The Time Being | Steve Kilbey

barbarian quartet

the best thing about rock music is the hair

i grew up in an era of short back n sides

then the beatles rebooted mens interest in hair-dos

and rocknrollers were at the forefront of the revolution

some notable cases :

the beatles. they had every style first then moved on…..

mick jagger . what a wonderful flouncy mop of boyish hair

i love the way it jiggles in time to the music circa 1969

keith . at its best his haircut was one of the holy grails of rock dos

(tho george harrison can be seen with a proto keith circa revolver)

keiths do said fuck you to the man

it said i take drugs and lots of em

it said i play cool fuckin’ guitar….etc etc

it was a sad day for rock when keiths hair started to change….

ronnie wood . another version of keiths only more shiny black n resilient

woody still has a hair do would be the envy of most 18 year olds

rod stewart . yet another variation blonde and more rooster-like

still going strong but changed to a more “moderne” sweep

ian maclagan . yet another cool variation of above cool do.

and read his excellent book too! its the best rocknroll autobio bar dylans

now lets see

oh yes marc bolan who made curly hair cool…which was quite something..

and mickey finn his offsider in T Rex who had lovely long tresses

steve tyler n joe perry. always got something interesting happening

freddy mercury . loved his do until biker phase.

like prince valiant or something..or a page boy gone wrong.

dylan…wow hes had some amazing dos my fave is blonde on blonde

neil young circa his first couple of records ..jet black n straight

he had all the gravitas of an indian chief like geronimo or somebody

led zepplin . all had silly dos round song remains the same.

ok pageys aint too bad i guess but john paul looks like an illfitting wig

plantys mane then wild  only emphasises his debauched features now

bruce springsteen. had a great pseudo dylan do circa darkness on the edge

johnny n edgar winter. amazing snowy white long straight hair

eric carmen. how did he keep that lot aloft?

david bowie. the king of hairdos. i love every variation of ziggy and a lad insane

i really love diamond dogs

not so mad on young americans do

but love golden years hair

still has an amazing head o hair n some recent cool dos too

nick cave. too much black dye i reckon……

brett anderson . thought he had some cool dos

morrissey. never liked his look much myself

brian jones. sometimes his blonde prince val looked amazing

other times it looked amazingly kinda silly..

hendrix. wow! a real statement ! a statement of wild intent!

emily lou harris. looking very good still with steely grey hair

bono. never got it right tho larry looks good in early days

izzy stradlin. modern version of the keith but kinda cool

paul simenon. marvellous blonde punk do

ditto billy idol and neal x from ss sputnix

johnny rotten had a great do at the beginning too

mick jones too with his variation on the keith

peter gabriel . inverse mohawk circa foxtrot was the bees knees

simon kirke from free. loved his floppy blond do in early days

ditto the blonde one in the byrds who looked like brian jones

heavy metal . i hate the kinda hair do. it makes ya look like your auntie

ian curtis . it looked good , didnt it….?

patti smith. love her hair on first album cover . a brilliant do!

the rest of the psg always had good dos too

deniz tek. had a good do most of the time too

liam gallagher. a cross between rod n ronnie n keef (i guess)

the sweet. auntie hair dos again

dreadlocks. an impressive statement. the hair resembles ganja …!

anyway

write n tell me whose hair has inspired you

follicle by follicle

lean and hungry look

the nephilim who sprang from union of angel and woman

the heroes of old the giants and magicians

hammering fist and light feet

appear here appear there

here then nowhere

oh this grotesque beauty

if you can see

all these bones you find in the future

you fools they are dragon bones!

nephilim killed them all

strode this world like it was a dog

swift as a black death

harder than white winter

harder than man

moving unchecked where they will

kill without touching them

they never feel it till its too late

a thought harpoons the mind

a feint a parry a thrust without movement

such graceful killers

almost invulnerable

i wonder how this creation has gone wrong again and again

how could this have come from some pure and innocent god?

who made these sirens and slatterns that did such bewitch angels?

whence came angels could be seduced by women?

are we to imagine these things come not from some strange malice?

why were no limits put on these things?

fiery messenger

after we pay our money

we wander through the dim darkness to our seats

some music plays or is it machinery behind the walls

we sit back in silence

at first nothing

then a cavalcade of aromas

burning paper

disinfectant in schools

banana lunchbox on wet day

smell of pears soap

smell of mums christmas decorations from england

inside dads car old spice and tobacco and cold leather

chlorine in summer on the breeze

acne cream takes you back 40 years in one second

smell of the lolly shop on a warm day

smell of egg and chips

smell of custard and gooseberry tart

smell of old burnt toast smell of cornflakes

smell of long gone toothpastes

smell of brylcream and california poppy

smell of ancient suntan oils like skol…..

smell of beer smell of the pub

smell of perfume we’ve not smelt for 30 years

smell of fireworks

petrol and engines

the sea the salt the rotting weed the rock pools

smell of nauseous morning and cavalier night

the rabbits hutch

the cheap motel room

the kitchen round your friends

and then it ends slowly

the theatre fills with sweet incense

the light comes up

and we wander out again

stunned and lost in sudden found memory

mans laughter

effigy of your love

orange in the marine night as gossamer burns

watercolour all blurred

the wind is almost worn out

torn through iron balustrades

cut into pieces the spume and spray

a storm blows itself  apart

the lights in the valley glimmer on

they’re watching tv

they’re washing up

they’re sleeping

they’re dreaming weird new combinations

in nightmares of haze and struggle

in visions of naked angels

in thoughts of impossible stuff

i dissipate early

my resolve smeared on black paper

my industry strikes out

my method of operating unravels by itself

well theres the distance

well theres the green and blue hue and sea cry

well theres the suntan which is hideous in negative

cars always arriving and always leaving

i wish i lived everybody’s life

i wish i was speeding into rain

i wish i was lush and plush in a cushy car

minds are lost in the valley

dead spider suspended over the path with her tiny dead pearls

the gate is rusty and it sticks

the kitchenette on the billboard over the road …have i been there..?

in the shop the pop is flat

in the flat above the shop sits pop

my headache takes some time off in the shade

its not talking to me since i hurled it into the sea

headlong

but i’m talking to myself

that is to no one in particular

it doesn’t matter

you think it did but it doesnt

you wish it mattered because if it doesn’t matter…then what does…?

nothing

which is good and bad

duality is containable within deep minds

my shallow groove is however disrupted

only sleep can erase knowledge like magic

only sleep can wrap you in blackness

only sleep showing you all the different could have beens

and my fond regards….

no caption

the sombre drum

the incessant thud

the trees with bowed boughs

the dogs in the street slink away

the snow is filthy

the river is black

the night cold and dry

skin winces on contact

still the morning flinches from itself

a single bird in the sky

rain in dismal sheets

a chasm yawns

a child wakes in fear

the whispering festering corridors of some hospital

the smell of the healing herbs

red blood on silver metal

the emptiness of an old room

black foul smoke

the quacks nervous caution

the heat of white light

the moon outside pulsates a titanium disc

the door opens to an inner passage

the light then dims

drift away drift away

there is no swan song

a deep silence falls upon the world

and an absence is felt immediately

the burning bush

in the quick black night

a fresh cool breeze

the sibilant trees

the fox red in the forest

the lamb white against black grass

the castle with its rooks and ravens

the hotel with its chicks and wolves

the boat with its oars and hands

the street with its voices and silences

climb down mossy steps cool white

the frogs make no sound

the moon has been left all muddy

at the station a carriage perhaps

at the front desk a message

at the wedding of magic and science

at their destructive separation

audition disguises

but we are torn in two

a treacherous knave

these laughable lies

betrayal of a great champion

bellflowers trampled in royal gardens

the hounds want the fox

the crowd want the blood

the story branches off

this way dreams

that way doldrums

my heart powers the wheel that pushes these figments

my music in their veins

my ether in their earth

my theorem of creation never to be unproved

my merging of light and sound and love

my pursuit of exhaustion

i brought them velvet thunder that fell from icicle skies

i brought them delicious mayhem

i brought them the sound of empire  falling open

the morning already fled

the pack is waiting

the day ahead is long and cold and bleak

a trudge through oblivion

a walk in the park

• mr stewart holt has this to add on the matter of rampion and excelon

  • On a different topic: Perhaps I’m confusing my history but did the collaboration of Lord Rampion and Excelon ultimately threaten the fabric of space and time as (in performing what was to become their final piece) their essences merged and issues of phase and sympathetic resonance began to affect the music of the spheres and, resonating backwards through time, the very words of making? Wasn’t someone forced to make the heart-wrenching decision to stop them, shattering their fused form and sending shards across this and other worlds. I’m intrigued by whether the shards truly became the rocks perched upon by Sirens, parts of David’s harp and Joshua’s horn and the inlays of a very particular Fender bass.

    • • I’ve been thinking about Excelon and Rampion.
        in the beginning was energy vibration resonance
        the word
        resounding throughout all of the space and time it brought into being
        its sustain sustaining existence
        energy vibration resonance
        the elements of the baby’s first heart piercing cry
        of the gentle thunder rolling over distant plains
        of the crash of a rose petal and the earth colliding
        of every particle of every molecule of every celestial body
        the essence and whole of the entire symphony of the cosmos
        the musica universalis
        perfection
        safe in its incomparable incomprehensible complexity
        safe from phase cancelation by replication
        safe from the unsympathetic forces of sympathetic resonance
        unattainable and unassailable
        the collaboration of excelon and rampion
        the whole more than the sum of their arts
        perfecting reflecting
        energy vibration resonance…

rampion redux

from rampions notes

i get closer and closer all the time

the zenith algorithm

the gossamer cord that holds us here

the reason for right

the reason for wrong

i have discovered new combinations

i have stumbled upon a new pattern

during improvisation

during meditation

during composition

during love with excelon

during contemplation of ordinary things

observation of condensation

clouds which move like spirits through the skies

the intangible etheric caress of new music

music rushing into the voids of my head

music waiting patiently to be written

the exaltation of a thousand rhapsodies

the clash of huge orchestras crashing into agonising dissonance

whirlpools of reeds and strings

harp mirages in shattered shards

the ever insistent chatter of the percussion

turning to a rawer flavour

and every sound brings forth images

images of light

images of saints

images of nymphs in their nakedness

and then i see right through it all

through the flood of information

through the symbols through the masks

through the maya which distorts and mocks

through the obfuscation of matter and mind

through time through distance through memory

and there behind everything

a delicious empty place

there is nothing then suddenly there is everything

from where are these things springing….i wonder…?

so i stand back in my mind

small and tiny and hidden

the music continues to materialise

the visions continue appear

oh memories but not mine

all possible music all possible worlds

the horizon of perfection a black line of silence

then rise blazing stars stabbing glorious melody

chaos into arithmetic into energy into purest love

i reach for my piano

my fingers so white against the black notes

the room so still though humming with potential

a dome in my brain is reverberating a drone

tuning into that steadfast note

locking on to the power of that sound

then my fingers with even the barest impulse

glide across the keys i gently coax the beginning

the beginning of what…i wonder as i watch myself …?

i stop and i prepare a cup of nepenthe

i take a deep draught

and i my fingers moved in strange combinations

and in strange times

as my fingers played variations on the theme of the beginning

my head was clouded in other sound

like marbled veins of music shot through with crimson or blue

the struggle for life and more sweetness

trumpets blew down walls

lyres summoned angels

lutes invoked lush green gardens where were courtly maids

drums unleashed inferno and fleshpots

i hurl down bass

i slap on harmony roughly

i drag the music from my head screaming

i herd the trampling noises through my brain

i capture the vanguard in one suite

some things arrive intact miraculously

other things must be patched and repaired

but i realise these words are meaningless

music doesnt happen in words

music doesnt reside in pictures or glyphs

and it hurts as it comes through

it burns up as it enters my mind

then it slips smoothly soothing

then it murmurs its name

then it so warm

then it so calm

then it travels at fond speed

illuminating planes and spheres of darkness

this music i have received somehow from somewhere

and i often laugh

who knows how long has passed

one minute or one year

this feeling is sustaining and yet killing me

i am combusting on myself yet always remade

and music surrounds me like the sea

and i breathe it in

and i move on

illumination of the golden ray

(this vision has been granted to me)

in the earliest days of our earth

they say our maker loved us still

and gifts were bestowed upon humanity freely

oh he lovingly shaped the womens faces in perfection

and he gave the men grace and honour

this beautiful creator

these beautiful gods

these incredible gorgeous chances

they took certain men and women

and lavished on them all divine talents

yes half gods they almost were

because their poetry was a spell calling forth wonder

their paintings were saturated in empathy and feeling

ah but their music was unearthly

impossible to describe

compared to this

our greatest symphony would be a dog barking

our most tender ballad a scraping door

our most lively song a dull ache

2 greatest of these musicians were

excelon the singer and rampion the composer

excelon looked like a queen and truly she was

no man who heard her sing did not fall in love

for she looked like aphrodite

but she sang like the widowed isis

her words seemed written by athene herself

but her manner was artemis or kali

lord rampion was a wild dissolute genius

his music made holy statues smile and shed blissful tears

within the space of one minute

within the time of one inch

rampion would conjure the darkness the light the pathos

so poignant musicians broke down in wonder to read his scores

so simple so incredibly huge like our universe itself

then so minute so complex so fragile so interconnected

divinity flowed through his arrangements

he broke every rule and proved them simultaneously

oh his music healed the broken hearts of old soldiers

deserted children sheltered within his softest lullabyes

every nation on our earth had an anthem composed by him

there are no words to describe his stuff

marvellous seems a pale and lifeless word for his work

it was loose yet so precise like a cat taking a bird out of the sky

yes his music quicker than this then slower than forever

musicians who played his symphonies were cured of illnesses

audiences sat stunned and amazed

together they had absolutely everything

it was too much

so unbearably brilliant was their collaboration

it taxed them greatly to perform it at all

they were both subject to the ecstasies that afflict us all here

and so charged was their song

even for they were not immune themselves

can you imagine music at once chaotic yet structured like a mathematical law

inducing deep profound silent reveries a hundredfold more than opium

inducing orgasms which pierced eternity

inducing a joy that was like grief

inducing pineal to release river of DMT

inducing astral selves to rise in dream like sir percival in albion

inducing visions of unending lives

the glory of our gods manifestations as all things living

inducing therefore union in unity within a unified field

the audience transported telepathed sent

lord rampion had mystified his admirers again

oh yes the ladies swooned for rampion

not because of his handsomeness tho he was no doubt that

not for his wealth or his fame though both were seemingly endless

but rampions music spoke to them deep within

deep within a most private and sacred place

deep within where pleasure and prayer are juxtaposed like snakes

deep within each woman in a deep place only a woman could understand

there rampions orchestral thrusts and feints did most surely inflame

yes of course the men loved his music too

that is a given

but the women of those times adored his sounds

for he combined the pain of woman deeper than mens

but he included the propensity for love that guides her

greater than mans

her pleasures her punishments

yes deeper than any man had ever gone before with music

rampion delved deep in the female principle

and he found a bliss that blew his mind

and he found rivers of sensual delights unknown to man

the old ladies

the mature and fertile women

the young girls and female babes

oh all hearkened to rampions strange tune

what were his ingredients but all sounds on earth….?

the sound of a sun slipping into a sky

the sound of a thought lingering on from a dream

the sound of apollos love for ishtar the temple whore

the sound of butterflies roaring as if in vacuum

the sound of safety and warmth and trust

the sound of food and home and sweet summer rain

the sound of sand and water

the song of steel the song of war

the song of prophets the song of the drug addicts

the song of the delirious genius imploding within his own enigma

the torture of endless possibility of creating intoxicating masterpieces

with but one note….

now excelon the queen of voice was to man as rampion was to woman

well her words and the way she sang oh she played every part at once

and she had overtones of spirit

and she had undertones of creature

and yes she was more graceful than a planet

and she never sang one false note or word and could not

in every appearance she was different

shockingly unrecognisably different

how could she contain so many looks…?

people tried to imitate  but she had already transformed on

oh the men paid her song close attention

coupled ferociously with rampions music

yes her words and his music complemented the other

yes her lovely words sometimes fucked his music

and then stabbed men with their anger and shame

yes her words

and his godlike music inculcated beauty that was bewilderment

together they were titans

together they were the alpha and omega

they had everything between them

her voice which had the power to revoke impotence and sickness

the voice which resonated in brains balls and bones

the voice which whispered glimpses of godly mystery

the voice which whispered pure filth as if in abandon and rut

the voice which spoke of nirvana and mother and child and soul

and her words which were koans which were a cant which were inexplicable

in every language in no language at all

her voice and words did not promise joy

there were joy unto themselves

they alluded to nothing but wonder

yet they were intimate

each man secretly believed she addressed only him

in his heart of hearts her song blossomed as rapture

an energising stimulant a soothing painkiller

men in love with her were as mad lovers in the heat of it all

yes somehow she reached inside the mens hearts and garments

and she used her voice and her words to weave gossamer chains

and the men were then gladly bound in bondage to her glorious song

and each listened to each song in eternal astonishment at its power

and never did one grew tired not ever …..

tomorrow part 2

trank

in the hollow where its never empty

in the place of darkness

in the time set aside for a purpose

i see her come through my cold haze

i see her kneeling on the floor

i see her return and climb aboard

the white skin

mouth the red stain

the unquenchable abyss

i dive in i dive in deep

suddenly everything is potent

suddenly every caress has some hidden opposite

voices cry out in the night

in the eternal room they dine on taboos

they do all the wrong things there

everything is acting most unnaturally

in the eye of the fever is a cool calm

sin after sin after sin

hard to escape its gravity

easy to escape a pull

flesh on flesh on flesh on flesh

i am surrounded by naked women

oh how they writhe and tempt me

i feel so cruel i feel so kind

all kinds of women

stupid and brilliant

pretty and plain

i am some high up official in some government

i am a one man orgy

i bring saturnalia on a saturday night

music pounds in the distance

some divine creature kisses my back

some other morsel anoints my feet

and we kiss everyone there

tongues darting in mouths like little fish

my little fish who swim around me nibbling

my piscina is overflowing

i open my veins to the 7 winds and 4 seas

i drown in tits n ass

i go down in my dreamy way

sinking sinking away

i stop breathing at some point

ive held my breath for weeks

i bathe the infirm goddesses who are too languid to care

i undress them with my greediest fingers

tugging all along

i am hot and red and bathed in sweat

i am in a cage where i ought to be

i will be caught and eaten alive

i am just there in the still of dawn

holding on in the grey light of time

carnality so good and obvious

let us enjoy ourselves eh fellows ….?

we are not here to be monks

we are not here to be fucking namby pamby

do something properly improper if it exists

let your hands grab

let your fingers squeeze

let your eyes devour, gentlemen

let your loins be girded

and let all your christmases be white