thetimebeing | The Time Being | Steve Kilbey

coming a long nice lee

***************************** ****************************** ****************************** **************************** ******************************** ***************************** ******************************** ******************************** ********************************* *************************** ***************************** ********************************** ********************************** working on the new album in botany nsw strange mixture of old new in botany warm humid rainy days thunder rumbling down the end of a small street in a warehouse a great big studio there we write and record our new album the church is an idea an ideal a type of music to make a mixture a combination the idea almost has such solidity it could be franchised in the end its the music i am committed to making this kind of music this kind of music i began writing oh so long ago inspired by my heroes and other outside things i formed an idea which i have developed on my own and then with others a certain kind of lyrics a certain kind of feeling i was able to pinpoint and exclude what i didnt like from my band after all these years there is that identifiable sound there are those qualities you like : intelligence originality tradition yes the eternal pull between originality and tradition we turn the chord progressions on their head but it still has to rock, right..? do weird things with the lyrics but dont lose meaning! rock but dont rock in a dumb way if it must be dumb than be dumber than anyone else yet dont be clever for clevers sake too often our new record is coming along nicely you will like it we are mining the rich vein of past and future we aim for some impossible excellence further deeper we are making headway further deeper questioning our assumptions trying to get to somewhere upstream we go over each aspect of the songs the time, the tempo, the key, the notes within each chord the […]

red november

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working on the new album

in botany nsw

strange mixture of old new in botany

warm humid rainy days thunder rumbling

down the end of a small street in a warehouse

a great big studio

there we write and record our new album

the church is an idea

an ideal

a type of music to make

a mixture a combination

the idea almost has such solidity it could be franchised

in the end its the music

i am committed to making this kind of music

this kind of music i began writing oh so long ago

inspired by my heroes and other outside things

i formed an idea which i have developed on my own and then with others

a certain kind of lyrics

a certain kind of feeling

i was able to pinpoint and exclude what i didnt like from my band

after all these years there is that identifiable sound

there are those qualities you like : intelligence originality tradition

yes the eternal pull between originality and tradition

we turn the chord progressions on their head but it still has to rock, right..?

do weird things with the lyrics but dont lose meaning!

rock but dont rock in a dumb way

if it must be dumb than be dumber than anyone else

yet dont be clever for clevers sake too often

our new record is coming along nicely

The Heavenly Reverberations of the church’s “Under the Milky Way”

Longtime church fan and music writer Rob Caldwell has penned a great retrospective called “The Heavenly Reverberations of the Church’s ‘Under the Milky Way’”. In it, he writes… “I was witness to a slightly surreal event recently when I attended the weekly Corktown Ukulele Jam in Toronto. There were about 80 ukuleles all strumming the chords to the Church’s 1988 hit “Under the Milky Way”, with as many voices singing it. What did they do when it was time for the bagpipe solo?” Read the full article here: The Heavenly Reverberations of the Church’s ‘Under the Milky Way’

Longtime church fan and music writer Rob Caldwell has penned a great retrospective called “The Heavenly Reverberations of the Church’s ‘Under the Milky Way'”.

In it, he writes… “I was witness to a slightly surreal event recently when I attended the weekly Corktown Ukulele Jam in Toronto. There were about 80 ukuleles all strumming the chords to the Church’s 1988 hit “Under the Milky Way”, with as many voices singing it. What did they do when it was time for the bagpipe solo?”

Read the full article here: The Heavenly Reverberations of the Church’s ‘Under the Milky Way’

hard at it

i heard a voice like a snake i saw a face like a swan i move in diagonal space you can’t see when I’m gone i treat my self to a beer i treat myself to a meal i eat that romany soup i seat myself by your heel i call you up in a fog i tear you up like a dog in my machine you are cog in my house by the sea and then the oranges peel and then the strippers show up and then the guy with the deal we must put up with this wheel and as i reach into space and as i launch my next word the lever leave her in place receiver is never heard

slow dazzle

i heard a voice like a snake

i saw a face like a swan

i move in diagonal space

you can’t see when I’m gone

i treat my self to a beer

i treat myself to a meal

i eat that romany soup

i seat myself by your heel

i call you up in a fog

i tear you up like a dog

in my machine you are cog

in my house by the sea

and then the oranges peel

and then the strippers show up

and then the guy with the deal

we must put up with this wheel

and as i reach into space

and as i launch my next word

the lever leave her in place

receiver is never heard

feverish

domination boot goes in empire fall on deaf eerie silent crashed out of space the new technology : i am altered the moon is unafraid out there alone the forest in collision the flying pines fill the sky above us fish unleashed from the water sing in the air the sunsets rays interpenetrate the surface of a maze on certain days or by phases of the moon soon time will come with the hum of machinery and in the void of nothingness every creature has a soul that must evolve in solvency the wicked who bickered while rome burnt learnt to lessen more the wise king by the river a giver of peace killed by his own police i walk a world where war underscores the law it opens door for vulture and his whore, lil death galore i’m playing this game and i’m shooting them down the freak and the victim and the beggar and clown i launch a flaming spear that burns through the night a spirit doth whisper in my tiny ear the language of dispossession i hear in the freezing mornings still to come i cant run anymore the hills have been conquered i’m irradiated by my flowing screen by something so unseen no maybe this is real this time i cant tell i cant wait to tell you you organize a bunch of press but they pressed my buttons to my chess the gun you gave me sprouting daisy and the wrong address lazy

yellow peril

domination
boot goes in
empire fall on deaf eerie silent
crashed out of space
the new technology : i am altered
the moon is unafraid out there alone
the forest in collision
the flying pines fill the sky above us
fish unleashed from the water sing in the air
the sunsets rays interpenetrate the surface of a maze
on certain days or by phases of the moon soon time will come
with the hum of machinery and in the void of nothingness
every creature has a soul that must evolve in solvency
the wicked who bickered while rome burnt learnt to lessen more
the wise king by the river a giver of peace killed by his own police
i walk a world where war underscores the law
it opens door for vulture and his whore, lil death galore
i’m playing this game and i’m shooting them down
the freak and the victim and the beggar and clown
i launch a flaming spear that burns through the night
a spirit doth whisper in my tiny ear
the language of dispossession i hear
in the freezing mornings still to come
i cant run anymore the hills have been conquered
i’m irradiated by my flowing screen by something so unseen
no maybe this is real this time i cant tell
i cant wait to tell you
you organize a bunch of press
but they pressed my buttons to my chess
the gun you gave me sprouting daisy
and the wrong address
lazy

diminuendo

the violent rasp of the cello the mounting terror of violins fill the sky the cluster and buster of mighty drum the beating throbbing host of heavenly ghosts stabbing pain of holy lance the spear of every fear inside the mind of a madman with crumbs inside the facade when some strange darkness comes on another plane strapped to the wreckage i shoot thru your night when everyone as asleep i blaze away in light when everybody dream i forced into the sight when the warm bed reclaims you in blissful slumber i alone trek into the sun i alone when morningstar is done i alone amongst these jagged peaks and the frames of ballets the cast iron soul of greysky in the bluest day when all fairyfloss drops have silently crashed at your feet and the mightiest oak creeks in disbelief as the wind and rain unroot themselves from outside your brain and the whirling high branch comes clapping down again across the seas antarctica patiently waits as everything thaws and reopens closed up gates not gone under we were frozen over not gone under we were frozen over melting now to meet you

crescendo wand

the violent rasp of the cello

the mounting terror of violins fill the sky

the cluster and buster of mighty drum

the beating throbbing host of heavenly ghosts

stabbing pain of holy lance the spear of every fear

inside the mind of a madman with crumbs

inside the facade when some strange darkness comes

on another plane strapped to the wreckage i shoot thru your night

when everyone as asleep i blaze away in light

when everybody dream i forced into the sight

when the warm bed reclaims you in blissful slumber

i alone trek into the sun

i alone when morningstar is done

i alone amongst these jagged peaks and the frames of ballets

the cast iron soul of greysky in the bluest day

when all fairyfloss drops have silently crashed at your feet

and the mightiest oak creeks in disbelief

as the wind and rain unroot themselves from outside your brain

and the whirling high branch comes clapping down again

across the seas antarctica patiently waits

as everything thaws and reopens closed up gates

not gone under we were frozen over

melting now to meet you

what is art 2

now i exist in the margins a word where there is no word my human surface is so thin i feel angel and beast deep within i feel god and devil duking it out with each colossal clout i tell ya honey they aint fucking about i see good and bad yet i’m not even handed i rush in an angel with no brains i pick up my paintbrush and apply the lacquer to a world worlds of songs collide within the chasm of my second a violin dreams its themes of loss in my seemingly endless crane-eon i am the weirdest cat yet straight as a dice or snakes eyes twice i am a search for my inklings all escaped from my old head art is my little black cat asleep on a mat but inside he dreams of a picasso mouse with gaughin tongue he thinks to me : i, your familiar spirit ..what shall i do? i must be madder still the day replies in blue cerulean blue the day will say something like goodbye in its way in its way are the dead who will not flinch or pray in its way are the peace freak soldiering on i am the vessel of emptiness and satisfaction i reflect echoes of everything we ever said i am adam in the sea of rivers who can see eve i am understanding yet you stand over me i have given you nothing …nothing you didnt need i am not unique each time i peek theres another me each time i peak i pick up my pastel and seek art look i make it look easy white for winter and old mans beard green for jealousy and pacific […]

i manifest evil koala

now

i exist in the margins

a word where there is no word

my human surface is so thin i feel angel and beast deep within

i feel god and devil duking it out with each colossal clout

i tell ya honey they aint fucking about

i see good and bad yet i’m not even handed

i rush in an angel with no brains

i pick up my paintbrush and apply the lacquer to a world

worlds of songs collide within the chasm of my second

a violin dreams its themes of loss in my seemingly endless crane-eon

i am the weirdest cat yet straight as a dice or snakes eyes twice

i am a search for my inklings all escaped from my old head

art is my little black cat asleep on a mat

but inside he dreams of a picasso mouse with gaughin tongue

he thinks to me : i, your familiar spirit ..what shall i do?

i must be madder still the day replies in blue cerulean blue

the day will say something like goodbye in its way

in its way are the dead who will not flinch or pray

in its way are the peace freak soldiering on

i am the vessel of emptiness and satisfaction

i reflect echoes of everything we ever said

i am adam in the sea of rivers who can see eve

i am understanding yet you stand over me

i have given you nothing …nothing you didnt need

i am not unique each time i peek theres another me

each time i peak i pick up my pastel and seek art

look i make it look easy

white for winter and old mans beard

green for jealousy and pacific ocean

yellow for gold for saint stevens halo and aurora home low

scarlet for fever and daughter and sunset on water

black because everything comes out of the dark

grey for matter and mind over matter

blue for my eyes my skies

and the day everybody dies

further sooner

blessed earth accept this rain i’m walking through your hemisphere where every step is dagger sharp everyone come back again this dream is ending this book has closed this part we playing oh so long in darkest night we travellers in distance find me falling through a song then somebody said lets let go a voice in another room or from another world somebody else said double happy ending suddenly i thought their just pretending then mercury had ascent over venus and priestess and fool followed both of the kings and everything sloshed down with wight whine sweetie thats just the shadow daylight brings seacrest crescent is blurred in a mist the first time the clouds and stars are missing i’m just a man in this queue for a clue still wondering what to do

mystery tramp

blessed earth accept this rain

i’m walking through your hemisphere

where every step is dagger sharp

everyone come back again

this dream is ending this book has closed

this part we playing oh so long

in darkest night we travellers in distance

find me falling through a song

then somebody said lets let go

a voice in another room or from another world

somebody else said double happy ending

suddenly i thought their just pretending

then mercury had ascent over venus

and priestess and fool followed both of the kings

and everything sloshed down with wight whine

sweetie thats just the shadow daylight brings

seacrest crescent is blurred in a mist

the first time the clouds and stars are missing

i’m just a man in this queue for a clue

still wondering what to do

what is art?

art i dunno how ya found me i was sitting here in the hall of bright carvings i was waiting for a 441 bus to take me back to 1982 i was mentioned in a show somebody’s mother saw i was on the phone with grant mclennan and with lou reed and with kevin ayers i was falling in a dream that i was sitting in a chair i was painting pictures that really told a story i sold my soul for a big advance and a shot at the crown i waltzed out there and fucked up the moon for myself i nailed up the comet tailed galaxy in an embassy in the woods man a city imploded in my head and i fed the stars to a wolf the delirious sky begun to fry in my little eye n i sigh the wolf was a prince and the prince was a dog and the dog was a wolf the world was alone it had no friends wait until this planet ends i hear the voice of a lonely snake awaken in winter i feel the charming disarming drug of choice in hinterland on tour man the sea is black as ink n i disappear as i sink in it woman you stained me blue as woad on the road i blink in it stupid life i groan and i grown steven make sure answer phone steven make sure methadone steven make sure seed is sown i call a number sorry disturb the slumber i mumble my grumbling nonapology its different time here the minutes within it go fast past at last we reach the final line and even though that wasnt it its a fine line its fine

902221_10151932961768120_1878856131_o art

i dunno how ya found me

i was sitting here in the hall of bright carvings

i was waiting for a 441 bus to take me back to 1982

i was mentioned in a show somebody’s mother saw

i was on the phone with grant mclennan

and with lou reed and with kevin ayers

i was falling in a dream that i was sitting in a chair

i was painting pictures that really told a story

i sold my soul for a big advance and a shot at the crown

i waltzed out there and fucked up the moon for myself

i nailed up the comet tailed galaxy in an embassy in the woods

man a city imploded in my head and i fed the stars to a wolf

the delirious sky begun to fry in my little eye n i sigh

the wolf was a prince and the prince was a dog and the dog was a wolf

the world was alone it had no friends

wait until this planet ends

i hear the voice of a lonely snake awaken in winter

i feel the charming disarming drug of choice in hinterland on tour

man the sea is black as ink n i disappear as i sink in it

woman you stained me blue as woad on the road i blink in it

stupid life i groan and i grown

steven make sure answer phone

steven make sure methadone

steven make sure seed is sown

i call a number sorry disturb the slumber

i mumble my grumbling nonapology

its different time here the minutes within it go fast past

at last we reach the final line

and even though that wasnt it

its a fine line

its fine

mechanicals

the wild october saturday night is black in the sea the deep echo of other times the memory of people long gone away the rolling waves still cast the spell the salty air is full of dreams full of unrequited love the tongues of evening all talked out the fork in the road where every one parts in interim lives interweaving all stories improbability builds up coincidences are stunning the night is a mill throwing everything out the night is a robber cloaked in its own darkness the night is a surgeon opening your chest the night is an actor pretending to die on a stage the night is a fool and it urges you on the night comes over and has a beer with you the night you remember the night you forgot its saturday night and everything is quiet again the sea hitting the shore the wind in the trees somewhere this and that are happening overdosed youth and quarrelling mob somewhere the traffic screams to a halt idiots sloshing down booze and dropping E strangers fuck in a hotel or in a bedroom at a party hoarse shouts of boys and screams of girls i am immune the sea rolls in again a christmas beetle buzzes round and round the screen glows ears ring eyes ache my work here is nearly done

cathedral by the sea

the wild october saturday night is black in the sea

the deep echo of other times

the memory of people long gone away

the rolling waves still cast the spell

the salty air is full of dreams

full of unrequited love

the tongues of evening all talked out

the fork in the road where every one parts

in interim lives

interweaving all stories

improbability builds up

coincidences are stunning

the night is a mill throwing everything out

the night is a robber cloaked in its own darkness

the night is a surgeon opening your chest

the night is an actor pretending to die on a stage

the night is a fool and it urges you on

the night comes over and has a beer with you

the night you remember the night you forgot

its saturday night and everything is quiet again

the sea hitting the shore the wind in the trees

somewhere this and that are happening

overdosed youth and quarrelling mob

somewhere the traffic screams to a halt

idiots sloshing down booze and dropping E

strangers fuck in a hotel or in a bedroom at a party

hoarse shouts of boys and screams of girls

i am immune

the sea rolls in again

a christmas beetle buzzes round and round

the screen glows

ears ring

eyes ache

my work here is nearly done

octal map

invoke some nameless force to aid me a shrewd muse or two or good excuse a voice to guide us through a dreaming angel of the spirit who has known man flesh the templed night under star fields on crepe black paper take away the stone encased head i said was mine so long ago the mirage-like empty oases where lions drank the jagged clauses in a life story by the blind visionary in between these rude rocks and penthouse step west on the shore point neptune boulevard and its magic ice cream shops that melt in the sun the speargun i bought to nail leviathan now in pawn and straining the guitar i had strummed drummed out of its case refraining the program i access without immediate success thank you god bless the jammed station i inherit devoid of almost any merit i digress before oblivion staggered along in a numb days haze man gathering flock like a storm of malchicks in styx anglais black melody of white blues i choose not to listen i lose my light but lo it doth glisten fastening on to flame those who were burned are returned the drowning desert the thirsty sea they then are no home to me but voted spokesman for the void i am currently employed so i speak i speak of wordless matters like the insect dreaming in cocoon the arc of a comet i once saw as a child the way god strings me along with bits and with pieces the first blush of shell at oceans dawn mist the second the sun with its radiance kiss the third on the billowing waves of green ice a deep glacial crack all through the merchandise the earth beyond us is alive and sentient in spades her great spirit […]

october in flume

invoke some nameless force to aid me

a shrewd muse or two or good excuse

a voice to guide us through

a dreaming angel of the spirit who has known man flesh

the templed night under star fields on crepe black paper

take away the stone encased head i said was mine so long ago

the mirage-like empty oases where lions drank

the jagged clauses in a life story by the blind visionary

in between these rude rocks and penthouse step

west on the shore point

neptune boulevard and its magic ice cream shops that melt in the sun

the speargun i bought to nail leviathan now in pawn and straining

the guitar i had strummed drummed out of its case refraining

the program i access without immediate success thank you god bless

the jammed station i inherit devoid of almost any merit i digress

before oblivion staggered along in a numb days haze

man gathering flock like a storm of malchicks in styx anglais

black melody of white blues i choose not to listen

i lose my light but lo it doth glisten

fastening on to flame those who were burned are returned

the drowning desert the thirsty sea they then are no home to me

but voted spokesman for the void i am currently employed

so i speak

i speak of wordless matters

like the insect dreaming in cocoon

the arc of a comet i once saw as a child

the way god strings me along with bits and with pieces

the first blush of shell at oceans dawn mist

the second the sun with its radiance kiss

the third on the billowing waves of green ice

a deep glacial crack all through the merchandise

the earth beyond us is alive and sentient in spades

her great spirit consort dominates the evenings in certain glades

but now ive got to catch a plane…..now this note fades