The Time Being | Steve Kilbey

same photo different night

Further/Deeper is coming y’all and it’ll bee sooner rather than later

damn right i make no apologies to no nomad no man no mad man no anyone

remember this

this is the only universe we got here

this is the church now

this is our your church who fucking cares

four guys got together and did this from scratch

theres always been four guys

sometimes one of the four guys changes

nothing can remain stable or static or in stasis forever

one guy left and another comes in

we lose what the first guy had which was incredible

we gain what the second guy has which is incredible

musicians jamming with each other

digging the cool sounds they laying down on pro fucking tools or whatever

hey we’re cooking up something here

sighs of relief all around

further and deeper into the music we are making

we get on a cosmic roll

words fall out of the sky into my head

ian and peter always working away at stuff

ian very keen to play always guitar in hand

tim: wallop bam boom crash hows that, chap? he says

we love what we do and we do what we love

a lotta love like all the rest

we realise people disappointed cos MWP not there

he literally never got back to us when we wanted to do a new record

he never even left

he just became unavailable

well thats that

we had a coalition of the willing who did

and ian came onboard

exceeding all expectations one could possibly have

what we have now is all that could have ever been

forget the what ifs

i understand you may be disappointed if MWP was your favourite

it was not my idea for him to not be there

however seeing he wasnt and he isnt

shortly therefore

and in spades to boot

Further/Deeper will be with you soon if you want

after all its only rocknroll nothing to get hung about

rocknroll forever

rocknroll for ever

rock and roll forever

music munch

outside the rain falls on glass buddhas and wall gardens

inside your coastal poet in a house alone

in the flash of a brilliant mind snapped a shot

a shot of single malt music steeped in a vault of laughing noble gases

this is all the present you will ever get doomed to be here and now

then then and gone

music what is music but the underwater song of the wrong man

my guitar suddenly so heavy

a staggering of the voices that emanate from me

ten million electronic tricks have rendered me powerful and mysterious

the emptiness of those words i invoked revoked of all head strength

my fingers which pluck at strings learnt their tricks inside out

my limitless clip of beat

my brave danger face as i negotiate a minor seventh on a hallucinated steinway

my dancer and accomplice the woman Imogen Gestalt

here is my song in one word : believe it

but it will take a whole Lp

as i sing you to your sweetest sleep tonight

oh devotees you have waited long for the soul of music

in shadows on rue de sentimental you sat at cafes singing along

at my gig at the sorbonne i recast myself as a genie

the theatre was torn down by the elements themselves

i sit in no judgement with my axe and my murmuring voices

the simple task falls upon me to slay you in song

outside the spring rain fell tho we were bored with looking at it

then the sound of a million mellotron krsna flutes ten leagues away

the erupting beat of earth orbiting sun orbiting star orbiting itself some huge unnameable thing

suddenly i focus in on the track with the 12 string singing its unison part as in mission

the things you never think about as you doubletrack an echo

a catalogue of events laid out in sound pleasing for some reason

this is my music month i bleed crotchets i vomit up symphonies in shards

oh i ooze opera with swooping portamento contralto i congeal

among the rocks i find a baby groovin’ moses gonna rock old pharaohs saunters

yeah honey rock n roll and levitation and plagues of saxophones

yeah the bash beat of acid jelly roll over back banging gong ringing song im sure singing

do you deserve to serve great Set the groovy serpent god who coils in yon tree..?

maybe a spell in the darkness of obscurity

maybe a well and from it

you can drink

purity

silked screen

whispers on blank tape captured in ether

tapped out in remorse code the beat of the disconsolate

drumming up a storm little tempestuous stick work

the play of the rain on the roof of my tent

the floorboards creek out a song of the riverman

my sudden white spring revelation echoing on out over the lake

lizards groove towards my outstretched fingers that stroke the fenderneck

old pastmaster old boomer ringing rang on and on

i singing that song song song song song song song

thats the one you fell over love and cracked your mackerel

now i know how to say i no sing anymore four square floorshow

some little backstage hitch bitched a widescreen ride

some little phrase she plays on her recorder unleaching disorder

some frantic mantle on her kindle wood the forest standstill

inside the hut the buttons of an accordion in discordant grunt

the tempting sound of a refrain refraining to reprise

i understand such things as these

double life

double doable life

marble clad rome

hard drive over my heart

cold green pool i plunge in past the shock

glide still pumping round inside my skull

what a great gig friday night was !

glide were/are such a good band

where would william be now if he was still here..?

my ears ring on and on

the church are rehearsing right now for gig on weekend at bulimba

a smallish festval in Qld, isnt it, i think

the new album coming so soon now

bits and pieces may start appearing when we have the word

meanwhile i paint i sing i spend time with the doodles and the woofle

i drove a guys sporty car that had a cd player that actually worked

and the only cd at hand was painkiller so i pumped that on long lonely drive

fuck theres some good numbers on there! tim deserves much credit too!

its a good record. perhaps my best solo album

i was amazed i was playing all that stuff myself except drums and radio sounds

yesterday the mere bass was proving troublesome

after the church aint played since 1 and a half years ago

things werent quite picking up as naturally for my fingers as i thought

i’m getting old and forgetful

i’m getting better and more honed in

but more absent minded

as my mind devotes all its computing power to artistic pursuits

it has no room for remembering where the keys and where the glasses are

or the phone and plethora of cards and bullshit you gotta have

i met a guy from fiji last night at rehearsals

he was standing outside watching me like a hawk

as i rolled and smoked some organic gippsland weed

i walked over to him

he was very happy to partake of the herb

he plays in a fijian band that play at fijian gigs in sydney

a whole other world

fijian reggae

him a big black young bloke

me a puny white old geeza

united by the weed and by our love of music

awww! dontcha just love this shit, people?!

in yoga i get a transmission from the universe

but ah translation in to english kilbey speak may render it stupid

we cannot realise the concept of that we call god

god is much more than our tiny minds can possibly dig

god (as we must call him tho i dont like this term)

communicates with each person in their own self

although he may not be heeded

the evidence of his existence is existence itself

this finely tuned and brilliant earth

god does not authorise persecution and killing in gods name

god authorises only mercy and compassion and knowledge

however this is an obstacle course to negotiate

we will come back time after time as we learn everything we need to know

eventually within eternity it will all become clear

it is gods grace to appear in a personalised form i imagine

as christ as krsna as buddha 

tho the universe that communicated with me

was just sudden warm thoughts as i stood in garudasana and tree pose

the idea of 2 warring deities using humans as pawns is preposterous 

not worthy of consideration

so too the idea of the accidental earth fallen together into perfection by itself

yeah my songs write themselves too

just like the birds singing outside in the rain got here by accident

there is something so wonderfully large and warm out there

we are not alone

throw away your scriptures they are misleading if interpreted literally

god is within us 

our world our humanity has slowly cut us off from feeling this warmth

our schools our wars our money

our hatred and anger screams so loud

it drowns out the warmth in our hearts

the warmth favours no country no man no era

like the sky it is above and beyond taking sides 

the words in books are mens words subject to all mens faults and lies

the warmth in the heart is ineffable 

it does not compose rules or impose punishments

that is a human thing to do 

not for god/warmth

karma exists as does maya as does gravity

all you can do is love ad forgive and be honest and kind

look and you will see god everywhere if you want to

let it blow your mind

you are imperishable spirit dressed in temporary flesh

rejoice!

this is the truth as i felt it

this is my truth only

but this truth is the indisputable truth to me

tasmanian deville

well i do always say i lead a weird old life

and i truly fucking do

last wednesday i fly down to hobart

where i am doing a cameo role in macbeth 1040

(no sunshine , that aint his postcode!)

i stay with actor gerard w alias dr spork

dr spork bends spoons and forks into jewellery

hes also playing macduff in macbeth

he also has some very fast ancient sports car

and because we’re sitting low to the ground

it feels like we are doing a thousand miles an hour

as we rocket round hobart smoking some primo sporkish mixture

me saying “slow the fuck down Spork!”

well the next day there is mild mannered genius director Brian Dimmick

he is so deep into the film

he is almost oblivious to whatever is going on outside his concentration

his dedication and belief and faith are fucking awe inspiring

with almost no budget

with everyone working on deferred payment

that is if it ever makes any money then they (we) will be paid

quite frankly brian dimmick is a guy i would work for for nothing

his vision

his insistence on historical accuracy

his perseverance and resilience

almost without any outside financial help

and now this film is all wrapped up

i simply cannot wait to start doing the music again

(i have already done first 20 minute)

so i got dressed up as the green man

and i crowned macbeth in his nightmare

we filmed in a cold sunlit glade with smoke and steam wisping about

when the cameras rolled there was a palpable feeling of…something eerie

this is one hell of a movie and i cant wait for you all to see it

the next day i visited brian at his house

cluttered and full of spears and shields and decapitated heads

we do a little greenscreen work with my antlers back on

the next day i visited the fabled MONA museum

museum of old and new art

an eccentric billionaire who made his money gambling

has built this gigantic multi floored museum in a picturesque spot

on paper i was gonna love the place

everyone told me i would

but i’m sorry

and not trying to be iconoclastic either

and disagreeing with all the many people who think MONA is amazing

to me it felt like

an eccentric billionaire had built a museum and filled it with random strange stuff

now that should be good in kilbeys world , right?

i would have thought so too

now i will use a phrase that i actually hate

MONA had absolutely no emotional resonance with me whatsoever

that is no criticism of MONA

but i was baffled with myself because i just didnt like it there at all

it was kind of nightmarish to me

just loads of weird sometimes powerful objects in huge rooms

rooms you could play a game of footy and still have room

there was apparently a room dedicated to human excretia

which i somehow mercifully missed

there was a “starbucks” coffee shop that wasnt actually a starbucks

but it was a good counterfeit of one

i dont know but the premise of that escaped me

although the soy latte was good

in the end i preferred to sit outside looking at the view

trying to decide whats wrong with me because i didnt like MONA

it fact i couldnt fucking stand it with all its overlapping musics and sounds

and all the lights going on and off

and its fucking interactive doodah…who wants to fuck around with that?

whats wrong with me? ungrateful sod!

is it i who is the philistine ?

or is MONA simply a huge concrete museum full of weird stuff

provided by an eccentric billionaire

i mean good on him for doing it but…

it just aint that easy..

on the other hand i guess it is

because 99 per cent of folks rave about it

and crabby grumpy old kilbey just couldnt dig it!

i think the eccentric billionaire should hire me actually

i could be at least one of the aesthetic advisers i think he needs

at least to appeal to some jumped up self styled cognoscenti ponce like myself

so MONA gets a big question ? from me

then my third strange experience

back at sporks having a smoke

he puts on a doco about Sunbury from 1974(?)

one of australias first ever big outdoor festivals a la woodstock

what a fucking dismal awful carry on

hot and dry and dusty

we have the obligatory nude swimming

but because this is australia we dont actually see many naughty bits

eg the bosom shots are tastefully side on so we dont see the nips

so all these fucking people came to see a bunch of australias top bands

one band piranha is just like santana complete with drum solo

only mike shrieve this drummer aint!

the wild cherries plod through some 12 bar sludge

then the big moment

a guy called billy thorpe who was huge at the time

its 1974 and theres bowie and roxy and all this stuff out there

but here in australia we got thorpie doing be bop a lula

and oop poop a dooh

or however the fuck that old warhorse is spelt

the crowd who must be on some serious bad acid and cheap booze

are going nuts over these hoary old 12 bar 1950s stodge standards

it is truly excruciatingly awful as thorpie takes solo after solo

while the band plod away

look i love my aussie music and i aint no cultural cringer

but this 40 year old document of australian rock is dismal

max merrit is pretty good in his own ragged kind of way

but the music is so old fashioned

so stuck in some boogie woogie past

skyhooks and a load of other bands were just around the corner

but this sunbury video is strange and weird and yes almost nightmarish

i’m confused

is it just me?

there is so much stuff out there that people seem to love

which i seem to hate

and vice versa

meanwhile i am becoming more obsessed with glide

and trying to learn their strange weird but good songs

i think about william out there somewhere

i was obviously a bit of an influence on him

its there not so disguised in some lyrics

other influences too

but the fucking man was a contender

the first bar of the first song we are doing

has more originality and beauty than all of sunbury put together

i dunno william is like shelley or byron if they were rockers

in another universe glide would have been massive

in a universe populated by steve kilbeys

who demand the kind of fucking music that glide deliver

the juxtaposition of noise and beauty

the juxtaposition of good and evil

songs that make you sit up and go wow!

the band has lost none of its power at rehearsal

the basslines are fucking awesome

the guitars were intricate and driving

the only question is

can kilbey cut the mustard and do these songs the justice they deserve

william i know youre out there

give us a fucking hand son

these songs are tricky to sing

but i know

if i can get it right

it will be one of the best things you have ever seen me do

see you thursday night then

kilbey

back in rainy bondi

as the creditors close inexorably in!

yellow period

gouache should be applied at the consistency of cream

all the music up till now is only a tiny fraction of what is left unwritten

if richard dawkins is the best atheist they got heaven help em

try to always turn off the battery to your noise cancellation headphones

everyone is a contender

everyone is an idiot

my daughters all astound me

a nameless anxiety takes up residence in my stomach

a yoga session and half a valium slightly mitigate this pressure

the secret transmission of yoga has begun

my ears and eyes are shot and its no fun

i go to rehearsal with glide and the songs are excellent

20 years on the songs of williams shine on n on

tricky weird idiosyncratic words

impression of S and M then sudden spiritual insights

cruelty and mercy within one line

william found spaces in music and ways of singing

no one had ever thought of before

except maybe shayne carter from straitjacket fits

its mean and tender at the same time

how do you fucking pull that off?

well thats what william could do

this is gonna be a couple of great shows

this music has not dated one minute

songs you can get your teeth into

meanwhile bondi is rainy

i work on art

pick scarlet up from school

she is such a little compliment giver

when i was a kid i’d feel sudden rushes of love for my dad too

this happens occasionally to scarlet

she squeezes my hand and says kind things to me

and gushes her appreciation of the way i discharge my fatherly duties

she is not a ray of light every day tho please dont think that

lately the child has begun to really fascinate me

she runs deep and true and she has access to something special and indefinable

tomorrow is a stint in hobart for macbeth

a bit of everything in that cold city way down south

pastel is a lovely art form

there is something so cool about it altho you mightnt think it

pastel has become my bass

and gouache my guitar

so i paint and i write music still on rapid learning curve ball

fuck its fun to be me ha ha ha

but i wouldnt know anything different, would i?

anyway gratitude to the one true god of my understanding is due

hare krsna !

dead bees still sting

far arching shore of my heaven

soon i will be sucked into the sky

a shell whispered to me on the forlorn afternoon

scarlet and i walked and talked

this otherworldly child god has rolled into my arms

placed under my protection

scarlet and i eat potato cakes

she is a child from another century

her heart on her sleeve and her steve

her pale blue eyes look into your head searching for irony and sarcasm

she says i love you dad at random and sometimes inappropriate moments

she talks quietly and slowly with a slightly adenoidal twang

like a cartoon character

we sit together

the old father

the young daughter

my arm round her shoulder

we are friends

an honour and privilege to have a kid like this

the sea is calm

i play some buddhist chanting

scarlet says

dad this music makes me feel calm

she plays quietly for a while in the courtyard

until its time to come inside

the child is a blessing

i am filled with gratitude

mo jo

spring has come to sydney in the middle of winter

my life is stranger than most strangers

a long time ago in another universe

i was a junky

and every day a very good friend of mine

who was also a junky would pick me up in her VW

and we would make the long drive out to cabramatta in sydneys west

where in the mid nineties there was very good heroin to be had cheap

my friend was a musician and we drove out there which usually took an hour

and on the way out we were sick and twitching

we arrive and she always waits in the car while i duck up the stairs

up to a karaoke place but no one up there is fucking singing

theres a guy at the door

hes got half a gram of smack in a 150 buck wrapper

you can have as many as you like

the stuff comes straight from vietnam presumably

its fucking deadly good

it was killing people

man you bought your stuff and you fucked off quick

these cats selling it are hard faced bastards

jump in the car

we drive to this weird remote kinda park thing in the middle of nowhere

and me and my friend would hit up our sweet poison and the mood would change

everything looked so refreshed in the light of that fix

as we drive home we are relaxed and loquacious

drive so politely and within all the laws to the tee

this happens day in day out for a long time

on our drives out there and back

we chart the courses of other junky musicians

my friend has all the latest goss on whos using the stuff

at the same time i came across these records by glide which really impressed me

glide were chucked in with shoegazer but in fact they were much more than that

they were around mid nineties

hell they even did a gig with us

william approached me

its an honour to be playing with you he said and shook my hand

i think i told him how much i liked glide

and how good it was to have them playing with us

i listened a lot to a record called shuffle off to buffalo

it was no surprise when my friend began to mention williams name

on our daily pilgrimage to sydneys heroin mecca

the music somehow suggested as much in some subtle way

only a junky would understand

a lot of shoegazer is perfect heroin music

anyway glide really had something going for them

before william who was the singer and mainman went and overdosed

one day when she picked me up

my friend said

william died . he OD ed

i sat there feeling sick and worn out and sad

my first impression was to envy him

that he had found some warm safe haven in the embrace of an opiate overdose

this would not be an unpleasant way to die

youd go out on a carpet of dreams

obviously my thinking was warped twisted and totally fucked up

but in the end i just shrugged

another victim of her-o-in

i imagined i’d probably be coming along pretty soon myself

i didnt care

life as a junky was a half-life as Karin used to say

my impression of william arthur is that he had some real fucking talent

these songs anticipate a lot of what was to come

he was an audacious witty poignant writer

the band play with impressive fury and restraint

the guitars often sound orchestral and ambiguous

anyway

i am having the pleasure of singing 7 songs at a glide night

vanguard newt-town 21 and 22 of august

one day i wrote a song about those days

and its called keeper

the speed seems to have slowed me down

we talk about william from glide

the names of the towns go past

im driving on the wrong side

another shot

and the land of light was peel back and reveal

as the brooks rush down into the the thirsty sea

as the cloudiest baby zephyr still within eos

invoke then the solemnity you needed

fiddling around with buttons and diodes

man you hammer on and off

some constraining angel harkens to your tune

you persist beyond death

you increase within time

just when they were gonna give up

hit and blindsided and run

some chick took off her pants in a strobe

while you sucked on the cola betel hula hooper

you hoovered up a line of prose straight up your little nose

you cried poor at the door of in-laws as the snow thaws

flying in the face of shredded decencies

you vacillated between the grotesque and obscene

holding third or forth on the life of some queen

under the blankets the best darkness i never seen

the trembling is still upon me or is it writhe in remorse

i hurl the chasms frame over my name

switch on for the next game

ive got babylon sister what about you?

a tremendous feeling of smugness and superiority crushed by a feather

gliding i pull alongside you

i decelerate to enter the intimately lit space

the eyes in your face

the solar panic flare of the cameras flash reflect off your lenses

forming your past in regrettable future tenses

inside my chest my heart must still beat

although i am virtually hidden to the world

in an arcane inn where i winter in austerity

my conscience pricked by thorny problems

i paint away at my lathe bathed in sweet sweat

in yoga asanas i am receiving a confidential transmission

but the years have their hooks in me

the days and their barbituate ways going under again

down by the transparent sea where you can see anything

i whirl upon the shells in my rubbery wetsuit thrusting shoals aside

i embark upon the lilting underwater trees of the coral corridor

i am knight of spades a real conquistador

my theatre of war amour

the residue still on the balcony

blue ray

when the electric strike hits the sky vein

and explodes in the earths head like a whiteness opaque

this whole reeling planet is circumambulating a little son

if you took just one minute to look under the rivers hood

and search the pockets of a woodland strip

hipped to the waste of blue max alpine air

lake redolent ripples away and away in water coloured waves

the owl busted the mouse falling out of heaven in dread beating wings

and art nouveau frog left croaking on a dying tree

their reflections are the shadows of other days other times

when i lived as another faraway in some painting

oh yes a lovely world slipped out from vishnus gorgeous pores

as he dreams in the causal ocean

and from him emanate baby universes like this one you hold in your hands

from the great unnamed event that has at least one thousand names

as scientists get nearer to god in a queue outside a bank

they begin to approach him in wonder

with their little measuring sticks and their little gauges

like ants who argue over weighing the moon

the guys in suits who say only war will save us

but blessed are the peacemakers

i looked before i hesitated

and i leapt before i was lost

my words are some mere distraction

from the horrors around you

it was a real pleasure

to feel you read me today