The Time Being | Steve Kilbey

me n kilbey rock up to rehearsal
kilbey complaining n shuddering
we turn up there
miles out in some bleak place
no river no trees no leafy space
factories and wear-houses
kilbey storms across the carpark in a huff
who fuckin’ booked this place he says
jesus look at our hero
in the inevitable army shirt n cord shorts
his sunglasses that make everything orange
wispy bloody hair
white beard
man his pop star days are long gone
he accelerates across the carpark tho
and hits the chocky bar inside the place
immediately bitchin’ at the owner for his “poor selection”
fat vegan you are …i say softly
somebody laughs
kilbey rounds on me
i am what you say i am …he hisses
oh an old line to be sure
kilbey pulls the wrapper off a kinder surprise
and gorges on the choc
ho he takes it downquick
and he trundles into the room listlessly
theres all the boys
whatsisname
and the nice one
and olde you know who
plus some roadies
dingo
ringo
and
ted
kilbey chucks on his bass
ooh he hasnt played in a while n now his fingys are saw
ooh lemme play i say
kilbey sullenly hands me the bass
you do fucken better he growls
and the band strike up our new song
called
boogie in E #
which is about mans basic inhumanity to man
kilbey sings a bit
his ears are hurting
his throat is hurting
his fingers is hurting
oh fer fucks sake c’mon
dingo sets up a little grande piano
and kilbey and i do a duet
on a mawkish maudlin embarrassing tune
about being all sensitive
and all that jazz
we have an argument over the chords
and kilbey slams the lid down on my fingers
what if youd broken them ? i ask
good! he scowls
and opens his 5th tin of berry V energy drink
hey you should cool it on those..that stuff can make ya aggressive..!
he grabs me by the collar
who fucken asked you?!
he goes off to inspect the chocolate selection
while i play and sing n do the work
fuck rehearsal is boring
the others blast away on their rigs
and my ears are ringing like old harry
kilbey pokes his head round the corner
interrupts the song n beckons me
we go out the back
where the guy who runs the place is smoking some dope
oh god aint we had enough i moan
but kilbey is smoking like a demon
wreathed in the poison cloud of noxious fumes
and puffing like the billyo
whatsisname finds us
could one or both of you come back in…please?
how rude he is ..mutters kilbey under his breath
as he wobbles back down the long black corridor
where his fender jazzed bass and his groany voice await
im almost wiv yooo….he warbles
each pluck of the bass ripping up his delicate fingerprince
he stops the song
i hate this song its fucking horrible
cmon stevo… i start
dont fucken start with me ….he chucks the bass down
boommwoomclangggg!
he storms off again
outside
where he runs through a farce of a yoga routine
and gets bitten by an ant
fucking western suburbs he says
i stay inside n do the right thing
we run through
i am the telescope
and the bass solo is looking good
kilbey is missing out on all this stuff he needs to do
but quite frankly
its better if he stays out there
he comes back in for his felafel n chips
smokes another spliff
and then announcing how tired he is
he sits down at the computer and googles himself
he falls asleep in the sofa
and wakes up with a sore neck n a bad attitude
thats enough for one day…he says
and me n him
pile into our buick
and the night is verily very soft
but guess what
neither of us had any money on us
so i pushed it home
from way out west to cosy in here east
and he complained every step of the way
and it took hundreds of years
dont exaggerate kilbey says
and get with the program
right on!
right on

the ‘orrible church begin re-hearsing today
out in some god forsaken suburb of western sydney
away from the pseuds and surfers of my beloved eastern subs
slaving away over a hot fretboard
deafening myself with my own bloody racquet
knocking myself out with my own beat
drinking cans of coke and munching on potato crisps
pacing around in the sun n shadows outside
i look at the weeds and the lizards
i look at the bits of paper blowing around
i look at the tar on the road
i look at the dust in the gutter
i look at the rust on the cars
i do yoga out there on my own
out in a parking lot surrounded by wherehouses
while the others fiddle with their stuff
i do my lonely yoga out there
i sod around with whatever i can find
i kick small stones
while i wait for whatever they have to do
before we play
bass n voice is easy mister
i just go straight into the p.a.
the other things take some jiggling about i spose
i dunno
i hate being in there
in that room with all that electric n electronic fallout
i spent too much time with equipment
and its soft radiations
anyway
i cant remember the words
i cant remember the notes
i cant remember the bleeding names
i cant remember the faces i should pull
i cant remember
nevertheless
i must
so i shall
submerge myself in the church
do my bit
play my part
a cog in the mechanism
a point in the distance
a teem player
easy as picking foxes from a tree
my fingers glide o’er the strings
my voice gets the words from somewhere
et voila
i stumble back into it on auto pilot
all guns blazing
singing my old heart out again
for the cause
for the faderland
for the folks who paid their good money
i dont know what it will be this time
no one does
will just follow along
as it leads us by the noses
and we run after it
with our guitars strapped on
baying and howling
chasing a good tune
see ya soon then

i emerge from the sea
i am watery and grave
lord of the deep
oh you know my name
oh you sure know my name
i am that angry earthshaker
i am the blue haired one
i am violent and swirling and cold
oh i am handsome behind my malevolent glare
oh i am old beyond any measure of years
oh i am quick to rage and thunder
oh i roam this world
demanding sacrifice
bring me your virgin daughters
bring me your calves with the gilded horns
bring me your reddest darkest wine
bring me your enemies blood
i am simultaneously suave and savage
i am towering over your craft in a narrow strait
i am visiting my monsters in their holes
i am fucking poseidon baby
oh god it feels so good to be me
but my anger never abates
my bitterness
my spleen
envious of zeus
that bastard
lord of sky
me submerged
before even atlantis went down
before lyonesse
before lemuria
before the first man entered the sea
i was
i father bright sons on bitches of women
my boys die on the plains of ilium
damn you troy
fuck you greece
fuck you olympians too
yeah
i am the rocker of cities
i swallow ships whole
i explode in a gale of storms
look in my grey eyes
look at my twisted beard
look at my legs knotted in muscle
i am pitta i am fire
i am fire and water
not earth or air
i burn n i drown
immersed in oceania
abroad in akkadia
release those mighty bulls
and see me vault over their golden horns
in crete
in cythera
where i tryst with aphrodite
amoral and dopey
like a goddess of love should be
shes clumsy
she knocks things over
she shows me all her secrets
i think
well now ive really had her
but i still swim to her islands
and i call upon her
in her own temple
i appear like a gathering mist
i whirl my cloak about me
i materialize grey haired and tanned
the slaves tending her sacred fires are shocked
oh my lady the sea god is here to visit you
dont keep me waiting poseidon bellows
in the temple of love in the temple of love love love
how dare he walk in here like he owns the place
i am your master he bawls
i am your lord…
aphrodite deigns to appear
you are fucking rude n pushy my lord
here…take these
poseidon pushes something into her mouth
three tiny round pills
on each
is stamped a trident
oh my lord …says aphrodite
as poseidon fondles her all over
tiny cherubs float about
poseidon swats at them
occasionally knocking one down in a bloody heap
tell those idiots to keep away from me ..he growls
and he passes out
in the wee small hours
he arises
walks to the shore
and disappears under the water
in the morning she finds
a small sea shell
in his place

so sick of fucking booze
so tired of its stupid effects
i pour myself a big glass of lies
and i go dahn the booza
and i rabbit on with a loada bullshit
screaming in some pissed idiots ear
abaht a loada self aggrandizing tripe
bawling out my nonsense
trying to impress some sozzled ninny
or some drunken olde bag
i get red in the face
my skin coarsens
my features coarsen
my lovely olde smooth nose
becomes all bulbous n purple
my olde ticker shudders under the strain
my blurry vision becomes like underwater
my words come from a slurry place
i get confused and aggressive
so i drink some punch…oh ha ha ha
the booze reeks
its a poison after all
thats right not a drug but a poison
a little of that poison feels ok
a lot of that fucking poison n yer poisoned
booze frightens me as much as smack
smack is more addictive
but booze is more destructive
booze will fucking take you apart
booze will turn you into a fucking idiot
booze will turn you into the hoi polloi
booze is a bastard
AND I FUCKEN SEEN IT IN ACTION MY WHOLE LIFE
and i fucken sussed it out
and thank god my mum n dad never drank
and now the olde being himself
sure i have a sip or nip
i enjoy one drink or maybe 2
but never 3
but never before long after dark
never unless for an occasion
i wouldnt care if i ever saw or tasted booze again
it isnt good for musicians
it makes them sloppy
like it makes one sloppy at anything
i am so fucking tired of booze running this world
people come up to me n say
oh your skin is nice for an ancient mariner
i say
baby dont drink!
dont
dont
dont
think clearly for a change
smoke some fucking ganga
thats why god put it on this wunderful world
god gave us weed
god gave us cactus
god gave us mushrooms
yes god gave us wine too
but not gallons of beer n vodka and jim beam
i exhort you
all my readers
watch the booze
the booze is a slow destroyer
but shes steady as she goes
youll end up olde n ugly n spouting bilge
it dont help with creativity…its a fucking myth
have one drink
thats it
thats as good as it gets
or do you wanna get giddy n vomit
do ya wanna promise some s o b the bastard moon
do ya wanna wake up with some hag/beast and say oh ….no……!
do ya wanna blast your brain wrinkles into pickles
this stuff gonna do you over good
bah!
drinkers!
avoid me!

hammer on hammer off
i can get anything i want
cmon i’ll take you there
i have a guide in here
it bounces off a deep submarine knowledge
some monster speaks
and i obey
at the bottom of the lonely sea
ideas come rushing up to meet me
because every night i drown in sleep
and i sink to the ocean floor
like you never could know
sometimes when i cant remember how to speak
or what to say
i think of anything at all
i remember the future again
or did i already say that?
here i am going rounder and faster
my angles come out on my face
my old new skin falls between the cracks
why should i care…….you couldnt buy a mind- like mine
mind mine where we dig for brains i trust
cos i dig my own mind
i got my own audience in here and they clap n whoop
n holler
i pick away at some solid mental diamond
wow its dark in my freakin’ mind
no wonder i dont come down here much
fuck my darkness is scaring me kilbey
hey dont talk to yourself steven
hey you shuttup
no YOU shuttup
i gave ya the best blogges of my life
hey both of ya shuttup!
oh no…
what is it…..
a cave-in…..
(screams of horror)
dont go talking too loud youll cause a landslide
mr jones
kilbey ! kilbey!
oh its fucking kilbey now
no i’m fucking kilbey now
oh are ya fucking yerself?
no i am my own fucking self
i am the self
the selfless self
the highest h….
oh shuttup kilbey!
(chorus of many voices : yes shuttup kilbey)
well its hard to be silent
when youre the reincarnation of dante
and i see you smirk
but if it aint me
then who the hell is it?
and you say life….?
yeah i done that plenty of times once
lone voice in the crowd : no more paradox…!
crowd take up chant : NO MORE PARADOX!
kilbey appears finally
the real kilbey
he looks like a tortured martyr in beatitude
he gazes off unfocussed
and the light fills his eyes in such a way that….
stop
this is an illusion
the real kilbey
the one y’all fuckin’ paid for
crawls and claws his way to the top of a dream-stage
hes dressed in tight black jeans gone a bit baggy
hes wearing a priest=fuckin’ aura, baby t-shirt
hes totin’ his friggling totally bomba-lishus bass
he steppes up to the mike…
yawn
what?
i said YAWN!
but….
but kilbey said
yeah what did kilbey say….
well he said this
he said that
he said i hate it here
he said i like it there
he said…
look you shuttup
ok ok
enough
go on…get yer coat off
no leave ‘im alone…its just him n me…right?
get yer fucking coat off then
no way its just him n me…right?
the coppers knock at the door
kilbey comes to the door
eve-nin ossyfah!
weve ‘ad comp-laints abaht the noyze sah!
ok ok i’ll keep it down from now on sah!
thank you and good night sah!
meanwhile
?

i come home
the kids got the croup n the flu
they cough n hack n choke n gasp
i go to the wardrobe n take out another mansuit
slip into it and walk abroad
i go down in historys fens and backwaters
i submerged like a crock of dials
i’m a horror to myself
i’m a surprise arent i
i’m a memory of those gone before
i’m a soulscraper blarney-vore
i’m a kinda than before
hey up n hey down
hey presto too
so much afoot
cant keep up
i flail like a schwimmer in the some are heat
i can master with the aid of this skull powdered cord
back in the east
where easter is faster
faster than horses and witches
the long process begins
yet it must be observed diligently
as morning breaks on the lovely leaves
as the pink sun assumes his full majesty
as fast as i can make it all up
trying to stay ahead of a tidal wave of whispers
i type out the morning on my screen
i am compressing the colours and sounds
i am buried in imaginings
this will make you fissures of men
this will come back by itself
this will occur to me from time to time being
the heavy deadwait
the omni-directional hit of disgrace
the harpoons and barbs of now or never
change my past
change my mind
no change given
no quarter neither
i dont know nothing
i donna wanna know nothing
thats something i do know
i know that for sure at least in spades
later
much later
the man in the mansuit shop
is looking over mine
oh boy he says
boy oh boy he says again
he checks the fit
he measures my inside ego
he fiddles with my brains zip
he notes down the colour of my sound
he adjusts the gravity
he increases the poly flesh micro weave
yeah he says
oh he says
h,mmm he says
well i can see the problem he says
is it worth fixing tho he says
could costya a few bob he says
hard to get those spare parts he says
he points to a million tiny holes which perforate the suits soul
oh fuck i say
thats ok i say
just do what ya can i say
he shakes his head
sure if you wanna me to he says
yeah go ahead i says
he gives me a quote on a bitter paper
mansuit fractal elocution $ 365
impositioning the spirit drive $366
triumphing the lower interstices $666
registering the ^^^^ $13954
orgoning the conscious matter 21122012
i said
is this a rip off?
he said
trust me mr kilbey
YOU GOTTA FUCKEN GOOD DEAL!

number 3
last night
triffids final stand for a while
my voice was shot
my god i hope you dont think i was trying to singh like that
the usual 4 songs
except for my voice i was ok
jumping around more than ever
till finally in field of glass
i went more gonzo than i thought poss
was this what triffids fans wanted?
i dunno
i was simply compelled to do it
the music
the lights
the occasion
the pounding of life in my heart
the screaming voices of all my distant lives
dave mccombs songs reach me and turn me about
oh dave i hope you heard last night
20 years on my son
those songs aint even looking like running outta mojo
theres as much pain n glory n agony n ecstasy as ever before
you were perths own dylan cave cohen
you were a bit of a genius
and if you were anything like your brothers
you were a fucking nice bloke too
dave i love singing yer songs
it was a true honour
(much rather sing those songs than my own)
born sandy d is one of the best records ever by anyone
the triffids are amazing
they encompass so many styles and approaches
its hard to step into daves shoes and sing his songs
it was hard n demanding work
i have learnt so much
it was a privilege to work with cats like harvey n casey
alsy n jill are so lovely
graham lee is a beautiful cat n keeper of the flame
rob mccomb is a great musician n genuinely nice bloke
mark dawson n jp n julian n james …too cool
the snarski brothers…what great singers
ditto mel o
youth group…soon mega stars in spain
n ricky who is like a fucking son to me
i love all you guys
and steve miller the whacky m.c.
youre a very funny guy
good on ya!
gimme more engine shudder please
triffids!
yeah
dish up some more please
i’m ready
anytime you say
till next time
a river derchee

second nite of triffids in the gardens
i sit down by the water listening to the show in the distance
a warm balmy nite has come down on perth
the water looks like black plastic in a play
i walk up eventually to gig
go backstage
have some jaeger (just one shot tho)
smoke some weed
put on the clothes
pose in the mirror
stand on side of stage
watching jill birt sing raining pleasure
gee she looks so good up there tonight
and the song never fails to send a shiver up my spine
eventually steve miller does his intro
which is weird n funny at the same time
some of it even reminded me of this blog
with its references to east and west and parallel universes
i go on and the band start up lonely stretch
and just a few miles away
i guess is that very landscape of which dave must be singing
and i close my eyes
and i’m in that bush
and its getting dark
and the whole night crashes down
on me in my car
lost and hopeless n helpless
what was i doing out here
but following them
the man n the woman i will pursue across 3 or 4 songs
the triffids n friends rock on around me
then
wide open road
not so easy to sing in some ways
gotta keep thinkin’ about timing
then stolen property
with its aching confused recriminations
and its switches of perspective
i love this song
i go offstage
i walk outta the venue
back to the water
listen to gig in the distance
white birds wheel in the light
the water is black n absolute
boats n yachts moored out in the estuary
people dancin’ n partyin’
a strange black stripe in the sky
i sit down there till the encore
i go back
graham lee says are you ready, steve?
lets do it! i say
we go on n do field of glass
i turn into the diametric opposite
of almost everything i have been up n till now
i am breaking out of that old chrysalis
that was constraining me
which said go onstage and smirk n sing softly
now i’m just gonna do what i want
n not let myself stop me…whatever that means
i throw myself into it
even beating the stage with my hand
i scream n yell n whoop n all that stuff
you probably never thort your humble suave hero would do
anyway
we get a great response
everyone comes up n congratulates me
even the normally taciturn marty casey n mick harvey
say they thought it was good
and cmon
they seen it all by now…
so thats a compliment , right?
after it is over
i go n sit by the water again
being accosted on the way by an english fan
who says in a cockney accent over n over
its just like the doors
its just like the doors!
its just like the fucking doors!!
tonite: last nite for a while
emotional mood swings ahead
hasta la vista

sentence for the sake of a sentence
pause for space
space for the sake of god
the gardens at night
a great crowd has assembled
king is white and in the crowd
the lights shine
some contraption describes a great arc against the swarthy night
the people laugh and drink
lovers caress in the shadows
the shadows in the lovers caress each other
the trees watch on
one day a nymph will show me their souls
some celebration some clamour
some event
see the people seated waiting
music begins
songs of a man who died way too soon
in some ways died of a broken heart
a man who felt everything too much
you can tell that from those songs
you cant write em like that
if you dont feel it that much
out the back
the usual caste of likelies
him from them
those lot
that man who doesnt like me
that man who does
i wait around
becoming slightly inebriated drinking
its ok its herbal with lemonade
i go on to do my first song
the music pumps me up
look i love to sing these songs ok
i love these songs to death
and maybe i do over do em
the songs tell me how to sing
not vice versa
so the songs fill me with bright energy
i direct my self towards a silhouette
an outline of black
i am pushed around by the throbbing bass
i am riled up by the vibes
i clobbered by the drums
i swayed by the lonesome lonesome steel guitar
i persuaded by the piano
i shook by the organ
i cough up the words
they fill my head sequentially
i open my mouth and they come raging out
manifesting themselves in pumps of adrenochromal surges
so i sing i shout i runabout
got hotter than the heat
the heat the park and other things
where do i go onstage?
freed up of the responsibilty of an instrument
its easy to get into some dreamy trance
look the conditions were not perfect
it should have ben louder
the audience seem a little timid
whatever
thats their prerogative
they paid their dinarii
and they have no more obligation than that
still if only they knew how much more they coulda gotten out of us
but nevertheless
it was still very very satisfying
made no mistakes
so make no mistake
i aint a muggles
i aint a beginner
i aint a brawler or a brute
im a man
cant you see what i am?
and i live and die for you
life goes on brah la la how the life goes on
so press yer space face close to mine love
and gimme yer hands
cos yer WUNDERFULL!
and i was dancing when i was 7
danced myself into a song
a song of songs
neil diamond : and when she comes i run just like the wind
cos wild is the wind
and a word on a wing
and the wine dark sea
and amphytrites hands swirl me thru the watery days
cos all my days become nights
and the nights become white
and white contains all colours
even tho ya think thatd be black
and black is black
i want my baby black
and colour me gone
cos i am
gone Gone GONE!

i am he
here i am
in the west
get here
and we’ll do the rest
steve kilbey awoke before dawn
and he walked on down the hall
he took another face from the ancient gallery
and he walked on down the hall
i look in the mirror
see multiple mes
i hear my brain at work
calculating
subtracting its cut
i see my eyes watching me
i see the night has one thousand eyes
i see vishnu has one thousand names
i see there are one thousand ways to die
i see the fragile future tottering on an iffy past
i see moths turning into caterpillars
i see my ghost that haunts me down
i see radha walking away into the jungle
oh that sweet gopi lope
krishna waits in the darkness for his love
he feels the tingle of anticipation
he stands there a blue glow in the night
meanwhile in perth at the end of the earth
i guess i gotta sing for all i’m worth
voice from another room : not much….
yeah
i’m a singer…what the fuck does that mean?
you tell me
cos i dunno
i just ramble on n on
like a rambling rose
i just me with my constant fucking dialogue with myself
i sucked off into my brain
with my god given freckles n my wispy hair
crammed in here with my thousand other selves
i thrash around like a nasty eel
i smoke dope and its money for olde rope
i talk about marco bolan and king solomon
i revere the great masters and i disdain the vulgar hoi polloi
i walk thru my kingdom disguised as a medium man
i solve disputes and have villains beheaded
i go off to jerusalem and i go off to earlwood
i go off to north bondi and i go off to subiaco
i sing songs
i hammer them hard
i climb aboard them like ships
and crash down from the mast
i write the most beautiful songs about ugly things
i reconcile opposites
the way other people write shopping lists
i move amongst humanity practically unnoticed
i gimble and i gyre in the wabe
kiss my asana satan
i am everyman
i am earth
i am virgin
i am mother/father
i am since forever
never was a time you and i did not exist
the fourth of never…and thats a long long time
tonight i will walk on that stage
and out of my throat will fly seven larks
and out of each larks throat will fly seven songs
and from each song
seven notes in an octave
seven stars in seven skies
take the t outta steven n its seven
so i stand in my room in apt 7
and i ask myself seven times who i am
first
my reflection says
you are kilbey
second
you are man
third
you are spirit
fourth
you are almost outta time
fifth
you brought it all on
sixth
you are ordinary
seventh
you must be crazy talking to yourself in a mirror
i touch my reflections skin
i caress my own face
i recoil from my gaze
i touch my scars
i finger my wrinkles
i see death all over me like a monkey
i scratch my head
i hesitantly sing
to see if i still have a voice
my olde dried up dusty words
my ancient song of song of songs
(neil diamond : sing it out sing it strong)
oberon n titania sit in their bower cooing n oohing
poor lonely calypso down by the shore
stupid paris checking into to the sparta hilton
stupid helen running off in the night
stupid olde zeus fucking some swan
stupid olde world going round its stupid olde sun
we killed jesus
we killed king
we killed the baptist
we killed jfk n fucking bobby n marilyn
we killed time
we killed lilith
we killed al crowley
we killed steve kilbey
kill that character off they screamed
i turn to ricky
hes standing up the back playing guitar
boy im really proud of him
hes playing lead hes playing rhythm hes playing drums
hes playing with the triffids
i step up to fucking mike
i inhale deeply
i open my throat
i let the words come
i sing with my body
my mind tees it all up
my hands fly about like small fat birds
my vocal cords vibrate and rub
i enter my trance
i heat up
so hot in here
here in kilbeys body
im steaming up
i erupt in sweat
just like them jazz cats
them olde black jazz cats
sweating up a fucking storm
because of concentration
because they love music
and they love life
and it pours out of every pore
I AM
I AM
I AM!