The Time Being | Steve Kilbey

eye quack says
you damaged yer jelly my boy
50 per cent chance yer vision will always be blurry in that eye
he takes apart his model eye
and he explains how my jelly is no longer clear but clouded
clouded jelly in my eye
makes things furry my oh my
makes me curse n makes me sigh
clouded jelly in my eye
it accounts for the spots too and the snaky shadows
it accounts for the music that pours into me unbidden
it accounts for the new panther
reborn from the ashes
like a phoenix rising from a river
up from the pavement and into the stars
ad astra as my friend jules caesar used to say
this clouded jelly got me slurring n blurring my furry words
this miasma opaque
this retinal fog
this ” you mean my right eye gonna look like this?”
this its like a tinitus for the eye
a permanent blur
feel like i’m in a play
feel like the projectionist ‘as been drinkin’
feel like panicking….oh no oh no oh
feel like getting real high
like a fly
that you spy
when you die
as you pass by
on your way thru to the sky
you say “hi”
and then
“bye”
dont start me rhymin’ ha ha ha de ha
there goes old rhymin’ kilbey they say
as i dance down bondi road dressed up in my suit o’ words
and i chuck out free poems to the myriads of lil’ kids
who follow me along
chuckling with sheer delight
i come to the sea
the blue sea with my hanky on my head
like les down at bloody ‘astings just after the war
coz after all i’m a pommy bastard after all
that means a little inglish migrant kid
ashamed of my dopey pronunciation
in the land of the aussie he-men
so because of that
50 years later
a bottle of ricca donna explodes its corky
right into my jelly filled eyeball
and
COMPRESSED IT UNBEARABLY
never mind says shiva
open up yer third eye and behold
some other god said yer credit rating is
yoga vs drugs and its a one all draw
no i said crying and running distraughtly thru the doctors offices
which had turned into a dark scandinavian forest
a troll pursued me thru the firs
his breath turning to steam
run doodles i scream to my 2 kids who are there
but i cant see them clearly now
i can only see the left one not the right one
we arent the doodles….we’re the twillies….
i look closely
2 eighteen year old eye-dent-ickles
the apples of my good eye
daddy have you been drinking ? they ask
as i turn around to look for the troll
and the eye quack is there with his secretaries
thank goodness man he says
as a helicopter lowers down onto the roof
someone slips a needle into my arm
and i feel some narcotic ooze fill me with its slime
they help me into the helicopter
i’m all helpless
like clouded jelly
like blancmange all vanilla and wobbly n bobbly
i sit in my seat like a good boy
as we lift off from bondi junction
and out over clovelly and then out to the wild grey sea
from out of the sky
comes a white hot solid gold thunderbolt of lightspeed lightnin’
it penetrates our ship like marlon brandos knife thru butter
it pinpoints my eye
and it enters my head so damn slowly
my brain at last hotwired to the sky
i explode in a kind of orgasmic implosion
that sends bits of me to the far flung regions
beyond the reach of your puny languages
what do you know? i’m not mad
i’m an alien saviour with a rocknroll message
i’m a reincarnation of dante with a fender base
i’m a rhythm breaking fool with that non ending spool
the light spake to me
just like zara thruster
yeah it said
one word
it
said
ROCK!
no way i said
it cant be that easy …
but….
yet…
ROCK! the light commanded me again
will my jelly get better?
will my butter get jolly?
will i haul my decks with howls n brollies
JUST FUCKIN” ROCK spake the light
jesus de luz
jesus de luxe
jesus d christ
you see
the light was jesus
and jesus was saying
ROCK!
but whattabout my jelli jesus ..i moaned thru the cyclonic hurry-caine
do you need yer jelly to ROCK? the sun of man asked
no ….i said
but what about….
i realised i was in a hospital bed
a drip up my nose
a drip up my arm
a drip up my ankle
drip drip but never drop
my mum n dad sat there looking concerned
mum had something on a plate
it was crimson n it wobbled
its your jelly son they said
oh no i said falling backwards into anaesthesia
deep and warm tho it was i wandered in its semi oblivion
half blinded
my ears still ringing miles above on the outside
where i suddenly pushed up from the sea bed
and burst thru a silver surface
and i truly clambered into the sky
steering by the cloudy jelly like clouds
my cameras filmed away thru their vaseline lenses
i was a free spirit
i was a swimmer in a vast sparkling pool
i was surrounded by music all of it so magnificent
it would make our grandest symphony sound like a squeak
jehovah appeared in his glory
and he was like …glorious…
and angels
everywhere
olive trees
grapes
trellises flowers
new eden
lemuria
its all connected up says old jehovah
and he smiles
and i say
errr…what about my jelly jehovah
and he says
go forth and rock yer best
and come back n see me soon
i descend home with a police n angel escort
heavens devils
and i wake up
here
typing away
and still i say
what about my freaking jelly?

that night i dreamed
i dreamed i was a musician
some strange old slightly special musician
although i didnt feel special
out of favour with the times
banished from the courts
struggling through some heavin’ land
setting up in dark suspicious places
we played to the riff raff n the hoi polloi
we played to the professors and their ladies
we appeared before the kings of baltic states
we were in ballrooms and beer rooms
and we made our sound in a house of ill reproof
but a voice said
a voice in another place
a time not before or after but hyper-during
while you read this line
in that other time
things may be faster or slower depending
this voice
it told me what i should do
and it said
you must play
the fetters must be smashed
you must make your music harder and softer
the intervals must seem like chasms if you want em to
you must concentrate on every line never rushing ahead or behind
you must see each story unfold as you sing it
you must enjoy it everytime
lose yourself
forget yourself
immerse yourself
refresh yourself
can you rock like a king? the voice asked
can you rock like a snake or a lark?
can you rock like a bitch/bastard buttkickin’ whatnot?
can you be tender like the inside of a loveletter
can you be you you you you
i took my axe
someone said
hey you
when you goin’ on?
i shrugged n indicated my mates
they all shrugged n indicated me
ok i said
we strode on and the people clapped n whistled
some of em rushed down the front
some called out individual names
i ran on n plugged in
the sound of a huge mechanical bird taking flight
began to start up
my cohorts hammered at their axes
the audience moaned in surprise
as we started to achieve liftoff momentum
my instrument was a pulse
a beacon in a maelstrom of sturm und drang
the shiver of thin pieces of metal
their vibrations shortened and lengthened
a heartbeat thudded in the centre
the voice begins to tell me what to do
rock to east it says
now rock to the west
the voice goes on shouting instructions above the melee
and….

im standing there on that stage
the place now empty
a few tired people cleaning up the mess
no sounds echo round n round
someone taps me on the shoulder
c’mon man…we’re leaving now

always some new test
that golden egg
that gift horses mouth
that silver lining
that meal ticket
that loop hole
something niggling you
voices whispering reasons to be unhappy
nothing is ever enough
too much
too little
they are abstractions
they are marks in pencil on a door frame
they are the strangers who rented this house before you
they are the vague faces who will sleep in this room
when you are gone
if nothing means anything anyway
why the anxiety
why the nerves
why the ruining things as usual
i got this old car
and its being driven with the handbrake ON
needlessly
pointlessly
going round and round the circuit du jour
my ears hurt
my eyes ring
the outside world becomes harder to apprehend
blabbermouths n idiots blow it away
namby pambies and brutes all around
the wrong place
the wrong world
the wrong road round
i just wanted…
i just wanted…
i just wanted…
ah i cant remember what i wanted…
i cant remember the joy but i sure remember the pain
i live outta a suitcase
or in some seedy gaffe
i ride in a bus or a van or a cheap modern car
i furtively smoke dope and finger my calluses
i watch the names of the towns go by
i drive and ride and drive and ride
we lurch to a halt in a dive downtown
inside it smells of beer and some sweet aftershave stink
the roadies are all bored
the music is too loud
the crowd clap n go home
i drink some booze n smoke some more dope
LET IT KILL ME THEN
back to my luxury room with its railyard view
and its construction site which starts up at 8
but thats ok by then i’ll be well away
standing at the queue in subway sandwiches to get my veggie delight
and my bottle water thanks and maybe some crisps
in the van we have an argument over what music to listen to
things turn nasty when a c.d. gets reefed out n defenestrated
i have to listen to the same conversation over n over
as the mobile phones in the van pop on n off
the rain glommed onto the windshield like a viscous jelly
great gusts of wind hammer our van
but we argue on n on
into the grey day speeding away across the great plains
and the back steppes
we pull into some graveyard town where they make memorials
we pull out again and try to find the franchises
starbucks muffins crammed down a gullet
more caffeine
more calories
more dull ache in the coccyx
when i get out for a whizz
the floor seems to go on moving
we arrive late
we leave late
we go on late
and we come off late
tomorrow i’ll get woken up early
by a mistaken knock
or a mistaken ring
or by a mistaken world
trying to find me
and then
it will all happen again

eternity
man he said
thats really something
yeah
showbiz gets us fooled
the hand is quicker than the eye
some old grunter canonized
the next old moaner shunned
who deals out the dead heads hands
fickle fate anointing yer feat
(what was his feet? …about 12 inches long)
what happens now?
the rest of time
here we are now living in the present
the past and future hover like shadows
one known and unchangeable
the other unknown and in flux
the coincidences come quicker n faster as it approaches
u#23 s appreciation due to warp in cozmic material
the zeitgeist travels in a smooth wave of intent
people are everything at once these days
like a story rewritten for hollywood
life is compressed into composite characters
and the plots speed up
the whirl is whirling pretty fast now
oh cant you feel it…..
the inexorable gravity of the ellipse…?
the earth is travelling through space unmanned
following an invisible course thru the stars
our sun itself is moving with us in relativity
the planets are all just sitting there
hurtling along in their place
as if as light as a feather
powered by some unending source
time …well it warps and it woofs
this is a dream i tell you it is a dream
and the dream is turning strange
as the dreamer starts to awake
and for a brief moment
it all comes together
or it all falls away
or it becomes crystalline rush clear
you perceive the perceiver
you wake up from your dream
cant remember a single thing
so too shall these moments seem
improbable snatches from someones story
an unpublished novel of marvels
an unsung song of immense beauty
and in that moment
all others will have their moments
all the moment you can deserve
in the future we will all be dead for fifteen minutes
live now
keep trying little steven
c’mon boy its only a few more yards
you cant win from here but ya gotta finish the human race
it wasnt supposed to be easy
and you went n made it a whole lot harder
you took on a lotta fights needlessly
you swung n you feinted
you moved aside and collided with fates fist
you tried to kick the sky in the eye
but you went arse over tip
and you hurt yer hip
there is something going on
and dont forget where you read it first
whatever happens from now on i claim to have predicted
i gotta premonition gonna neeed some ammunition
yeah some wise saint in the odd testament sang that
he rode into bethlehem , ma on the back of a ford transit
strumming a uke
snorting a nasal nuke
should be made a count or duke
saint who is no saint
the spy who came in for the cold drinks
a handy man in an aesthetic jam
as we all flow over the edge of the world
and out of history
and ride the falling times
let the real life begin therefor
gimme yer hands
coz yer wonderful
beyond all belief

one borrowed afternoon
i stumbled out
to find the watercolour world
had changed to acrylic
my imagination suddenly ran dry
terrified of the white paper/red tape scenery
i couldnt see anyway out
searched around but couldnt find it
the key i needed
i was landlocked shellshocked
surrounded by the nothing
stopping at nothing
nothing doing
pain returns
a weakness at the heart of everything
time had not waited for me
nor had 1988 come back
the strings are artificial
the light stabs my bad eye
the rainfalls in buckets
everywhere i turn
i weave groggily down the street
26 dollars in my hand
feeble lemon yellow sun cracks thru the gloom
a white haze surrounding the clouds fuzzy edges
a morbid piano lesson drifts from a house
some hopeless banger murdering mozart
i take in all the details
my mansuit is ripped and torn
and everything comes in
sound and light overpowers me
i have no space left
nowhere to put this glare and this whisper
windows like mirrors reflect themselves
blocks of flats light up with silver squares
the palm trees flop in the listless scene
the conversations go on in the corners
the music creeps under the doors from its dark place
its all overexposed and flaring into white and black
i see spots that look like moths swooping in on me from the sides
i always play my cards badly even tho i have good hands
good hands but bad fingers says the piano teacher
i hear myself breathing on tape
i hear a voice neither instrument or human
i hear the absent drummer weep
the sound leaks away
the rainbow seems to collapse
the colours that make it up
swirl into a crimson brown
and drown in the clouds
a pine tree says finally !
as it looks at the ominous sky
by now i’m rolling along the road
gliding on all four intentions
and guided by internal friction
i steer by the stars homes
i press my nose up to russell crowes hedge
i pet sydney melbas hyaena
i catch a distant ocean glimpse
i go in the drawer to win a million
i fix up my own future
i postpone my death by a few more songs
i sell off ideas i aint even had yet
i walk down in the museum gardens
where its sodden
theres my main man
mr big
the dealer of destiny
the pusher of puissance
the purveyor of sensual pleasure
the powerful one
steve?
he puts out his hand
as i shake it
a little spur goes into my palm
we shake hands for a minute
when he releases me
i stagger like a workload
i stumble like a bum
i’m all over the place at once on my knees
feel better now steve? says the mainman
i hand over my twenty six euros
he grins and gives me another small jolt
a free sample of next weeks …he says
as some enchanted evening is dragged through my head
i reach for it to savour its cosiness
but its gone…
uh uh says the mainman shaking his head
and smiling sadly
gotta wait till next week
i get the airbus home
i get off at the wrong stop
lemuria terminus says the sign
that cant be right says a voice in my ear
youve gone too far says another voice
youve done it this time…
a car pulls up
excuse me…..an old womans voice
excuse me …can you tell me where blah blah street is..?
i wade over to the car
what?
can you tell me where blah blah street is?
i look at the old duck blankly
yeah lady….this is it….youre driving in it
without saying a thanky dee
the old duck cruises off in her chrysler ghost
how fuckin’ rude…says one of them voices at my ear
then it all unravels
un ravel
meaninglessness impinges
nausea just like olde satre in mount martyr
no soundtrack
no credits
no audience
no takings
the plot may get rehashed
re hashed
re hashed for another couch potentate
or whatever
sweep up the mess
turn off the lights
take the keys back
and wait for next may

youve been sinking monster
youve let go and nothing in this world can stop you
fathom after fathom
fall after fall
so greedy for bruises
so loud in my cans
let me see that again… i ask one of the techs
look there it is….he points to shape amongst other shapes
thats it…? i ask
oh thats its beginning …he says
the techs all laugh grimly
let me get some focus here….
for a while all is silent save the ping of the sonar
we glide through darkness as always
little monster where are you…..?
little monster i will find you and….
the configuration of shapes suddenly changed
the techs crowded around one particular screen
a woman tech pointed out a increasing black undulation
thats its aftermath we’re seeing …she said
as she manipulated and interpreted the data on the screen
the screen fractured with a red pulse
what was that…? i asked stunned
that was the wave form of its breath translated into a sonic event
so you breathe do you, monster?…i asked
and some of them laughed softly hesitantly
as if they didnt know if i was joking or mad
and nor did i
i decide to go it alone
after some reluctant dissuasion
i am reissued with a mansuit
and i am escorted to an exit
see you on the otherside …i say to the woman tech
she doesnt answer or smile but waits patiently for me to leave
outside the abyss is jumping
little monster you smell my blood now
you turn your huge and perfect head in my direction
you groan in the depths
it reverberates around these vaulted watery halls
so you breathe monster……the words float up to my ears
yes i breathe ….i think….yes i breathe…
i feel like i’m getting too much oxygenetically modified air
fresh air…a thought from somewhere…no fresh air
all this air breathed over and over
no room to move in my mansuit
no air thats new
how is your mansuit, monster….?
who asks this question…
i cant tell
it seems to come from within a tiny voice
it seems to bounce around the whole world down here
so you can talk , little monster…? i finally ask
oh yes i can talk…. comes the reply
just as i thought it would
a huge sound that cant be heard
a terrible voice that remains invisible
ive come to find you this time little monster….!
oh have you…?.a sneered reply from the depths
how is your mansuit monster i asked you didnt i…?
the monster made the equivalent of a soft laugh
how is your monstersuit, man……?
who is the real monster….? i said
oh how could you even ask? it answered
and then it was on me
so fast
like white lightning
i felt its aftermath first
the way the tech had seen it on the screen
a white flash behind my mansuits eyes
a white shock thats white hot
a white shot fired point blank deep inside
youre only hurting yourself !i screamed as i thrashed
no i’m hurting you …the monster whispered
my mask was leaking
my suit was torn
say goodbye to that tired old air… says the little monster
my apparatus detaches and floats away
how do you like that….? i say to myself
now i will die
no you wont die …says that voice
who me.?..i ask…who’s out there…?
oh no one …says the voice
the monster…i say
yes…?.says the voice
there was no monster
there was no ending

the dead here
the dead see
dead calm
dead of winter
out of the pink sky
in a better universe
nectarine by gb3 is number one
lovers all over the double globe
the very sound of something coming on
something strong
something washing you away
something taking you with it
that lovely reverb drenched chorus of female ahs
we come to the climactic chord
we anticipate its orgasmic thrust
a slight ostinato klunk a micro second
and then all heaven breaks loose
oh it hurts…..nectarine….sings the gb3
and the guitars fizzle n crackle n sparkle and burn out
and the music is so simple
and it hurts…nectarine
the drums pound like your runaway heart
your heart as you lash out blindly at the fruity world
you struggle in a barrel full of peaches
you swim thru a sea of honey still breathing it in
youre a big fat worm boring into the teachers apple
youre a love child of the high priestess and the gardener
electric guitars
howcome only glenn bennie can play like that
what does he do to supercharge this simple stuff with such love
gooey teenage heartbreaking love you all
now youre crushed…baby whats the rush sings the voice
and you just wanna hear that song
and they say adam sang that song to eve
and the cherubim burned and hovered
and the fruit was heavy on the vine
and phil spector appeared
shooting at his wall of sound
be my be my baby
be my little baby
as it hits the inevitable minor chord
a million superstars finger their guitars
overdosing live on stage
tripping out on that lingering distorted blast
the drums fucking pound on regardless
the bass is a regulated squirt of speed
it remains behind mopping up stragglers
the bass niggles away insistently rubbery and black
and it hurts ….nectarine…..
the song plays for the 3rd time
the parallel universe with the best taste in classic pop is vibratin’
you never close your eyes anymore when i kiss your lips
the sun aint gonna shine anymore
and it hurts….nectarine…
i hope that jehovah got my uh telegram
and ronnie spectre appears on yer tiny blacknwhite astor screen
dont worry baby everything will turn out alright
on the porch the songs have brought summer
and the kids make out in the darkness
will the wall of sound / crashes all around
heavenly shades of night are falling
i saw her standing there on blackberry way
with the leader of the pack
(down down down)
and let me be yer shelter
and the guitars travel in yer bloodstream if you really love her
and if you could only get yer hands on a guitar
youd show her
youd show everyone
voice in another song : youve forgotten the xylophone
oh yes the xylophone is always twinkling above the song
indicating the fickle incandescent nature of the lyrics crush
twinkling like dumb little stars
reminding you
somewhat obliquely of naked 1950s women in bnw mags
and some new york traffic jam
and times square in the snow in 1954
and phil in-spectre drowns george in reverb
and the drums pound away silently like may even
and the teenage moon blushes pink in the candyland sky
and the cymbals tongue kiss the vu meters into the red
and glenn bennies got all these backwards loops
and snippets of guitar all working against each other
like thoughts that go round in round in yer head
like your underground, lover
like its left you blind
and you rush rush rush rush on by
and you think
wow!
the music all turned up in brightness so thats its going into white
and adelita singing hes a thief thief thief thief
and glenns guitar burns up in our atmosphere
and its the way he plays
this man is a pop guitar genius
a creator of dazzling arty-facts
the guy from the sydney morning herald today said
the underground lovers yeah..they never did one bad track!
and everyone nods in agreement
and it hurts….nectarine
and the acoustic guitars strum away like spanish romeo
climbing up the rose bush
and the song shudders to a halt
but i just want to hear it again
its contagious
its addictive
and it hurts…..

note
not available in this universe for some time

giving off heat
my eye blurred
crash in your street
like a baby bird
yeah like a starling
like a cowling
like a white wolfe howling
a thousand little pins on that angels head
a thousand little pricks that puncture her thread
weighed down like a rock and rolling
falling out of eden
falling out of braintree lane
a white thing moves across a screen
the phone rings
a hand answers
a mouth holds on far away
a voice comes on the line
a scratching sound like rats in a ceiling
a voice from the past wheezes into life
i cant stop it from starting up
the telegraph wire stretching in the sun
the voice appears to be coming from somewhere else
a city by a sea in a faraway time
when honest bold men sailed great ships full of treasure
and women sang in the fields and
dance in the bedrooms
and the prince scaled his beloveds wall
and they sat by a tranquil pool
and the moon came along singing that song
yes it was like the sound of the tides
and the king appeared
the king of brazil
and he walked down the mountain
in a cloud of cocaine
and his feathered slaves screamed in union
and feats were performed
and time was perforated along the edge
and jesus still in the amazon with his panther
and iggy pop in his silver pants sings
soul radiation in the dead of night….
and paris judges between power intelligence and love
and no one thinks to take all three
did the goddess of love really have to bribe him?
i mean
how goodlooking do you imagine helena troy to be?
and after the war
she justa went home
like nothing happened
but it wasnt her fault
she had just been a mortal bribe
a blushing bribe
she sings to paris
you made me love you
i didnt wanna do it
i didnt wanna do it
paris sings to her
your eyes
who sees
lies ahead
your mouth
who knows
eyes ahead
and then she sings
i love paris in the moonlite
i love paris in the fall
and he sings
i know this will end in tears…
the audience are the departed
and now even they have departed
steve kilbey has left the billows
the seapool is frothy like white wine
the morning pumps like an orgone accumulator
the raindrops pitter patter thinner fatter
we test drive an old bomb and it runs outta gas
we walk miles thru the rain in anycity
the grey and smoky blackbricked walls
the hopeless noise and dust
we all look up to the sky
the king of high brazil is a golden man
he is every race combined
he gracefully waves his sceptre
and the waves stop rolling
i am the new christ …he says in esperanto
so all can clearly understand
this is the new jerusalem/babylon
indicating a gated suburb of brasilia
a brief chariot ride
we watch the beheading of a sacrifice
we climb the one thousand steps to meet
the feather legged god of death
the king of high brazil says
lets get high
and he rolls up a one million euro note
and produces a small mirror
as i snort up eternity
i catch sight of myself
my tired old beak
my long droopy ears
my poisonous fangs
my bedraggled old wings
my blunt claws
my glaring third eye
am i such a monster ? i ask
only in certain lights…says the high king
and he slaps me on the back
do you know why you called that music the blurred crusade?
he asks me as we stand on a bridge between our two worlds
no …i say shrugging my shoulders…
he continues
because what we’re fighting for not even we understand…
i see all of high brazil stretched before me
go …he says
you have always been high brazilian
i walk off into the jungle
why its….lemuria…
i turn to look at the high king
hes high by now
very very high
drunk upon his throne of love
and beautiful naked angels too
doing a neo classical dance routine
yes my son
he says
avalon
high brazil
lemuria
atlantis
lyonesse
welcome
all for the price of one
the jungle opened and admitted me
snakes purred at my feet
monkeys followed me on twitter
jesus and his mangy panther
wow!
just like they always said it would be
when i was a childe

sks 2013th reverie
inside my mind now
you have just entered my mind
these are my thoughts
this is where i keep all my memories
behind that door there are forgotten things
thats the spot i wrote disappear? twenty seven odd years ago
a still and sunny afternoon in north bondi
waiting for my glenn bennie cd to show up in afternoon mail
all those songs i’d forgotten
i will be able to appraise them with new ears
i need to sneak up on my self some times
i need to surprise myself
but i always see myself coming
(ooooooh!)
never mind
in my mind
within my mind
within my mind which is sensitive n nervous like a red setter
which is cunning and hungry like a jackal
which is cold and detached like a snake
voice in another doctors waiting room : or a retina
my mind is dark like a wolfes
my mind is deep like a swedish lake and as black near the bottom
my mind so tiny and laughably small
yet still able to contain a whole universe
my mind of which i use 10 per cent
what the fuck is that other 90 per cent doing?
how can i get in touch with that?
i feel like i’m in the bit most people DONT use
and the bit they use
is the bit i cant get at
theres something wrong with me
i dont fit in
i regret it
i relish it
but i cant relinquish it
i am a fucking freak you better believe it!
why cant i leave it all in fronta me..uh..i dunno
all my latest records…i cant listen to em anymore
someone rings up
steve….
yeah…
steve…your latest record is a frickin’ masterpiece my man
oh yeah
yeah man its like oh wow i dunno i mean fuck
yeah…
you fuckin’ done it steve-o
yeah
seriously man….
yeah
i really fuckin’ mean it man
yeah yeah sure sure
anyway youre the best man the best…
yeah thanks see ya
i rush to listen to record
i put it on
by the third bar my ears n mind have switched right off
refusing to process it
nope my mind says
next?
we dont want to hear ourselves says my creative voice
i wanna fucken hear this record screams my ego voice
i wanna unnerstand again howcome we’re so great..
no says my creative voice
youre not great…youre the problem!
anyway these 2 go on at it hammer n tack
my id wades in and gets smacked in the eye
my various personae duke it out
oh who fucking cares who you really are ? asks the hedonist voice
lets get some fuckin’ pleasure on board…
my wife goes strolling thru my mind…
the responsible voice whos trying to write this blog emerges
a door clangs closed
the curtains are drawn back
onstage its….some crazy old geezer
hes on thyroxin hes eaten too much chocolate
he s all doped up on goofballs
he staggers about with his black/red eye
his white beard
his golden tan
his red nose
his brown freckles
his yellow teef
hes like a rainbow
the film suddenly comes to an abrupt end
the lights come on in the theatre
the guy next to you is steve kilbey
c’mon he says
you can gimme a lift home
inside your new hovercraft
you zoom along the monotrack
after dropping him off at his hive
hes given me a brand new cd called damaged/controlled
which is basically him singing
and glenn bennie doing the music
and a very nice prince of pop music called tim doing sound
and ms p nihill singing on some tracks too
i will now give you my honest first impressions
track one : sunday
like euphoria coming on
swirling victorian shoegazing melodic and lazy n trippy
angel face sleep the lonely hours creep sings kilbey
why?
track 2 : i dont wanna know
one of those nasty songs where kilbey spits out a load
of smart-arse one liners
eg believing whatever i told myself n crawling all the shots
fast n furious
a bennie rocker!
track 3 :how do you glow?
i’ll never understand how a king goes down with empty hands
sings old kilbey alluding to alex the great, elvis the king
and king odysseus strugglin to get home to neo-ithaca
meanwhile glenn bennie summons up the musical equivalent
of 2 eckies and two glasses of white fizzy wine
gorgeous stuff!
track 4 : im the one
direct and straight ahead
like a rocket sled
it just travels along on its track
the futures like butter sings kilbey (not to vegan-ly)
bennie summons up velocity with his ubiquitous guitars
track 5 : damaged/controlled
a bent outta shape pop song
damaged indeed
like sigue sigue sputnik meets crimson n clover
track 6 : nectarine
amazing
incandescent
explosive
a number one in a fair universe
sung by pn but words by sk
bennies music is the sound of
a glorious aching love gone wrong
track 7 ; underneath
like a euro rocker whatever that is
track 8 : in innocence
pn sings
a frozen wintery song
a cold afternoon song
track 9 : deranged/controlled
an instrumental
all spiky fractured n electronic
yet sad n sweet too
n wordlessly poignant
track 10 : uncertainty
album goes out on a rocker!

where was i?
oh never mind!

the washed out glare of a bondi winter sky
as the last days of may truly came
my eye throbbed like a bitch
the light stabbed me and i flinched in its rays
my ears both gone
one of my eyes going going…
i jump on a bus to the eye specialist
the regular quack took one look n said
get thee to the i-specialist
my eye is flashing and furry and fuzzy
it looks real weird like a lemurian shamans eye
the eye doctors preps to measures n prods my eye (ouch)
i get my pupils opened right up
i read a terrible story in waiting room
how we fucked the murray valley
cut down 16 billion trees
nice work
seems trees attract rainfall
well whattya know
yet
one still feels so sorry for the farmers left
stranded by the lands sudden frigidity
the great murray river has been diverted to a standstill
its stagnant and toxic and all because…..
because theres too many of us
and we’re greedy
and we’re humans
and we’re human
and we really think the earths resources are infinite
that the murray river could never run dry
no matter how much was taken out
finally
its all fucked up
for everybody
rare red gum trees suddenly dying out
wow
a sobering tale and close to home
did you know the sahara was once a rainforest?
trees attract rain…..dont cut another one down please
not in the amazon….ah but theyll keep going
till theyre all gone
just like the indians said we would
till the last fish
till the last tree
till the last buffalo
……..
mr kilbey
the i-doc summons me in
peers into my fucked eye
seems my ocular jelly took a bit o compressing
or whatever
gotta go back next week
see if i have torn my retina
you dont wanna go blind on yer tour says i-quack
come back next week..maybe ya need a laser….
and if you feel a grey shadow coming on
then call me immediately……!
ok?
i walk back from the junction
my eyes sensitive to all the lights
photophobia
jesus the onstage lights would be murder
hope this goes away before tour!
my eyelid a lovely scarlet purple
sk