seems to be a secret i can never discover
give me untouchability
give me your filthy millions
give me a warm spot in the winter sun
i am ready to be greedy
i am ready to accept my reward
i am ready to sell my left kidney
i am ready to cash in my fish n ships
something always troubling me
i am discontinued
i should be returned
everything that used to be now is
i generate words like taps generate drips
i write songs like you write shopping lists
i cooked up a storm and i predicted the weather
i muddle around with this
i see my characteristic shadow on the wall
i should be a retired colonel from MI5
if my parents had stayed in england
my oh my how my life would be different
i blame everything on heroin
i blame everything on western imperialism
i blame everything on my manager
i blame everything on my family
i leave everything to be desired
i leave everything to my dear catfish the albino sucker
i am no time being
i am no writer
i am no one you could ever want to be
gullible naive lazy and slow
a cowardly bully
no gumption
no elbow-grease
no real balls
no real bullets
no real estate neither n thats no joke
i’d answer the phone if it’d talk to me
lunch had me
swim had me
baby hits the ground running and crying
something weakening my position
i blame dope
i blame booze
i blame nescience
i blame ignorance
i blame long stupid unimaginative liszts
of blaming this n that
i blame miss spelling
i blame the liberal party
and the party that went all saturday night on murrivere street
yeah i’m bitter
bitter this bitter that
bitter whatever i fuckin’ fancy
i’m no bing domingo
i’m no gentleman jim
i’m no spring chicken
i am the panther in autumn
a man for some seasons
i am grey eyed blackhearted whiteman
i am not for sale unless the price is right
how far can you throw me
how far can you trust me
how far is it to the sun in inches
where have all the question marks gone?
ah ha theres one!
and a exclamation mark too
mark?
are you reading this
my teachers…where are my marks?
my walls…where are my marks?
my birth…no mark
my water…no mark neither
my bench….ah you can see where this is leading
is that it?
was that a blog?
are you serious?
a further question
how about this?

if you hit the link stevekilbeyart
you’ll find nine new paintings on there
for my upcoming exhi in oh-hi-oh
i realize some among you may groan…
i usually hate it when people move into other” disciplines”
e.g. ‘orrible singers trying to act n vice versa
so i guess i should try to get some kinda explanation together
once n for all
now you’ll remember that my dad painted as well as played
so there was some precedent for this
i must admit i was quite good at drawing
spending lots of time in class
drawing guys playing guitars n drums
the way some little girls draw horses
i drew bands
later i honed my skills
in doing mean little pictures of the dopes i worked with
in the canberra shiny bums circa 1973-78
wacka wain
ruffhead ryan
ali bear
rod the hawk thomas
bill gunky shaw
all these faces came to life on my blotter from ballpoint pen
i stuck em up on the notice board n i’d get my ear clipped.
during the eighties i made some little heads with clay-mo
but i never really was that interested in painting or paintings
in 2002 after having moved back to aust
jlk suggested i do the cover for freaky concs
he remembered all the little pictures
i did of my mothers then new husband….
so i cobbled up a bit of stuff
using some ideas from my screen printing days
which had consisted of cutting up nmes n melody makers
with a little stanley knife
and using the actual page as a one or two off stencil
eventually john auctioned some off
which led to more people asking for some
so i did some more
and for a little while
people bought em as a novelty
and i just muddled along
accidentally doing something good occaisionally
eventually i started to learn something
gravitating towards gouache n pastel
lucky a few people were buying my stuff…
anyway thats leads us to now
at the moment im painting heavily n furiously
trying to get all the paintings ready
for ohio in june
way to go ohio
anyway
my painting is one thing my music isnt
and thats 100% original
when i do paintings i aint imitating anybody
i wouldnt know how and i cant be bothered
whereas my music is about 50 % public domain
ie
i am heavily influenced by many others
so my latest bunch of paintings all aspire to movement
to vibration
to connection
eyes watch ominously
vegetation twists and seethes
colours rub up against each other in pastel/gouache interzones
the vegetalista is another me
walking through the jungle of my mind i came across him
enclosed by eyes and fiery skulls
the many plants seek succour from light
the vegetalista remains in shadow
his eyes pierce from the murky psyches fog
the light and shadows break down into fractured organic pixels
i try to paint auras and feelings and i mistakenly come up with this
i try to paint ideas
the way i would sing about ideas
my ambition outstrips my technique but i’m catching up a little
i painstakingly pointilistic detail and dot dot dot
the paintings are supposed to represent (re-present) the psychedelic moment
why?
just for the sheer hell of it
its quite safely impossible
but in attempts we come up with great stuff
the actual receding geometrics of dmt are forever beyond my scope
but i like what i do as approximations
so
we get the idea of the colour n movement of the psychedelic vision
rather than anything actual
because actually it contains nothing actual
in dmt download a somewhat fragile me
surrounded by the weird mental pyramids in my head
the colours are all bright
the psy experience is usually vivid
everything is supposed to be oscillating
this is what im drawn to , i suppose
the other bits of life
me playing my bass surrounded by visions of music
someone having a fix in a basement while a tv blurbles on
jims mirror and his jacket of many eyes
rickis multi colour hair
the mona lisa with a swirling magma background
the king of dope
i think these paintings are at least my own
you may find other bits n pieces in there
but unintentionally
this is the stuff i wanna paint
i wanna call up these feelings with art and music
the micro-life
the macro-life
the surreal life
life under the influence of art
believe me these pictures look better in the flesh
theyll sit on your wall n you can get lost in em forever
trying to emulate my songs
these paintings are a little door for you
a door into…
(cue eerie music)
the empty place