music from your forgotten dream
in some fevered forgetful state i record snippets of music
after all logic can do anything and so can i
but mostly i’m leaning towards music from an ancient world here
stories from harsh and glorious times transmitted to me
through the haze of my present incarnation
music is ready to be created
you can be focussed or you can just go with it
music and logic are just toys to me
in some dream i plug in and i record music buried in amnesia
stoned crazy dream music from my deep past bubbles to the top
visions anchored in a pool of vague memory
its 2014 and i am everyman on the edge of everytown
this gadget that creates music i come to it and i fool around
i just start anywhere i like
and sometimes its happy and sometimes its sad
and sometimes its so full of conflicted feelings
music and words are always there
they fall out of the sky whenever i want whenever i dont want
music from ancient civilisations baby as well as cute pop songs
music from the dim remote interior locked up from us
but nevertheless trickling out
music oozing out of the atmosphere from other places
foundering its way into logic and then unlocked by me
miscellaneous sparks from miscellaneous fires
every style no style
vienna parades by
and then Alexandria in her former glory
i compose those stories written as music
i start and i stop and i leave off
and i rediscover
religious order gives way into chaos
the centuries roll on
the guitars scream oh i dont know
its just kilbey in his bedroom and hes got some new music
hes trying for that biblical sound
the sound of some phoenician blues band
music songs words fragments of a vase
music from the morning of the earth
some stuff we just made up
alices poison became bittersweet in strings and spades
find the pathos in anything boy i tell you
and then i believe it all myself
i knock out music and i do
music knock me out sock it to my jawbone song
swing on lightly by
music from the moon
kilbey in his room again
knocking out a song or two
half finished half forgotten
ssshh its late at night he works in the light of logic
working playing singing but not saying
it doesnt matter
miscellanaea swirls around my fingers on the keys and frets
whatever all these instruments are in the banks of sounds
i dont know what i’m doing
its glimpses of something
its bits and pieces of all my lives here and there
some words too but much more music
music which aims to be mostly strange to provoke some thought
which will someday mean something
even if not now
from the rich eventful past of sound trumpets fanfare in suite garden song form
thanks to all the people who bought MISCELLANAEA
and made it my fastest selling record to date