posted on October 8, 2006 at 6:27 am

we were pretty good
my oh my
thank you brisbane
that was more like it
you made my day
the audience completed the loop
enhancing and redirecting back at us
our own attempt
at measuring the feeling
o tivoli what an ideal place for the chrunch to play
such a lovely mild brisbane night
backstage i paced a la le panther mangey
my fingers curl n uncurl
people talk to me
and somewhere miles out there
some drone in autopilot
answers along the party lines
my eyes are not fixed
they wander
my mind is swimming
as i spot check my memory
see if i can remember the second verse to this song
see if i can remember the double e minors in that song
but that too at a superficial level
under are more mes
one me is excited to fever pitch
another me is calm n collected
another me imagines the doodles in bed
and the twillies in sweden..what time is it there now?
i meet some people
one guy
he had fraternal twin daughters born same day n year
as les doodles
one dark, one blonde
just like them too
so jus’ remember folks
you think that yer unique
and yes yes
you are
but there are other people out there
with the same goodnbad things happnin’ to them
azacktly the same as you
anyway eventually we go on
right in the middle of a george harrison song
cos i was jus’ too impayshent to wait my fiendss
like waiting for the dentist
like waiting for some thing delicious
going on that stage
thats a whole trip in itself
have you got the balls?
i stride on pick up the bass
im playing ye olde telecaster guitar in firstsong
start plucking the chord
pete starts the piano
(actually on the record its the reverse
i do piano, he does guitar)
timbo comes in
the drums are like the sound of an armys bootheels
hitting the resounding ground
mwps crow wah-wah starts up
its all sounding good in my in-ears
its gonna be a magical night
after that point
i dont remember
some geezer called something out nice
another geezer called out something nasty
people vainly screamed out for songs
they hoped for
but somehow must have known we would not play
the band played very very well
thats all really
thats my review
its hard to review it and do it too
im in my own world up there
just like getting out of your tree
strapping on some 2 thousand dollar headphones
putting some very loud spacerock on
and jamming along on yer air guitah
except that you actually are doing a bit of the music yerself
its easy
its hard
its great
its disappointing
its exciting
its boring
its a whirlpool of emotions
whirling out into unremembered places
something has changed tho
something is streamlined
something keeps us in the sky
flying for another day
back to my room
the open windows stream in the blue air
the curtains move gently in the breeze
i then had to get up early today at 6 am
drive to heiroport
fly home w/ all argy-bargy associated with that
but now im here
had a picnic in glebe
weathers turning sultry
i bet the trees love to sway around in the wind
looks like thyre dancing
but who has seen the wind?
the palms out the back grope blindly
in the torrents of air
the sky now grey getting greyer all the time being
on aeroplane home listened to low spark of high heeled boys
r.i.p. jim capaldi
drummer n co-songwriter
tell me if ya think this is a brilliant couplet..
the percentage yer paying is too hi priced
and yer living beyond all yer means
and the man in the suit has bought a new car
on the profit hes made on yer dreams
and today ya just swear that that man was shot dead
by a gun that didnt make any noise
but it wasnt a bullet that laid him to rest
was the low spark of hi heeled boys
and the whole thing just grooves along o so nicely
it came out in a weird lp cover too
with the corners cut off
n a 3D effect thing
the next album had a cover like that too
but i dont think its quite as good
steve winwood a beautiful soulfull o voice
piano just drips out n glides
distorted organ
a guy from africa rebop kwaku something
(r.i.p. him too)
playing some extra in the groove percussive stuff
this is my ideas ground when i think about percussion actually
a cat called chris wood on winds (r.i.p. on drugs)
rick grech a fluid n mellifluous bass player
therese 4 bona fido true classics on this disc my fiendss
its essential in my universe
tho its influences may be hard to detect
or maybe never really had the wherewithal
to play this kinda jazzy thing
what a group!
now my body is sick of typing at this blogge!
a nasty electric feeling nerve is shooting up my leg
the glasses perched on my almost perfect nose
they make my olde eyesache
my fingers which can pull bass strings for 2+hours
wither as i tickle the lapptop for too long
my head weighs a hundred weight on my swanlike neck
my shoulders droop with gravity not gravitas
being onstage is like shooting a cocktail of the best stuff there is
but ya gotta gotta xcept the comedown
(cue in music)
when its good
you really are higher than the sun
and that aint the fleur de lis talkin, mister
its a privelege to explore these realms n thoughts
for you/with you
i didnt fucking write my songs for no reason
its all starting to come back to me
its all beginning to fade away
we’ll probably never get to the bottom of all this
just diggin’ n delvin’
in side yer sweet head, childe
where the darkness holds sway
and the light that could blind you
burns in your sacred heart
these are the voyages of the nevets yeblik
legendary time being
mapper of unmapped space
deceiver n disillusionist
charlatan n clown
renaissance bloke
dealer in nothings
a ship flown by shadows
the spear of destiny
the hammer and nails of the gods
the consolation of the deadheads
war n roll lovelock
warlock of rock
with a hole in each sock
there is no stopping me
until i meet the end
im invulnerable now
except for all these gaps everywhere
im immortal until i die
im forgotten until im remembered
my tomb is desecrated
and my skull is used
as a drinking vessel
by a new barbarian emperor
its ok
this is all years in the future
right now tho
its just some tomato soup
and something relaxing
goodnight n goodluck

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