The Time Being | Steve Kilbey

numbskull on mainstreet

music lesson : self taut

one day you just suddenly can do it

one day when it all makes sense

god speaks within your heart and the trees are all variegated

the day you see how you want to play

man youre a player now a real player

play music to win or lose

if my music was a car it would be a sunbeam alpine

if my music was a cat it would be a black one

if my music was a beast it would be a please-e-o-saur

coming up from the deep for you

one day another mad genius on some new drug will hear my work and understand

the tininess and enormity of my music

so close up so long ways off

i have many good records left in me yet

it amuses me to pump it all out

all those songs what does it all mean?

nothing

i wrote a lotta songs thats all

yeah a whole load of them

so after writing all those songs…

what?

well you write some more

more stuff coming at you

i cant stop now i’m honour roll

if you like slightly weird slightly subtle stuff only tho

idyllist in every home i dont think so

this are songs bout what happens when you fall thru those cracks

a free fall baby a free free fall

guitars appear jostling you like a crowd

the bass intrudes like a big bad stranger

the slippery sounds now unidentifiable

mangled beyond recognition in some torture studio

beaten into shape

square pegs bashed into hexagony holes

stuff going sidewards forwards backwards backwoods

whatever the alienne did to me is sure holding tho

holding me up and setting my sharp nose to the gryndestone

sooner rather than later shuffle off this mongrel coiled

son of a bitch song stuck in my head stoned

i’d love to turn on you

up here in my silent soft world pierced by birdsong vespers

up here as day fades away

sit here with song after song after song

time signatures treble clefts sammy davis quaver

music ? i got it by the yard

i’m working on my five album double box set

it will explain everything

it will all be included somehow

and then it will all be gone

puff daddy

was great to briefly top bandcamps charts the other day

its very hard to listen to your own record n know what youve done

sometimes it sounds great

othertimes my concentration wanders yearning to start my next new thing

so ive learnt a lot about music and logic and myself while making it

ive learnt more than ever to have faith in my processes

my processes always reveal a song eventually …a good song ….

i dont always write songs the way you would imagine

sometimes a tiny inkling leeds me thru a number of processes i dont understand

in this way under my editorial control i let musical accidents happen

i am very free with accidents much freer than anyone else you probably know

on the other hand my in-built music computer only chooses the best accidental bits for re-assemby

i am a witness to songs writing themselves more and more

i chisel them out of silence or they fall in my lap

i am happy with the technical quality

its much much better than whatever you or i would have expected

yet i like the loose sound of the whole thing

i have strategies for negating the machineyness of things

now i have more than ever

it doesnt have to sound like that

i have quite radical ideas that i apply across the board to my solo records

here you can hear them in the hard left n right panning

i want my music to disorient as well as fulfil…i hope it does that

something else : altho getting old is a real drag believe me

in this one respect its working out for me

some other sense i have mentioned before

so often has taken over and intervenes in my work

i find it in music painting and writing

some easy answers at last for artistic conundrums

i continue to move forward in understanding and trust

i think these songs will bring a big smile to your face

i think they will remind you of other songs

songs by me songs by others

they are supposed to i guess

its a tragicomedy its all mixed up

2 instrumentals to bookend the album

george e the noted conductor said

he admired the way i could play notes out of scale and yet make em fit

altho i dont see it that way of course

in some ways i just play by ear i suppose

i dont know anything about modality

some voice in my head just says yeah thats the right note

i dont appreciate where it fits with music theory

i taught myself everything

i taught myself bass guitar keyboards singing engineering mixing the lot

it was a long long process of trial and error

my mind is so stupid in some things

but so quick on the uptake on others

i perceived quickly the ways a person could make music on their own

i developed my own ways i tested my own theories

i wrote a thousand songs no one will ever hear (again)

i was honing my craft over the years

while other people watched sport or visited friends

i sat alone starting from scratch

i put baby grande behind me n started all over again

i re-learnt and re-appraised it all.

i figured out how my voice worked

i figured out how to make the most of my musical shortcomings

and i started to write the beginnings of the songs that you guys must like

or else why would you be reading this bullshit right now?

so we come to the idyllist

another solo album big deal

dont hold yer breath for the next church album tho

kilbey/kennedy coming atcha in april i hear …(a magnificent beast)

so why the idyllist?

and all i can really say is

i think it may make you smile for awhile

its silly its stupendous its preposterous its…cosmic rock…

its noisy its warm n cosy its out there its in here

how amazing i never succumbed to her-0 in

and i’m still around doing this

fucking enthusiasm…man its there in buckets..its gushing vim…

it aint no tired old lame brain kilbey by numbers

it contains all my obsessions beatle dylan bowie bolan floyd etc

its derivative and original at the same time

i love those contradictions

its messy and accomplished

its everything its nothing

plus theres some good singalong numbers

if you wanna hear someone unwearied by age here i am

at almost sixty i have experience and enthusiasm

that is the idyllist

smart enough to know better you could say….

if youve already heard it and would like to review it

in the comments please be my guest

oh no baby

well you can get it right now in fact

here i am shamelessly touting my latest record

“trying to earn a living off an LPs worth of tunes”

my new record…. its a win / win situation

i need the $

you need the !?

its that simple i’m quite prepared to guarantee you like it

or i’ll beat my words

have a listen

its music to have a laugh to

its available now

SKPers getting codes tomorrow

cd ships in about a week god willing

i’m excited

i think when you hear this you’ll be surprised by the dualities it contains

its never all of just one thing

variety pack

you got rockers you got ballads you got your noise and your tunes

you got sitar viola fender jazz bass tambourine guild 12 ac

you got your reverb fuzz mist and smoke

you got your pop song your rock song your folk song your joke song

you got yer vox humanis you got your footstomp and thunderclap

you got yer silly sad stupid symphonic bits

the screechy scratchy guitars the plumping bass baby yeah

some sexiness in the bass department (one hopes)

man i can fucking strangle a guitar (one trusts)

dude i rock like freaking mofo on angelfruit (its implied at least)

i am a student and master of this thing now

still learning

still gotta long way to go

this is a new day for my music

back to the purity of my solo records from the 80s

(thats a contradiction)

this record is comfortingly strange and wildly familiar

the simplicity and the complexity will astound you

i keep squeezing blood from those same old stones

then i break away into new lands new atmospherics its hard to review it

i just listened to it all the way thru on the headphones for the first time

i hear its minor triumphs and failures

i see in deeper meaning in shallow shoals of sound

the idyllist is a good record

i shouldnae have sold it short

it is a good record and it has good vibrations

some new stylisations some old tricks and hi jinks

the idyllist

i proudly present it to you all

check this out

eyes down n looking

i deal in weirdity

oh idyllist is a strange mixed up record

hawkwind meets bowie meets 1960s pop meets frank sinatra

all of  them living in cologne smoking hash and working with mellotrons

a future that never came must have its songs

well here they are lurching tilting stumbling jumbled up and leaking out

this is the sound of a man with too many ideas

i go all over the place twice before breakfast

oh the idyllist rocks in some sick lumpy way

look ma i’m playing all the instruments

im a massive over achiever on an ego trip from utopia

no one can do this stuff but me

i am the maestro the undisputed king of this thing

it aint smooth but sometimes its sleek

how come i’m so fucking good

how did i ever get a handle on this so i can pump this stuff out

all of it marvellous music and songs full of love

well it took time and it took talent and some other force

something extra i know i have on my songwriting side

oh and my mad methodology even i dont understand

if you want raw uncooked time being nutrients this is where to get em

no ninny came between me n my music

thats all me every last fuckin thing

i  conjured that whole racket outta the silence

some of those songs soon you’ll wonder how you lived without

i bet

door to summer

the sounds of yesterdays

the moorings of the mornings

yes yachts on smooth summer sea sailing in sunset

strip away the night and yet this fragile feminine day

down by the shore they singing all the more

oh sweet jesus oh how i love you so

the sins mount up in the penthouse

the rubbish accumulates in alleys of bygone months

the beach boys singing in that old abandoned beach house

mouths empty of song possible worlds gone wrong

the idyllist is a (c)hanged man

the idyllist in a valiant transistor radio oh it should have been that way

wim o weh oh wim o weh

the lion sleeps tonight

from a jack to a king

my friend the witchdoctor

in the jungle the mighty jungle

river jordan is chilly and wild

and transvaal with servants and picnics

and rhodesian scholars in travestied gowns

the idyllist intervenes suddenly

in broken tones of electric guitar he strums out a C

the idyllist reaches back in  to his mind

nazarene in nairobi

of course he was says someone in another room

you mean alabama says someone else

someone occluded

a corridor of flowers

a procession of daughters

still…

will my spirit rise above this plain…..?

tor wrist

dearest heart

the weather is so fucking warm 115 degrees

i go down to the seas

i drink coconut water and dive for sponge

summer salt from greek cliffs into pacific waters

at night in the clubs hung with lanterns

i drink black cane rum skulled like a ram

the water is so blue my darling oh its so very blue

underneath the surfers is a world of silent fishery

perch bream mackerel and snake swim in these climbs

a swirling world of bubbles and weed and sand and mouth

that night they play a record called the idyllist

i lay in my hammock listening to this music

who wrote these words and these songs…?

its so hot i am sweating all the time

my sore fore head full of ideas drip drip drip

my eyes the colour of sea blink in the searing noon day heat

the equipment becomes too hot

the whole island struggles under this merciless sun

i make notes about life about my purpose herein

holiday land with the pineapple fritters and palm sunday salad

my swimmers hanging on a line

my mask that i wear overwater

my mansuit damaged by choral arrangements

ripped by the march of indulgence

crushed by the may of maybe not

oh summer is upon em out there who asked for it

a thousand summers still they cry for more

i met a girl darling who came to my room

we listened to the idyllist in the midday blur n hum

my curtains floated over  us like a bridal shower

we listened to idyllist as we sweated in the bed

the girl skin is so brown and smooth

i stood in a cold waterfall shivering

on a plateau above the coast a silver river ran through the land

before white man arrived from over some sea

i  love the idyllist the girl say in her gentle english

oh sweet jesus oh how i love you so she sing

in my hotel room where the wind tickles the venetians

among the abstracts on the wall and the faded cushions

oh sweet jesus give me another go she sing again

we light up a joint

out on the balcony in a towel sunburnt and starblind

the idyllist plays on and on

more black cane rum more dope more stars

the night is blacker than the rum

black black black

the native girl moves like a cat in moonwhite heat

the ocean roars and crashes

the tourists drunk in a thousand clubs red faced and too much aftershave

i am isolated now

my room high on the hill

i order rice milk iced coffee

i drink cold coca leaf tea

i listen to the idyllist now

it brings it all back to me

a path through the madness implied in secrecy

dont worry about that girl i never  saw her again

she disappeared into a furious market boiling in the square

cheap sunglasses jewellery and kaftans engulfed her sleekly

everyone was singing along to african jesus

while my  still kisses lingered on her thighs

and the brutal sun blazed triumphant in vivid skies

and i  gotta call from the hotel asking me about the sand bar

i got wrecked like a pirate there last night

found myself in the arms of brazilian women with fake tans

a boyfriend took a swing at me

i staggered into idyllist nights of potential

heat hotter than i ever know

the afternoon right now finds me lazily enervated

this and that are too much to deal with

the idyllist is on somewhere behind it all

thumping lilting crooning mocking

darling i think i got heatstroke

i cant go on anymore right now

i will write again soon

love etc

me

pink freud

low hangin’ garden of sky

seaside suburbs under long grey

tiny rocks n stones white against orange

sandy soil throws up palms and arms

the idyllist at his work …no ordealist….

oh that theme from some a place

threw and threw those waves washed through

swimming between the oceans legs at woonona

dad says steven wake up we’re nearly there…..

oh my dad who now lives in my heart guide my fingers over piano

dad look i have done this and this and this….

the unmistakable sound of an empty room

i am not talking to nothing…am i…?

that old devil Mr Doubt……

soft laughter in the distance today …oh how kilbeyesque…..

i spit out songs like gods hurl out suns

42 years on the bass has paid off hand some lee in spades

oh how my hands glide and roam

i still like the simple stuff

the perfect equation of notes within the bar

the slight muffling on certain sections of inter string dialogue

the way the wood has soaked up your vibe deep and big time

oh my old friend how i bless the day i first laid my hands on you

softer than silk you effortlessly throb

your slender neck yet so easily strong

your notes linger on in sex in darkness in acrid scorching summers

i wrestle with your weight then youre nothing but light

the idyllist and his bass alone in this holiday planet abandoned

the idyllist with his songs from shallow callow youth and on

down swims idyllist and bass

down down down into specific ocean

into underwater realms and green shelves of melting ice

the steady pulse keeps me locked down

we pushing a gain white door polar vanilla

the idyllist wakes up at his desk

here are his pastels

here are his songs

the songs other people bought to sing to their wife

the song i cut short because it threatened me

the song i wrote about you that you hated

the songs with the meandering hippy razzmazzataz carryon palaver

the songs i didnt mean to be so mean

and the songs i didnt mean at all

drift deep child now

listen to your old soft sugar daddy dreaming under cloud

listen to the idyllist touching his bass

it is almost inaudible

listen to the rings ear that resonates on after universe is gone

listen to the monkeys in lemuria chatter like swans

my songs interrupt me who want to be fed

what did you come up with kilbey today?

how is that cold ocean water laps round your heel

how is that sound of seagull so magically done

oh mister my bass is playing your song

that song about that woman who done did you wrong

you begged to her to shut up you begged her to stop

a pity she was engaged to a cop

my songs on the verandah are growing fine hairs

my songs up the chimney that mantelpiece scares

my songs under rocks in pools by the shore

singing i wonder why our steven dont come down here no more

some woman giggling a few windows away

while over her antelopes nice zephyrs play

and inside her garments of flesh and of soul

the love that is healing her blind as a mole

just like some mother licking a foal

i shot up sea creeks and each tiny shoal

my bass leans against the wall havin’ a sleep

i tether my thoughts with a gossamer chain

and neither of us will ever be unhappy again

but my bass grunts derision my bass starts to growl

my bass is murderous beast on the prowl

with the talons of eagle and the fins of an owl

with the razor snaked line the goes round the block

some of those gathered had walked right through rock

theyd arrived in a cloud but they  left in a blaze

they gathered in storms with summoning gaze

they asked for more songs more songs for idyll

idyll man

idyll woman

idyll photospheric stream of dream pumped down to me

idyll idyll on the wall

who idyllist of them all?

oh you mighty time being you freckled man hag burn

oh you mangy panther decked under halls of tile

oh you white hippy moses who leadeth his people to……nirvana

oh you nevets yeblik thrice cursed with empathy entropy and ache

moving in all angles your idyll mansuit captures experience

you are the universes fawn

you are st steven beloved of summers and idylls and caravans

flippers and snorkel and spear and mask  

oh its is you time being

you are the true idyllist

there is none

can be none

will be none

more idyllistic than you!

the bass was too saturday-fied to respond

the songs were still hungry

the wind waited

what does kilbey do next?

idyll daze a bound

so the idyllist is finally coming home to roost

the sound of a gnarly gnarled old songwriter goofing off alone

a bunch of random songs signifying whatever the usual thing is

i just dont know what to make of it

and i’m curious to hear yer opinions

is it good or bad or worse still, average….?

its just what came out

if i did it now it would all be different

i would never have written these songs before or after the last few months of ’12

so here it comes shortly off the old turnaround

some will love some wont

thanks anyway and goodnight

do too much

albums to come this year

1 the new one i’m working on now solo

2 the new kilbey kennedy you are everything

which is being mixed right now

(thanks to all pledgers)

and it is a lovely thing too

3 . album with frank kearns (coral kingdom)

4 album with hu dost

i have decided to write my memoirs part one

and am currently in neg. concerning this

am co-writing a book on spirituality

the church may have a few more gigs in em….stay tuned…..

the play is coming back to melbourne “vanpark” watch out in march

will be appearing on telly and live with a TV show

getting ready to re-release earthed plus

working on doing music for a  series of lapse or slide shows of nature photos

2013 should herald the finishing of macbeth and my soundtrack (and guest part)

accepting painting commissions

thatll do for now

sk

science as uncontrollable anxiety

we barbarians have sacked all the cities

the beat of war drum in dreams

the promise of gold and women

we marched on empty stomachs and hard hearts

we crawl over terrain like molasses

at dawn we are mirror

no need for documents we arrive as by magic

our unfathomably insane desires now immaterial

we gloat although hungry

we brag nearly dead

everything ive ever seen through a slit in my id

avalanche of body as the slain come down

communicate this : pain misery dirt

some god not ours enjoys this sport

men hewn from oak or rock hewn down in dive

looting the temple of some virgin rape seed

it was burning before i got here

the earth cannot shudder or it would ….

the poisonous means of diplomacy prevail

we take back our holy places by unholy mistake

lemmings into the afraid n over any old cliff

such a clever job they did everyone every one

down in some desert place there we are virtually

some miles to go until freedom is ripped out screaming

you spearmen ahead who fight for culture

and you you axe wielding giants who maim for a living

and great loyal bowmen who rain death in a cloud

all of us plunder the pleasure of ages

unbound on the field unleashing fire and pitch

in warships like nightmare i burn in the sea

all of it sinking sinking into the past

swallowed up in the darkness of memories blur

my fever my brothers my others my fingers

swirling around in the life rushing by

twirling strand woven  by the norns in the sky