The Time Being | Steve Kilbey

anglo-saxon archetype

our four fathers further off

some brilliant ancestor with limed twigs

the history of world upon world

some other man now breaks through out of me

leaving his memories behind in this mind

a shattered mirror of impressions

a dark secret controlling almost everything

a schema for encoding response

a mistrust of measurement

a void of marine desert

a ceremony inverted in on itself meaning an opposite

my fingers curl round black nails

my wolf teeth my sloth claws

my hide beaten from silvered skin

man hunts man in the red dawn of prehistories inconclusive spats

names change meanings fade

the gods in all their forms and equivalents

and  demons set free by the ruthless twin pursuits of  buy and sell

we are shoeless in one eden

we are refused service in the next

our allusions are detached

our delusions are attached

tomorrow : more except not as good

l'etranger

i just got home from new zealand

my impressions

physically new zealand is a gorgeous country

it is quite unlike australia in its topography and its flora n fauna

we started off in auckland which was last time my best place

this time i have ricky and the hoffmen with me

we have some guitar tuning issues but the gig is quite well attended

the crowd are very kind and generous

but my 12string tuning issue causes us to lose momentum

and everyones a little bit disappointed

wellington is an incredible little city

its weird and cool and remote and all that

not such a big crowd

we play ok they dig it ok

its ok

our accommodation is very good tho’

next night is dunedin

we fly there in a little prop plane…

gee it makes me nervous tho……

dunedin is the smallest coolest city ever

its got more rockstars coming from there

than you can shake a stick at…..

the gig is only moderately attended but the crowd and the band “go off”

wow good on ya dunedin…..

then we drive to christchurch

i thought christchurch an austere place last time

it seemed harder and sadder than the rest of nz

this was just my narrow personal impression in 2007

after the earthquake the lovely people are showing resilience

folks this place has been hit real hard and a lot of this town came down

there are fucking broken buildings everywhere and rubble and cordoned off bits

some scenes of desolation move me to tears i must say

oh i feel for this city and its terrible battering

anyway

our gig was moved to a kinda awful venue in the suburbs

it was completely unsuitable

als bar where we were gonna play was still not earthquake damage approved

the gig is not helped by the fact that our lovely promoter kurt

accidentally gets us lost on the way and we show up an hour late

an hour late on a sunday nite at 11 30

no dressing room

the lights stay on in the house all night (its horrible)

the people are very nice

but the gig never takes off

about halfway thru a bloke about my own age

and a decent looking enough geeza

tells me

ive been a fan for forty years but this is the worst thing ive ever seen…!

and walks out along with a few others

it was probably the worst gig of my life

i wanted to disappear i really did

the next day in napier was a totally different story

an incredible little sea side city

re-done after 1933 earthquake in art deco

the venue is fabulous

the manager is a fan …he used to sing electric lash…

we dont have a huge crowd

but fuck they like to rock

we let our hair down n we really play well

adrian n shaun hoffmann are just getting better n better

ricky can always turn it on

(in christchurch he kept saying

“i like this…its like we’re in a dream….”)

i’m good if conditions are in my favour

but i just cant fight the good fight no more

i dont wanna struggle in some place against all odds

i just wanna play to the converted…ok…?

i dont wanna try n win any body over now…

i had my days at the front

i really like kurt our promoter

i hate to see him losing money putting us on

and he does lose a bit….

the people in nz are very cool

they really are

they dont give a fuck about what anyone thinks or showbiz routines

they are real

you better be good if you want their applause

we had a good time

we sold some david neil records

we saw some amazing sights

we had some fucking laughs

we had a few arguments too

it was cold in some places  but not too bad

and christchurch….the damage……

the spirit of its people however will prevail i believe

some protestant scottish stoicism…i dunno

ok thats it i guess

hi matt hi tony and ladies

hi rickys retinue of pretty girls

hi simon in dunedin ..you were very nice man

hi paul lightfinger how are you old son?

a lady in a cab in wellington didnt charge me cos i was lost

the lady in dunedin who gave me the flint

oh so many nice people

i dunno if i’ll be back on my own

maybe the church will finally come back

thats it!

bye

a dolls house

that hotel corridor

the static electricity and the hair on your suit stands on end

which door leads to that

a hundred guitars you played

as you playing the song over and over

as you scream and glide through every tonight

on the bus in the darkness the road sings not far from your head

at the party a blonde held your hand who smelt of distant storm

in houston on a rooftop as a lightning struck

and you were running through a vineyard in the rain

and it was summer in western australia and the rain was warm

and you ate grapes with a roadie marvelling at their deliciousness

and you were in some town in winter hurtling through ice to a gig

and you were singing and signing and eating your lunch

you were young and old

you were going mad

you were breaking down

you were exhausted

running along

down a basement in asbury park playing in a bar

afterwards in a huge lonely dark hotel it was quiet

man the dips and the flips

getting on a train to seattle all loaded on the track

in vienna in a garden drinking orange juice

in italy i rode on the back of some dusky girls vespa

in london i sat in a cab glumly searching for smack

in eden i was digging some cool snaky jazz on my apple man

in paris nobody cared and nor did i

i was on my own with this big big band

i rocked and i rolled it was slow and fast

bam bam boom boom i learnt my bass

i heard the drum and go boom bam boom in time

years later i playing in some big industrial town

we got lost coming in an argument ensued

when i got to the gig i had eaten some hash

i guess someone gave it to me in spain

or maybe amsterdam i was down in this lane

and in hamburg the guy on the desk said what do you need

he opened his coat he had everything

but the lights were too bright

the musics so loud

im drowning in crowd

im going under

i wave my arms

its alright

its showbiz

you gotta keep your eye on the prize

dont ya?

this is not me

1 the commissioned song idea with martin kennedy is going exactly to plan

martin is a prolific composer knocking out instrumental music

all his music has that sound he has that makes him unique

he does simple elegant music with the implication of spacious luxury

hes got his modus operandi

and hes quietly confidant that it will reveal results

the music he brought to our saturday session was exactly as i imagined

everything working with an arithmetic feeling like a sleek machine

so fucking inspiring and easy to work with

everything where i expect it to be for singing over

hes already written most of the 13 pieces so far commissioned

the lyrics could be the tricky bit

so far we have done subjects i never envisaged

1 was a type of inspiring spiritual song

2 was a sad but uplifting song for a guy in germany who lost a dear relative

3 was a fathers 60th birthday

4 was for a pair of cats

5 was for a sister from another  sister

6 was for a pair of cats

7 was for 2 children from a parent

at first glance this seems like a tough list

i did have a few crises of faith

but in the end i felt confidant that every song stood on its own

even if you didnt know anything at all the reasons for its existence

many great artists and musicians have been commissioned

i see no shame in it in any respect

kennedy and i are pretty good at what we do

we never make garish gaudy noisy discordant ugly rackets

we do austerity and ambience and atmospherica

for a relatively small sum of money we offer you our services

we are artisans and we  bring love and pride to our work

we guarantee it will be top shelf …..that should be understood

if you like what we did on our 2 records

i assure you  that your song will be in that league

imagine having your very own song that actually is cool

i am hoping martin will be putting up snippets soon

maybe you think im bullshitting you

ok yes

it was an experiment in the beginning

but now i am so sure we can deliver on our promise

let us write a song for you

2 now have the completed isidore record in my possession

its called “life somewhere else”

jeffrey has outdone himself as per usual

existing almost as a polar opposite of martin kennedy

cains music is twisting bursting sometimes baroque or rococo or somethin’

fuck what a champion record we have done here caino

talk about pulling out all the stops

huge areas pull into focus and narrow down hard

things zoom out and youre free

things get weird and just hang there

in the middle in record are two weird songs

its a kind of modernist psychedelica

in the background another universe often threatens to break through

voices sounds fragments snatches of conversations

and unidentifiable electric sounds busy fizzing and popping

and falling past like white comets leaving trails of tinkly bits

the chord progressions in some songs would do neil finn proud

you know like those ones the beatles did which blew yer mind

melody and strangeness exist in equal amounts

caino takes anything from anywhere

traditional 3/4s to stomping electro glitter

and sad songs and thoughtful songs

and songs that are beautiful but not much else

my lyrics and my singing are good

i think they are more than good but i’ll let you deicide

more info on that coming soon you freaks who really need to get that

if you liked the first this one is like that only more wigged out

its a real good record with real good songs

i am lucky to work with all these wonderful collaborators over the years

each of them gifted in their own unique and special ways

i could just do everything on my own

in fact soon i am going to do a few records on my own

but here are the excellent results of collaborations

and it makes me happy to have done this stuff

i believe my listeners will be most(ly) impressed

an actor out on loan

my oh my the time overtaken me

i walk down this corridor but no one to awaken me

i walk down this hallway

the daylight hath forsaken me

my nineteen daughters look like their mothers

standing at a ceremony in a quiet suburban afternoon

i have taken leave of my sense of absence

when are you here but not here….?

now i see them more and more  though only fleetingly

i hear their voices in the murmur of my head

i temper folly with more folly

and still more to come

i am alive in the most twilit glade

i am living

in the twisted wirelike tendrils that probe your innermost gardens

and in the hastily assembled data that proves some nebulous thing

i sang about this on narcosis plus and lo not one paid heed

i sang about this on remindlessness and behold not an ear was prick

so i am here alone….. surely the quarantine is over

my fingers writhe to finish it

my limbs ache so do my wings

we are playing for laughs now my friends

yeah and the feeling that music could always manifest somehow

the sky is a lonely place

lonelier than minus seven

who could dwell there long….?

think of me instead as if you had seen me in your mirror

think of me as if you had never thought of me before

think of me when you see a mist rising after the rain

and if  you see your dearest love

beyond a wall of fire

i can change all of this but i wont

we abide by the physical rules until no longer applicable

when we escape velocity itself so fast we are at a standstill

when white suddenly is black

and on suddenly off

the hidden great underlying cause is revealed

in no uncertain nor certain terms

but even as i type it out seduced by futility

why anyone can see that english language aint what it used to be

i slip off quietly and no one has noticed

i found the door open

i simply stepped outside

the sentimental bloke

i never learn

muse : he never learns

my trusty cupboard is all empty

my ashtray gone astray

thats australia for you

thats the world with its molten interior

thats how birds fly i guess….all them feathers…..

dont want to be rich but i wouldnt mind the money

i’d buy some decent friends with integrity

i cannot imagine  death for the life of me

the fire engines rush about in the rain

the rain not playing by northern hemisphere

it enters from left and right and straight on not just above

who then is this?

the archetype of the clown who cries in the rain so his tears unseen

i let sydney drown in its storm

i could could help it no longer

it slipped from my grasp

i only held onto it by an inch

all those skyscraping mirrored towers that stick thru the grey

come crashing around

a million naked strangers flung from their uprooted hotels

the fish and the frogs were a’falling thru that air

my hook into the mainframe

my lance unto these conundrums and foibles

my hammer upon the swiftest bolt

my steed ridden sandalwood my steed ridden snow

in a haphazard way  in crookedness follow

well i incubate anger in every thought

and every deed like this storm

the monstrous waves are mine

i hurl them towards the great gates at the palace

i sent those tentacles groping out of the surf

your mother earth

your father time

your sister a moon who fell out of a sea

branches crash down in the park

bark and splinter and crack

i’m not rushing into delay

urgent hesitation

the palms amuse me lashed by the storm as they are

they seem to dance egyptian in the deluge

waving their bloody great fronds about

i let sydney drown to save myself

i warm myself on the flames of a civilisation gone up

i run away down the teaming parades

where the white lady waited for me

presiding over winters in july that went on

like an evangelist inside his head

and more true than not

these then are the days which have escaped

microsleep

in the morning i awake over and over

dreams fall from me like streaming drops

i rise up and up  from my winterbed

into a pale and delicate sky that has no colour at all

before birth after death

each voice that said something unto me deeply

well every word used up like a wish

whispered fragments remain trapped in echo

snapped in two

times crust breaks as present moves away from past

the chasm of now

headlong into tomorrow unable to slow down for one second even

we all fall and fall

freezing and burning

something so important is happening too obvious to see it

my hammered head beaten flat and then into a mask

my shoulders which bear this weight of all possible worlds

my bones splinter like a glacier under the sun

my stomach empty like my mind

my hands which must belong to some other man

my jaw aching from silence

my rampant ego shaking the bars of his cage

my bemused muse hiding somewhere in side

each cloud contains endless lonelinesses

life hurtles along recklessly wrong and wrecked

the good stuff the bad stuff

i exist within the narrow margin of the broad picture

the active ingredients from an inert carrier

in touch with my inner child  hes a little bastard

in touch with my inner woman  shes a real bitch

in touch with my inner brute and hes gung ho like genghis khan

but meanwhile the earth careens unguided around our star ablaze

no one knows how it got here or where we’re going

no one knows why either

and thats because the explanation is beyond us/within us

and science says think this and religion says think that

a poet says be this and a pope says be that

and morning follows evening follows me home

cold silver rain and all

my bizarre life walks alongside forcing me to have perspective

there are a million things i need to know

but i must only know them in the right order

king must come after queen but ace can follow a king or two

its no good to get your epsilon before your delta honey

sweet omega must remain as the final word

i travel inside the guise of man but i am afraid of him

i seem like a person but i seem to me like i’m really something else

we offered you love ….someone sighs in the dark….

you see its all been a dreadful dreadful mistake!

i start up suddenly but strong hands restrain me

no hurry no rush says the quiet sad voice

but still something forces me through against my will

have i gone and died ….?

i appeal to whatever is out there

whatever it was that cared enough to create us all out of nothingness

i know it is something so incredibly minuscule  or so impossibly gigantic

our understanding of it reduced to words meaning nearly nothing

like everywhere at once and nowhere at all

only its implication can be really understood

me…. i’m a chip off some other old block

a cosmic ugly duckling swanning around these parts

you dont love me because im brilliant

you dont love me because im strange

you dont love me just because im older than all the  hills put together

no

so life is like that isnt it?

….whats that?

yeah whatever

whatever you like

(mutters under ‘is breath)

fuck……!

clark kent

i write this because i can

i revel in possibility

my rolls royce mind not quite running on all barrels

boy tho i have been lucky

i stop to consider the others who fell by the west wayside

dont think ive forgotten their glories and obscurities

i myself stumbled thru it all and accidentally got this far

no hero no villain

in my own head at a concert

or by the side of the blackest nordic lake

i still stop to consider all those disappeared into time

the past swallows the dead

the living surf the present

the future holds the unborn

why do we die ?

why does love die ?

oh everything dies childe even these great cities

so change into something strange

a night template

a visit from your lover

my limbs feel carved from some unknown metal

i am pulled along as if by magnetism

i will prevail mildly like a faded head shot

when life goes wrong it may happen suddenly

the things you say now will seem so faraway

as you flash to the whitest light

one drink one pill one swerve one fall

and even as we plummet each pseudo-abyss

we hold in our heads hearts an image of a god or goddess

apollo the christ

aphrodite the virgin

zeus-amon god of hosts

athene the mother of god

no yonder temple can ascertain the truth

the world whirls love and beauty

hatred and ugliness as necessary shadows

revere the ancient jazz

the rest is mist before a great wind

in a deep dark winter

morningside immaculate

the dapple of sealight

the birds in cloudland oh so far below

see the sea let it be itself

and sandflows and duning

thump thumpy thump says ocean

my old heart aches in some hotel

in some room i have forgotten

oh my tears are pearls on the black mat of forgetting

my memory is empty and full

the gulls on the shiny-shore

greywaves pounds down on fish who never fly

worldsend without a warmcoat

my wildhair in this whirlingwind

i remember  thundershot and lightningblast

i stand upon the cliffpeak so gaunt so cold

imagine thermopylae imagine the somme

the same instant murmur from a gathering crowd

the push of delinquent orpheus’ lyre

as eurydice follows behind in her trance

the shudder of crete as the minotaur is born

and aphrodite ripped screaming out of her shell

monkeys in syria vibrating like demons

the arch mesosaur in the surface of dream

i plunge like a swan behind velvetcurtains

i am moss amongst reed

i am swoop amidst glide

dismal observation of my enemy

time and all that money i lost playing poker

a hooded end a falconers death

the hook the barb

the savage beak that tears and rends

the wonder of agony as we breakthrough into newday

hark a voice in my wildernesses

the musk of may

fair as she maybe

the intrepid rapids of melting snows

some night i think i dye and it will be black

oh promise

you will bring me back

wandering ponderer

in my new zealand oh the mountainsides so fucking green

we successfully resist the outside idiocy

we dont frankly care what great britain or the united states says or does

we are here in this safe place

we are at peace with the world and ourselves

we are a southern hemisphere skandanavia

this integrity you envy will never be bought

some beautiful volcanic paradise place

i wander to the beach sometimes attended by laughing maori girls

singing some beautiful song i am too old and too new to understand

they dance and move through nature

as i merely walk

women of warriors i must look so strange to you

they laugh

all men are strange to us…

the water is cold and i feel great fish and whales in the green depths

i travel in the footsteps of nature

i meet the locals

the men are fierce and handsome

the women are elusive and smiling

i have these beautiful tattoos i am yet to decipher

the story of a people and the islands they came from

the journeys the battles the betrayals the cruelties the endurance

we remain defiant

truth maybe means a bit more here

yeah we’re old fashioned we still dont mind a bit of truth

yeah in my new zealand where shayne carter is the prime minister

and things are sharp and wryly in focus

the pm said fuck all that bullshit

my new zealand does exactly what it wants to….we earned that right…

the cabinet is the bats and the chills and bailter space and the verlaines

and that amazing guy who was the best david bowie other than the real one

aleister or something or other

and in my new zealand where dragon are all alive again

yeah scented gardens for the blind

take me to the april sun in christchurch

north island south island  i’m everywhere

forests and marshes and valleys and crags

the snow and the sea and the rocks and the sky

walking along singing my song in my new zealand