The Time Being | Steve Kilbey

being a father is a tough gig
i know some of you are about to be
or have recently become one…

being a man has its rewards
we dont need to go into all that here
eventually if you keep havin’ sex
you’ll probably end up being someones father
this gig comes with no duty statement
this gig is mostly improvisation from day one
the only father i can compare myself with truly is my own
in many ways my father was a superior father to most
he never drank or took drugs or got out of it, for one
he never beat the kids or his wife
he never complained or sat around analyzing the whole thing
(a la moi)
he was warm and gentle and pretty cheerful
he worked very hard to give his crew a good stand-dad of living
he wasnt a hands on type dad in many ways
he didnt change diapers or give kids baths
he didnt get you dressed or make you breakfast
he didnt read your school report and do anything
he was kinda detached i guess in some ways
why do men get detached?
its sad but true that many men
get kinda driven from their own homes by their families
heres some stuff about men i have observed
most of us dont like n eventually cant tolerate
a load of kids screaming and playing and hopping about
i know i cant
i know my dad couldnt
and most blokes i know cant either
mothers seem less irked or agitated by their offsprings racket
than the fathers
how often do you hear about someones dad
who has a “shed” where he likes to hang out?
everyone has a little laugh
oh men and their sheds…
you think men like to hang around in sheds
like as if there were empty houses n empty sheds
we would gravitate towards the sheds?
the guys are in the sheds or garages or dens
because the family have driven them there
its where its quiet
its where they can relax
away from the incessant carryings on of the kids
thats right
the kids racket can grind you down
that lovely baby you hold in your arms
will one day be runnin’ about
falling on your head
kicking you in the balls
jumping on the furniture
and demanding all kinds of things
how many many hours have i sat in a park
watching kids running around
pushing swings and kissing hurt elbows and knees
how many diapers (nappies!) have i changed
how many nights up n down with kids
how many times has my heart been in my throat
when my kids have been sick or in danger
how many times standing in a baby pool with em
how many times dropping off n picking up from school
yeah thats right
even hugely massive rockstars like me
doing all this drab stuff
for the kids
for the family
doing all this stuff youre expected to do
by society
by the mothers
by the children
out of duty and love
out of honour
a man must try and do his best
now i have not been a good father
i have not been ideal
i have been neglectful
i have been intoxicated
i have been absent
i have been selfish
i have been angry
i have constantly put myself before the children
did what i wanted or thought i needed to do
in this way my father was superior
he tended to sublimate his own needs for those of his family
although he never did many playgrounds
i guess my mother n father had unofficially delineated their gigs
she did the hands on stuff
he provided the resources and was the rock
although my mother sometimes ran the show too
these days its all mixed up
mummies bring home the bread
and daddies talk pram technology at kindy
whats wright or wrong?
how the hell would i know?
people say oh steven youre a good father
oh yeah! you should see me in full flight
swearing and cursing and using silly words
acting like my own dad did when we got him riled
you know all that
i wont have that bee-havior not in this bloody house !!!
anyway i never thought i’d be doing all that
but i do
and whatsmore i enjoy it
i realize now its a strange way to get close to that long dead dad
to imitate him
roll his words round on my lips
as i chastise these little female versions of myself
albeit much sweeter nicer than i ever was
everything goes full circle
this is natures way of provoking thought
the child is father to the man
archetypal paths we follow
my relationship at the moment with 16 year olds not good
we dont seem close at all
they seem ultra-detached from me
they seem angry and deliberately distant
i confront my many defects esp. during their childhood
and i am astounded
i mean as father i was pretty useless in many ways
i was not dependable at all
not in small ways or the big picture
they have reasons to be angry
yes thats true
they dont seem to want to talk about it either
i mean
im not real anxious to
i would tho’ if it’d help
but they dont seem to want much of anything from me
i did some checking round with other fathers of teenagers
one guy says his kid didnt talk to him for a couple of years
before coming “good”:
“i thought he hated me
he dissed me in front of his friends
he took money but wouldnt converse
then suddenly at age 19 we are best mates again
stick it out it’ll pass”
some women tell me they went through anti-father phases
in their teens
and anti-mother too
but the mothers always seem to have this other connection
maybe cos they actually carried n bore the kids
the mothers often become mediators
between grumpy oldstyle dads
and rebellious nu-style children
the mother is somehow more in the picture
she loves n understands the kids at an organic n cellular level
not so easily can she say
go and never darken my doorstep again!
fathers are more easily spooked by their kids
fathers have more trouble forgiving and forgetting
funny thing
i never met one guy who wanted to be a father
before he actually was
men dont sit around dreaming about being fathers
they answer no biological clock neither
they become fathers when the mothers decide it
and they then find out what theyre made of
most of us fall short
its a very hard n in some ways unrewarding gig
no turning back
it will also bring you joy and pleasure
there are many variables
itll be different for everyone
some more pain than joy
even differing from child to child
one kid might be your ray of sunshine
the other a dark cloud you labour under
what can you do?
persist
n
maybe start thinking about that shed
big daddy out
twillies fly home tomorrow

the being, he kindly spoke
there are many here among us
who think this blogge is justa joke…..

i am i am i am
the suggester
the synapse surfer
the oddfather of ramble
the psychedelic bricklayer
the grey eyed thief of hearts
the brotherman from the othertime
the motherfuguer
the learned fool
the oldest teenager alive
the frecklefaced freak from welwyn garden creek
the trans skanda knave with the identi-gals
the dilf
the hermit of north bondi hollow
the most improved
the immodest one
the phonographic priest S
the telepathetic king of hopeless dope
the rider of stars
the wholesaler of holes
the pathfinder
the delver (in spades)
the rude daddy with yogic velocity
the cold water painter
the grim receiver
the welding singer
the bass preyer
the loco moses
the day n night tripper
the undersigned
the fixer
the backed awe man
the unknown lover
the playing man t’is
the deep mover
the returner
the intoxicated fox
the manly panther
the sideslinger
the saint who is no saint
the beggar and the chooser
the maker of girls
the grander delusion
the fiendss friend
the describer of fogs
the way not to do things
the frail failure
the olde boy
the half human
the taker
the dream tongue man from a golden land
the dissed allusionist
the new dante
the next big slim
the dog poseur
the charlatan bastard
the memorizer
the off white elijah
the swinging faller
the anti-clause
the beatific bozo
the washed up dish
the micro celebrity with the macro ego
the hastener of dreams
the fastener of inklings
the capturer of thin air
the describer of mist
the deadmans hand
the realest thing
the fisher of songs
the catcher in the wry
the ironic whitesmith
the bangin’ gavel
the double shocker
the splitting image
the pleasant plucker
the quick and the delayed
the bad thinker
the consolation of the lonely
the clever bugger
the smart alec
the outsider
the venerable veteran
the vintage whine
the headonist
the so-ing machine
the gatherer not the hunter
the town crier
the open gate
the torn pocket
the stealer of sense
the up and the down
the midnight planet
the g string bender
the hammer of the gosh
the sonic anathema
the gyptian gifthorse
the proddiggle sun
the legal tender trap
the earthwalker
the eater of good things
the voice of the lazy
the virgoan
the hawkfaced hawker
the big fella
the little ninny
the wanderer
the being in time

you see
a loved childe has many names
i am i am i am

as most of you now know
we recorded an album between heyfish and starday
that never got released
it was called
was there ever talk of love?
and it was gonna be on warners spin off label
voodoo records
thats right
of course i know most of you have the bootleg by now
i hear its easy to come by if you know where to look
but several people have come undone pursuing it
so emptor cave….is that latin?
does it dye its mustache black?
anyway back to wtetol?
i had been living with billy idol for a while
and hanging out in l.a.
with the cult and guys like that
guys who’d been in the sex pistols and stuff
warners had accidentally slipped the church a million odd bucks
and i thought it was our golden handshake…
i grabbed my share and i was living it large in the canyon
no kidding
joni mitchell used to feed my axolotls for me when i went on hols
i dated that chick from melrose place or whatever it was
through her i got into a coven where we worshipped spirits
and practiced sorcery
wow!
standing in my cowl surrounded by the celebs of the mid eighties
that child star whatsername
i saw rock hudson there i think
and a few other quite famous guys
incredible days!
during that same period
while round at a certain journalists house
i took an experimental substance that we had obtained
through the journalists wifes brother
who was a doctor in the military
but he also liked to turn popstars on
anyhow this stuff didnt even have a name
no name just a number # 79
you rubbed the stuff on your wrist
and hey presto!
at first i assumed i had not been affected
and i wandered off into this huge tarzana garden
under a sickle moon and the hazy californian sky
i was struck dumb with fear
when They contacted me
i first felt Them as music
music wild deep and urgent
and utterly inhuman
incredible impossible music
music you would weep for joy if you heard but one stanza
music to make you cower
music to make you march
and the words
in some alien language
in some universal translator
in some way the most tender most violent poetry
poetry with colour and fragrance and flesh and spirit
i immediately began to make mental notes
phrases melodies etc
my impressions i mean
i could never remember or reproduce the real wonder
#79 had tuned me in to Their sphere of influence
i began receiving transmissions from that time until early 87
most of the music on wtetol? was from those transmissions
i arranged some more #79 and i secretely spiked my compadres wrists
(with disastrous consequences)
it was around this time i began seeing monsters in swimming pools
alone at the beverly hills hilton one night
i chanced upon a swim in the pool
i was beset upon by a strange tentacled phantasm
and rescued by 2 guys i now realise were neil diamond n willie nelson
they took me to some place in the hills
where i met prince charles and madonna
(who were having a secret fling)
the party was being hosted by phil spectors little brother inch
inch spector uh huh
he was to produce wtetol?
although how could i possibly know that
using some extraterrestial technology i was healed
although many freckles appeared all over my body
(compare to pre starday!)
i was later horrified when inch and our keyboard player billy
were arrested for trading production secrets with the soviets
but it was never proved
anyway you guys all remember
how voodoo records collapsed being implicated in some phony eclipse
how the tapes went missing in the bermuda triancle
(gees it sounds like a sci fi storey!)
how shorty messhuggah who managed us briefly got offed
how They transmitted utmw but i got it mixed up
how #79 became a brief street sensation
before being blamed in the death of actor lake byrd
the doctor in question
later turned up as governor of nevada for a while
was also dick cheneys golf caddie until a mysterious accident
(involving a niblick!)
which ended his career
billy idol took # 79
and mentions it and me on the track
the fatal sure
which came out on voodoo records in brazil 86/87
one member left the band briefly to cope with his #79 traumas
one member remained unaffected
and one member was never the same again
me…?
i was hauled before congress
i was debriefed and sent back to australia
parts of my personality were erased
but my supervising torturers also slipped me MEMORY
a then new treatment for metaphysical delusions of grandeur
end of steve kilbey mark 1
several people disappeared
several more reappeared as presidents and popstars
the wheels were in motion
but what about
wtetol? itself
ah why bother…?

youve already heard it, aint ya?
cmon…its everywhere
i picked up my copy in a street market in mongolia
there it was
with the cover by warhol n everything
(cost the warner brothers a small fortune)
peruse the songs on this cheap cassette copy
yep thats it alright
was there ever talk of love?
ha!
what a story!

return of the prodigal being
finding it hard to take a trick
the universe tells me i’m off course in many little ways
ears ring on n on
but i keep listening to loud music
ive blown 3 sets of ipod headphones…
lungs getting bad
must stop smoking
its no good
i need a long rest
everythings driving me crazy
everybodies got suggestions i cant follow
i can paint n write stuff but i cant organise anything
have a sad sunday breakfast today
i made pears
everyone comes over one last time
elli seems angry with me all the while
i have that effect on people
i’m aware that it happens but powerless to stop it
pushing 54 and looking it
new lines appear on my face
wait theres been a mistake
i was s’posed to remain at 18 forever
my kids all do the opposite of what i expect
im too weak with them
then suddenly too harsh
i say the wrong things and upset them
i still speak before i think
been doing a lot of yoga to counteract drugs and age
i feel very flexible and i certainly have a spring in my step
i go up n down
today i suddenly felt that bondi wasnt my home
and that i hardly knew my family
like i’d been set down in the wrong story
my street seemed sandy and alien
the trees were not the ones i thought i was familiar with
the houses seemed bereft of life
the weather was blue and bleak
the sun had no warmth yet it burnt
i sat on my porch
some of my plants are dying but i dont know why
it seems like ive let it all slip through my hands
my time my youth my golden days
ah sweet autumn of my life
moving into winter
still with my youthful preoccupations
peter pot and pan
i went to a party but didnt stay long
peoples voices hurt my ears when they yell
all my jokes fell flat
i cant concentrate when people talk to me
i saw clyde bramley
reg mombassa
lindy morrison
amanda brown
dave mason
david lane
and quite a few others
i nibbled at cookies and had some hummus
nk n i shared one corona
the doodles go through a noisy period
lots of fighting and yelling plus scarlet squealing
need a holiday
havent gotten away now for so long
but cant afford to fly anywhere
and everyone cept me gets carsick
so…..
i long for some peaceful meadow ive never seen
thoroughly sick and tired of me
all my cock-ups n my checkered past
struggle to paint
struggle to swim
struggle to believe
my deafness plus my dopiness is making me into
an archetypal fool
i cant hear the stuff that people mutter anymore
the stuff that makes em all snigger snicker
a thousand and one gigs still playing in my screaming ears
now arent you glad you waited two days to read this?

a period of flux
influences wax n wane
next friday the swedes fly home for good
today is a teacher strike
is that like a lightning strike
the kids are at home all day
was gonna take the little buggers swimming
but its kinda windy n chilly
(it is after all nearly winter)
have sent off all my paintings for exhi in ohio
i believe while im certainly no rembrandt
that a certain kilbeeish style continues to emerge
minna sat down n did some painting for me last nite
she painted over the top of some patterns i had
here i said getting up from my chair
you can paint in this quadrant of the painting
i’d done some pastel stuff
i thought shed fill in my lines
but she started to just paint white splodges on top
at first to my complete horror
then some blue splodges near the white ones
whether an act of bold genius
or just a half thinking response
minna had created something incredibly new within my painting
a new texture i never would have thought of by myself
you see i had locked myself out of that parameter
i hadnt even thought of superimposing something on my pattern
after all the pattern was there to be followed right?
the most simple thing
revolutionizing my painting in its own tiny way
these
these are the very things i was exhorting us towards the other day
she thought outside my narrow box
and in the most obvious way
she changed my approach to this thing
the thing itself isnt important
the important thing with your art n poetry n songs
is to question every single element n parameter that you have
why why why
why should a song have cymbals?
a poem twice as long or short than you normally write?
limit yourself to 2 or 3 colours
unlimit yourself by throwing everything in there
use archaic words
use technical terms
find the beauty in every day phrases
(deluxe locations just near completion)
play your guitar with a blowdrier
make all the white bits black
dont use adjectives
imitate somebody elses schtick
be the opposite of somebody you hate
use something youre not familiar with
remove something from the piece
take every other snare drum beat out
start singing in a different spot than you normally would
steal stuff n disguise it as your own
spend time on details
be rough n ready
enjoy and forget yourself
actively strive for excellence
say to yourself
this piece im working on is gonna be fucking amazing
and then actualize it
follow through all the way down the line
and if that means you gotta paint tiny dots for a week so be it
if it means erasing that lousy bass part that so n so did
and hes gonna get upset but the songs sounds bad..so be it
if it means refocussing re-energizing
if it means having a well deserved break from your work
if it means never overriding your hearts true voice
if it means concentrating with all your mind n losing yourself
suffer for your art?
ha ha
is that what it takes….
as long as your art dont make others suffer
are you any good, boy?
i think so sir…
then get out there son and do it!
yes sir!

1 : KLK
ah mysterious academic philanthropist has been making the
church possible for 10 years now
thats right
no klk =no church
after putting up with our incredible malarkey
including me in the bad old days of the gear
he has financed or partly financed everything we do
for a long time
why?
because he believed in our music
whats in it for him?
nothing
now hes just done another favour for me n nk
and we are deeply grateful…
next time you look at after everything or uninvited or whatever
imagine a bloke dipped his hand in his own pocket
to make those records possible and send all your blessings
in the direction of KLK who is literally our saviour
2 martin kennedy
been listening to winter dreams and fall
(2 separate records)
by all india radio
such lovely lovely records
so incredibly happy that ive done an album with him
mk just has that indefinable “it” when it comes to music
he has forged himself a completely individual sound
instantly recognizable as soon as it comes on
i ve been painting and listening
and falling deeper into these records
simple but poignant
kennedy is like rocks jm turner
painting in soothing fogs of sound
never abrasive or discordant
always subtle things percolating away somewhere in there
kennedy is a modern master of the ambient genre
taking the most simple elements
and blending them into gardens of lovely sound
i seriously rate this man as a composer
he is world class
youre gonna love kilbey n kennedy presents…

well folks
i ran outta time
tomorrow i’ll be back with more cool karacters
my generous subscribers…you are always in my heart
and i thank everyone who likes my blogge
sk

hello
nk bought goldfrapps new album yesterday
oh its very lovely….very lovely
steeped deeply in the beatles
its a dreamy creamy melodic techni n sepia colour trip
a dvd came with it for a song called a and e
ali goldy singing in a forest full of leaves
suddenly these leaf-men jump up and start dancing
scarlet kilbey whose accidentally watching is delighted
oh monsters she exclaims happily
then the trees come to life frugging around floppily
you could see scarlet having a pivotal moment…
when the video stopped:
play the monster song again she says
yes this 4th album is their best i’d say after one days listening
some sublime melodies abounding
some weird place where childhood and nascent sexuality intersect
(a very tricky area)
sample :mahogany titties that live on n on
(my spell check says ive misspelled titties (ha ha ))
but the sexuality is imbued with some kinda detached buddhist thingy
the whole thing is like a memory very watercolour very warm n hazy
all of this is achieved thru copious use of mellotron
such was the beatle boys impact upon music
that the mellotron will often be always associated with them
the mellotron (some of you may know this)
was invented in the 60s…very revolutionary n brilliant idea
a machine was built…a mechanical contraption, a keyboard
which consisted of a number of playback heads
which would play a small 7 second loop of tape
when its key was depressed
the mellotron company then recorded
some beautiful and very characteristic sounds
imagine they take , say, the flautist
he plays a C for seven seconds
they record it and transfer it to the little loop that
will play that 7 seconds of C flute when the C key is depressed
after 7 seconds the little loop needed to rewind
so it could play again
just like a cassette tape but much much shorter
ok so the mellotron company records
all the instruments
solo and together
vocalists n choirs
pianos …everything
so now for the first time ever
a single keyboard player had an entire orchestra or choir at
his fingytips
mellotrons were not that stable live
the tapes would get stretched and get jammed
you can imagine…
after an initial wrangle with the musos union
who said (wrongly or rightly?)
that the m-tron would take work away from real musos
the mellotron was taken up and used very much by los beatles
its on a lot of the psychedelic stuff esp the flutes on strawberry fields
the moody blues gave it a caning on almost everything
walling up their sound with slabs of m-tron strings
genesis are the main m-tron fiends
and probably my favourite users of this wonderful machine
almost everything has it
their widescreen n archaic weirdness not possible without it
listen to watcher of the skies
the intro has about 2 minutes of just m-tron
anyway things going backwards n mellotrons
both popularized by the beatles
and now their very use automatically brings those acid days back
its a bit of an easy trick in a way
but still very alluring
the m-tron has such a characteristic sound i avoided it for so long
only recently succumbing
now its on p-killer and new church n shriek….everything
anyway goldfrapps new album is simply stunning
the video went on first thing this morning
and the woofle came out all bleary eyed
plonked herself down and devoured it again
i like the tea she says
referring to the bit at the end
where will drinks a cuppa
also coming with the excellent vid
is a rather silly n slightly demystifying film
(ha! i should talk!)
showing that strange artists should remain strangely silent
ali goldy comes across
a bit like “whatever happened to baby jane”
gee the album is a corker tho
and the the fact my kids have watched the vid 50 times
means there is room in the world
for a kids tv show set in a forest with walking trees
and talking creatures
but done with a magical aesthetic that grown ups could dig!
if you get the funding im the man to do it….
the last word on goldfrapp from scarlet kilbey
to doodles after turning the vid off
“put my monster back on
put my monster back on…FOR GOD SAKE!”
amen

went bike riding in royal national park on sat’day
with brothers
very zen in a way
its very peaceful and calm
but youre rushing along on these sandy stony woody paths
one false move and its all over
so you gotta concentrate
and serious consequences if you dont ….
(i fell off once when ironically i was saying
how you had to have yogic concentration to do it!)
but within the concentration
a calm core builds up
after a while the words fall to the back of your head
and you enter a wordless world of textures and bumps
and reading the track ahead of you
occasionally other cyclists would zoom past going the other way
at ridiculous speeds too
a collision would be disastrous
after all thats why my right eye is more closed than the left
(a bike accident at 13)
anyway i had an amazing time and felt thoroughly invigorated afterwoods
nice to re establish connection with brothers
who after all are my brothers right?
yesterday went to tims with whole fambley
tim and i worked on
so that love may find us
our new 17 minute epic
that puts the fox back in trot
its prog
its traffic
its genesis
its pink fluid
its can and cant
imagine
the church jam for 17 something minutes
pete on piano
marty on bass
me on 12 string acc
tim on drums
then
peter comes back and lays down lead and strings and backgrounds
tim sprinkles mellotron n backing vox
and i come along and put a load of disparate bits n pieces
but voila with a bit of (w)oofle dust
the whole thing suddenly yesterday sat up before our eyes
like the monster on its slab
its two frankensteinian musicians looking on
its like suppers ready meets lowspark of high heeled boys
but with things that only churchy does
its a real beauty and we were both excited
tim n i are getting really good at this
getting a piece of inchoate music and shaping and refining
going with the natural contours the music itself suggests
putting words and backing vox
doing all the tricks we learnt with shriek an afterword soundtrack
i know i rabbit on here
about all these records that never seem to be available
but theres some real treats coming down the tubes to the true believers
this is the best stuff ever
believe me
if it was dismal i’d tell ya
or i’d avoid it
gee whizz our own bona fide 17 minute prog rock epic
(guaranteed with no gratuitous bits)
oh its shaping up to be a goody
mixing in june
oooh you fiends will like this one
meanwhile upstairs from tims studio
the doodles a woofle and a doobs (miss brynn p)
were running rampant
eve (who i now call “the show off person”)
was in fine form flouncing about in bathing suit
with a feather boa and a toy headset
ordering her mother around if she wasnt paying enough attention
aurora was armed with mic and clipboard announcing upcoming events
while brynn bounced around dancing and singing
and the creature known as scarlet kilbey
running around like a very noisy headless chicken
in the studio
the racket was of baby elephant proportions
tim also having a rib injury from soccer
(he doesnt want your sympathy!!)
but despite all
plus some jam on toast n strong instant coffee
we hammered out a bloody good days work
and
had a good time doing it
those bloody noisy kids tho’
AAAARGHHHH!!!
nevermind
thatll all be forgotten
and you’ll be enjoying
so that love may find us
forever
you read it here first
io ao io

be obsessed
that focus and determination may be good for you
i was obsessed by pop music
i was obsessed by the hair by the guitars by the personalities
i was obsessed by the record sleeves by the producers by the money
i wanted in
i wanted in
i wanted in!!
at first when you want in
you cant always see youre own way in
you wanna go his way or her way
you see a picasso in a museum
oh i wanna be a cubist you think
you hear the ramones
ok now i wanna be a punk rocker
you read dylan thomas
hmmm now im gonna write in fiddly archaic detail…
this is ok
this is perfectly normal
we are idolising creatures
i love to find people to idolize , dont you
yeah you know bolan was the first
when i completely fell under someones spell
you give yourself up to some artist
whose work fills you with such bliss
bolans records were like drugs
everytime you had em you got high…
the bedroom door closed
the needle would hit that groove
“we are the children of rarn…”
slim lays down on his narrow single bed
its lyneham 1970 but this boy is in some arcadian haven
while i was blissed out and dancing with the nymphs n fauns
another part of me
the sk computer was in overdrive
in my brain a team of scientists was slowly deconstructing t rex
trying to find out why this stuff was so effective
how could we use bolans mojo for our own purposes
like capturing an enemy aircraft
it was taken apart bit by bit
strangely enough
such is the magic of certain great artists
even when you think you can “see” how its done
it doesnt lessen the thrills….
eventually came bowie and kid strange and bill nelson
john foxx and all the others
all different aspects of who i was aspiring to
pop music aspirations are funny things
you trying to get it right on many levels
you gotta look right
you gotta sound right
you gotta say the right things
you gotta choose the right people
you gotta have thick skin
you gotta be cold too
you gotta be harder than you could ever imagine
of course i didnt know any of that
was it my sheer ego arrogance and laziness motivating me
after all i didnt have much fucking chop being anything else
unable to concentrate
physically unexceptional
no people skills
no motivation
no real interests outside music
sullen foppish and poncy
i was a perfect candidate
after all show biz was where they accepted my type
but i drove other musicians up the wall too
i formed bands
did dismal gigs
wrote rotten songs that sounded like the sweet on bad acid
i flounced about in silly clothes dyed my hair etc
looking for myself in there somewhere
my obsession was a raft i clung to
through all those times lifting amps up stairs
hefting drums and p.a.s into vans
paying off loans to the bank for equipment
playing to people who ignored me
going deaf and hoarse
narrowly avoiding electrocution
long drives to places where they hated us
my obsession was a little fire warming my heart
it wouldnt couldnt let me quit
i was like a fisherman with his line in the sea
for 10 years without even a bite
but still i couldnt pack it in n go home
i had no home
rock was my home
my house were the words n chords of my heroes
my creed was the latest reviews in the nme
my garb was the tight pants and high boots of the rocker
my hair was dark n long
my face was starting to look ok
i could play and sing but no one understood that i was any good
i went to england in 1978 and stayed with numerous rellies
i sent copies of my latest meisterworks to every frickin’ label
and got a rejection from everyone
i was sure the english was gonna understand but they didnt
i was constantly faced with the thought that maybe i was rotten
maybe i was having myself on…..
for some reason tho’ that thought couldnt take hold
i refused to believe i was useless
even tho’ it was looking grim out there
i just kept on writing
i kept on writing and i started to improve my presentation
i had thought that such was my genius
people wouldnt mind me singing out of tune
or that the guitars were scrappy or whatever
my demos were like a chinese torture garden
no one coulda listened through the crud to hear the good stuff
in fact eventually i was operating in isolation
my last band baby grande
had kicked me out
and tried to sue me
and make me pay off a p.a. they were intending to keep
i was the singer n songwriter n they kicked me out
my songs were useless
my singing was useless
no gigs
we had signed a deal with emi
but they dropped us after one days recording
thats where i first met ed kuepper but he wouldnt remember
he was doing the saints up at emi at the same time
we had the same producer
any way
no one in the whole world liked what i did
my girlfriend a the time wasnt even interested
only my brother russell understood
and he was 14 or 15….
i was working in a vacuum
still i believed in myself
still i made music for myself
hundreds and hundreds of songs
i loved em n i left em
some lovely songs still in there
forever maybe to be undiscovered
but baybee
although i did not know it us such
i persevered
i was resilient
my belief in myself at a cellular level
the future whispered to me
its coming its coming
i continued to write
if you continue you usually improve
people get put off when theres no progress
i did too
but i still fucking kept on n on on
just for myself
because a real artist cant just stop
i never stopped
i wrote lyrics all day at my “job”
i read the music rags religiously
every last chart and advertisement
i memorised whole chunks of writings which
i regurgitated at appropriate moments
which impressed absolutely no one
but i kept on believing
look
never under estimate luck
in the end i got lucky
it coulda turned out
i was still sitting in a bedroom somewhere
no one ever hearing the songs i write
no one ever reading my words or seeing my art
i was lucky that circumstances finally came together for me
you can help your luck along of course
things got better for me when i moved to sydney
i didnt have ONE friend in canberra
but in sydney i started to meet all the freaks i needed
i’d meet people at the markets
theyd come round n i played em my stuff
my abstract model
insect world
chrome injury
like a ghost
it was late 79
for the first time
i had cats saying
hey man this is rough but its good!
remember what i said about not showing your stuff
to people who dont understand the genre…
if you make death metal dont play it to yer aunty flo
if you do avant garde poems dont read em to the post man
see
you gotta find an appropriate audience or get yer heart broken
so eventually
a combination of luck n perseverance paid off
of course its easy to look back on it now
and see it as such
at the time i was just so hot headed over music
then as the church started to take off
i had a magical transformation
i got skinnier and paler
my hair got longer and darker
i adopted the second hand shop psychedelia look
it was just a stab in the dark
but it had resonance
my group looked like a group
everyone could play
and when ploog arrived the puzzle was complete
nick ward had been shooting us in the foot the whole time
he had demoralized n destabilized us from the inside
plus he was a lousy drummer
he fucking carped on at me n marty all the time
when he was gone we were allowed to become ourselves
so note that well
jettison callously any ninny holding you back
i used to get kicked outta bands the whole time
and i will sack any slacker who thinks hes gonna ruin it for me
of course marty n peter n i argued all the time
but we didnt demoralize each other like nicky the murray ward did
choose your cohorts well
and then we all believed
the 4 of us
we believed vehemently and unquestioningly
we persevered thru thick n thin
we still do
just keep on going
manufacture luck as best you can
ie big cities n interesting friends
vacuums are hard places to work from
but if thats all you got
embrace that void
my isolation in canberra
(from any other groovy likeminded people)
helped me grow and get it together
a more distracting city could have distracted me
see? i turned the bad luck into good luck
accidentally
go with the accidents
go with the flow
what have you got to lose
and when ya get there
to those lofty hallowed heights
tell em kilbo sent ya!
and then hit me with yer biggest cheque
and give praise to the gods of art n music
n send me another cheque
n
keep on keeping on!