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
Error thrown
Call to undefined function ereg()