The Time Being | Steve Kilbey

54
yep
count em
54 years old
today
calloo callay
i outlived my father
i wish he was here
what a life
what is it all trying to tell me
well i dunno
i can see now how this life
will be a fragment
that my soul will weave into its tapestry
somewhere on the tip of the next guys tongue
will be my fucking name
or maybe its better not to remember…
i dont know whether to laugh or cry at myself
materially…i got nothing
nothing at all
a debt to the taxman
and a quick piss and a look around
no job
no “skills”
no mortgage
no insurance
no super
no plan
no idea
no clue
no nothing
i have arrived at this late stage of the game
still naive and silly
still ripe for fleecing
still not wise or venerable or anything
still railing against the stupid world
who cant see
that what they really need is me
painkillers out there
i aint writin’ about it anymore
kilbey kennedy coming up soonish
maybe painkiller in melbourne at xmas
triffids in mel n perth next year
cant wait for that
jesus
i’m fifty four
look in the mirror
oh ….no thanks..
yeah you look like a king from the olde days
yeah you look like yer dad
yeah you got lines and wrinkles alright
jesus man
yer only 6 years off sixty
yer not doing too bad
in some ways
you just had the best gig of yer life th’other nite
you are not a total catastrophe
oh i have the yurge to do new things
dont wanna
dont wanna sing those old songs anymore
dont wanna
wanna sing my new ones
the ones we were writing yesterday
the droning burning blazing stuff
this is where i fit in
eternally awkward as some showbiz drongo
i am a fucking renaissance man
as hilarious as it may seem
have a good laugh cos i’m laughing too
i think i’m fucking hlarious
you’ll turn off yer computer in a minute
but i’m stuck with this joke permanently
and you know
even you most dyed in the wool sk fans gotta admitty
i cocked it all up for myself
yes i did
arrogance drugs and bad timing
i frittered it all away
too many mediocre nights
when i just wanted to get high
i didnt care
it showed
who wants someone that doesnt care…?
and now
and now
its like my life has undergone such massive upheavals
i am destabilized
i am no one in particular
no one you would really know
i carry my own inbuilt obsolescence
but boy
oh boy
i know such a lot about music and words and sound and stuff
i can draw and i can paint and whatever
i understand the principles
i can project my thoughts via my work
what is it i want to say
simply this
this is a wonderful life
everything
everything is miraculous
my five daughters
for example
my true fans and fiendss
among which please number yourself
i have wonderful people like eekie mouse on my side
i have the lovely sue sea
who takes care of things
gee nunn who helps out with poetry advice
trevor boyd for nsew and michael farrant who does the
maven
i thank now
and i thank always
prof klk
a true medieval style patron of the yarts
klk..its hard to say how incredible you have verily been
kevin n from olde hungary
he put on a tour for us in europe
and he covered the shortfall
and boy if you saw us on that tour
spare a thought to kevin who put his euros where his mouth was
(at least we are still friends tho…!)
on my fifty fourth birthday
i hail my 2 brothers
who i fucking love like ..err…brothers
i havent always been the best big brother
ive been a selfish rotten git
imagine growing up with me….no, dont
my mother joycie of course
who i adore like crazy
juicy wallop
now a jolly olde authentic granny type…when needed to be
i thank a handful of guys
who have been real friends to me…
people who i can just be myself around
no need to pretend
martin krall from sweden
who is the nicest bloke around
polinski whose a lovable bastard
ricki maymi who is a virgo which explains a lot
bel frank and dub frank
totally different but both diamond geezers
martin kennedy actually too
i feel very at home in his company
mark s from sthlm
and sarah the little lord
my only real girl friend
i guess i’m a bit too blokey or something
and while i thank people
i’d like to thank a certain floridian chap mr pe
who swooped in
and bought about 15 of my paintings in one go
and helped me get thru a bleak august
thank you sir!
all my subscribers …
thank you
your generosity has been unbelievable
thanking you for continuing to make this all possible
i thank my wife
but she knows i’m pretty happy with her
i thank the people i play with
i thank the people i play to
and coming up oct 7th
my debut as a more spoken word type gig in glebe sydney
my plays coming back too
soon
the emc quietly knockin’ out masterpieces
the train kept a rolling all night long
you play the hand thats dealt ya
you fly…and you fall
yeah i’m grateful to a whole loada people
people who fucking came thru for me
i wish i could return all your trust
with something spectacular….
i wish i made millions
and could put you all on salaries
and have you working for me
nelg is an example
you could put him on 3 or four grand a week
and hed bee bizzy all the time
belfrank too i’d like on my payroll
maybe olde mem too
tim powles is a lovely bloke
a little devious
but always lovely
no painkiller without him…..
william said yesterday
that when tim n i play bass n drums together
we have an immediate connection…wel yes we do
he is an amazing drummer
pk n mwp ..old comrades in arms
is this what its all about on yer birfday
thanking a loada people without whom….
still missing dad
grantley
uncle gary and auntie irene
still cant believe mattys gone
oh how i’d love to know where he is right now
of course
i ‘d like to thank the god of all this here creation
who figured it all out
who set it in motion
who holds the spheres in their places
whilst dreaming universes a million per second
man
i got a lotta chances
i guess im poor but im happy
im sore and im sorry
but fuck i’m still here
n i made fifty fuckin’ four
and i aint no wimpy olde wanker in his biz suit
workin’ for the ubiquitous man…
advice for youngsters
who wish to arrive at this advanced age
as intact as possible
dont ever eat anything dead
dont drink too much but a little is alright…a little!
dont eat cheesy things
no mobile phones
no microwave
avoid eggs
exercise hard
walk swim jog
get out there baby and fuckin’ get on it
cos its hard to get it off once its on
do yoga you idiots…what are ya waiting for
yoga has reinvented me
yoga in everything i do
yoga rejuvenation
yoga discipline
yoga grace
yoga for breakfast lunch and tea
yoga will guide you
its guiding me i guess…informing me
painkiller is proof of pudding
my best record ever…or what….?
yeah
i aint run out of tricks yet
you’ll be surprised
i promise i’ll go down swinging
happy birthday to everybody
kilbey…now officially ancient

on the last day
when i was still a youngman
when it was still possible
when it was still likely….
soft spring morning breaks like china all over the place
a grasp for adjectives to apply to the sky
how many different blues
how many poignant little clouds just sitting there
planes full of important people jet off n out of memory
and somehow
although never having met them
i miss all them all
the palm outside my window is still
the sandy soil is patient and receptive
my old bomb of a car awaiting my attention
do i just jump in and drive for miles
past white walled villas and past awful slums
past fields with brokendown cows
and crumpled pines
the hinterland
the outskirts of another big dirty conglomerate of grease n noise
the fruit sellers and their dismal barrows
the deserted drive-ins overgrown with weeds
the roads run off here and there
the wires thin out and stretch back towards the city
the creek clogged with reeds and a sick black swan
someone shoots at the signs
wow… great shot…it’d be hard to miss, tho…
the gravel is reddish
its spring but it dont mean anything i guess
life goes on until it stops
until the fates blast ya with their twenty twos
and youve got a hole in yer mind
and you cant remember yesterday
but you can remember every detail from some jim-jims life
some idiot who strummed a guitar
or some little ninny who did this or said that
or some pig-headed fool
dressed up in some uniform somewhere
making some proud and cruel announcement
his foot on the head of a native
his hands red with needlessly shed blood
or something i overhead in a supermarket once…
no i already forgot that..
or something i did in a greenhouse
or the names of the children who i havent seen for half a century
or names carved on trees
names of kids i never met
names on graves that made me cry
the car speeds on
at the railway
stopped to wait for a train
i catch every eye in every window
everyone on the train listening to their ipods
all the ipods play the same song
clicketty clack
its all coming back
the blues in the night

time being

ok
let me put it straight
one of the best gigs i ever did/done
oh yes
this was it
it seems like i been workin’ towards that gig for 4o years
and then….
smooth as pineapple juice and stoli vodka..
bang!
the crew of ss painkiller deliver the goods in spades
in fuckin’ diamonds too
this finally then is rocknroll
a hand picked crew of unique individuals
polinski : sound
polinski provided a wraparound sonic cocoon
that contained and maintained the painkiller a gender
polinski is the supernatural anaesthetist
in the studio or live
polinski delivers that satisfying blend of organic/electronic/electric
i could feel it from the stage
this man is substance and the fairy dust at once
von ryper: guitar
von ryper walked in and became the other guitarist
in one fluid motion
nearly twenty years younger than me
he nevertheless provides continuity precision glamour n biffo
on the 12 string guitar and the rest he was nigh on faultless
what an excellent addition!
maymi : maymi is a controversial character and rightly so
a fellow virgo maymi is a hot headed crazy fool but boy can he play guitar
not only that but he embodies all the defiance and casual savoir-faire
of the true fuckin’ rocker
last night he vindicated his reputation
he blazed like a star
and he and von ryper were a constant source of guitar pleasure
maymi understands rocknroll at a cellular level
no wonder everybody gets him on their records
no wonder he is so important to the beejay,em
bowden: radiotronics
he plays what.?.. short wave radios and chaos pads..?
“anything i say could end up in yer blogge” says bowden
yes william
oh sweet william
you channeled in the voices
the pulsations
the ex static
the crackling gurgling screaming mess of whats out there right now
a medium for random beauty
bowden is as unique as the next crazy genius
and still takes time to play the keys
this bloke understands all the bits i dont
hes a fuckin rocknroll boffin
but boy without him
painkiller has no juice
as essential as my left hand
as cool as a cucumber
bowden is truly master o’ time n space
powles : drums n a lot more
this guy makes it happen
what a walloper but with the tech side well sorted
impossibly amenable n patient
a brilliant drummer n producer
impossible for this to happen at all without tim
nearly as important as me himself
powles is as furious or as measured as you like
wow!
i am extremely happy with my crew
anxious moment:
walkin’ along smokin’ a joint
up the middle of fuckin’ darlin’hurst
i (of all people)
cautioned young maymi to perhaps exercise caution
because the cops often frequent these here haunts
maymi exploded in derision
letting us know
how he’d handle any johnny wallopers
who tried to bust his skinny no-cal ass
so later
theres our hero outside the back door
entertaining some ladies n smokin’ mother nature
when a loada cops swarm around the club
and some are heading maymis way
(and he has no way of knowing)
next thing no ricki
i cant believe it….
they got him….??!
and by the sound of his argumentative mojo
he woulda gone down screaming n fighting
i’m just glumly imagining painkiller sans ricki
when he arrives unbusted
someone had texted him
ere he woulda been jail fodder when he shoulda been rockin’
but you know as someone said as i was gnawing my nails
hes a slippery character
anyway
i myself
i made hardly any mistakes
i sang quite well
i had a nabsolute bawl!
i leave the last testimoni
to a breathless nk
who burst into the dressing room
with these words on her lips
“the best gig ive ever seen in my life!”

ps david duchows visuals were superb
projected on a big screen
the perfect prescription indeed
much thanks dd!!
now
if you were there
use my comments to GUSH!!!

an incredible gang of criminals assembled by a mastermind
to pull off a heist
a caper
a crime so big ,no one even thought it possible:
to kill pain
thats correct
the end of pain as we know it
the destruction of ache
the nullification of agony
bringing only sweet pleasure
the master mind is none other than
you guessed it
me
suave debonair sophistiquated
dapper dan and gentleman jiminy
steve kilbey as george cluey
aka the killer
the big doeppler
captain bly
sonic anathema
dim receiver
wanted for poncing about in 6 territories
+ an unspeakable state
billy the kidder
finally coming good
just in time for the curtains
walk on thru the wind
walk on thru the rain
a riverbank job
the wilde times
spring is hear
when the moon is in the seventh house
and the seventh house is down the end o’ my street
and my street loops round the bay
and youre flying along to your job
and your car cruises past the cenotaph
and you skirt around another crash
you reach forward
you pop something in your mouth
you pop something in the cd player
immediately it starts up
the throbbing headache turn to throbbing bass
turn it up you fool
as you go screaming thru wednesday morning 4 am
alone on the M5
or the A1
or the auto bahn bahn bahn
or route 666
or accelerating down wall street like a daemon
your manicured fingles reach out
you fiddling with the volume
up up up up up it goes
the fuckin’ needles in the red
but up goes the vol
you hit tone…hard
the bass the bass
you swoop into the graphic curve
and you draw a mountain where the bass frequencies lie
suddenly the bass is driving your hart
suddenly you achieve a vulcan mind meld
kilbey coming in
are you kilbey now?
are you a kilbey?
i am i am iam iam
i am steven kilbey
all of you…?
i am kilbey
i am kilbey
i am i am i am
kilbey is driving this car now
you have unleashed kilbey in your tiny mind
and boy its hard to fit all my stuff in here
kilbeys first act as co pilot is to throttle the car
he rips off your tie or your brassiere or your truss or your braces
he undoes all the straps
he flicks every fuckin’ button in yer car ON
he hits overstellar interdrive
a sub atomic lothario
the flying lounge lizard acceleratin’ up neptune parade
i bounce off vespas and mo-peds
kilbey do you have a lie-sense…?
kilbey please reduce speed now
kilbey go back
YOU ARE GOING THE WRONG WAY!
fuck em if they cant take a joke
kilbey…oh no… are you intoxicated..?
fuck no…oh you mean this…dont worry, its herbal
no kilbey thats fungal
kilbey is that peyote?
kilbey is that toluol?
kilbey is that marlybone jelly made from electric heels?
kilbey you swerving all over this cosmic road
kilbey somehow the bass guitar is guided by larks voices
somehow in a parallel mirror-verse where blah blah blah..
and kilbey does rhubarb rhubarb rhubarb
and elrond hubbard goes to the cupboard
and finds tom cruise mistle toes
and arthur rimbaud and ricki maymi walk into an opium den
and the baby wakes up in the back seat screaming
and tim powles is sitting in a tree in samoa
we want samoa singalong the crowd
a drone starts up
a proper eastern ragini bone moan drone
and a radio tunes into some weird armenian malarkey man
like byzantine harry flowers in powys square
jagger holds a fucking gun to my head
i dont know where youre going..i say to turner
yes you do…says turner
or fox
or
arthur rimbaud who says
hey ricki buy me another fuckin’ absinthe
and tom verlaine who has nothing to do with this
i invoke the greats and hope it rubs off on me….
….does it work….?
meanwhile back in sydney
i morosely evaporate in a black whole
in a black mood
in a grey land
its king harvest again
in the dead sand
i watch over you all from the afterlife
i am a fake fakir
i am voodini
i am rumpled stiltskin
i,m drivin’ your car to work
i sling it round the corners
i gun it up the lanes and by ways
my way or the highwayman i did it my way
an empty plastic baggie
the residue of joy dust
the traces of angelfruit
the glory of datura demon
hammerhead it
jack knifed jill
jill jilted and then tilted
jilly morning in spring
this is an automatically generated message
please do not respond
normal viewing will soon be
consumed
slam honour breaks
pullup in the drive
jump out
flick the keys to the frickin’ concierge
here baby you park that sonna fabitch
you stride up the corridor
you see your boss
hey boss you say in yer new kilbey accent
sneering anglo aussie lingo
hey you know some big words now
hey boss yer so lugubrious man….
yeah good morning to you too
you sit at yer desk
you pick up the morning paper
and taking your black pen
you chuckle as you draw mustaches on kylie minogre
and hilary cliton
fuck em if they cant take a joke…eh?
eh? or what?
fuck yeah
in spades, baybee
hey yer gettin’ the hang of it now
switch on yer computer
type in those co ordinates
sk @ blah blah
hey look
we rate number 27 in the whole fuckin’ world
and you
you baybee
you just wrote this whole fuckin bastard blog
and with swearing and everything
go on
use another big word
corrugated
ok
wow
you got it
you kilbey
you go girl
or bouy
you show em
smash it up
send kilbey all your money
after all you are me now
go on
thats it
put all your money in yer paypal
go on
its ok
we are now one
this is you writing this
now
take all that dough
and send it to the ttbs honestly box
thats it
confirm?
hit yes
submit?
hit yes
oh doesnt that feel good
now switch off the computer
go and sit in a park
and read mervyn peake….
await further instructions

i do whatever the fuck i want
(within reason)
i use words
i discard em
i never call again
i climb under insults
i squirm away from compliments
i take on my suffixes like kilbey-esque
i blow my money on cheap thrills that cost a fortune
i trade my cow for three magic beans that never grow higher than one inch
i squander my fondness and wander in melancholy flowers
you remember me, dont you
i sang that song about the distance
you saw me once ..my face printed on a soy milk carton
i was merely a hand trying to touch the hem of jesus’ gown
i was a soldier in viet-nova
i was of bricklaying caste in the eastern subs
i was trying to be all things to all men
but actually i was nuthin to no one
i lost control of my lazy swabs first voyage out
i was too hard
then too weak
i was too hopefully hopeless
then i was plain fuckin bleak
listen here sonny jim
everyone wants some painkiller, eh?
yeah
you need yer fix, i can tell
oh i bet its hurting to have to wait wait wait
first thing that you learn is that you always gotta …..
wait!
ah ya dont believe we’re on the eve o’ destruction?
and the sun aint gonna shine anymore
and youve lost that painkilling feeling
i thought i’d find you banging on my daw
jack of spades in spades
jokerman sings to the croaky olde crow
i see your streaming eyes
i see your manoeuverabilty
i see you trying to find the words to ask
well we’re all hurting …when you gonna realise?
dont try and change me
nothings gonna change my world
you know some pain cant be killed
yeah ask elektra
they cant kill her pain so easy as all that
she said
i feel like my head will burst….
and i
cant think of what to say then
my own in agony
everyone gotta headache
my mother my wife my daughter
my friends holding their temples
tim rubbing on his tiger balm
marty blinded by migraine in some stupid limo
we wonder how matty could endure it at all…
i visit my ex mentor
he doesnt remember me or anybody anymore
he says
youre a very handsome man…you!
(i think he thinks im my dad)
youre a very nice visitor he says over and over
no i’m not…i’m a kilbey
i’m steven!
steven? he says and he laughs
yes steven rings a bell somewhere in there still
in flanders field the poppies grow beneath the crosses row upon row
i recite this bit of poetry to him
yes yes you still remember that, eh? he says
literally a shadow of his former self
i’m glad my dad got out early
i’m glad my dad didnt hang around for this
lifes like a poker game
you gotta know when to quit
ah..but hard to pull out of the game
you cant just walk away from the table, can you
the other players yell out
give us a fuckin’ chance to win our money back
then you realise
youre holding a near royal flush in diamonds
but the filigree diamonds are filched from a ring
and you realise
all these players are BLUFFING
no ones holding anything
two pears
maybe three kings of orient-r
they all silently pay to see you
no wait
some bastard always ups the ante
the ante-diluvian kings maybe
before god tried to drown his own world
when gilgamesh played bass guitar with the garden of eden
and co cain and abel
and lot whose wife was a pillow of sort
did these players know when to quit?
yeah so bass guitar is real groovy
and i got a vegan yah-yah
and priest equals coma
and it was all a conspiracy by the nme
and radio in belgium never back announced us
the guy who signed us up got fired
the day i was released from slavery to fashion
i grew a beard of starfishes and
side burns of fire
yeah you know me now
you want me to kill the pain
the pain of existence
the pain of boar-dom
the pain of this one horse town
the pain of me being steve kilbey
the pain of you not being steve kilbey
all the steve kilbeys in all the universes
that run adjacent to this
and by the weigh
which fucken one is this?
i beg your pardon?
so ok
enough about me
yeah yeah yeah
i got the painkiller for ya
i got it in my apartment not far from here
i got it there
its waiting for ya
ooh yeah its the good stuff alright
ooh yeah maybe i gave ya some bad stuff before…did i?
ooh yeah but this time you gonna thank me
you’ll be looking for me again
i can tell you
i still deliver
look at this
i still deliver
christmas, eve
or midnight seven eleven magnetic heaven
all holy days
and the night of long knaves
i will deliver
i guarantee you will love this product
i hereby state that i will refund your money
no questions asked
if you aint
relieved
of your
existential angst
nero-disorders
twitchin’
bitchin’
masturbatin’
hoopla
shibboleths
hoity toity hooty pooty
crab-lice
door mice
hit seekers
walla wallas
boom booms
and a heavy dose of shimble fucking shanks
all of this and moor
will be cured
within a heartbeast
deductions and conditions may apply
you may be geo-blocked
you may be recorded in the shower for admin perposes
you may be reproduced in a sex tape with photo enhanced penis
your breasts may be fingerprinted for office use
painkiller not available in most places
painkiller not recommended for children or adults
painkiller contains fluro metha oxy dimble quasars
painkiller made without help of jap anese investors
painkiller suitable for domestic violets
painkiller w/aphrodesiac beachside properties
painkiller can have side effects or waist effects
painkiller full of delicious marylebone jelly
painkiller now available in swiss vanilla and bulgin’ chocklette
painkiller hot off the pill press
painkiller should not be mixed with alcohol or methodeine
painkiller may react to the light of this world
painkiller believes in jesus
painkiller would like to thank anton e newcombe
(what…me worry?)
painkiller would like to thank ricardo de los mayo for the biffo
painkiller would like to thank lord von ryper for the 12
painkiller would like to thank wiliam…it was really nothing
painkiller would like to numb polinskis great burden of genius
painkiller is 25 per cent tim north poles
painkiller does not endorse anything
other than the end of all pain
forever baby
and thats a long long time

jamming with my friends
i want to simplify my bass
to the most subtle pulse
a seamless fluid flow of notes
my eyes relay the bass to my bulging brain
these notes should not be played at all
these notes maybe played sometimes
these notes can be played a lot
these notes are root notes
these notes should be passing notes
this note should be slid up to
this note should be slid down to
this note should be hammered on
this note can be part of a bass chord
this note could be bent
this note could be crisply plucked or slightly muffled
this note should be a harmonic
this note is outside this scale unless….
my ears hearing
my slightly distorted ears hearing as well they might
my ears hear and report back to my bulging brain
my ears decide
when its good
i get this feeling
when its bad i get this other feeling
when its mediocre i get no feeling at all
my fingers work quicker than my mind
and it struggles to keep up
its a chicken or the egg situation
whos leading who….who cares….
dont let your intellect interfere too much
but then of course…..
well a bit of nous comes in handy
you learn the rules
you spend the rest of your life trying to bend them
so write me a beautiful rhyme before you go all free verse
learn your scales before you go nuts on your axe, maaan
both bold technique and innovative originality
listen to that genius in all our hearts
he/she knows what to do
as a bass player i seek out the drums
i know nothing of the drums
i cant play em
i cant mike em
i cant record very well
nothing i know
but this is the thing that i must cleave to
this drumkit and i
we work in tandem
oh ho many tandems glasshopper
which one do you have in mind…
i like to relax
after all
im playing not working
im playing not worrying
wow
the drums bring out all these feelings
the drums and the bass have a close dialogue
before deciding what to do
from there on out
they plot a course between themselves
their paths sometimes diverging
but always with the same common destination ahead
the kick drum and the bass guitar enter a procreative marriage
with the kick drum being the male element
with its solid brutal insistent thrust
the bass guitar takes on the feminine
it is free to wander the tonal ranges
it is warm sweet and giving
it responds to the kick drums thrust
with deep receptiveness
the creature these 2 aim to create
is lovely rhythm
a complex child much more than the sum of his parents
the bass is forever thus joined with the drum
and the 2 must learn to share co-operate
and sing together in wedded bliss:
the orgasmic fucking charge of rock….
my bass is the replica of a stradivarius bass
my bass is a sublime and beautiful instrument
capable of expressing the most subtle of emotions
my bass was handbuilt the olde way
thats right….
its a personal kind of instrument…
its easy to play
its rich and comforting
its even
deep and crisp and even steven
even better than the real thing
whatever that was
listen to the bass on “something” by the beatles
a counter melodic masterpiece
booming out
all over the place
emphasizing over and over
the hopeless adoration of the song
the bass seizes moments in the song
and curls through and around them
up seeking light and air
back down to the warm earthy darkness
of the lower reaches
then on come together
the impossibly loud bass
once again in a counter melodic feint
in a slurring sliding riff
that sneers and implies very rude things
it plays all over the song
and
paradoxically locking it down for good
it puts the song to bed
and then ravishes it whole
the bass can be almost everything at once
or it can be a blunt instrument expressing merely thrust or velocity
it can be a mantra
it can be a declaration of freedom
guaranteed by the gilt edged rocknroll bond of liberty
all these things blow thru the jazz man in my mind
like a summer breeze
or a rush of information
that my bulging bombastic brain processes
in some synaptic fury
fueled by huge gushes of pleasure chemicals
exploded in my cortex and pumping into
my head making me
come up with things
my heart
my head
my fingers
my ears
my eyes
my soul
my spirit
my membership in the huge club of humanity
and all that it is capable of
every musician or singer
who ever wanted to create a sublime piece of sonic graffiti
before he disappeared into blissful oblivion
every lutist or harpsichord player
every drummer or screamer
or rocker or roller
or anything else
you care to think of
i am heir to that
all of it is mine to use as i choose
and boy i do choose
and i do
and i paid me dues too
sometimes ya win
othertimes i lose
music is where we touch again on magic
no one really understands how this stuff works
they tell you how
not why
why is this bullshit noise so important…?
beats me…
actually it isnt even important
its like saying
oh breathings important
oh sleeps important
music is a bottom line
dont take my rocknroll away from me mister
here take my money
take my friends n kin
but dont take my rocknroll
the consolation of the common man
the panacea
the painkilling shot of hot bass throbbing in your pit
feel that music rushing thru your vains
feel that narcotic repetition signalling imminent take off
listen to that bass now
and take your hat off boy when youre talking to me
i am a veteran of the bass wars
i have the scarred ear drums to reprove it
i have the callused and callous fingers
i have poured my soul into my fenderbass
some times it never returns
locked in the wood and metal and grime and sweat
forever
forever baby…
and thats a long long time…..

white sands
grey sky
is this a forgery…?
can this be trusted not to….
forward then
dunes
the lakes
interlocking
surface ripples run away
dark shapes glide underwater
sift through the shifting sands
shells in green pools which are each a universe
the rain
the gentle gentle rain
the rain falls so softly
so abstractly
like fingers on your skin
skyfingers make you shiver
you see your reflection
here the lake is your mirror
oh you are you are you are….
its you
the sudden panes of your eyes
the certain planes of your cheeks
the lines radiating outwards
you you you
the word becomes meaningless
reiteration: you you you
you are me
me you me you
him
him
kilbey for now
kilbey for short
kilbey its you i write
though stupidly
because i as him is you
because
i
as
him
is
you
the clearwater delta
the sweet cleaves to the salty
a sign
welcome
says the sign
it swings there in the slight gentle breezes
the rain makes soft sounds
yes a kiss i grant you
morning is a document
i unroll it unevenly
welcome says that sign
welcome to
life after
life park
and i see the rates
it reads
mon to thurs
with its prices
and fri to sun
with its rates
and its special offers
i turn
and 2 girls are at my side
2 wonderful cheerful angels
day and night
or
yes and no
or any other resolvable opposites
we are looking down at the sea shells
and i stoop down to look closer and closer
at the shells
some unbelievable careless god has strewn here
some half mad old master who has turned his hand to shells
all in black and white
zebra striped
and curved
and parallel and
forever curving round and round
day picks up a shell
holds it to her ear
and listens
how does it do that ? she asks
i dont really know i say
she laughs
is this gods work? i ask
of course she says
yes of course it is says the other
the girls treat me like a boy
i must be an old man by now
but they treat me like a boy
we stand on the beach outside the park
people have got caravans and cabins
and the trees grow wildly all over the place
i wonder …i say
yes yes…they both say
what is it that you wonder…?
i wonder if this is the place…?
the memories are vague
what was once solid is now transparently gone
what was once with is now without
what was all about was…..deep within
the afternoon stretched on and on
morning had been a brief candle
but this afternoon was omnipresent
this afternoon was indeterminate
it was vague and deliberately vague
it was not for living in
it was not for being anywhere
and yet i had wandered beneath its pines and its palms
in amongst its treetops
in its tracks and its gullies
i had stumbled through the fern and the bracken
like a real interloper
ignore the signs i had said to no one in particular
we climbed up a deep treed hill
all alive with flame flowers and flame red parrots
you two are my crew then i said
yes yes they say
yes thats right….
and they laugh to each other
what has changed? i wonder
because something sure seems like
it must have changed
we march up and up to the top
we look out over everything
the lakes ripple away like electric pianos
the sea is almost black under the steel grey sky
the metalwork sky
the clouds boil up and the soft rain still falls
the streams trickle in the afternoons sides
those two sit there at the summit
looking all around
its like a real holiday isnt it ?one says
yes it is says the other
the angry cruel and merciless sea
oh yes
always you are there
at the back of everything
like the north wind
like a friend who makes you do stupid things
stay away from the sea
never turn your back on the sea said the sign
dangerous currents read the sign
no swimming it said
who would want to swim today ? said one
not me said the other
we watched the sea
kilbey and me
and the child
and the other child
but each child carried the shadow
of yet another child and
another other child
and i was becoming confused
i could not remember to whom i had said what
and whatever it was i was saying
the girls and their distant doubles
who had sent them then….?
we sat at the deserted picnic tables
i wish i had something to eat i said
what would you have? asked one
i would have a sandwich and a drink i said
me too said the other
that would be good said the first
but we sat there
sandwichless it seemed
somethings rustling in the undergrowth
whats that ? says one
i dont know says the other
they both look to me
maybe pygmies i say
listen for the * of their blow pipes
(kilbey makes a sound like thhhwah )
this sound amuses them
they walk along for the next five minutes going thhhwaw!)
that doesnt sound like a pygmies blowpipe says one to the other
oh? says the other sadly…doesnt it…?
not at all says the first with much authority
suddenly they both appeal to me for my boys decision
obviously even a very old boy like me
knows more about blowpipes than these little angelic companions
it doesnt does it says the first
it does, doesnt it says the second
4 eyes watch me
now weve got you …say both girls together
i could not bear to disappoint them by choosing
and we let the matter go
although the other one occasionally went thhhwah
and the first one would tut tut and roll her eyes
and we would all smile at each other warily
what else lives in these bushes ? they asked
snakes? said one
spiders? said the other
wolves i say
really? says one
of course not says the other
we all stood there wondering
lions and lambs i said eventually
but the lion would eat the lamb they both say
looking perplexed
no
i say
this time he would refrain…
we decide to walk into the caravan park after all
its allright says one
they wont mind says the other
an old lady suddenly comes bustling out of a van
hello hello she says in her whispery voice
i wanted to stay for a while i said
she looks at me up and over
her black eyes drink me down
like a cup of tea and a packet of bex…
just you ? she asks softly
i look around for my friends
who seem to have wandered off
oh i suppose so …i say
i reach in my pockets for money
but i find nothing in there
except a few still sandy shells
oh you can pay me later…she says…afterwards….
she shows me to my van
i unlock the door and climb in
it is still and warm inside
a contemplative silence
this darkness
the hillside of trees
the vaguely dawdling afternoon
the gulls wheel way on high
a school of fish has just surfaced in the lagoon
a bunyip stretches out underwater and yawns
the sand glitters even in the oncoming late faded day
in my caravan kilbey lays on the bed
the girls sit by his side
talking to each other
sometimes it seems they speak another language
sometimes they seem to be english or american
sometimes they communicate in furtive gestures
and soundless mouthing of words
oh look she left some cake for us
and a cup of tea..
they drink the tea
they eat the cake
its delicious says one
its de-luscious says the other
i sit up and look in the mirror
the mirror in the little wardrobe door
the mirror doesnt register me much
i see some tanned skin
some freckles
mousy wispy hair
beard
only the eyes make any impression
but its a mistake i suppose
maybe he cant see that well anymore
maybe hes not looking into my eyes after all
he seems busy
he seems jumpy like he has something better to do
he seems tired
he seems not to be myself
girls chatter chatter
youve written this story before says one girl
with the gulls and the fish says the other
the caravan and the park…
the 2 girls….
the waning afternoon
the low ebb of the gentle rain
the alone-ness without the loneliness…
without the emptiness….
yes youve left the emptiness behind you now
no not yet …oh, i dont know….
a deck of cards on the table
show us a trick says one
yes a trick says the other
i sort out the aces kings queens and jacks
dont ask me how this works it just does
there were 4 old ladies….still quite attractive i guess
i say
and i lay the four aces down
they come to an inn
and seek shelter
the innkeeper puts them in a room
no hanky panky he says
whats that? says the other one first
never mind says the other
then 4 old gentlemen , you know still handsome..
i lay down the kings
they get a room across the hall from the old dears
no hank panky says the innkeeper
then 4 young ladies
i lay down the queens
then 4 young men
i lay down the jacks
all in these four rooms
no hanky panky
they all go down for dinner
i pick up the cards
put them together
on the way back to their rooms….
a blackout
please cut the deck…
one cuts first
then the other
they gaze on at the cards
solemnly
and this is what happens
in each room appears ace king queen jack
oh no they all say
as the innkeeper comes marching up the stairs
suddenly another blackout
i pick up the sixteen cards
please cut
one cuts
then the other
when the lights come back on we have…voila
all the people are back in their right rooms
and look
ace ace ace ace
king king king king
queen queen queen oh no…
a jack is among the queens
and a queen has slipped among the jacks
the girls giggle
i like it better that way says one
did they get kicked out? asked the other wide eyed
how would he know? asked the first
because hes written this story before…
the afternoon
warm weather
the reeds whispering
the old lady at deaths door
the blue cranes
the crow blacker than black
the sky now greyer than ever
greyer than ever after too
ever after all that
the mauve berries that glow on black trees
the giant soldier ants running to and fro
a cascading brook
a meandering creek with white lilies and crooked willows
fish drift with the current towards the sea
the rain fills the creek
the creek fills the sea
the sea rises up as steam
to fill the clouds
to rain down once more
same and different at once
circles
cycles
the snake swallows its tail
we appear
we rise
we fall
we are reabsorbed
we appear again
i tried a piece of cake
yes
it was delicious

on the first day of spring i ran to your door
with a bunch of small blue petunias
and wearing my heart on my steve
no one was home
so i sat and waited on your blonde brick wall
as mushrooms pushed ever upwards in the sienna brown earth
oh lovely victoria
ghost gums and spirit walker
in tiny toy-like towns boys like me
in corduroy breeches and woolly heads
little mists in the graveyards
or standing in the sweet shop
“i’ll have threepence worth of those
and…how many do you get of these for a ha’penny?”
dad starts up his valiant
mum hangs out the washing
in the windy blue garden
i bury my soldiers like robert louis stevenson did
and later i still find them
cheerful despite their time in the ground
at the back fence the trains run
everynow and then
a rush of metal a snort of smoke
i’m singing that song, you know the one
“i could never love you
the price of loves too dear
but darling i’ll stay with you
and give to you one year
and we’ll sing in the sunshine
we’ll laugh everyday
we’ll sing in the sunshine
then i’ll be on my way”
how sad that the woman has made up her mind to leave
how quickly that year will pass
as her anxious man watches the calendar inevitable shrink down
will she make it exactly one year…?
or roughly one year…?
will he be able to convince her
to stay a few extra months
or will she depart earlier than expected
due to his downturn in mood
and his sulky unacceptance….?
i stand in the backyard singing this song
trying to imagine her
quietly packing her bags
folding her stockings and her brassieres
and her petticoats and her knickers
collecting her lipstick and nivea cream
and her photos and her little record player
she jumps on the train that goes thru my backyard
and for a moment
we lock eyes
the fleeing singer
and me
the sentient boy
the boy still singing her song
even though the year is well and truly over
and what was young is now old
and the fire that had burnt now cold
and her train takes her away
to towns i’ve only heard of
lying on the mysterious river miles away
the song makes me sad
and that makes me happy
love must be an important thing in peoples lives
i think of 2 other songs
“anyone who had a heart
would look at me
and know that i love you”
and
“if our love ceases to be
then its the end of my world for me”
women sang these songs
women with powerful voices
love was giving their voices wings
why their love was obvious to anyone
anyone who had a heart
did i have a heart i wondered
would i recognize her love for her man if i saw it?
when a world ceases to be…is that the loneliness?
the emptiness….?
frank sinatra sang
“spring is here…
why doesnt the sky delight me
why doesnt the breeze invite me
maybe its because nobody loves me…
spring is here….i hear”
spring …..
frank sits in the 1950s
trapped there forever
while nelson riddles orchestra
decorates his loneliness
with flurries of flutes
and lugubrious cellos
all this love
and only loneliness
was weighing down on my boylike soul
ha ha
i was young
i was wandering the streets of our town
riding my bike round the empty school
as the evening slowly descended
mums voice in the distance calling
steve-n…?
steve-n…?
in the semi dark
all those songs were holding me back
all that love gone bad
all the lonely people
what becomes of the broken hearted
beneath the veneer of our town
was a legion of hurt and lonesome lovers
unable to make a move
or ever recover
like a silent disease incapacitating people
robbing them of their worlds
filling them up with emptiness
i wondered why…?
who were these cruel ones…?
the ones who left
the ones on the train
the ones discovering new charms in somebody elses arms
“i met someone new” they sing in songs over and over
new
new
not old like you
always someone hovering on the perimeter of life
“he’ll never love you….the way i love you!”
they sang
but still someone new
(someone knew)
that someone is always there
to bring your song to an end
the train goes roaring by again
deep in the night
while i, a boy, lies in bed
the jilted and jilting lovers come and go
red brake lights blur on my frosted window
but i sleep on and on
dream of life
dream of love
dream of being grown up
singing my own song of spring
even as i enter winter
for the last time

early morning rain
the days possibilities rush out ahead of me
david duchow
who you may or may not know
has sent me a video for every track on painkiller
i downloaded them last nite while i slept
i have already seen” not what you say”
an epic track which changes and ebbs n flows
finally ending up in a quagmire of marine ambience
it goes for thirty minutes….
davids videos for my/our songs are on you tube
once you have seen one of dd’s vids
theres no mistaking them
in mirror images of nature
david locates an incredible symmetry
gods and devils appear
hindu deities hidden in the patterns of a trees roots
the images merge slowly into each other
they dissolve
producing more illusions and half-sightings
they are brilliant because david harnesses nature
and uses it to produce images with staggering architecture
on” not what you say”
i feel like im inside the brain of a dying man
as his mind throws up random images of his life
rooms in hotels turn red and bulging holes appear
kilbey appears via his selfportraits
and disintegrates into a blue lake
scenes from a childhood move across the screen
and finally we drift
over an oceanic desert
i will be viewing the other ten vids after writing this blog
we will be projecting dds vids at the painkiller gig
10 sept sydney-towne
the only gig
with very special guests
anyway
hats off to dd
in his remote canadian wilderness
carrying on the good fucking fight of art for arts sake
and producing visuals that are so appropriate for my stuff
(they allow much intepretation!)
plans could be afoot to make a visual version of pkiller available
and then
i’d like to get polinski to remix it for surround sound
i cannot imagine anything more fucking trippy
than turning up painkiller real loud
and watching it on a big screen
while all the radiotronics swirl round the room
i dont have a system like that
(i got no system just a little tv)
but if i did
i would love to see that
superb stuff!

the new bass is fretless
i never really played a fretless before
gee its 1980
we feel like we’re living on the very edge of the future
1980…gary numan and everything…
this means nothing to me oh vienna
and i gotta new bass
no its not a fender but its an ibanez
i couldnt afford a fucking fender
plus i wouldnae have probably known the difference
anyway
on a complete fucking whim
ive bought this fretless bass
traded in my ibanez les paul bass copy with the red strings
you see folks
some instruments like guitars n pianos
well you know where the notes are
others like trombones n violins
you just have to feel
theres no markings or notches
the double bass is like that too
i bought a black fretless bass
and i stuck some wallpaper on it of a naked lady
everybody says its stupid for a singer to play a fretless
but there you go
i wanted to make it harder for myself, didnt i
i bet i played millions of notes that were slightly out too
flat or sharp just slightly
oh boy i loved to slide around on it though
if you plucked a note
and moved yer finger up or down
there was a smooth continuity of notes
not a rattle rattle rattle as your finger passed over the frets
i can sing and play at the same time
i can sing and play complicated bits too
not just boom boom boom
i sing all these words
at the same time
my fingers slide about my fretless
how did i do it?
i dunno
strapping on a bass
feels like putting on my comfy slippers
even stoned or tripping or legless drunk
look at me
i can still play bass and sing
we’re making an album up in a real studio
i am in constant conflict with everyone
i have to fight and fight and fight
not to be made 1980s over n over
no matter what it says
i produced that first album
my tricks
my ideas
my overdubs
all my 4 years on 4 track went into it
to maintain purity i needs must offend every bastard i work with
the engineers who dont understand how the church should sound
the producer all puffed up on his own self
the other guys in the band
all for different reasons
peter k n i have always argued
ever since we met
he n i arguing
we go fishing together as teenagers
we argued all the way there
all the way home
and even while we were catching fish
so now we’re back together again in the church
and we still argue
but one thing
when we argue
we normally get over it and back to normal quick
not like young mwp whose joined
i seem to upset him and he doesnt talk to me for a week
nick ward is hounding everybody
he is making this
my first record ever
into hell
picking on my words
picking on my singing
most of all
telling me what a rotten bassist i am
how i dont understand anything etc
i had fucking written a hundred great new songs
and all this idiot could do was whine
you see
none of them
except me
really knew what this all could be
dont get me wrong here
peter was already an accomplished and innovative player
but i had to fight to keep it all the way it was sposed to be
i didnt win that fight completely
you can hear that on that first record
the eighties had their way and intruded all over that
i rectified that on the blurred crusade
no more chuggalug guitars
we stopped being a cartoon n became a band
but on the first record
i was struggling with ole mr zeitgeist
and i was a dim visionary
trying to get the others to just trust it
and go with it
but you know
they gotta question everything in heaven n hell
why kilbey why?
dont ask…i cant explain
just fucking do it!
but i dont see why.. i dont understand…
ok dont understand it
just fucking do it like i asked
but i was tiptoeing round everyones ego
one day
walking in town
i went in a music shop
and discovered a brand new roland vocoder
it was a big hefty keyboard
it had these synthetic voice sounds on it
no one had used them yet
and i fell in love
and put it all over the next 4 records
the first time you’ll hear it is on
is this where you live
like the drone of a hundred synthetic monks
its all over blurred crusade
in almost every song
i figured out a lovely way the female voices
could shadow guitar lines
i brought this technique to fruition
on the instrumental remote luxury
hear the female vox with the guitar line
i was so cocky about my lyrics
jesus christ
when was the last time you heard an album start with
in the empty place the soul stripped bare…..?
you know
go back to 1980
and check out who was writing stuff like that
and all the chords in that song
including a few doozies i never used again
i never cared for unguarded moment that much
its ok i guess
i got no comment on it
other than every other person that heard it went nuts
and said
thats a hit
yeah im grateful to it i guess
i hear 3 bands in australia did a version each
and toured around with that as some common focus
so be it!
what i came up with almost thirty years ago
still has enough mojo left in it
for a buncha youngsters to still get off on it
god blessem
what i do lasts
yes
you will still be listening to painkiller in twenty years
one does not outgrow my stuff
it comes with a guarantee to suit all times n climes
the songs are eternal
they are not about youth or old age
they are pieces
fractions
merely tiny bits in the puzzle
clues
to people who were interested
my lyrics were pop lyrics granted
that was my canvas
the cartoon world of pop
it was 1980
c’mon!