i made this joke up last nite
for my kidss
why couldnt the pony sing?
because she was a little hoarse
i expect a sesame st guest spot
can only be seconds away…
chruch bouys had emselves a little i/view
yessaday
xcept monsieur peter k
who is, of course
now a resident
of the tropics
we woz interviewed by a frenchman
who is part of fete de le music
or fete de la music
whichever fucking gender music is in french
(is inglish the only lang without gender, benders?)
(by the whey, germans got 3: masc, fem and bloody neutered)
anyhow
l’idea, mes bon bons is
to have one day all round the worlde
when music is going everywhere
live
and FREE
so when i get there
to martys fabulous gaff
in the swanky eastern suburbs
(on foot, sk owns no car)
i am so hot
drenched in sweat
its like a hundred outside
the sun irradiating skin cancer
with every mote
humidity is totally wet
humility: none
ect. ect.
so when i get there
i look like a lobster
that jumped into a swimming pool
in his clothes and gaucho hat
(how gauche can a gaucho go, my amigos)
marty says
have a cold shower
theres steam coming off me
i stand under tepidly cold water for 10 minutes
not the way i normally start a filmed i/vu
i come out
a little refreshed
martys got this hanging down jingly things
on the windows emitting a very pleasant tinkle
in the meagre breeze…
uh oh yon frenchman who wants music everywhere for free
does not
however
want any music in the background now
the windows must be shut
temperyture in roomy goes up a hundred degrees
(at least!)
now
he switches on his bank
of formidable (pronounce it a la frog) lights
its a blazing inferno
mah pore sweat pores gush
i cannot believe this heat
we talk to this dude for TWO hours
the guy says
what got you hooked on music
i remember day in 65 riding my bikey
in the space between the houses
with a childhood companion or two
when we hear a sound
we ride closer to the sauce of the sound
coming from a little grey brick house
which was exactly the same as all the others
now
we heard this sound before
but never like this
not so viscerally loud
immanent
all around in the air
it was a teenage rock band
i’d never heard an actual electrick guitar before
id never felt the kick of a bass drum in the guts
or the metaalic hiss of cymbals in mah ears
and there
in a chair
sitting down to play
is a guy holding a big olde basse gittar
and that sound hes making is making
me
feel real funny
manifest destiny is too grandiose my chickens
but i says to my young self
heres somethin’ for you someday
but even more
i was struck by the beautiful insides of the guitar cases
which were open
plush velvety crimsons and royal blues
course, im watching all this
hanging on to a splintery fence
trying to keep my head over the top
ah another of them pivotal momes, ya see?
then we talk about another time
we had a band
me and some other blokes all about 18 or 19
i wrote most of the songs
but i was the bass player
there was a guy who was sposed to have been the singer
there was a guitarist and a drummer
the drummer was a very pretty boy
but not much chop at drums
the guitarist was actually great
he was only bout 17 at the time
he later lost a finger in a motorbike accident
but he could still rock, my brothers
anyway our band turns up at gig
at some youth hall
and “singer” says im not singin’
we say why not?
he says he dont wanna and plus
theres a bunch of furious bullies
out in audience
enraged that presumptuous insects like us
should have the sheer fucken gall
to dream
that we could have a band
so singer minces off to obscurity
guitarist davey y says
kilbee you gotta sing man
you wrote all those stupid words..
you know em
you fucking gotta sing em now boyo
but ya know what
i really knew this moment was coming
somewhere inside my self
after a little persuasion
we go on
im singing and playing ye olde basse
at the same time
for the first time
not as easy as i thought
my hands got minds of their own
the words are getting mixed up with the fingers
im trying to sing the bass guitar melody
and play the lyrics
i would love to hear how we sounded
i had dyed red hair and played a black les paul(copy)
i had on some clothes
someone from my mums work
had made for me in satin
i was as skinny as a rake
i had to run around in the shower to get wet
my songs
were totally ridiculous glam workouts
with rude and silly lyrics:
how come you never do the jet fin rock
how come you never give me a shock
or there was
youre starting to make me ill
youre starting to shake me, jill….
yeah bet that had shakespeare rollin in his gravy..,
actually maybe
just maybe
there are some certain pea brains
who might go for some of my olde stuff
god
there is so much olde stuff to milk
if only 1973 would come back….
any way my fiendish ones
i guess that about wraps this bloggy up
a bit a reminiscing
a little bit of a ranty
a bit o humour
and a great genius
with a big heart
(no
im only fuckin kiddin ya)
i love you all
so
so
so much
sk