The Time Being | Steve Kilbey

colonel o'truth : the officers mess

fad hacker what a fuckin’ little cracker

the blacker i feel the more real my fake little cake spoutin’ blake

yeah i cant awake

i shop n i stroll in my dolls house role

i flee this flea pitted tom titted nit witted plane

im half insane the other half is shattered

it never mattered

i mean, i’m really flattered

n everything

wild thing you make my heartstrings

where the wild thing is

not in showbiz not in another tizz

that fizzed miserably

baby you just been borne aloft

i mean i’m hard n i’m soft

i mean i sneezed n i coughed

i mean i shoulda fucked off

i mean fuck

wheres my lucky brake

wheres my con stricter snake

on the take

on the make

the awful ache

not the blower, rake!

oh yeah freeze it honey

oh no now gimme my money

oh yeah listen to that thing with its bawls

oh now listen to me sing in these halls

build yer house make her a mouse

sooner or later you feted to suffer you mother

you violent crumble amidst yer bathetic rumble

the babblin’ rabble brook no river of blood

suddenly i sank to my knees

your words stabbed my seizure of your seas

i lay down flat a supine man a superlative percolatin’

i drifted at deaths dour door

my heart had double guessed its hole of the law

your resume dismays me , mae

your quals blow in squalls cross my hols

my hull is scraping the sky

the deep sky in your indian eye

i own eons blues

seven long years i been hearing my own ears

look here comes mercury to set me free

dont send me off unwillingly

i’m wine dark…..see…?

gracefully gracious your space is spacious your mood capricious

your smirk is murky and facetious

on the beach looking at all the preachers

i dont believe in bondage to an adage

im not a cabbage or a king

i just some thing

some thing she wave gravely about as i shout stop

the cop was a fan the fan was a cop the faun with one horn

you may kill me with your sawn off storm so be fair dont stare there there

double truth double dare

everyone ask where where where?

i pointlessly point to the  one you anoint  in your tears

a disjointed  joiner in the joint

5 years stuck on yer eyes

5 years whatta surprise

my song just ends

thats it my friends

goodwishes sk sends

the age of reason

aurora what you doing here…..?

washed up on a faraway beach

lady, is this illyria?

the random nature of our thoughts

clusters of ideas occur

i lived thru biblical times

the procession of kings

a heralding of hollywood trumpets

keep on rocking me ptolemy

when i first heard some of my music

reminds me of my hometown

the deserts the oases the pounding headaches

night

stars burn cold beneath the glass

3 kings of orient R

prophets seers and sages

dont forget mages

sons of amazing queens

the sons of enchantresses

the scion of intellectual privelege

following yonder star

in the tent of a remarkable man

by the shores of the deadest sea

under a pink pink pink moon

love speaks again in winged words like little birds

the women approach

the men in prayer

the crew set up the gear

fender scimitar

i am a dark face in a sandstorm

the kings favourite concubine is tall and white

with rings on her fingers with bells on her toes

yeah we smoke opiated hashish as the evening cools

i drift on the currents of vivid brittle dreams

the plains are flooded by the sound of sweet feedback

the tribes exodus to the sound of rock operas

daniel in the lions den of iniquity

man the angel wants to free

the seraphic music those strange otherworldly sounds

the angel appears in a burst of silver gloria

nebuchanezzar  walks to work

imagine his spring day in babylonia

imagine the ziggurats the gardens

those temple whores n priestesses

imagine his fancy coiled beard

imagine the women he’s fucking dating

imagine his alien imagination

bad dreams though

what does it all mean?

what do all these kings dream of symbolism?

christ comes forth with aphrodite on his arm

he is such a handsome cat what a heartthrob

in his robes of love

with his les paul miracle

with his resurrection shuffle

on the sea of galilee

his own private junk from china

languid in a decked out cabin

his i-box is pumping bolan n beethoven

the bass throbs through my keel

my sail fills

my anchor away

my english fields like a gentle sea

john paul george and judas

the gig in joppa

jesus he sure can sing

a choir begins in the sky

a churning swirling organ grinds under the voices

the disc on tent

lose consciousness

i dissipate in the ether

music from the sinking titanic lingers in the icy air

herod nods beneath the palms holds poor baby in his arms

the monarch is all out of it

sleepiness sets in

a haze fills the far east

sacrifice in the wilderness

a fork in the knives

thigh will be done as art in heaven

hands slide down your stomach

a ram caught in a thicket the stupid thing

we were supposed to be on ten minutes ago

we wander instead for centuries

stress n strain

god created this magnificent world

he needed someone to tell him what he had done so he created us

we reflect back in myriad ways

we explain to him why this creation is so special

just what is so bloody good about it

why we dig it thusly

i mean he already sorta knows he did a good job i’m sure

but still its nice to be appreciated even if youre (a) god

so when we figure it out n marvel he is well chuffed…….

in a very tiny tiny way  this is similar to why

i really enjoy reading the bells n drums site reviews

some real church experts deliberating over their fave band

trying to come to grips with

to articulate

what it is that they love about the church so much

and it makes wonderful reading for me

because these guys make me re-appreciate this old stuff

i actually listened to seance today with a fresh pair of ears

and it aint too fucking bad really

some nice things there

the boys on drums n bells tell me what to look out for

theyve explained why these songs are so good

why a few not so good too

it isnt all just gushing splather

but a real knowledgeable dissection of  how its done

how the effect is achieved

but even so

they continue to dig the trip

i’m glad i got fans who care so much to do this

it is a songwriters dream to have these lovely things written

to have some indepth n loving analysis of your work

i really enjoy it

some of em arent even writing in their 1st language

they get different takes on whats going on

its all valid

its all great to read

i hope they can truly finish their gargantuan task

then put out a definitive book on ALL the churches songs

and i will write the foreword of course

cos these guys really do understand what i’ve been trying to get at

and their interpretations are a must for any real church fan

wholeheartedly given my stamp of approval

and as one of em says

the church arent always the best judges of the churches work

and thats true

and you know what

maybe this bunch of different characters are

like the council of nicae

they are the keepers of the true flame

and you know what?

you can write a review on there too

but it better be as thorough as theirs

cos theirs are good

and whatsmore

i had a real pleasure in reading what they wrote

it made me quite happy

yes indeed

make love and war

turn up in a taxi at the studio

go inside the usual assortment of characters ‘anging about

long hair joints drinks some girls record company geezas

i bought my lunch on the way here

its a veggie burger n chips

i get introduced to some people

the band is all arguing with each other

not like this

not like that

no i played it this way

yes but now i play it that way

in a small courtyard i eat my v burger n chips

yeah good its warm n peaceful out here

i’m working on another record

everyone asks me for my opinion

but no one can follow it

my understanding of music cannot be understood

my explanation cannot be explained

i got a different in n take on music to all of these lot

they all need my songs but they dont respect the process behind them

and i’m always too tired to put up a fight i cant win

and i cant win coz theres no right or wrong

i got my way of doing things that works for me

others ‘ve got theirs n never sometimes the twain will mark

i go inside n tinkle round on the piano

a C chord i start to arpeggiate it

modulating a little out

i start trying out different bass notes

ooh that works

i get a little bass pattern going against that C

when the bass goes to a certain note

the arpeggio needs to change to a slightly different set of notes

i take care of that n begin getting my chord progression sorted out

no ones taking much notice of what i’m doing …good…

no pressure when yer actually composing stuff

it takes only five minutes and i gotta great bunch of chords together

i just keep clunking about n till i find what i want

yeah thats a good chord progression

it has to be unusual it has to be poignant

it has to be at least a little bit strange

the bass notes work against the chords nicely

its quite poppy but in a sad sad way

but then it ends on a triumphant kinda feeling

so its confusing what you feel

and in that confusion lies pleasure

the emotions pulled this way n that

put thru their paces in a  procession of chords

its unusual to feel so many feelings

but thats what it does

good music i mean

the kinda music i myself like

like you cant decide what its made you feel

and in that decision is the magic

so i go on playing the piano

it gets miked up

i record my chord prog against a click track

this is harder than it looks

it takes a while to figure out the real tempo the song should be

and what kinda click i want

even when its sorted the song feels like it wants to race here

and lag there

but the click rightly or wrongly forces the whole thing to be even

eventually i get it all down

my hands like arthritis

my brain is smoking after nailing all that (for me) tricky stuff

i sit back n listen

wow the steinway sounds grande

piano is such a complete instrument in itself

after dinner i pick up the bass

and the part comes naturally to me as expected

my fingers figure it out

i sit there waiting for my fingers to get it

to nail it

the fingers slur n slide about semi-autonomously

the bass riff just appears outta nowhere too

it fits nicely against the piano

as if it was “meant” to be like that….

dear readers

ran out of steam on this one

will put up a new post soon

sk

so what

hello friend my old darkness

unable to apply myself properly

i sit here at this glass table in seaside suburbia

a full moon on the highway

listening to lisa gerrard

the closest thing we got to some ancient music i guess

sometimes she sounds like a mad prophetess from delphi

othertimes she sounds like a widow mourning her man

solemn n sombre wordless n wonderful

the light in my kitchen has blown

like my mind

outrageous fucking fortune and all that stuff

i’m a sleepwalker in a real dream

chuck me my axe chuck me my groupie

chuck me my cheque

speeding down phantom americas 13 lane highways

cruising up to a gig

its snowing its summer its sold out its empty

what does it matter

i thought you were there

yeah i’m dressed in faded black tat

my bass is all sunburst red n yellow

my skin is kinda tanned n freckly brown

my new crowns are white

my old eyes are grey

are ya nervous? you ask and i laugh

in reality i dont even know if i am or not

i am severed from my true feelings somehow

i been on tour for a million years and i love/hate it

wanna stop cant stop never stop

a plane here

a bus there

a taxi to the east village squire

a lift back to my hotel yeah thanks

amsterdam seattle tim buck two

chuck some stuff in a suitcase

message for me at front desk

god that man in the mirror looks so old

my throat is sore and my voice is hoarse

poor pity me living this stupid dream

champagne in the fridge

chocolates on the bed

drugs en route

music in my blood

i take out my book n scribble down some words

i fiddle round with my sequencer

i fuck about with the envelope of some cellos

but as i said i cant apply myself

some people turn up for a party in next doors room

noisy bastards i bang on the bleeding wall

muse : what year is this?

chick : are you nervous?

captain : the  fasten seatbelts sign is now switched off

hostess : tea or coffee

person at door : hey steve open up !

roadie : should i change your strings tonight?

manager : dont fucking keep complaining….

agent : sorry man it wasnt my fault…

bloke : would you mind signing this ….?

i toss n turn under the sheets

its freezing its boiling theres a mozzie biting me

theres a wild storm outside

im all alone i’m having an orgy

i dive into the warm blue rooftop pool

donnette sits on a deckchair

i watch her from under the water

she has on a one piece black swim suit

shes reading a newspaper n occasionally chuckling at stuff

shes drinking a beer n smoking a cloves cigarette

we’re in bangkok on holiday i guess

we got a real luxury room in some place

we go out riding around in tuk-tuks

no i must be in australie its new years eve at the surf air hotel

ploogy bashing on the kit yet to turn twenty

we share an apartment on the 23rd floor

we chuck silverware into the pool

and we stay up all night listening to pet sounds

we play these gigs to the holidaymakers

who fucking cares…..its 1981 aint it

aeons ago in some innocent past

we have a meeting and i fall asleep

yeah yeah whatever i say

do whatever you bloody like

someone gives me a book to read

its not too bad i read a bit on the plane

we hit the runway and i roll over in bed

i tune up my bass between songs

some girl in the front row is making eye contact with me n smiling

she chucks a note up on the stage

a roadie runs up n grabs it n reads it n smirks

he hands it over and the song starts up

i’m caught short and i miss the intro

the others frown at me

but the audience dont care or notice

i’m feeling wild and loose and devious and nauseous

i feel like having a fucking argument with some bastard

my dinner was a shambles

always some new tedious irksome problem

some oversight i underestimated

i juggle all my compartmentalised components

i am everything to everyone in my own stupid head

but on the outside i am a deeply floored human being

some boor cornering me as the prize gets ready to leave

the phone rings by my bed

steven?

its australia on the line

oh australia, i’d forgotten all about it

yeah i had faded into this tour

i had no future no past

i was on this plane in this hotel bed at this gig

i stand in a line at customs

outside the smoky haze of an italian sky

i got an italian girlfriend for a week

we dont really know what the other ones on about

but boy she can laugh and drink vino and smoke hashhish

she rides around on a white vespa too

me sitting on the back as we whizz round roma

i met her outside the tv station

steeeev steeeeeev she was calling to me

she said she was a student

but i couldnt understand what she was supposed to be studying

she was like a cartoon to me

someone thrown together for my dream

ok bring on the italian girl

i was staying at the fucking hilton too

the rome hilton it was 1986

the lap of luxury

anything you wanted

interviews lunches

a long afternoon sleep

some gig at night

this ones called myrrh

how can you be so invisible

gimme the nerves to see

marty whips up a storm with his e-bow

back at the hotel the italian girl does a dance for me

as we listen to a cassette of the byrds in my room

i just stretch back in my green suede boots like an emperor

the eleven year old canberra boy is gawking out

but i think i look like terence stamp in some 60s film

i’m jaded urbane and out of it

banga pearson is in the room next door our tour manager

i can hear laughter and loud voices

five minutes later he rings up

kilbey come in here we got a party  he says

i got my own party i say n hang up

the next day my head is aching

we fly somewhere bloody else

our rooms arent ready when we arrive

and i throw a wobbler cos i’m so fucking unbelievably tired

i just need to got to get some sleep

i strap on my axe backstage and drink some champers

my hair looks kinda stupid today

and i forgot to have a shave

my throat is extra sore and i cant even remember where we are

i met an airline hostess and invited her here and i wonder if she came

i’m waiting on some weed to arrive from somewhere

i just had an argument with some local tosser

my axe feels like it weighs fifty tons around my scrawny shoulders

my ears are starting to permanently ring

i didnt get any sleep cos the phone kept ringing

then they were doing construction next door

then i was too angry to sleep

the gig is a bit of a fiasco

but i can see the airline hostess smiling at me up on a balcony

i ponce about on stage a bit for her benefit

but after the gig shes disappeared

i berate banga pearson for letting her go

mate he says

i cant stop people leaving a gig…..!

i must have nodded off again

we’re driving down a street in queenslands gold coast

in a ford ltd

bangas driving

how much longer now someone asks

banga drives along smoking a spliff

another hour i reckon he says

we all groan

my throat is sore

are you at all nervous says some goodlooking woman as i go on

nope i say to myself

i’m in bed

i’m still on a plane

i got lost in the snow

i’m wasted in the heat

i sit at my glass table in bondi

are you nervous says one of the children

my throat is so sore

my fingers all callused

what? i say

and i carry on typing in the semi darkness

scarlet father

bar starred

scarlets had a nap n now she cant get to sleep

she stalks through the house wide awake

i like this music she says

the music is weird though

what else?

my life is weird too

last night i was on bondi fm

a tiny booth in the middle of a restaurant……..?!

a radio station i play ancient world, providence, almost with you, wolfe

i have a chat to the 2 geezas on there

they ask some curly questions

theres loadsa people walking round with joints beers n guitars

i get a lemon lime n bitters

i’m over alcohol

(i did have 2 sakes at margots birthday bash at raw bar)

i play my songs with gusto

fuck people really like the ancient world

should be a number one

had the dj’s singing along

scarlet demands a chocolate eclair

and paces about

she is definitely a genius and shes a real hassler

shes gotta do it her way

shes packs a lot of clout for a four year old

today me n doodles have a swim at bronte pool

it was cold n there was no sauna

ive been asked to judge a pastel competition

if i can get home in time from kilbey/maymi/hoffmen gig

thats right in melbournes ding dong club

fuck we’re gonna be good too

i can feel it a mile off

the most tasteful players you ever heard

shaun hoffmen like a controlled demolition on the drums

son adrian on bass n backing vox another boy wonder

then of course

ricky miami who never puts a foot wrong

we’re gonna be good

we’re not playing sydney

just this one gig

so get yer asses down there

because ricky n the boys are my band du jour

you wanna hear my solo songs n jack frost done properly?

scarlet scribbling in a book

scarlet still cant sleep

c,mon  scarlet its 10 03

but scarlet does not care for parental guidance

shes larger than life

a little girl with a big presence

a chip off the old shoulder

she waves the remote around under my nose

how we sposed to watch tv she whispers

we cant watch any movies

we cant watch any tv can we ?

then she does a weird little rumplestiltskin dance

rolling her eyes

stamping her little triangular feet

shes like an imp from the brothers grimm

a little homunculus from lyonesse perhaps

she doesnt eat much but shes a solid robust child

like a child from the old days

shes writing in her diary from the easter show

then she hugs my shins devotedly i laugh

dont laugh at me she says

she thrusts this book in my face

whos maisy ? she asks

then she plays with her toes

i got a splinter under my toes she says mournfully

jesus i’m tired tonight

i dread scarlets gonna wanna sleep in my bed with me

she snores and grabs n kicks all night

shes quite a character

i mean shes hi jacked my blogge now n everything

the comfort of my olde age

this fantastic little creature who cant sleep

i have 2 shredded wheat with rice milk n raw sugar

scarlet has a glass of chocolate sustagen

she keeps up a steady stream of questions

what with her mumbling n my tinnitus

i can hardly make out what shes saying

so she gets mad with me

fer crying out loud its 10 22….

shes still going strong

she looks like elizabeth taylor

but she acts like a real tricky little ratbag

she finds gadgets that make annoying noises

she mutters n sighs n ululates

she has loud arguments with her toys

i reckon she’ll make a good popsinger

or a good actress or a good painter

shes just got that strange aura about her

a kinda nascent charisma

a piercing look in her eye

a persuasive little voice

god i gotta go to bed now

and scarlet isnt  looking the least bit tired

not at all in fact…..

in spades as well

sir roger billyard

in universe #323

where the man eaters roam

some popsinger

a perfect amalgam

gee what a hairdo

fingers strummin’ the cosmic lute

oh his voice of pure gold

spun silver his songs

in the age of  grand allusions

when the boulevardes shook with leaves

in the garden of fonzie cortini

even here the rothschildes hold sway

323 consecutive moves away from us

along any parallel you are destined to choose

there are many choices

but the choice can only ever be the one

that you would choose

so you thematically arc away from here

you pass through actually nothing

you just take a sharp step

coz this is where all the boogie woogie is leaking from

i accidentally found a place where this is possible

a cave on the coastline

it leads to #323

when the sky is a mirror

when the sea is very calm

when the air is full of romantic dreams

crackling with frission

and the people here are so lovely

same old same old but different

the men are stronger they live longer

the women are sweeter, peter

i bet ya like ta meter

the children more innocent

the ancients more wise

the pink sun sets in the south

i wandered into this place it was afternoon

a different afternoon for sure i mean not a today

it was always a yesterday there

a dreamy glowing special effected yesterday

you could feel it was all past

like a fine but faded tapestry

we move through rapid gaps

the evening overlaps

and the music here unearthly

tho this is still earth

still orbiting around 4/4

the clouds above us the waters below

a flood of information

direct injected music

beating inside like a second heart

smooth as a dolphins fluke

a summer storm gathers at sounds frontiers

a layer of acoustic guitar a martin sheen

the young popsinger could be anyone

he leans into an etheric mic

he sings the words you want to hear

fairy dust encrusted

babys been busted

my oh my oh my oh my

fairy floss embossed

ooh my salads all been tossed

oh my oh my oh my oh my

now i’m going down to joppa

tying on a whopper

nobody could ever fucking stop her

oh my oh my oh my

doesnt sound much on paper does it

the download is almost painfree

my synapses bulge

the neutrinos spark

the helices expand

the music is sentient

it says whatever you want

the words change for every nerve

the nerves change for every word

a lovely night has arrived all purple with yellow lights

an almost full moon soon ascends the ends of this earth

the lamp of love above

music flows along pathways unseen

music arousing you tempting you

oh babe shadow sister hardly ever kissed her

those voices singing in unison

unison #323

darkened doorstep

too undisciplined to write on a single subject

my mercurial mind roams its vaults

my encyclopaedic knowledge of rock

oh god i’d be a ph.d or something

a real professor of rock mythology and rocks credo

an understanding of rock at all levels

a deep appreciation for rocks innovations

an addiction to rocks many charms

this rock music takes us as a religion

could i have worshipped apollo more than i worshipped bolan?

these oracles spitting wondrous axioms of lyrical masterpieces

in its simple beauty

in its howling intensities

in our golden youth

the instruments called to many of us

and many fell by the wayside

and the lucky ones became masters

and travelled far and wide

we had strange adventures outside normal realms

we were laws unto ourselves

i wanted to make music you could see

i wanted to access your memories

this would be accomplished via certain combinations of

words n music natch

things would happen in such a way

i plotted a careful course into your heart

part trick part miracle

i am an honest fraud i am a sincere joker

i mean this meaningless stuff

i’m spelling it out for you

my own music is so damn elusive even i dont know what its intent is

its wrestling with an angel

its being the last man alive

its a lovely spring morning in arcadia

its rude afternoon in a plush hotel

its before and when its over

its in us all somewhere

yeah i’m in this recording studio

working on my fuckin’ album

as per usual

i’m anxious to get out for the night

but the engineer reckons i could sing such n such a line better

i’m in hollywood and i wanna get outta this place

n see what the boys are doing on this lovely night

donnette is in town i have a lot to do

still i’m stuck here

singing this song

i’m sick of singing it too

theres a guy here from a record company too

ive upset him somehow too

hes frowning at me through the glass

doesnt like the word peculiar in a song

too fucking bad me old fruit said i

i mean c’mon

why doesnt he write his own freakin’ lyrics then?

the engineer is an english guy with a big mop of red hair

hes very tanned n freckly too

hes always dressed in denim

he was once in an english band who had a hit

he was a very very cool guy

he called me kilbey

c’mon kilbey he said in his mock cockney accent

nah that’ll fucking do man i groaned

i felt guilty trying to skive off

my throats sore

kilbey!

i wanted to see donnette thayer

she was a very lively person

she made me laugh

she was a gorgeous woman too

she was the epitome of cool

hollywood was out there under hazy lights

man the stuff happening out there all around

i wanted to get out n ride down the long freeways

i wanted to get out n hit a veg cafe

my throat really is sore i was insisting

i cough up blood i said

this was true i had coughed up some blood

a tiny little bit after a plane ride

fuck i didnt wanna sing anymore

the assistant was a girl tonight

she came up n said she liked my song

she offered me a suggestion which i amazingly adopted

she wasnt pretty but she was very charming

she knew a lot about music too

she drove a t-bird as well

we went to a party in silverlake

i met a drummer from a heavy metal band

there were naked girls in  a swimming pool

i used the phone in a bedroom to call someone in australia

i saw people freebasing cocaine for the first time

someone commented on my sydney tatty appearance

i commented on his stupid get up

he wanted to fight me

no way!

ruin my pretty face not likely

the assistant hurried me out of this bullys presence

people on all kinds of stuff

a lot of booze too

yeah i dunno

fascinated n appalled

the song still isnt right neither

i gotta go back n sing it again tomorrow

but its the hollywood nights

isnt it?

how can ya resist it?

easy mate

easy!

electrical disturbance

oh yeah music

that stuff

apprehended with the organs of hearing

music is an arrangement of sounds creating certain feelings

music while you being born

music while you being fucked

music while you being buried

gimme that strange feeling

i’m sitting in the wings waiting to go on

its some inevitable club somewhere

are you nervous ? some chick asks

yeah i am i say

music expected of me

my fingers my throat

my mind dreampt it up

my bass sounds huge

i pump an open A

i lock in with the kick drum the bass drum

its too easy

we sound like a machine

we spread out over the terrain

we crush resistance

we roller over the crowd

i look at the faces in the crowd

people are mouthing my words

people push against each other

people looking faint

people looking all excitable

the music in your blood pounding

the beat of windscreen wipers in the steady rain

the moaning of some woman downstairs

the throb of the machinery

those romantic castanets in spanish harlem

on a warm spring day when zephyrs play

my ears ring the air sings

i drew kohl under my eyes

i looked girlish and wasted under the dizzy white lights

smoking mirrors

my sister appears from universe #323

looks like one of my daughters

i look past my eyes into my soul

past my soul into my vegetal spirit

past my spirit into my ……

there are no words for this

the music is insistent

the guitars lash out cut off peoples head

the cymbals shriek above the din

the bass hurts under the racket

i feel a hundred feet tall

i direct clusters of notes like a barrage of fire

boom boom boom

my heart keeps pumping

my veins swallow the beat

a surge of crimson ultrasound

a delicate silver thread

the organs gulp and squeeze

feet tap

hands clap

i think about everything

yeah everything

thats my sorrow

thats my saving grace

thats my defining moment

the ancient world

drugs and sex

first world war

donnette singing hex in 1988

nineveh i want to hold you

karin in sweden the night we first met

we knew at that moment we would have children together

at a nico concert in stockholm

the norse gods

the greek gods

rosie n claudio in canberra

my dad les fiddling around with his morris major

my mum joycie cooking me egg n chips

my brother russell who i loved n bullied relentlessly

jennifer and her south melbourne flat

reading the early morning news while i watched her from her bed

god she was a lovely girl

mwp his first gig with the church

eyes down n looking

tim powles n i finally become best mates after years of frostiness

peter k always the consummate musician but a tricky character

richard ploog hugging a fucking tree up the north coast

getting stuck backstage with some boring dickhead rambling on

interviews with stupid geezas who didnt do their homework

meeting iggy pop ….what a nice cat!

seeing t rex at hordern pavilion with paul c…they sucked

seeing japan in london in 1978 at the music machine ..they were great

getting the cane at school ….it hurt like all fuck

getting my teac 4 track home for the first time

the smell of the plastic that it was wrapped in

the night my dad died i was playing a gig

the day john lennon died

standing there on the phone..WHAT? OH NO!!

my first car a little blue mazda with column shift

the birth of my children …all caesarean….

five daughters

five beautiful incredible girls

hearing bowie for the first time

he immediately superseded bolan, didnt he?

marc had lost it but david was moving upwards n onwards

my sister from universe #323 with her  egyptian magic

margot making up songs on the spot

grant walking round in albion street strumming his guitar

my cat timmy who got run over n me n my mother wept n wept

my house in rivett when i had no friends

my house in rozelle when i had a hundred friends

yeah mansfield st painted black n red inside

with the tree wallpaper n the skylights

with the mosquitoes in the back garden n spiders in the basement

with the eight track tape machine and the guitars all lined up

my name in the papers

my face on the tv

my voice on the radio

my flights to europe n america

airports cups of coffee driving on the autobahn

spain italy portugal

the women all dusky and voluptuous

first time in amsterdam …..a blurry memory

rock festivals meeting michael hutchence who was angry with me

meeting andrew eldritch

meeting richard strange

meeting ian mc cullough who was a real tool

lyneham high how i still miss those corridors where i was formed

playing whist at lunchtime in the quadrangle

listening to other kids records in the common room

my first cigarette my first real kiss

my first girlfriend

my last day as a child

dad takes us on holiday

me n dad sit up front n talk about the music on the radio

australia whizzes by outside

here a bridge there a river here a house now gone forever

meeting thee mr ricky when he was still a kid

fuck what an incredible musician that kid turned into

we still havent got that david neil album out have we?

yeah

my memories my music

writing all those words pouring out of me

the night is very soft

it doesnt change

goliath

autumn soon

swan lake

i cant keep track of them all

did i really write all that stuff

did i really know all those girls

did i really play all them gigs

did i really fly to all them cities

did i really spend all that time in recording studios

late at night singing in a deserted booth

singing all those bloody words

all those bloody words about what…..?

about all n nothing

about everything and all that

the history of me n you n the whole damn shebang

everything

thats a lot of stuff

yeah

in spades for sure

kitchen wilderness

my bass guitar n me

how long did we sit there like that

sit in that room

with our ringing ears and bent necks

sifting through notes

figuring out  what its all about

at first i have no idea

it takes time to unravel your in into music

may not be immediately obvious

we sat there the bass n i

in that one chair in my room

a red chair with wooden armrests

my bass grumbled down low sub audible

my bass i held it against the wardrobe for resonance

the clothes grooved on the hanger

the elephant cords

the blue floral shirt from england with the see through bits

the miller shirts

the levi-strauss

little green bag

25 or 6 to 4

yellow river

i got a line on you

ride captain ride upon your mystery ship

why do birds suddenly appear

(why the fuck do they?)

i talk to the wind my words are all carried away

i fall in love my bass falls in love

the world falls in love

baby i’m a’want you

tomorrow everyones gonna read my letters

tomorrow everyones gonna drink my wine

then my mother knocks at the door

keep it down please son we’re all going to bed now

i hold the bass in the dark

my girlfriend down the road half a mile

in a room with her 4 sisters

what was she listening to…..

a radio station 2CA

people sending cheerios in the night

this is from johnny and rombo in braddon

to lily, christine and all the girls on the fourth floor

of the TAA building….this is LET IT BE by THE BEATLES!!

my bass shuddered in the night

more than anything it wanted to pour out my feelings

i loved that girl though god knows why

she certainly didnt love me

i was overqualified for her

she wanted needed some ordinary kid

she never understood me at all

she just kept me hanging on

but with all those brothers n sisters

she was an instant scene

there were a hundred cool kids hanging round all the time

claudio who went out with rosie

fuck he knew some good music

my girlfriends dad came out one night

he said to me n claudio

you two should pay rent youre round here so often !

claudio got the boot from rosie before her sister booted me

i’d see him and he was sad to see me knowing i was still “in”

i saw him in town one night and he asked about rosie

i couldnt see why she broke up with him

he had such good taste in music

rosie met this other geezer called steve hunter

how many steve hunters in this world…ive met about 10

now steve hunter was a handsome geeza with a great hairstyle

he knew nothing about music tho

not like me n claudio

rosie didnt seem that jazzed on him really

but her sister my girlfriend was kinda digging steve hunter too much

sure enough this steve got the boot and that steve switched sisters

(they were only a year apart)

i came back to my bass and plucked away disconsonately

it cried a few crocodile tears for me

i listened to t rex in the dark

every song i wanted to sing to that girl

love you oh girl i do love you

i marvelled at bolans weird accent

its like its medieval english said my friend geoff gray

in the darkness in the warm summer night

i concentrated in on bolans voice

every sigh every breath ever whisper

the strangeness and familiarity

your days of love are always in a dream ah you know

marcs guitar was fucking devastating

a snarling feline beast

or a hazy sheen

or some weird chord

fuck he could really rock

he was sexy but he was kinda fey

and he was kinda elven too

delicate and otherworldly

wise and childlike

the little orchestral bits

it was just oh so perfect

we are the children of rarn

we’ve trod the vales of the sun

it was like a white chuck berry loose in middle earth

i was sixteen n a virgin still

the world was a magical place

kissing girls got me stoned

my bass waited in the bedroom

my dad was talking on the phone

my brothers were watching telly

my mum was doing the ironing and watching telly too

my dad says steve theres a girl calling for you

i answer the phone hello?

i hear a voice on the phone but my heart sinks

it isnt who i hoped it might be

its a girl i met at a rowing regatta down the lake

she was much better looking than my old girlfriend

but somehow the chemistry wasnt there

i kissed her once down the pool though

she looks fucking good in that bikini said brendon

he was my mate n an expert on girls

he just fucking walked up to em n talked to em

i hung back all embarrassed  while he “cracked on” to em

then he’d pick the one he wanted n introduce me to the other one

thats how i’d met this one

brendon had picked her friend

she had big “norks” and a loud laugh

brendon was tongue kissing her

and had his hands on the norks within about 2 minutes flat

me and the other one sat there awkwardly

i was sixteen n she was fifteen

i didnt really care for great big norks anyway

they intimidated me a bit

what the hell was i gonna do with all that nork anyway?

good lord it was 40 years ago

the bass grinned when i got home

she really likes you it murmured when i picked it up that night

yeah but i dont like her

i want the other one back

the one i still am in love with

she didnt deserve me

she treated me mean n offhand

she wasnt really even that pretty or clever

but i got stuck on her

and marc bolan too

and mickey finn who looked so fucking cool on the cover

and my bass started to warm up to me

i played it all the time

i mimed to t rex and imagined i wrote those songs

that would show em i thought

that would show em all