The Time Being | Steve Kilbey

nicely ambidextrous

it starts with the flight

that interminable darkness with all the movies on the back of the seats

the smell of the aircraft food and walking around in the darkness

im already tired after we’ve flown the first inch but I cling on

crying my eyes out at stupid films I wouldn’t normally give the time of day

my back in shoulders ache wanting to stretch out my legs

blah blah we arrive in Hong Kong and negotiating all that

how do I know which frickin train to get on n off on

then the flight from Hong Kong to london

it lasts forever and another few minutes more than that

but the month the year the years are flying by fast as fast can be

one moment I was a kid waiting outside the school for my mother to get me

next minute im on a fucking plane

its god knows what time

I guess im over Mongolia or something

im so old im so tired im so weary

im crammed into my seat in the middle row

no aisle no nothing

the food is ok but I gotta sit there looking at all the other food thats coming too

finally I arrive in England

and a guy picks me up at airport

and drives me out to Amandas in the south west of England

it takes a couple of hours

im ecstatic to be off the plane

and we talk about Boris and Brexit and ww2

as we zoom thru the soft grey drizzle of 2nd of September

when I get to Amandas I seem to get jet lag for about a week

and I just sleep on and on and on

I wake up occasionally to stumble round the village and in the woods

its early autumn

we stop and eat blackberries but not all of em are that sweet

sometimes we rehearse the songs and run thru our paces

but mostly I seem to sleep

I miss my sea pool in Sydney and its rejuvenating qualities

after about 2 weeks Trevor turns up in the van

one sunny morning and we are off n running

down the M( insert number here )

the blur begins

the British motor services with all the cafes and little casinos

and every moto-place in Britain has a special on kids wetsuits

the endless coffees and almond chai lattes

the endless veggie burgers

the endless GPS telling ya where to go

Trevor has to miss a few gigs and I have to drive myself

if theres a way of making a wrong turn then I will do that

I get real unlucky in Edinburgh where the traffic is a bitch

round n round n round

till Ali jumps in the van and shows me where to make the illegal u-turn to get to gig

its murder out there folks

we already did this in the western states of the US but the cities there are easier to navigate

Edinburghs traffic is like a buddhist koan to be penetrated

I try not to lose the plot

its a herculean task all of it

carrying in the stuff

setting it all up

the long soundchecks trying to figure out how to make it sound ok

everyplace different every crew is different

every hotel is different

where do you park?

wheres the key?

wheres my reservation?

the music goes by in a dream

the time on stage which is time in a dream

the strumming guitar

the rippling and pounding piano

the old voice still sometimes surprisingly strong

I mean where is it all coming from?

some nights we hit some lovely things

the audiences were warm and kind

afterwards ya sign stuff then trudge all the gear out and drive away

more GPS malarky maybe or smooth sailing

we talk about the gig

yeah it was good

one morning you wake up n its today

Amanda flew off to Washington DC to play with the P Furs

im here at Heathrow in a day room or something

my flight is still a long ways off

being slightly on the spectrum I guess as you’d say

I suddenly miss being part of something and having a mission

and I feel becalmed in a room at the airport Ibis hotel

all that sound and fury of the tour

did it signify anything ..?

the people and the places and the wild blackberries

now I sit type type type

a truly gloomy room I will leave soon and go to the airport

my flight aint for hours but what can ya do?

adios amigos

see you soon hah!!

still me

you may or may have not noticed that im doing a little uk tour

I will be appearing on the 12 string and vocals

accompanied by my friend Amanda Kramer

who is as you can imagine a very good pianist

most of you know the piano is my favourite instrument

we like the way the piano and 12 string sound together

and sometimes but not always we have produced heavenly overtones

we play the songs we like to play

well you can well imagine and its silly to spell it out

its September and its England

I guess there is some melancholy inherent there

at the end of the day

a song for our supper sir

can I get it without the goat cheese..?

well I think they’re unclean animals…

then I remember

im still me I say to all the ugly mirrors on the congested m5

nonetheless despite all that we will be good

the hammers will fall the resonating strings

we tell the stories of some different men

wow what a tortuous path that has been

a voice in another room : oh man you joking me what a doddle

no one can agree least of all me

I find myself here a bunch of songs

hey somewhere I learned to sing I did a deal

you know I always play F maj 7th

words swirl out of the air and form in my throat

I don’t remember it it has to unfurl

the last bit leads to the next bit

oh for a long time ive been a sorta minstrel

yeah we charmed kings outta prisons

and we blew the blues in piss-ups in breweries

its one thing to do this with a big old loud band

I wake up and im standing alone

but theres a piano playing I guess

im singing im walking around oh im living these songs now

I can’t tell the difference

we play em in LA

we play em in Portland

we play em in Sydney where the larks sobbed overhead at such sweet sounds

I lost my temper in Antarctica and I hurled my blonde guild into the churning sea

becalmed in the tropics we began again on uke and xylophone

the sailors begged us to play on

maybe I dreamed this part up

in the cabin with yellow light

words were filling my head full of song

then I was just a kid

I didn’t want to have to write songs all the time

it seriously got in the way of stuff

its like this black steinway upright its full of music

its like a guitar case  from another time that you thought you lost

its like the fog you plunge into sometimes

you walk along in England

Amanda says hey they will have vegan burgers here

my accent makes people laugh ha ha

but I like that I like to make em smile

yes thats how I talk its all mixed up I suppose

yes please can you leave off the cucumber and mustard

later on I play my guitar its a real beauty

I always had a 12 string guitar you know

on all my earliest demos and for baby grand I had my 12 string

there was no six string acoustic there was only 12

I always play 12 I just realised that

im sitting here outside bath

typing at my laptop in the kitchen

an explanation or forthcoming preview for my uk tour

the sun shines in briefly

its introspection of the worst sort

I smoke hash gloomily deeply plumbing all my lives

I emerge from the reverie still thumping at the keys with my one finger

yeah we jump in a van with our instruments

we turn up and play songs

we drive off to somewhere else

somewhere there is a sweet spot

the words the notes the sounds align

thats it

what is it?

I dunno but thats it

thats what I do and its brief sometimes

its hard to catch

maybe it doesn’t exist

voice in another room : you gotta be listening for it

yeah nobody knows what music is or what songs mean

if they tell ya that then you know its a lie

im just a humble song stitcher you never heard of me

I never existed except for a moment

I was too tired to say goodbye

the final notes are still hanging in the air

its all a dream from here on in

the bongos and the tambourines were fading

we were bumping in the gear up the stairs and it was cold

I was shaking hands with a fan as the snow started to swirl

be careful he says into eternity

dad appears and says well I like the piano

she can really play can’t she…he says

mum: I wish you’d kept up your piano lessons son

dad : its a proper instrument not like a guitar

im having an English dream

the accomodation is a cold cave and its run by a guy

who has hitched 2 giant turtles to a sled and now it pulls him around his island

he charges the tourists for a ride

but im staying here for free on the cold floor because he likes my song

voice in another room : no one knows what music is

I turn left at York and I decelerate as we ease into Brahms

my guitar strap has mosaics that tell the future and I stare into them

its frightening to realise all the latent songs in my guitar

it fucking dwarfs and wearies me

Trev :Steve theres a Starbucks in 15 miles just outside Luton

a smattering of applause

I think about neil young as I crunch alongside a silent canal

the leaves are curling up and I forgot the words to some songs I just wrote

damn that

the mic is not working

im still back at the garage with my malteasers and my Union Jack mug

my guitar is over the misty coast of Albany hovering in tuneful stasis

damp mornings come and go

the piano sounds like a zephyr sweeping through the reeds

it ripples across the landscape and is gone

you stand in its wake at the crossroads where some 2 bit devil is doing some deals

hes got an umbrella and hes smoking a benson and hedges

onstage is a dream it became indescribable

it rolls out

there it goes

I stand back

the long black road

you count to 10 then you open the door

on the other side is now

now now now

you better pick yourself up

dust yourself down

and figure it out all over again