The Time Being | Steve Kilbey

scarlet father

bar starred

scarlets had a nap n now she cant get to sleep

she stalks through the house wide awake

i like this music she says

the music is weird though

what else?

my life is weird too

last night i was on bondi fm

a tiny booth in the middle of a restaurant……..?!

a radio station i play ancient world, providence, almost with you, wolfe

i have a chat to the 2 geezas on there

they ask some curly questions

theres loadsa people walking round with joints beers n guitars

i get a lemon lime n bitters

i’m over alcohol

(i did have 2 sakes at margots birthday bash at raw bar)

i play my songs with gusto

fuck people really like the ancient world

should be a number one

had the dj’s singing along

scarlet demands a chocolate eclair

and paces about

she is definitely a genius and shes a real hassler

shes gotta do it her way

shes packs a lot of clout for a four year old

today me n doodles have a swim at bronte pool

it was cold n there was no sauna

ive been asked to judge a pastel competition

if i can get home in time from kilbey/maymi/hoffmen gig

thats right in melbournes ding dong club

fuck we’re gonna be good too

i can feel it a mile off

the most tasteful players you ever heard

shaun hoffmen like a controlled demolition on the drums

son adrian on bass n backing vox another boy wonder

then of course

ricky miami who never puts a foot wrong

we’re gonna be good

we’re not playing sydney

just this one gig

so get yer asses down there

because ricky n the boys are my band du jour

you wanna hear my solo songs n jack frost done properly?

scarlet scribbling in a book

scarlet still cant sleep

c,mon  scarlet its 10 03

but scarlet does not care for parental guidance

shes larger than life

a little girl with a big presence

a chip off the old shoulder

she waves the remote around under my nose

how we sposed to watch tv she whispers

we cant watch any movies

we cant watch any tv can we ?

then she does a weird little rumplestiltskin dance

rolling her eyes

stamping her little triangular feet

shes like an imp from the brothers grimm

a little homunculus from lyonesse perhaps

she doesnt eat much but shes a solid robust child

like a child from the old days

shes writing in her diary from the easter show

then she hugs my shins devotedly i laugh

dont laugh at me she says

she thrusts this book in my face

whos maisy ? she asks

then she plays with her toes

i got a splinter under my toes she says mournfully

jesus i’m tired tonight

i dread scarlets gonna wanna sleep in my bed with me

she snores and grabs n kicks all night

shes quite a character

i mean shes hi jacked my blogge now n everything

the comfort of my olde age

this fantastic little creature who cant sleep

i have 2 shredded wheat with rice milk n raw sugar

scarlet has a glass of chocolate sustagen

she keeps up a steady stream of questions

what with her mumbling n my tinnitus

i can hardly make out what shes saying

so she gets mad with me

fer crying out loud its 10 22….

shes still going strong

she looks like elizabeth taylor

but she acts like a real tricky little ratbag

she finds gadgets that make annoying noises

she mutters n sighs n ululates

she has loud arguments with her toys

i reckon she’ll make a good popsinger

or a good actress or a good painter

shes just got that strange aura about her

a kinda nascent charisma

a piercing look in her eye

a persuasive little voice

god i gotta go to bed now

and scarlet isnt  looking the least bit tired

not at all in fact…..

in spades as well

sir roger billyard

in universe #323

where the man eaters roam

some popsinger

a perfect amalgam

gee what a hairdo

fingers strummin’ the cosmic lute

oh his voice of pure gold

spun silver his songs

in the age of  grand allusions

when the boulevardes shook with leaves

in the garden of fonzie cortini

even here the rothschildes hold sway

323 consecutive moves away from us

along any parallel you are destined to choose

there are many choices

but the choice can only ever be the one

that you would choose

so you thematically arc away from here

you pass through actually nothing

you just take a sharp step

coz this is where all the boogie woogie is leaking from

i accidentally found a place where this is possible

a cave on the coastline

it leads to #323

when the sky is a mirror

when the sea is very calm

when the air is full of romantic dreams

crackling with frission

and the people here are so lovely

same old same old but different

the men are stronger they live longer

the women are sweeter, peter

i bet ya like ta meter

the children more innocent

the ancients more wise

the pink sun sets in the south

i wandered into this place it was afternoon

a different afternoon for sure i mean not a today

it was always a yesterday there

a dreamy glowing special effected yesterday

you could feel it was all past

like a fine but faded tapestry

we move through rapid gaps

the evening overlaps

and the music here unearthly

tho this is still earth

still orbiting around 4/4

the clouds above us the waters below

a flood of information

direct injected music

beating inside like a second heart

smooth as a dolphins fluke

a summer storm gathers at sounds frontiers

a layer of acoustic guitar a martin sheen

the young popsinger could be anyone

he leans into an etheric mic

he sings the words you want to hear

fairy dust encrusted

babys been busted

my oh my oh my oh my

fairy floss embossed

ooh my salads all been tossed

oh my oh my oh my oh my

now i’m going down to joppa

tying on a whopper

nobody could ever fucking stop her

oh my oh my oh my

doesnt sound much on paper does it

the download is almost painfree

my synapses bulge

the neutrinos spark

the helices expand

the music is sentient

it says whatever you want

the words change for every nerve

the nerves change for every word

a lovely night has arrived all purple with yellow lights

an almost full moon soon ascends the ends of this earth

the lamp of love above

music flows along pathways unseen

music arousing you tempting you

oh babe shadow sister hardly ever kissed her

those voices singing in unison

unison #323

darkened doorstep

too undisciplined to write on a single subject

my mercurial mind roams its vaults

my encyclopaedic knowledge of rock

oh god i’d be a ph.d or something

a real professor of rock mythology and rocks credo

an understanding of rock at all levels

a deep appreciation for rocks innovations

an addiction to rocks many charms

this rock music takes us as a religion

could i have worshipped apollo more than i worshipped bolan?

these oracles spitting wondrous axioms of lyrical masterpieces

in its simple beauty

in its howling intensities

in our golden youth

the instruments called to many of us

and many fell by the wayside

and the lucky ones became masters

and travelled far and wide

we had strange adventures outside normal realms

we were laws unto ourselves

i wanted to make music you could see

i wanted to access your memories

this would be accomplished via certain combinations of

words n music natch

things would happen in such a way

i plotted a careful course into your heart

part trick part miracle

i am an honest fraud i am a sincere joker

i mean this meaningless stuff

i’m spelling it out for you

my own music is so damn elusive even i dont know what its intent is

its wrestling with an angel

its being the last man alive

its a lovely spring morning in arcadia

its rude afternoon in a plush hotel

its before and when its over

its in us all somewhere

yeah i’m in this recording studio

working on my fuckin’ album

as per usual

i’m anxious to get out for the night

but the engineer reckons i could sing such n such a line better

i’m in hollywood and i wanna get outta this place

n see what the boys are doing on this lovely night

donnette is in town i have a lot to do

still i’m stuck here

singing this song

i’m sick of singing it too

theres a guy here from a record company too

ive upset him somehow too

hes frowning at me through the glass

doesnt like the word peculiar in a song

too fucking bad me old fruit said i

i mean c’mon

why doesnt he write his own freakin’ lyrics then?

the engineer is an english guy with a big mop of red hair

hes very tanned n freckly too

hes always dressed in denim

he was once in an english band who had a hit

he was a very very cool guy

he called me kilbey

c’mon kilbey he said in his mock cockney accent

nah that’ll fucking do man i groaned

i felt guilty trying to skive off

my throats sore

kilbey!

i wanted to see donnette thayer

she was a very lively person

she made me laugh

she was a gorgeous woman too

she was the epitome of cool

hollywood was out there under hazy lights

man the stuff happening out there all around

i wanted to get out n ride down the long freeways

i wanted to get out n hit a veg cafe

my throat really is sore i was insisting

i cough up blood i said

this was true i had coughed up some blood

a tiny little bit after a plane ride

fuck i didnt wanna sing anymore

the assistant was a girl tonight

she came up n said she liked my song

she offered me a suggestion which i amazingly adopted

she wasnt pretty but she was very charming

she knew a lot about music too

she drove a t-bird as well

we went to a party in silverlake

i met a drummer from a heavy metal band

there were naked girls in  a swimming pool

i used the phone in a bedroom to call someone in australia

i saw people freebasing cocaine for the first time

someone commented on my sydney tatty appearance

i commented on his stupid get up

he wanted to fight me

no way!

ruin my pretty face not likely

the assistant hurried me out of this bullys presence

people on all kinds of stuff

a lot of booze too

yeah i dunno

fascinated n appalled

the song still isnt right neither

i gotta go back n sing it again tomorrow

but its the hollywood nights

isnt it?

how can ya resist it?

easy mate

easy!

electrical disturbance

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

kitchen wilderness

my bass guitar n me

how long did we sit there like that

sit in that room

with our ringing ears and bent necks

sifting through notes

figuring out  what its all about

at first i have no idea

it takes time to unravel your in into music

may not be immediately obvious

we sat there the bass n i

in that one chair in my room

a red chair with wooden armrests

my bass grumbled down low sub audible

my bass i held it against the wardrobe for resonance

the clothes grooved on the hanger

the elephant cords

the blue floral shirt from england with the see through bits

the miller shirts

the levi-strauss

little green bag

25 or 6 to 4

yellow river

i got a line on you

ride captain ride upon your mystery ship

why do birds suddenly appear

(why the fuck do they?)

i talk to the wind my words are all carried away

i fall in love my bass falls in love

the world falls in love

baby i’m a’want you

tomorrow everyones gonna read my letters

tomorrow everyones gonna drink my wine

then my mother knocks at the door

keep it down please son we’re all going to bed now

i hold the bass in the dark

my girlfriend down the road half a mile

in a room with her 4 sisters

what was she listening to…..

a radio station 2CA

people sending cheerios in the night

this is from johnny and rombo in braddon

to lily, christine and all the girls on the fourth floor

of the TAA building….this is LET IT BE by THE BEATLES!!

my bass shuddered in the night

more than anything it wanted to pour out my feelings

i loved that girl though god knows why

she certainly didnt love me

i was overqualified for her

she wanted needed some ordinary kid

she never understood me at all

she just kept me hanging on

but with all those brothers n sisters

she was an instant scene

there were a hundred cool kids hanging round all the time

claudio who went out with rosie

fuck he knew some good music

my girlfriends dad came out one night

he said to me n claudio

you two should pay rent youre round here so often !

claudio got the boot from rosie before her sister booted me

i’d see him and he was sad to see me knowing i was still “in”

i saw him in town one night and he asked about rosie

i couldnt see why she broke up with him

he had such good taste in music

rosie met this other geezer called steve hunter

how many steve hunters in this world…ive met about 10

now steve hunter was a handsome geeza with a great hairstyle

he knew nothing about music tho

not like me n claudio

rosie didnt seem that jazzed on him really

but her sister my girlfriend was kinda digging steve hunter too much

sure enough this steve got the boot and that steve switched sisters

(they were only a year apart)

i came back to my bass and plucked away disconsonately

it cried a few crocodile tears for me

i listened to t rex in the dark

every song i wanted to sing to that girl

love you oh girl i do love you

i marvelled at bolans weird accent

its like its medieval english said my friend geoff gray

in the darkness in the warm summer night

i concentrated in on bolans voice

every sigh every breath ever whisper

the strangeness and familiarity

your days of love are always in a dream ah you know

marcs guitar was fucking devastating

a snarling feline beast

or a hazy sheen

or some weird chord

fuck he could really rock

he was sexy but he was kinda fey

and he was kinda elven too

delicate and otherworldly

wise and childlike

the little orchestral bits

it was just oh so perfect

we are the children of rarn

we’ve trod the vales of the sun

it was like a white chuck berry loose in middle earth

i was sixteen n a virgin still

the world was a magical place

kissing girls got me stoned

my bass waited in the bedroom

my dad was talking on the phone

my brothers were watching telly

my mum was doing the ironing and watching telly too

my dad says steve theres a girl calling for you

i answer the phone hello?

i hear a voice on the phone but my heart sinks

it isnt who i hoped it might be

its a girl i met at a rowing regatta down the lake

she was much better looking than my old girlfriend

but somehow the chemistry wasnt there

i kissed her once down the pool though

she looks fucking good in that bikini said brendon

he was my mate n an expert on girls

he just fucking walked up to em n talked to em

i hung back all embarrassed  while he “cracked on” to em

then he’d pick the one he wanted n introduce me to the other one

thats how i’d met this one

brendon had picked her friend

she had big “norks” and a loud laugh

brendon was tongue kissing her

and had his hands on the norks within about 2 minutes flat

me and the other one sat there awkwardly

i was sixteen n she was fifteen

i didnt really care for great big norks anyway

they intimidated me a bit

what the hell was i gonna do with all that nork anyway?

good lord it was 40 years ago

the bass grinned when i got home

she really likes you it murmured when i picked it up that night

yeah but i dont like her

i want the other one back

the one i still am in love with

she didnt deserve me

she treated me mean n offhand

she wasnt really even that pretty or clever

but i got stuck on her

and marc bolan too

and mickey finn who looked so fucking cool on the cover

and my bass started to warm up to me

i played it all the time

i mimed to t rex and imagined i wrote those songs

that would show em i thought

that would show em all

wall st even

struggling with life a bit

conscience and all that jazz

i waste my time pontificating

i endure idle indecision

come to an awful fork in the road

dont wanna choose but journey must go on

it cannot stop for long something must therefore give

life is like music

containing an admixture of feelings soul and reason

life’ll bring you to yer knees until you not thinking straight

music ‘ll bring ya to yer knees but you dont wanna think straight

i have all these words at my disposal

but that doesnt mean i’m getting through

some sadnesses are hard to work into songs

some gloom that cant be harnessed n trotted out

a good song for someone else but not me

everyones songs are coming true

i’m living all these songs by the dayload

hard to write a song if you living in a song

hard to paint naive when you feel so weary n cynical

hard to write if you feel wrong

hard to right if you feel left

hard to handle too

trapped in a verse going back round to the opening words

ive had that happen all the time

a double chorus in a different key

a future in a different time signature

a spirit voice chopped and inserted on the bridge

beginning wonder what the middle ate

songs in exile songs in pain

songs in memory sweet again

somewhere theyre playing our song baby

our song remember that

echoes round coldwater flat

F# minor

yeah i sang my girl to sleep

strumming quietly through afternoons totally forgotten

almost inaudible around this world

like a womb the night was all around

i longed for that night which never comes

i wrote songs to talk to myself

to bridge the gap between inner n outer me

i wanted my baby to feel loved

so i sang her all our endings

we will lose each other somewhere eventually i said

it was warm that day

i had a black guitar

the whole world seemed adolescent

she was sleeping gently now

my black guitar was guiding her through realms of slumber

her dreams would be nice

my chord sequence would insure that

i start to pick up a rhythm

yeah but that day is long gone now long long gone

my black guitar was stolen in metropolis

i wonder whose playing it now and i feel jealous

guitars are like sweethearts

you can always get another but it may not be the same

i dunno what i mean

songs are easier to write than digging with a spade

music is like life

it can change suddenly

it can end real soon

it speeds up

it fades away

it ends in silence

bands break up

sweethearts break up

eventually guitars break up i guess

everything put together must come apart

some element will abrade or corrode it

some unforeseen friction will wear it down

your breadwinner gets toasted

harping on about lyres

plucking your eye-pods

i get confused just opening the score

all those players fucking playing

those cats man fishing for birdies

that devils music that old black magic

being pulled apart here

my record is scratched

my grooves are jumping

my disc is warped

my needle is worn

my belt is slipping

my woofer is blown

more grief coming atcha

blues in the night indeed

warm afternoons into shiny cold night

which tries to spit you out

still you have to do what you have to do

the best song

the best life

the best blah blah blah

yeah

if that’ll do

bronze wailer

capable of making statements nothing else can make

beautiful music

surrounding us in the night

stream of sound

keeps giving ya the message

that peculiar wisdom

well it evaporates under scrutiny

music is in all of us…..why?

you dont even question it, do you….?

you knew music was important right from the word go

how do people banging n shaking n plucking n bowing n blowing objects…

how is it transmuted into pleasure……

a mystery then it remains

even to us old hands

i dunno i dunno what music is

my dad didnt either he just kinda played it

he felt it n never once in his life did he wonder what music really was

but me……i still cant understand

i can manipulate its force somewhat

but i dont know why music is so powerful and dangerous

a divine gift we can enjoy it

but still it defies analysis

theres certain feelings you get in certain songs

its just that right combo baby that perfect mix

wow when a pop song hits all yer buttons …..man…..

knock the breath outta ya

put stars in your eyes

put fire in your spine

put a little love in your heart

“music is m0st important implement in the tool box of love”

so sayeth my character nebauchenezzar old moon doggy

in the musical i’m in at the moment

yeah a musical

we burst into songs n i love it

i sing a hilarious little number myself

and i ponce about the stage ‘aving a fucking laugh

god i love music

music i love god

love god music

singing can be a lotta fun

have ya ever tried you maybe surprised

music shouldnt be that hard but it often in fact is

they’ll never run outta ideas

you cant exhaust music

you cant do it all

theres more to be done

more permutations

break more rules

follow more rules

homage to tradition iconoclastic

each individual approaches music differently

you got your take you got your in

do things your way

dream stuff up

special stuff

dark stuff

brilliant stuff

sad stuff

hey

i’m completely blown away with all my birthday wishes

youre all very kind

i’m kinda treading water at the moment

upheaval and chaos slowing me right down

not getting as much done as i would like

i am a driven man and i need to create

but reality intrudes on my imagination sometimes

its wednesday morning 7 50 am

never know what each day will hold

listening to craig pruess n marconi union as i do yoga

been listening to peter hammill peter gabriel lisa gerrard

todd rundgren ….wow he deserves a blog soon…a real genius…

i listen to my ears ringing n it frightens me

my hearing continues to degenerate

i miss a lot of converations now…a real deaf old coot

gigs coming up

another melbourne gig with ricky n hoffmen

yeah we’re pretty good youre gonna like that

the church doing their acoustic retrospective show in aust

a couple of surprise things too

gb3 is coming up in sydney and melb soon too

still music baffles and delights

strap on a guitar never know whats gonna happen

i love you guys my readers

i really do

ok onwards then…….

afternoon of a fauna

here i really am

its 4 57 on monday afternoon sept 13

the birds singing and chirping

tyrannosaurus rex on my i-box

40 years ago since my dad bought me my first bass

80 bucks it cost a lot in 1970

56 you cant say thats not old

56 you cant say that isnt getting on a bit

a proper venerable old geeza

old moondoggy

i cast my eye back over my lifes work

it bores me

it takes much work to focus in on what i did

its done its over

most of its pretty good

thats why you love me

thats why you bother really

those songs

all those songs

oh my lord

500 or 600 hundred out there?

mostly good too

not that much dross

you see i aint no first tier genius

i am a guy who analyses the top tier geniuses

and i reassemble in my own image

so deftly have i blended them that it indeed appears to be me

and maybe it fucking is

and maybe i’m amazed by how much i really need you

ever since i was very little i was obsessed by special songs

special to me that is

songs that had some inexplicable power

songs that cast some unearthly spell

i was searching for these songs

and when once apprehended

i tried to crack the songs open

to see how it all worked

this is a kind of genius of course

a kind of mechanical genius

to be able to parse songs

to be able to figure out how that spell was created

naturally when it came time to do my own thing

this is would be my specialty

and songs are on the way all the time

a barrage of songs until the day i go down singing

thats a given

i guess the church is starting up soon

some recordings to be made etc

music everywhere

i dont want to stop

my daughters ring from stockholm to wish me a brief hbd

the doodles are at art class

scarlet with her mother

voices arguing in a room across the road

a big fat guy on his balcony in a white singlet smoking

an apricot coloured sun through incredibly subtle blue-greys

music music music

40 years since i first started bass

every now n then you make a great leap forward

it all becomes suddenly clearer

what youre doing and why youre doing it

the twin pursuits of money and excellence

to make a living by making the best of all possible musics

you got the church dedicated to that for 30 years

so i did ten years on my own

in saga

in precious little

in baby grande

then 4 years groupless

then 1980 the church

i never totally planned the church to be the way it is

i got lucky knowing pk n mwp

then of course ploogy who for a while was an amazing drummer

a real star a boy wonder

for these guys to play i came up with some special songs

special for me maybe special for you

i guided by my analytical mind

which dissects songs it loves

and puts them back together new

almost as good as knew

i keep on writing em with others or on my own

its what i do

yeah i should be good by 56

i expect to be good by now

its a given

why do so many others lose their edge?

blunted by fame and dough i suppose

not problems for your humble hero

just hanging in there

but my songs are still reliably nifty creations

i surprise myself with the many tiny allusions within illusions

well thats it folks

thanks to my well wishers

56 not out

audiofroth

a million saturday nights

all those songs

all that music pouring in from elsewhere

somewhere else

in dreams in thoughts in cracks n leaks

raw song in astral night

the current horizon looms perturbingly

i appear at a club

a crush to get in

whos on someone asks

we fight through the flesh

the sudden sound of an ampoule cracking

a sigh of satisfaction

a whisper a word

backstage its awkward and crowded

quentin quin is there with his torso double

we nibble on the static

a roadie hovers with my axe

i sip bella codonna

i smoke hook

i take mytime

i handle the ladies with a plumb

i mingle with my agent

he offers me a gig in a group called the eleusinian mysteries

white pancake and black satyric dots

the music is said to be sublime

the recording is available in parallel U’s

a new process recording music with etheric record

its all just bullshit hes saying to someone in darkness

eventually we hit the stage

i stride out and the electronica starts to mesh

out in the audience its raining something

i see eyes sea of eyes

solemnly i use my axe to cut the silence

in half

the rest join in

the drums explode with sizzling bursts

pace yourself i say to me

music is a temptation to not resist

the empty space at its heart sucks like a vortex

the huge throb of our machine begins

slowly at first then taking shape

the elements fall into place

the riff that keeps on going

it just keeps on going a constant a given

i lurch over to my instrument panel

i simulate a cascade of brittle notes

that sheer off the silver strings

a girl screams out for something

i hear myself better in the fluid

i bear down barely impaired

a ripply flashback sequence to the hotel

you fucked with a zeitgeist and a machine ate your money

if your friend is a genius then i’m a blue soup

that group he plays for are 3 light years old

a prehistoric modernity called glass/out

i digress

the gig is taking place

i am an actor playing a singer

i finger the nails

i thumb the tax

i tow the line

steve kilbey from parallel U 23

for a moment we’re strangers

the familiar within the strange

the ache within the pleasure

where universes join up you find the congealed music

i stand onstage in whitest lightest spot

i see my shadow at the back of the hall

i see its reflection in the blaze of an eye

the band implodes to a low pulse

it skates across the silent void

i take the microphone unto my self

my mouth opens slowly to sing the fragile text

anoint me baby anoint me as your pointed man

night comes in spades in delphic glades

its decayed through 3 decades

i transported to artemis-gordon

where i cut through the cordon

yeah impossible to predict the future derelict

i stagger on my dagger

lake just makes me madder

flake just takes me sadder

the musics running out + they cant find the lid

the warp of the woofers + you owe me 3 quid

look what i did

yeah look what i did

yeah look what i did

the volume shatters constraint of time

the beat enables a smooth transition of power

my axe is sharp enough to penetrate skull

i dig deep into head

my music violently detonates in your prelingual cortex

i stand on stage tapping into this earth

up from the ground comes a shuddering impulse

the dirt gives its blessing

babe strap up my one shot for me

i move into concentric parallel U’s

through door after door

portal gives way to next door

onstage we huddle under the onslaught of our sound

it comes falling back down

the audience surge as won

the music rolls along on its own now

who knows what it means

who knows what it doesnt mean

a review said

kilbeys take on ambiguity is unclear

his elusiveness is fixed

his songs are from parallel U 13

same earth but different

here antarctica won the first whirled war

and it shows in frosty bites of white noise

the warmth only begins when he thaws

random choices uncover unusual discoveries

nothing is positive

anything is unchosen

this record is as pointless as a summer day

see ?

the lighting rig sagged 28 feet above head

the lash and loop of the feedbreak

my severed attention i was fiddling with a burn of rome

music is sweet so is love

but music falls into silence

love turns into hate

my songs tell the story of the long gone world

my story in these songs

the hum of the outside

the rumble of the humbling plough

the jumble of the numbing pain

the jarring far out clout that knocks you out

and about

SK + sk

essay on my songs

how many have i written

how many have you herd

how many and how much releases

i started writing songs at 11

i wrote two and then i stopped till 16

then i started again i guess

actually some the the 16 year olds were worse than 11s

yeah writing songs my people

thats what i’m best at in the long run

thats my real day job

writing songs

you listen to all your favourites

from all of that and all of you

concoct a delicious blend

how?

how to delicify the concoction

well a nice beat

boom boom whack boom boom whack thump crash etc

leave that to the drummer he’ll know best for sure

oh now this bits important

more than anything else

get the bass right, right?

the bass is the thing

i realised that

so did paul

stingo

and a few others i could mention

the bass makes the changes

simple subtle gently pulsating bass mmmmm

warm and inviting

oh so enticing

the cake not the icing

mighty obliging

the bass guitar

pluck it slap it pick it lash it strum it thumb it

the deep end fix that knock ya for uh seven, steven

the lowdown hit of creamy bass

like a white shot in your hart

for some songs bass is everything

but for other songs the bass just plods along

plodding songs are ok

yo-o heave ho

father why are the pleasants plodding

father whither pleasants plod

the peasants plod each silly sod my son

yo-o heave ho yo whatsup?

look anysong is good song

you dont need a fucking bass for goodsong

you need number one

a melody!

thats it

thats the secret folks

a good tune ya could whistle down the winding and long road

no one can tell ya how to do that

it just sorta happens

a million or none ways

i dunno

they can never really teach ya that

that sublime moment a good melody jumps inner ya head

it cometh out of nowhere

one minute not there

next minute youre singing it

thats what grant could do

its a gift some have

you can work on it hard and itll blossom n bloom soon

a lot of work can potentiate a small gift

a lot of practice and diligence takes a medium gift right up there

and then after melody you have the optimum words

those fascinating scintillating gems n pearls

about cars n girls greek myths what ifs travel and love

those meaningless words why do they mean so much

how you gonna write that?

you gotta get inside the language of song

you think about it all day long

every word n phrase turned over for sweet suitability

my songs have words

words i dredge my mind for

words i struggle with for ages about 2 seconds

come on my words fly to me outta thin air

my computer like mind interfaced with collectable subconscious

link up with esoteric etheric spirit

which guides and commissions the process

the eternal you

drawing on everything

because a song could theoretically contain everything

go on try chucking random bits of everything in a lyric

see…it aint so easy

you need that leap of faith no timidity please

you need love too

you need to love your song a bit

give it some deep love because it will nourish it

try for the best words only

feel in your heart when you have some good ones

they’ll impress you

let yourself be therefore impressed

instruments you need in varying degrees

guitars of course

piano colada

strings n horns n harps n drones

gonna stitch you up when you come undone

muse : a clever little bastard…

me : you like that…?

and let the instruments be suitable also

dont let them trumpets blow it for ya

dont let that fuzz guitar distort yer perception

dont let the snare rattle you too much

dont let the 88s do a number on ya

dont let the bass go so easy

but dont let it go hard

a simple sigh man

a bass cleft

bass n drum go hand in hand

whatever that means

you already knew it

how they reinforce the other

how they dictate their terms to each other

to interweave maybe

but to collide …never!

this is the important stuff

but you can never say just what it is

but i can only tell ya my version

many ways to skin a song

come in thru the strangest doors

just a title

think of all the great titles you ever saw or heard

the ones that grabbed ya good

get a good title

thats all you might need

mind you not guaranteed

here are some of my favourite song titles

in no particular world order

cirrus minor

strawberry fields forever

queen jane approximately

i want you

eight miles high

king is white and in the crowd

seven by seven

elemental child

moonage daydream

search and destroy

sweet thing/candidate

heroin

the end

underture

helpless

guiding light

mercury towers

zen archer

i dunno a lot more too

i mean millions of em

good titles

i guess

maybe not millions

but theyre not that hard to beg borrow or steal

go on nick it!

i do

they all fucking do

just help yerself to someones novels title

i do

come on shakespeare aint gonna sue ya if ya use a line from macbeth

nick it pick out the bits ya want

go on lift from me

i dont mind

its a complement

use the good stuff thats what its there for

a line outta the bible its pure authenticity

i mean how much more authentic can ya be than adam n eve

you could write a rock opera about them

muse : oh some rich guy, go on, commission him…….

adam n eve by steve kilbey

a new rock opera

adam is some troubled type

sings deep and complicated stuff

eve sings wordless in operatic ecstasies

the snake is a fucking rapper ha ha ha

rapping how the big apple is outta sight

come on evie take a lil bite

the lyrics you liable to find in the bible

asked nick emptor cave

ask paul simon or some other geeza

ok thats enuff for one day

got my opening knight tomorrow

must rehearse all day

im nervous now

good night ladies n gentlemen

SK