The Time Being | Steve Kilbey

song of man

oh boy marconi union make great music

considering my self a bit of an expert in a few types of music

one time being this particular kind of ambientish electronish instrumentals

list to marconi union baby we are in the future brave and new

we shoot down autobahns in plush vehicles

we map far off constellations in our observatories

life is different in this future now

things are smoother but weirder

theres lots of pleasant hypnotic repetition

small machines tinker hum percolate or go zing bing cling

then when it seemed like sterile place the new future

as opposed to the old future

well it would be wouldnt it

but then guitars yes electric guitars appear

sometimes softly reverbed yet organic electric pianos

everything is all moving in time to the other

all the tremelos and pulses gently rhythmic synchromesh

the guitars are sometimes distorted and sustaining

but never do they dominate this sonic nu future

the other things

all those treated fucked up cut up sounds

moving through the backgrounds

flying bumping going straight through

ratchets in echo

a whine a whir a soft whack

beautiful strings overarch in electric dreems

small sounds like steam

like meters and gaskets and little clocks

all busy measuring measuring something

something important that perpetually unfolds in this future

its urbane its sophisticated as fuck

its like kraftwerk but with softness

like they were from i dunno rome or san francisco

like they were some slowed down dmt pattern

all that info being so efficiently downloaded into our neat future

all that sweet green icing flowing down

all that science maths art religion history magic philosophy

painless anxietyless but also ruthless

youre on the ship baby you cant off this thing

we all aboard as we slide down this monolith

vibes mellow and so cool

relentless though/mounting pressure

sometimes the machine itself breaks down elegantly

in perfect harmonic and in time as it cracks up

but these short moments are quickly apprehended

and the future machine kicks in again

marconi are melodic subtle huge tiny sexy neuter

marconi sound expensive

the music itself is really a cut above most future junk you’ll ever hear

rich languid

the titles say it all

interiors

endless winter

hinterland

we travel

debris

you get the picture whats going on here

we are warm in our capsule

we transmit endless europe

we gauge the distance

we are polylingual

we are rich we are in motion

angular jaguar on white track

marconi union

all sleek n futuristic

wow you gonna love this future

gonna leave that past right behind

mmmmmmm

sim salla bim

bar rome 1924

well folks i just did the melbourne writers festival

3 gigs over 3 nights

weird i suppose

seeing i’m not a writer really

i mean lyrics are lyrics

a great lyricist is not necessarily a writer

its not  a given

anyway i gotta slightly literary air to me

so i do my first gig on thursday

its at a really nice venue northcote social club

i’m on between lisa miller and a poetry act johnny hammer n little miss x

when i get to the gig its not a bad sized crowd

it seems they were mostly there to see me

which i dont take for granted

maybe a couple of hundred people maybe a little more or less

anyway i get off to a good start when i play ancient world

this makes me smile and the audience make me smile

it wasnt how i’d planned it to be it was better

i had planned this smooth singer a real pro

but it soon just unravelled into me

but i didnt mind myself so much

and the songs came flowing out ok

i fluffed n blew a few small things

i was a little rusty on guitar but it was ok

ok is ok , ok?

i wasnt fucking mozart

but i wasnt a total hamfisted turkey

i was something else

i began to open up a bit

told some stories behind the songs

grant would enjoy hearing me tell of our jack frost days

i do 2 frosties songs and i stop to annotate them for the crowd

it all comes off smoothly

i explain where grant n i are coming from

how we came up with our stuff

it was a mysterious mystical process

grant had broken up with miss a b

and all his songs were informed and energised with his melancholy hurt

he turned his sadness into beautiful songs

shot through with his tender through to jealous outbursts

so i told em about some of that

i played ok as i said

but it was a warm night

the audience and i had no pretensions with each other

they were supportive and protective

they tried to enjoy what i did  and they did

they understood it and it was a relief like rain coming

so no barriers

a lovely audience

thank you i needed that gig

i came off and i was happy

i nipped round to the little lords and had veg lasagne at 11 oclock

with lovely avo salad

next day

me n martin k drive for miles out to a photographic studio somewhere

on melbournes sprawling outskirts

we drove for ages to get there

we do a photo shoot in our tuxes

our new album is called white magic

so we’re like 2 magicians or scientists or billiards players

or some pair of crazy inventors

a bit of dry ice smoke n voila

instant esoteric geezer

i pick up a slender chrome tube

martin has a little crystal ball

hey this is me as erskine

you finally get to see him folks

that dusty old fraud doing tricks

anyway what a great session

what a great new record

the guy doing photos is a brilliant bloke too

knows what to do thats for sure

one of these will be our album artwork

hey presto !

anyway that night do a gig with a bunch of writers including bryce courtney

i get to meet one my all time faves china meiville

who wrote the scar which is an incredible fantasy

we chat a bit n hes every bit as entertaining as his excellent books

i was starstruck and i pounded him with questions

he cut an imposing figure

quite a bit taller than me

in his mid thirties i guess with shaved head

one ear has many many weird piercings

and hes totally buff

like hes in amazing shape

just short of body builder

he looks like a stunt man for a character in his own books

folks this guy is a real genius

it was kinda weird to talk to him

his books are a total detailed n sometimes fucked up universe

on his world its more laissez faire

life is cheaper and things are more random

apart from humans there are other cactus-men

and lobster men

and mosquito men

and these all coexist uneasily

and things get outta hand easily

so meeting the author of all this fantastic madness was extraordinary

my actual gig was 2 quick songs n bobs yer uncle

afterwards i went for ten minutes to a boring party

i dunno i felt uneasy

after a few conversations i split

i came home got an early night

been eating too much sweet stuff n have put on weight

damn

just goes to show ya

this morning did a little photo shoot with glenn bennie

then we rehearsed new gb3 album with band

wow very very good band too

tight and controlled

i am amazed at how they reproduce the songs so faithfully

we rehearse for a few hours

i split to do a gig in town

i end up sitting around with dave graney having a chat

dave graney is a mercurial type

hes got quite a look going half dapper half camp

hes got a good schtick too

hes funny n urbane n knowledgeable  on a wide range of things

we just have a general rave

i play a couple of numbers not that well

ive added a new verse to ancient world

the girls down in nineveh

give their love forever

the temple whores’ll have ya on the floor

the ladies down in ur

with the whips and the fur

they say summer is super in sumer i’m sure…

anyway that gig was ok you know

i just talked to dave for a while n that was that

thanks con n family for goodies

nice to see big smiles kate who was smiling of course

sam sejavka was there

we had dinner together

but sam felt a bit under the weather n left early

that leaves me here hombre

in my 5 * hotel big deal nice view

melbourne is a huge vibrant city

i love it i love its residents

the coolest city in australia

im just too hedonistic to live here

i just like that bondi weather sorry and the pool

anyway

great to hang with martin kennedy

we had a good time doing the magician shoot

nice to rehearse with gb3 with gigs coming up in syd n melb

all my true n original fans who came along

man, i appreciate you guys

you are the core of my sanity

finally a weird moment

i started painting a commission portrait

to snap me out of my painting dry spell

although i stall halfway through a painting of hotel womb

yeah i was painting the song on commission

its a hotel foyer

theres the guy who commissioned it, theres me, theres an armadillo

theres a native girl theres a guy screaming at the desk n blah blah

but i just havent been able to finish it off

i bit off more than i could paint it seems

anyway so im doing this commish of this couple

and i been working on the guy for about 2 weeks

from this photo hes sent me

and i know this face with its glasses n little beard

a kind of vaguely uni student face i guess maybe a bit older tho

a reasonable intelligent looking kinda geezer

so i’m standing there today talking to someone

when my mind goes

whoa theres your painting walking past

and i start to think i’m finally cracking up

coz my mind has recognized this archetypal face now

cos i been working hard trying to get him right

and this painting side of my mind

that knows this guys face so well

is confused to see that face over there

and it looks just like my painting of him

seeing the actual guy was a bit overwhelming

when i wasnt expecting it

i was totally confused for at least a moment

i never realized the guy was from

melbourne

i thought he was an austrian or something

it was disorienting anyway for a short time

he turned out to be another diamond geezer

i hope i can nail the painting for him n his mrs

so thats it my friends

my report

see ya next week at van park

you gotta come

its a whole new bag

that good night

rocknroll can bite back

its unpredictable

it can do anything it wants

as long as its in E

the tour bus flying into a black wet night

the boys dream in their bunks

as the miles go under

moon rises higher in sky

hash stashed somewhere by neil young

the dead sing through the night up front

people wait on up ahead

with the future behind em

someone appears selling the wink wink stuff

some woman appears you met in vladivostok

a guy wants to interview you for a book

that magazine just came out with the bad review

someone from home on the phone

did you get the package from tasmania

unidentified song enters into our airspace

2 guitars working against each other like serpents entwined

yeah i like that

and the bass lowdown n bit a boom

drummerboy  he is a thumper

the beat grabs you n marches you off down the road

through that swampy  fuzz the haze the smoke

ghosts at the crossroads

the guitar hovers in tremolo cloud

i realise i am alone in this hotel again

all have faded away

the last notes

the curling receipts

the festive evening

the scratches on your fender jag

left in the boot of a triumph stag

a fan says she cant stand your new record

a critic doesnt even mention it on his column

a lighting rigger falls off his ladder in LA

a guy from this record company bought you a ticket

you never felt aloner as you do another phoner

too tired to sleep too awake to relax

a banging noise outside the gate of dreams

a jolt a swerve a lurch a tumble

texas next thru the subtext

where did you write those lyrics ?

in the sand in the land with my own hand

we worship the sun planet star

someone on the other side of the wall moans

our music has evolved from its beginnings in antiquity

we follow the complex cypher

we gild the glyph

we identify oncoming objects

life space music

it joins up it shatters

it keeps mellifluating

it keeps rolling over us like sign waves

guitar overdub is a shadowy affair

it replicates and reassures

a bumping sound makes me wake

nothing anywhere at all though

the boys keep dreaming

the bus speeds on through big green cities

our instruments will arrive before us

i cant get all the stuff back in my suitcase

it just wont go in anymore

i feel sick but i keep on eating more junk

the audience were in different

man i need timeoff

its only drizzling now its quite pleasant out there

rush of traffic miles below

mingles with final cymbal wash

then its ok

torch on

a poor sad tired singer trudges into town

big city full of bright lights

got an engagement somewhere

in some infernal club

singing that same old bunch of songs

singing for a meal and a hotel room

singing for only for the lonely

with his suitcase full of blues

sitting up alone drinking a coffee

watching the city from his room

sore throat and aching feet

tatty old suit

what fucking year is this?

not now not ever

some eternal autumn

some infernal club

some endless night

standing onstage nervous and bored

praying it will begin n end quick

singing through the foggy atmosphere

the trombone slides in like mockery

the flute says i told you so

the harp and strings flutter away like an illusion

its the dead end circuit

its the cramped dressing room

its the warm martini

its the feeling anxious

the poor mans nexus

the boys out in the backroom playing cards

they dont even acknowledge him

he smiles to no one in particular

a waiter passes by

the piano comes in a ripple

the piano softly hammers

the double bass comes in changing things

the drums shuffle slightly

the singer steps to the mike

he opens his mouth

the words gather in his mind and throat

he closes his eyes

he sees her face

that face he loves

a mixture of pain n exultation

he breathes in deep

then

comes his voice

worn torn still a bit triumphant

whats he singing?

whats it matter?

same old song

the broken hearted slow old number bout love

the piano flows around him in melody and mood

a smoky mournful sax

yeah that guy knows the meaning of these blues

the sax sounds like it drank whisky all its life

it paints a picture of emptiness

it tells a tale of the veil of tears

abandoned wrecks of dreams

crushed pulp of hope

when love goes bad and you cant get it good again

or the songs of the loveless

those who never loved or were loved

songs of white hot jealousy

songs of blackest scorn

songs of gentle regrets that have somewhat faded

songs of disappointed suitors empty handed in the rain

songs of maudlin reminiscences

songs of lonely old towns like this

who came to hear him sing……not that many

they listened n drank

it was a strange night

it was the usual thing

* photon

music is sweet stuff squeezed from a tuba

yeah i am the time being

and i been fiddling round with music a while now

40 years on my 56th birthday

i

16 when i got my bass guitar

go on (numbskull) subtract 16 from 56 and  you get 40 ……

40 years of mucking around with music

wo wo wo

still its an amazing thing to me

@ on a night like this

those crotchets those quavers

those piano forte

drum fills

cymbal rides

rim shot

dark hit

hand clap

cast a net

round a bout

electric guitar  bleeds for your sins

morning orchestra stabbing ruthless

dream pop park festival

organ with black keys

augmenting a seven

blown speaker apart

stone gone haze

god out of machine

the fruit machine

the bass push on some inside

outside the flutes play mournfully

a little strange quartet of woods

make out the words

an old sample of something else

not quite perfectly in time

hear it rip back

the join not seemless

thunder is if not music

it is music unforeseen

it is that white piano in mozarts hearts red chambers

yeah some whack bam boom

some trill

some distinct thrill

something rolling down a’hill

music is it a constant?

music has it enough restraint?

music is transparant trans-parent  transience apparently

jim morrison oh yeah but how did he go…..?

my fingers survive

bass blister treble callus

give that disc a spin

it was that deep sax all along

let me down slow i know the way from here

its evening outside n suddenly im tired

you know what you do when you do what you do

i wish it would stop

i wish it would too

music  pounding without sounding

music snarling starlings melancholy  song

music tangled in its own angles too blind to see

music in quatrains and in aeroplanes

music in passing notes each less n less

music overtaken by the wind

music flung out from a window in a tower high above

music burn or bury alive

music untrampled yet all rumpled

music month september on ttb

• y

i exist in spades

my twisted convoluted story  is a thing of strange wonder

i am multiples surely thats much is obvious

i really am you and you really are he or she

cliche it may be

me? who me tonight?

i move in diagonals along energy meridians

buried deep in my cortex

my face is designed to appeal to you

my voice is talking in your ear

my hands release the brake

i kill i give life i die i have a piss

no limits tonight the house accepts any bet

the wheel spins the numbers rotate the balls tingle in anticipation

i lost my shirt :  i guess they werent bluffing

steve….?

a voice outta the crowd

oh no not the freaking voices trip again

nevertheless a voice in or outta the crowd says steve…?

i peer into the gloom of my mind where the crowd must be

fuck yes its crowded in there

trams and pedestrians crossing

men n women girls n boys

the living n the dead

everynight some escape onto these pages you read

yes you are me etc

cosmic ? fuck yes

stupid ?  uh huh

anyway i looking for that voice saying my name

steve ….?

the night is wearing thin

a handshake

its a person i dont recognise

steve….!

i snap to

its andrew andrews my boss from last nights blog

i felt dismayed that his character hasnt been explored more

so here he is back again tonight

i guess something about a guy called andrew andrews tickled my fancy

not as if i couldnt have thought of any other silly name like that

charlie charles

mick nicks

i dunno

anyway andrews is a rude bastard

he’s no longer my boss tho

tonight i’m playing myself in this saggy saga

steve…?! the rude bastard says again

he comes up n shouts something in my ear

its deafening

BLACK THIRTEEN!

what?  i mouth back

BLACK THIRTEEN ! he bawls in my ear

he indicates the spinning wheels at the tables

he urges me to put it all on that number

hang on ….hang on…all what….?

whatever you got …..andrews says  over the other voices

i take out my mastercard

i got 1700 bucks on the card i know i just checked it

i chuck it on with my remaining chips

the wheels spin again

red 26…. fuck it ! i lose !

andrews shrugs

sorry he says as i walk off

outside its nevada the badlands

i’m penniless now

i cant afford to be in this story

its night its cold its the badlands

i turn the page and i’m in fucking tahiti

i’m loaded i’m young

i’m surrounded by luxury

mr andrew andrews ha!

see if i care

i summon up a vegan platter of fresh veggies n various dipping sauces

its all going on here

hey i’ll even chuck in a bit of poetry

the quick brown fog jumped over the lady docs

my room overlooks the beach with horizon glimpses

all rooms come equipped with silver where

please call room service for extra room

no card games after 11 says a sign

the fucking internets slow isnt it?

i look up its andrews again

andrews sitting on my bed with a woman

he grins : better than nevada , eh…..?

i walk through a door and i’m back in bondi

back in my own room now

my rented room with the red light

my books n my magazines

my clothes chucked about

my twelve stringed guitar

marconi union on the eyebox

ringling ears n all that

type type type

goodnight

freakshot

tragedy strikes

the fall of rome

falling through the air

onward to earth

a pleasant stupor overtaking us

by the light of luminescent fish

tanked to the gills

the mellifluous flow of the time

one second leads to the next seamlessly

oh fuck my head aches with all this

all this what ? says some insolent bystander

what? i say

youre stupid says someone else

someone i cant see clearly

i pick up a handful of rocks

and chuck them in the general vicinity  of those voices

i hurt behind the shirts n curtains

my dumbness smarts

it really does

inside this poem its all dark and echoey

its all paranoia and intrigue

come let me take you into my interiors

a mirror of the real worlds

it all happens in opposite

unlikely is likely

likely unlikely

crikey mate its not what you think

in my red light room

i slip into the stream

and i accelerate my particles

i finish up beginning

its my night now

i can hear and see new things

you knew things…?  says somebody in earshot

yeah i knew things were wrong

a black path crossed under my ladder

seven bad years of  luck

i go down the esplanade where the lights are dim

i half expect to run into you n him

i cram in a life between the lines

its meanwhile in great britain

i’m not me anymore

i’m some guy i coulda been

instead of left

i’m sitting in this car

i’m speeding down the road in some rainy city

i’m listening to the radio

i’m driving home to the stockbroker belt

i’m got this lovely house

a split level job in sir francis drake of assisi street

gee i got one of those controls makes the garage door go up

i drive into my garage

the door comes down and i walk through a door into the house

instantly a light comes on

i go to the fridge its covered in christmas cards

i pour myself a stiff drink of something

in this life i guess i need a stiff drink after working all day

somebody laughs n says huh!  you havin’ a job ha ha

yeah my job is as a…um i work in an office…

i’m a…..consultant …i guess

i earn 1000 pounds a week

remember this is in the passed

thats a lotta dough

my house is really super

a fabulous stereophonic system

playing the groovy sounds of now

central heating hums on all efficiency

still i’m sick of myself even in this new life

i’m on the run from something

nobodys happy with me

i got bills mounting up

my wife and children they……..

i look out at the swimming pool in the cold rain

not inviting at all

its hardly ever been used

no time for stuff like that

the clock says 6:52

it was a present from a former day saint

reality is all prickly it sits on my shoulders all itchy

suspicion is paramount the phone rings and i jump

its some idiot i owe money to …….fuck

the swimming pool in the rain

the flash motor in the garage

the quiet central heating purrs

but this isnt me ….someone says tho not me

this isnt england some other smart alec says just to ruin things

whats on the television  a documentary film about greenland

too bloody boring shouts that philistine inevitably

i bloody well like stuff about greenland the real kilbey says

i imagine myself self rugged against all that winter

i imagine in sitting in godthaab at a cafe watching winter close in

i put too much time in to imagining this

my boss is mr andrews and he is intimidating

mr andrews first name is andrew

mr suddenly vacant

mr obviously rich

mr kinda cruel

i imagine greenlands and goof off at my job

i consult about uh engineering

you know stress ratios and crack factor four

all that stuff

i took some money to approve something

i said yeah go ahead

its safe i’m sure its safe

but it wasnt safe at all

green land would be safe

turn off the mechanism silence the core

lock down the velocity and settle  back in old albion

i calculate the weight of snow in the night

i imagine greenland thawing in spring

the groovy now sounds of now

all harpsichord and moog synthesizer

the windows of your mind n all that ilk

the central heating dries my eyes a little

oh i shouldnt complain

the building collapsed on the tv

i watched it again n again

i watched it as the rain fell in the swimming pool

stiff drink  ? says steve stiffly

the central heating ssssshhhhhhh

i feel disconnected from anything

no points of reference pin me down

greenland ha are you serious

i watch the building on tv

it goes down

i hear the music

jericho towers

wow

four sale foreshore

the boy got that aloneliness again

bewildered in the big city

wandering along in the illusions

aloneliness in a hotel

aloneliness in a bedroom

aloneliness in a crowded train speeding into night

night makes it all worse

night makes it in unbearable

in a deserted dark place when the wind is cold

how abandoned in a field of towering flowers

i hide under the chairs begging for sleep to come

eventually all footsteps die away out there

metamorphosis complete

a child among the furniture

winters little boy on the edge of a cruel spring

a kid in his old man suit over a barrel hopping thru hoops

need to see where i’m going with this

this aloneliness these things that i dont like

cant sleep because of the dream

cant dream because of the fear

cant fear because i’m n was a boy

cant play a card right now i cant go

i watch a cartoon of my life

hey it looks just like me  i start to chuckle

a piano falls on my characters head

learn to let it go says a voice above -whoever dropped it

no wonder i see stars

in the cartoon i keep getting it all mixed up

do one thing say another thing yet another thing omitted

i’m pushing a wheel up a hill

or i’m rowing a boat against the current

or i’m trying to take off but my wings wont sing

its nearly ten

my eyelids are heavy sore and gritty

i hide in a cave i hide in a circuit

i hide in a space between today n tomorrow

when the bass guitar kicks in

when the comparisons can be made

when the ugliest truth if its never faced

i follow a pattern of thought

a humming sound in my ears

a warm place opens up in my head

a safe place

you can be safe in the warm place in your head

but they can still get in there

those things that frighten you

they come in as your good things escape

all those lovely good things pouring out in freefall

its funny how he snatches empty handed at the air

its funny how the good things fly away on cartoon wings

plunged into a carnival the lights dazzle my eyes

my parent lets of my hand

and i’m swept along with the throng

no one sees me under this blanket

curled up and doing deals with myself

some bit of paper in my hand

no one could love me

i twitch in my half slumber half number

my eyes are closed but my head is open

anger slips in unannounced

sympathy slips out

in my dreams i’m in india or ha ha england

and every thing is peachy

thats why i twitch in the gigantic bed

i looked like ive been wrecked on some reef

shuddering at the sound of my heart on the pillow

a minion in a king size bed

i drown in saturday night

its quite unpleasant breathing it all in

before you black out

tune out for a few hours

listen to some other voices

the ones who waiting for me in my warm place

where they dont let in aloneliness

indian rope trick

we crash outta boredom, pop 2,000

its deliberately left ambiguous so you get the most outta it

we crash outta something

we come falling down from somewhere

me n my friend

we come blazing outta nowhere

we arrive suddenly lets put it

burning up on entry like a meteor……. right?

unharmed though unhinged

with our souls slightly singed

singled out as twins

falling headfirst out of seventeenth heaven

we recline in a splendid cooling pool of rosewater

attended by lotuses which we dreamily eat

and little lovely fish with human eyes

oh strange

and green grow the rushes oh

invisible to tiger or wolf

in our languid pool

in our bluest of pools

in the softest water and light

none of this can ever happen perhaps

look i place an amazing moon here in your sky

look i decorate the forest with garlands of orchids n succulents

look i roam this path every twilight consorting with the grape

great birds fly overhead

everything turns golden in the dark

the enticing inviting dark

here take my arm

we saunter across the lunar streaked fields

my house is by the lake

drenched in wild spray and evening ray

come eat this sweet milky rice and drink cold water

my house is a shabby shack

a shrine to shiva : frankincense sandalwood rose

exquisite little statue of lord ganesh given by pan

a book a table a vase with white flowers

bear floor boards

we sprawl around through the tropical tranquil hours

laughing and eating fruit from ceylon

i never understand do i?

still the good times roll outta the horn of plenty

elemental servants wait on us hand and foot

you feel glamourous in the dark

just laying there on your mystic rug

we hear our voices muted in the hindu hush

we see our shadows making thin love

oh and the forest

decked out in its finest things

rushing towards us year in year out

approaching like a violent storm

the swans the parrots the snakes and the fronds

how we laugh in the dark

how we cruise through the endless night

how we swing on the stars

how we sleep like were dead

and how we laugh in the dark

i make you laugh you say stop it

what are we laughing for you laugh

ha ha ha i dont always see the joke

its funny nonetheless

wow its dreamy in my shabby shack by the lake

i’m ripped apart by life and someone else steps out

hey i know what i meant to mention…..the ferns

oh such a pleasant life

the fans spin round aimlessly in the sealing

the lianas too

wrapped around my trunks

money to burn and fire to spend

luxurious evening for lease / move in straight away

features cooing nightingales and swaying palms

krsna plays his flute somewhere in that jungle

in the sweet night sweet and black and full of hot sweetness

the blood beats in your head

the pound of your arteries all vain

india india india india

we’re really here

you say

we’re really almost here

Steve’s recent appearance on ABC TV show Spicks and Specks can be viewed here (Australian viewing only)

Steve will be appearing in the play VAN PARK at the Seymour Theatre, Chippendale (Sydney NSW):

“A burlesque rock comedy set in a run down caravan park in a remote part of the Australian coast, beside a slime filled estuary, is a rundown caravan park. It is here that a group of music lovers have gathered to live out their remaining years. Enter Curly, a young boy… a musical comedy staring John Paul Young as Curly’s rock and roll father – with an all star cast: Steve Kilbey, Cora James, Catriona Hamilton, Luke Webb and Remi Slade-Caffarel. “This is a fantastic Australian production and it has some of the best music I’ve ever been involved with… it’s even funny too” John Paul Young”

Dates:
Fri 10th Sept 2010 8.45pm
Sat 11th Sept 2010 6.00pm
Thu 16th Sept 2010  8.45pm
Sat 18th Sept 2010 6.00pm
Fri 24th Sept 2010 8.45pm

Tickets are $28/$24. Book your tickets here