August | 2011 | The Time Being

another version of myself

needing to be pulled apart to be put back together again some words sink in finally some sense a calm permeates the ship a resolve settles over me like a deep warm night inside i am still those nagging shots of failure and regret well i cant feel them anymore like i used to as i speed across the unlit seas into the mysterious sudden life after death : to be confirmed time of death : to be announced meanwhile the rocky road the hard way the subtle difference between dharma bum and half assed ninny making everybody happy n keeping em happy …sisyphus would spew… then a treatment which proves surprisingly effective in many ways some bad mojo detected and made null and void your hero now out there clobbering more art conundrums than ever feel different but cant say exactly why slightly new and a little improved detached from an awful lot of malarkey that was getting to me as clearheaded as it gets for an old loony poetic type thats it carry on ps SK premium is about to happen will all the people who have already paid 100 dollars for SK premium subscription please confirm their transaction details with sam@thetimebeing.com and you will receive your david neil download code as your first gift from us….

crescendo

needing to be pulled apart to be put back together again

some words sink in

finally some sense a calm permeates the ship

a resolve settles over me like a deep warm night

inside i am still

those nagging shots of failure and regret

well i cant feel them anymore like i used to

as i speed across the unlit seas into the mysterious sudden

life after death : to be confirmed

time of death : to be announced

meanwhile the rocky road the hard way

the subtle difference between dharma bum and half assed ninny

making everybody happy n keeping em happy …sisyphus would spew…

then a treatment which proves surprisingly effective in many ways

some bad mojo detected and made null and void

your hero now out there clobbering more art conundrums than ever

feel different but cant say exactly why

slightly new and a little improved

detached from an awful lot of malarkey that was getting to me

as clearheaded as it gets for an old loony poetic type

thats it carry on

ps SK premium is about to happen

will all the people who have already paid 100 dollars for SK premium subscription

please confirm their transaction details with sam@thetimebeing.com and you will

receive your david neil download code as your first gift from us….

Music Review: the church – Untitled #23

http://blogcritics.org/music/article/music-review-the-church-untitled-23/ “Absolutely mesmerizing. I had no idea The Church still had a record like this in them. Untitled #23 is hands down their best since Heyday, and it gives that one a run for the money. I was so floored I began composing this review before the disc even ended. One of the things that makes these songs so good is their textured sound. The majestic pop of “Already Yesterday” or “Under The Milky Way” was a thing of beauty, no question. But that style dated very quickly, which is one of the reasons they had such difficulty following up their early success. The atmospheres The Church toyed with back in the day have now fully matured. Untitled #23 is a dark dream of a record, hypnotic almost. The opening track “Cobalt Blue” draws the listener in immediately. With Marty Willson-Piper’s chiming guitars framing Steve Kilbey’s haunting refrain “Let it go, let it go” the results are riveting. “Pangaea” and “Space Saviour” continue the mood, but it is with “On Angel Street” that this record becomes triumphant. It is a film noir journey through Kilbey’s subconscious, as he ruminates on a relationship’s end. This is the most personal song I have heard in ages, an achingly beautiful piece of music. “Anchorage” is another peak, the interplay between the band is just incredibly tight as the song builds to it’s climax. “Operetta” closes things out as they began, with swirling guitars framing stream of conscious lyrics, as only The Church can do. Given the band’s spotty record since Starfish, I thought they might have front loaded the best tracks, and I kept waiting for the clunkers to appear. There are none on Untitled #23. To record what is quite possibly their best album ever after nearly 30 years together is an extraordinary achievement. It is also one hell […]

http://blogcritics.org/music/article/music-review-the-church-untitled-23/

“Absolutely mesmerizing. I had no idea The Church still had a record like this in them. Untitled #23 is hands down their best since Heyday, and it gives that one a run for the money. I was so floored I began composing this review before the disc even ended.

One of the things that makes these songs so good is their textured sound. The majestic pop of “Already Yesterday” or “Under The Milky Way” was a thing of beauty, no question. But that style dated very quickly, which is one of the reasons they had such difficulty following up their early success.

The atmospheres The Church toyed with back in the day have now fully matured. Untitled #23 is a dark dream of a record, hypnotic almost. The opening track “Cobalt Blue” draws the listener in immediately. With Marty Willson-Piper’s chiming guitars framing Steve Kilbey’s haunting refrain “Let it go, let it go” the results are riveting.

“Pangaea” and “Space Saviour” continue the mood, but it is with “On Angel Street” that this record becomes triumphant. It is a film noir journey through Kilbey’s subconscious, as he ruminates on a relationship’s end. This is the most personal song I have heard in ages, an achingly beautiful piece of music.

“Anchorage” is another peak, the interplay between the band is just incredibly tight as the song builds to it’s climax. “Operetta” closes things out as they began, with swirling guitars framing stream of conscious lyrics, as only The Church can do.

Given the band’s spotty record since Starfish, I thought they might have front loaded the best tracks, and I kept waiting for the clunkers to appear. There are none on Untitled #23. To record what is quite possibly their best album ever after nearly 30 years together is an extraordinary achievement.

It is also one hell of a record. I wish I knew the significance of the title, but like everything else here, it really does not matter. All that matters is the music, and in that regard The Church have hit a home run.” – by Greg Barbrick April 27, 2009

Steve Kilbey, Peter Koppes, Tim Powles & the unnamed Lonely Spirits present a tribute to Margot Smith

The unnamed 9 Lonely Spirits and a host of friends including members of the church (Steve Kilbey, Peter Koppes and Tim Powles) present a tribute night dedicated to songstress Margot Smith at Notes Live on Sunday 18th September 2011. With her long black wild hair, ruby lips and piercing eyes, this dramatic and engaging woman whose star never rose but still glitters amongst her peers, will be remembered and honoured for her small, but supremely rich legacy of music. Proceeds on the night will go towards two charities – Support Act and a donation will be made to the Sea Shepherds, at the request of Margot’s family. We welcome all friends and family, peers and fans of Margot’s to come along. Tickets are available now from Notes Live. http://noteslive.net.au/events/the-9-lonely-spirits-present-a-tribute-to-margot-smith Ph – +61 (02) 9557 5111 Doors open at 7pm, show starts at 8pm Tickets $25 + bf show only or $49 + bf show/dinner Performers donating their time for this event – Steve Kilbey, Peter Koppes & Tim Powles (the church), Steve Lucas (punk band X), David Bridie (My Friend the Chocolate Cake), Clyde Bramley (Hoodoo Gurus), Lindy Morrison (The Go-Betweens), Ben Kross, Michael Wade, David Rule (Toxic Garden Gnomes), John Kilbey, Adrian Workman (Bhagavad Guitars), John McKay, David Skeet (Crackerbox), David Lane, Craig Wilson, Mark Tobin, Wayne Tritton, Russell Kilbey (the Crystal Set), Neige Koppes & O Koppes, (Rain Party), Ryan McKay, Fenda Ashworth (Ruby Wilde), Scott Enderby, Max Wilkinson + more TBA MC – Steve Kilbey with an introduction by Ray Burgess (for Support Act) Facebook Event Invite – https://www.facebook.com/event.php?eid=130815057000710

The unnamed 9 Lonely Spirits and a host of friends including members of the church (Steve Kilbey, Peter Koppes and Tim Powles) present a tribute night dedicated to songstress Margot Smith at Notes Live on Sunday 18th September 2011.

With her long black wild hair, ruby lips and piercing eyes, this dramatic and engaging woman whose star never rose but still glitters amongst her peers, will be remembered and honoured for her small, but supremely rich legacy of music.

Proceeds on the night will go towards two charities – Support Act and a donation will be made to the Sea Shepherds, at the request of Margot’s family.

We welcome all friends and family, peers and fans of Margot’s to come along.

Tickets are available now from Notes Live.
http://noteslive.net.au/events/the-9-lonely-spirits-present-a-tribute-to-margot-smith
Ph – +61 (02) 9557 5111

Doors open at 7pm, show starts at 8pm
Tickets $25 + bf show only or $49 + bf show/dinner

Performers donating their time for this event –

Steve Kilbey, Peter Koppes & Tim Powles (the church), Steve Lucas (punk band X), David Bridie (My Friend the Chocolate Cake), Clyde Bramley (Hoodoo Gurus), Lindy Morrison (The Go-Betweens), Ben Kross, Michael Wade, David Rule (Toxic Garden Gnomes), John Kilbey, Adrian Workman (Bhagavad Guitars), John McKay, David Skeet (Crackerbox), David Lane, Craig Wilson, Mark Tobin, Wayne Tritton, Russell Kilbey (the Crystal Set), Neige Koppes & O Koppes, (Rain Party), Ryan McKay, Fenda Ashworth (Ruby Wilde), Scott Enderby, Max Wilkinson + more TBA

MC – Steve Kilbey with an introduction by Ray Burgess (for Support Act)

Facebook Event Invite – https://www.facebook.com/event.php?eid=130815057000710

womanifesto

the mastered marvel is fast and invisible they make it look so easy and it is…on paper we artisans fashioning something from nothing that means something we hammer on the anvil of song we beat the molten music into weapons to pierce the aura because priest equals cura and no insurer is any surer than me i catch ideas in the wind that blows thru the curtains some tiny wight i know is on my side each morning the songs are written and the poems composed my 3 string guitar just hangs on a wall and sometimes it groans like its bursting with song what stops us i wonder from creating something beyond beyond the reach of SHP even what stays the hand on the verge of discovering some original truth some new axiom disguised as a song painting some new parable encoded within the poets delirious rants some new breakthrough seen within a childs story the long evening of religion still overshadows the brief morning of science anything is still theoretically possible within noble art art music literature to uplift and affirm the dormant divinity in man this is the only reason for what those masters have done and will do we gasp at such and such… why he has performed a partial recreation of the world…! we cannot understand how this other fellow manages to whisper our own secret thoughts in an ear in our minds the masters refine their movements to the slightest ghost of a touch they are born with the power easily rekindled the masters contain the darkness and the light the masters reconcile the apparent opposites life and death i am inspired by the shining brilliance of their works their murals their symphonies their double albums humanity chucks some prodigy at the glowering […]

animal vegetable mineral

the mastered marvel is fast and invisible

they make it look so easy and it is…on paper

we artisans fashioning something from nothing that means something

we hammer on the anvil of song

we beat the molten music into weapons to pierce the aura

because priest equals cura

and no insurer is any surer than me

i catch ideas in the wind that blows thru the curtains

some tiny wight i know is on my side

each morning the songs are written and the poems composed

my 3 string guitar just hangs on a wall

and sometimes it groans like its bursting with song

what stops us i wonder from creating something beyond

beyond the reach of SHP even

what stays the hand on the verge of discovering some original truth

some new axiom disguised as a song painting

some new parable encoded within the poets delirious rants

some new breakthrough seen within a childs story

the long evening of religion still overshadows

the brief morning of science

anything is still theoretically possible within noble art

art music literature to uplift and affirm the dormant divinity in man

this is the only reason for what those masters have done and will do

we gasp at such and such…

why he has performed a partial recreation of the world…!

we cannot understand how this other fellow

manages to whisper our own secret thoughts

in an ear in our minds

the masters refine their movements to the slightest ghost of a touch

they are born with the power easily rekindled

the masters contain the darkness and the light

the masters reconcile the apparent opposites life and death

i am inspired by the shining brilliance of their works

their murals their symphonies their double albums

humanity chucks some prodigy at the glowering sky

the ego so swollen and filled with bad blood

at some time even the great masters may crash

fall from painting the cosmos on a ceiling

fall from a stage into the surging crowd below

fall from the roof of your little tuscan cottage

with the hazy gauzy summer light

constantly making you wonder : am i dreaming…?

still the mission must remain the enrichment of the soul

to live in constant wonder because everything blows your tidy mind

pride like summer then always before the fall

and then by saying precisely nothing you have said it all

a tambourine hit

a favourite brush

the texture of the paper and the way it influences everything else

the masters have more nuance than the skies have stars

ambiguity is a lifetimes work

the exploration of the smallest shades of the unfamiliar

the painting of your life

all the colours regraded and somehow the blue/purple is saturated

music remains the king of all art

it is untouchable in its power to dominate obsess or uplift the spirit

music invoking everything in just a few notes

the masters shook the jesus out of every incredible composition

the masters understand it all from the hugest to the most minute

as they glorify god and glorify the devil

in the complex strands they will weave

there is so much to keep in such brilliant minds

is it any wonder they become foggy and lose their way….?

like paul in tahiti stumbling through colour beds

or ravel with hypnotic simplicity that opens the door

or marc chagall who let it all be wherever it wanted

or john lennon whose piano was bitter and wise

every master an apparition on mundanity screen

looking for an oasis in religions wasteland and sciences just deserts

yet i am not guided by nothing at all

nor more so they who wield the most gifted vision

life is interpretable as you can see

the masters take life and they make it much larger

you wished you lived in that music or film

oh why cant life be like a song or a book….?

the masters intercept the image at face value

each enters the game on his or her own level

like archers who shoot for the heart of our world

apollo whose arrows were the deadliest music

volted bolts too sublime to perceive

so every genius holds a living flame in his hand

to illuminate dark ages and give them some hope

this ambiguous hope then i strive to convey

its a hope only glimpsed never held never touched

an unspecified glimmer among all that doubt

i cant buy any of the stories theyre selling

evolution or eden …..is that really the choice…?

i dont trust the religionists theyre always so wrong

they believe in things a child can see are stupid

our god isnt vengeful

we are not born in sin

and all of this was for us to groove about in

science has been changing its mind ever since it all began

not every miracle occurs in its crucibles and tubes

i’m sure some mysteries can never even be explained by mere men

so i keep on searching for the elusive beauty of ambiguous hope

may it fill all works of art with oomph!

Steve Kilbey & Ricky Maymi – Canberra Casino 2nd Sept 2011

On the same bill as Shane Howard (Goanna) for the same ticket price of just $35 Casino Canberra and Songland present: Steve Kilbey (the church) & Ricky Maymi (Brian Jonestown Massacre) who will be playing a selection of songs covering a cross section of the careers of both artists. Venue : Deja Vu Canberra Casino 21 Binara St. Time 8PM Tickets : $35 + bf through Ticketek Dead Cool recommendation http://www.deadcoolshop.com/music+cinema/recommended-albums/steve-kilbey-ricky-maymi/

On the same bill as Shane Howard (Goanna) for the same ticket price of just $35
Casino Canberra and Songland present:

Steve Kilbey (the church) & Ricky Maymi (Brian Jonestown Massacre)
who will be playing a selection of songs covering a
cross section of the careers of both artists.

Venue : Deja Vu Canberra Casino 21 Binara St.
Time 8PM
Tickets : $35 + bf through Ticketek

Dead Cool recommendation
 http://www.deadcoolshop.com/music+cinema/recommended-albums/steve-kilbey-ricky-maymi/

SHP

brian smith sent me a timely article that some scientists have just postulated : marijuana can cause a condition known as semantic hyper priming ….. in which the mind matches words from a larger pool of possible associations thus giving the stoned poet a bit of a jump on some sober rival wow havent i been saying that for years …? and it doesnt just do that for verbal concepts either…. some strange thing in pot can make certain artists come up with new ideas across the board i always said that like a switchboard getting all mixed up parts of the brain speaking to each other that normally dont yeah it works for some n not for others…. kids dont try this at home etc….. insert your favourite caveat here semantic hyper priming eh….? well i’ll be a monkeys uncle typing out the complete works of shakespeare semantic hyper priming…..huh….well one has to do ones bit for things like that… you mean i wanna be the top poet in this town n theres something out there give me SHP? SHP……..you kidding me semantic hyper fucking priming why that is the wholly grail of your average jason rimbaud why you smoke a lil’ THC n you got SHP…i mean ….LOL…… all them fuggen connections in my mind man just like the time being man like he said the words coming off a roll in his skull fuck my aunty warned me against SHP man she said steven those words gotta come from somewhere man no fucking way! pot gives you all them words man and more more fucking words than you can handle man if you aint dylan bobalaire watch out! there should be a warning on neils purple heads exactly now you think david neil did not exist then […]

chemical flame

brian smith sent me a timely article that

some scientists have just postulated :

marijuana can cause a condition

known as semantic hyper priming …..

in which the mind matches words from a larger pool of possible associations

thus giving the stoned poet a bit of a jump on some sober rival

wow havent i been saying that for years …?

and it doesnt just do that for verbal concepts either….

some strange thing in pot can make certain artists

come up with new ideas across the board

i always said that like a switchboard getting all mixed up

parts of the brain speaking to each other that normally dont

yeah it works for some n not for others….

kids dont try this at home etc…..

insert your favourite caveat here

semantic hyper priming eh….?

well i’ll be a monkeys uncle typing out the complete works of shakespeare

semantic hyper priming…..huh….well one has to do ones bit for things like that…

you mean i wanna be the top poet in this town n theres something out there give me SHP?
SHP……..you kidding me

semantic hyper fucking priming why that is the wholly grail of your average jason rimbaud

why you smoke a lil’ THC n you got SHP…i mean ….LOL……

all them fuggen connections in my mind man

just like the time being man like he said the words coming off a roll in his skull

fuck my aunty warned me against SHP man

she said steven those words gotta come from somewhere man

no fucking way!

pot gives you all them words man and more

more fucking words than you can handle man if you aint dylan bobalaire

watch out! there should be a warning on neils purple heads

exactly now you think david neil did not exist then go back and listen

remindlessness done in 1989 and i sing of neils purple heads

yes i needed that SHP then and always

just think …and is that why theyve banned it ..it wouldnt be fair..

imagine at the poetry playoffs …all them poets with artificially induced SHP

just freely associatin’ some fucken bullzshit

ooh wow imagine that surge of delicious semantic hyper priming

oh fuck yes it will feel good just like nevets yeblik choofing on the bone

words flooding inner my brain oh wow like….man…its insane….

imagine meeting chicks inner bar i will say hey babe i’m a SHPer…

how about you babe hows yer vocab hows yer priming hows yer rhyming…?

and all you needed all along was a bong ..bang you gotta song

seems not for some nongs …no matter how many bongs …….

ok guess i ‘ll get along

man it feels good to have all this most excellent SHP at my wherewithal

mmm it feels good…….

0

space curves away

the insatiable truth continues to admit all possibilities even some idiot says life on this planet is an accident yeah sure it is….does that make you feel better…? a complete and total fluke…boy see that lightning hit the primordial soup…! your head is no good if your hearts not in it your head in the clouds water lifted from the sea many creatures make me up the unicorn and the lion the griffin and the snake history myth religion the past is all of these you can never touch it with your hands it exists only as an idea a real mystery …who can crack the past…? the future yes …..but the past no….. or what….?

when its gone a way

the insatiable truth continues to admit all possibilities

even some idiot says life on this planet is an accident

yeah sure it is….does that make you feel better…?

a complete and total fluke…boy see that lightning hit the primordial soup…!

your head is no good if your hearts not in it

your head in the clouds

water lifted from the sea

many creatures make me up

the unicorn and the lion

the griffin and the snake

history myth religion

the past is all of these

you can never touch it with your hands

it exists only as an idea

a real mystery …who can crack the past…?

the future yes …..but the past no…..

or what….?

container

beyond silver distance entangled in the futures delerious network the roots and tendrils of events come choking our life oh my photosynthetic spirit which pulls in light and exhales love my dark devil who lives in the earth deep in its fiery guts from my mother i inherited this from my father i inherited that from an endless web of ancestors a random list of proclivities from an incredible intake of impressions i am a camera that films everything i am a sensitive device recording unknown emotion i am a single point giving off my incessant transmission a random poem generator i sweep away the leaves of the unconscious i collect debris found in our minds and i assemble patterns from old words and conversations i refashion anew imaginary things i mingle our dreams freely and with fingers of thought i shape music my voice is an actor who speaks in your ear my voice says you are living inside of this song and a door opens up and youre walking on through and the guitars seem to be saying something to you oh….there….you can see this place you have been set down and you must like it because you want to return over and over i made that little door for you and i suggested that adventure but that world was yours amigo i am the architect of that dream i move thru this world a bohemian trample but every now and then some powerful man will genuflect to me a mere nobody and his companions do say how is it that you hold yon minstrel in such regard and he says ah but he is given me a door into a private world there where a man may find rest i listen and am transported you see this […]

marble skin turn human

beyond silver distance

entangled in the futures delerious network

the roots and tendrils of events come choking our life

oh my photosynthetic spirit which pulls in light and exhales love

my dark devil who lives in the earth deep in its fiery guts

from my mother i inherited this

from my father i inherited that

from an endless web of ancestors a random list of proclivities

from an incredible intake of impressions

i am a camera that films everything

i am a sensitive device recording unknown emotion

i am a single point giving off my incessant transmission

a random poem generator

i sweep away the leaves of the unconscious

i collect debris found in our minds and i assemble patterns

from old words and conversations i refashion anew imaginary things

i mingle our dreams freely and with fingers of thought i shape music

my voice is an actor who speaks in your ear

my voice says you are living inside of this song

and a door opens up and youre walking on through

and the guitars seem to be saying something to you

oh….there….you can see this place you have been set down

and you must like it because you want to return over and over

i made that little door for you and i suggested that adventure

but that world was yours amigo

i am the architect of that dream

i move thru this world a bohemian trample

but every now and then some powerful man will genuflect to me a mere nobody

and his companions do say how is it that you hold yon minstrel in such regard

and he says ah but he is given me a door into a private world

there where a man may find rest i listen and am transported

you see this important task has fallen to me

i am staggering under the weight of this responsibility

i fight tooth and nail for all will dilute it or dispute it or loot it

the being of light and the dark devil duking it out in a room in my brain

the extreme twin opposites of good and evil act like a motor firing in my mind

the electricity in me is charged and refreshed

and the chemical intercourse between the synapses is rich and fruitful

some magical editor appears sorting it all out

a panel of guests assembles offering suggestions i can hear them so clearly

my muse so elusive yet generous even in her own absence

my mind is a trap catching all nature of things

this stuff i regurgitate comes like a telex on a reel

i bring it to you fresh from the sea of possibility

utilityfeverpropensityflighttreacheryfallreturnconcentrationsainthoodmaskimpressionthoughtallusionsistercircustextureclairvoyancelight

observance

utilityfeverpropensityflighttreacheryfallreturnconcentrationsainthoodmaskimpressionthoughtallusionsistercircustextureclairvoyancelight

photosphere

observanceutilityfeverpropensityflighttreacheryfallreturnconcentrationsainthoodmaskimpressionthoughtallusionsistercircustextureclairvoyancelight