Land locked
Looking for oceans
Slowly opening to sunshine
Skin stretched across asanas
Bending, breathing
What a simple joy
To be a voice that is heard by standing still
On earth
In time
Just
Thursday, October 11, 2012
Saturday, October 6, 2012
The Church and other Canberra Institutions
Last night I went to a gig at a Canberra institution - Smith's Alternative Bookshop - the weirdest, funniest, most entertaining gig I've been to in some time, and terrific value for $25.
Steve Kilbey from the Church also has some claim to being a Canberra institution - having spent his teenage years in Canberra and starting his musical career here. So it was no surprise really that the show was all hits and memories. Steve brought with him his memories of high school, buying his first guitar, and the influences of Marc Bolan (T-Rex) and David Bowie. He'd arrived as an English boy of 10. Like a European migrant remembers his home country as it was at the time he left, Kilbey's memories of Canberra were fixed in time, in this case the 70s and 80s. A time when most school leavers drifted into the public service and then measured themselves by the level they rose to (in Steve's case a /2/3). By all accounts (well all of Steve's anyway) he was a bit of a wild boy then. And at 58 a wild boy he remains.
This visit to Canberra coincided with some very public ramblings from Steve in which he threatens to leave his band, the one he formed thirty odd years ago. The trigger, we were told, was the arrival of a cheque for $100. Most of the band's earnings having been taken over the years as the music industry's cut. Who can tell why a long standing issue had suddenly boiled over, but three hours of venting on the drive from Sydney to Canberra had led to a sunburnt arm, a raspy voice, and a distracted performance. We heard a few of the hits (Under the Milky Way, Unguarded Moment) though the musical experience was more impressionist than true to the songs. Some songs were barely started before Steve interjected with anecdotes - mostly very funny stories about Canberra. Some songs were started but then stopped when Steve was unhappy with his playing or singing. And just as he was excusing himself and his lost voice, there were some songs he played so intensely he lost himself inside them.
We heard that he is not modest, that he has produced thirty odd albums. He confessed to not being a good singer or musician. He spoke of AFL football, and politics and debating. We learnt that he had debated with the ACT team, and that they had been thoroughly beaten by Malcolm Turnbull and the boys from NSW. We learnt that his family had billeted Malcolm and that his mother thought he would be Prime Minister one day, and that she is still waiting for this. Steve declared his interest in being the Governor General, or a comedian.
Through all of his stories of growing up and coming of age, I felt I had been taken back to small town Canberra of the seventies. That you would catch a bus across town to buy a record, and then savour the writings on the record sleeve on the bus ride home. For Steve it was a trip to Manuka to buy a T-Rex album. I remember catching the bus to Civic to collect an album I'd won in a radio competition - Deep Purple. Something of the smoke wafting into the bookshop, reminded me of the Canberra Day Rock concerts that were held in Civic and at the Showgrounds in the mid seventies, and of cider and great live music at Floyds at Woden. I wonder if Steve watched those gigs, or played there?
There was talk of the possible future gigs in Canberra, probably part of the upcoming centenary. I hope Steve is able to sort out his issues with the record company, and to stay with The Church so they can play these performances. It would be great to see him again and to hear the music with the band. In the meantime I have the CD I bought at the end of show - Garage Sutra - produced only a few years ago. It has been the perfect gentle backdrop to a rainy day in Canberra today. You can hear the influences of the seventies British psychedelic rockers on it, and get a feel for Steve's poetic sensibility and fascination with ancient worlds past. At Smith's bookshop last night his show was perfect - poetry that held many of the moments that have moved us to this time.
Steve Kilbey from the Church also has some claim to being a Canberra institution - having spent his teenage years in Canberra and starting his musical career here. So it was no surprise really that the show was all hits and memories. Steve brought with him his memories of high school, buying his first guitar, and the influences of Marc Bolan (T-Rex) and David Bowie. He'd arrived as an English boy of 10. Like a European migrant remembers his home country as it was at the time he left, Kilbey's memories of Canberra were fixed in time, in this case the 70s and 80s. A time when most school leavers drifted into the public service and then measured themselves by the level they rose to (in Steve's case a /2/3). By all accounts (well all of Steve's anyway) he was a bit of a wild boy then. And at 58 a wild boy he remains.
This visit to Canberra coincided with some very public ramblings from Steve in which he threatens to leave his band, the one he formed thirty odd years ago. The trigger, we were told, was the arrival of a cheque for $100. Most of the band's earnings having been taken over the years as the music industry's cut. Who can tell why a long standing issue had suddenly boiled over, but three hours of venting on the drive from Sydney to Canberra had led to a sunburnt arm, a raspy voice, and a distracted performance. We heard a few of the hits (Under the Milky Way, Unguarded Moment) though the musical experience was more impressionist than true to the songs. Some songs were barely started before Steve interjected with anecdotes - mostly very funny stories about Canberra. Some songs were started but then stopped when Steve was unhappy with his playing or singing. And just as he was excusing himself and his lost voice, there were some songs he played so intensely he lost himself inside them.
We heard that he is not modest, that he has produced thirty odd albums. He confessed to not being a good singer or musician. He spoke of AFL football, and politics and debating. We learnt that he had debated with the ACT team, and that they had been thoroughly beaten by Malcolm Turnbull and the boys from NSW. We learnt that his family had billeted Malcolm and that his mother thought he would be Prime Minister one day, and that she is still waiting for this. Steve declared his interest in being the Governor General, or a comedian.
Through all of his stories of growing up and coming of age, I felt I had been taken back to small town Canberra of the seventies. That you would catch a bus across town to buy a record, and then savour the writings on the record sleeve on the bus ride home. For Steve it was a trip to Manuka to buy a T-Rex album. I remember catching the bus to Civic to collect an album I'd won in a radio competition - Deep Purple. Something of the smoke wafting into the bookshop, reminded me of the Canberra Day Rock concerts that were held in Civic and at the Showgrounds in the mid seventies, and of cider and great live music at Floyds at Woden. I wonder if Steve watched those gigs, or played there?
There was talk of the possible future gigs in Canberra, probably part of the upcoming centenary. I hope Steve is able to sort out his issues with the record company, and to stay with The Church so they can play these performances. It would be great to see him again and to hear the music with the band. In the meantime I have the CD I bought at the end of show - Garage Sutra - produced only a few years ago. It has been the perfect gentle backdrop to a rainy day in Canberra today. You can hear the influences of the seventies British psychedelic rockers on it, and get a feel for Steve's poetic sensibility and fascination with ancient worlds past. At Smith's bookshop last night his show was perfect - poetry that held many of the moments that have moved us to this time.
Saturday, January 14, 2012
Some questions about chords
There are many ideas and ideologies that run in circles. Apparently opposite ideas can seem very closely related. In politics the further right you go, the more left the ideas and the further left the more right. In image, computer geek with long unwashed hair, black t-shirt and ragged jeans is not all that far from rock star.
So what about music? Are all the available notes arranged only in a linear form? Is is still a chord if the notes played are from distant octaves? Is it still harmony if the high note sitting in its office way up on the end of the keyboard is matched with a note that hangs out with its popular mates in the middle?
Picasso deconstructed violins and guitars, and they became boxes of painted steel, stacked upon each other, hard edged and inorganic. A bit like a jazz tune put together from chords disentangled and resassembled, each somehow dischordant but belonging.
We all live busy lives. We work, and raise children and pay off mortgages, and in the busyness our voices become silent, our instruments lay still.
What is most important is not whether there is an audience. The note is still beautiful when it is played, whether or not it is heard. The important thing is that the note is sounded. And if there are other notes that sound with it, there will be chords. And some of these will be beautiful too.
Tuesday, January 10, 2012
Sunday, April 3, 2011
Journeys with the minstrels
It's hard to believe how long it is since I've blogged. Much has happened, Christmas with family and friends, more settling into the new house, bush walks, a cycle trip in SA, and more. There are photos and stories and I will try to write about them when I can.
I have been on a journey these last few weeks though. One that needs to be written down, so that its not forgotten. It started with a night out with my father to see Andreas Scholl, the counter tenor. Before the show started I was talking with Dad about how much he likes music. He said that there'd been a piano in his home as a child in Scotland, and that he had been going to have lessons, but the depression made that difficult. Then he said that a famous Scottish fiddler (Scott Skinner) had written a tune called 'The left handed fiddle player' for his great uncle George Taylor, who also played the fiddle. As a leftie who has grown up among a world of rights, my response was instinctive - you mean you had a left handed relative in the family and you never told me???
Musically I have been playing around with the ukelele, working my way through a finger picking book that wanders through hawaiian folk tunes and classics such as Dona Nobis Pacem. A quick google turned up this: http://www.thesession.org/tunes/display/4661. (written for my great great uncle I might add!) So I worked it out on the ukelele and began practising it to try to get it smooth and fast. I continue to work on this. It might take a while.
Then a friend asked if I wanted to go and see Tony McManus at the local folk club. We have seen him before, a couple of times, at the National Folk Festival. I have one of his albums that I have listened too many times, beautiful Scottish folk tunes played on the guitar. It was a fabulous concert and lovely to hear the deeply resonant sounds of the guitar. There were pipe tunes played with beautiful skipping melodies against a droning back sound. Tony mentioned Scott Skinner and played one of his tunes, and I beamed with pride, wanting to stop him and tell him about my great great uncle. I came away with another CD, and particular enthusiasm to play my guitar (which is probably vintage by now since I bought it when I was 19). After so much ukelele playing I discovered the guitar was huge, and had a lot of notes on the fret board, but it has stayed out since that concert and I found some folk tunes on a handout from the folk festival that I am trying to work out and practice.
The act before Tony played a classic Scottish tune, covered by many a folk band - Caledonia by Dougie MacLean. I remembered that I had been wanting to buy one of Dougie's CDs for quite some time. So I got onto the web, (after looking up Tony's site) and bought two albums, downloaded them, and started listening. The first few times I couldn't stop myself from crying everytime I heard the tunes. Caledonia is a song about homesickness for Scotland which somehow makes me feel for the country I lived in for two years when I was ' just a wee bairn' as they say - before and when I started school. There is also a fabulous song about learning to use a scythe on the farm (you've got to hold it right its not something you can learn in a day) which turns out to also be a tune about learning to play the fiddle or the guitar, or the ukelele. And did I say Tony McManus was left handed (as noted when he signed my CD) but plays his guitar right handed. Like me! I wonder about Dougie?
I have bought more song books, and stands for my two precious instruments, and have set myself to do some long term practice. These journey's with the minstrels have put some roads in front of me, and I'm eager to walk my way down them.
I have been on a journey these last few weeks though. One that needs to be written down, so that its not forgotten. It started with a night out with my father to see Andreas Scholl, the counter tenor. Before the show started I was talking with Dad about how much he likes music. He said that there'd been a piano in his home as a child in Scotland, and that he had been going to have lessons, but the depression made that difficult. Then he said that a famous Scottish fiddler (Scott Skinner) had written a tune called 'The left handed fiddle player' for his great uncle George Taylor, who also played the fiddle. As a leftie who has grown up among a world of rights, my response was instinctive - you mean you had a left handed relative in the family and you never told me???
Musically I have been playing around with the ukelele, working my way through a finger picking book that wanders through hawaiian folk tunes and classics such as Dona Nobis Pacem. A quick google turned up this: http://www.thesession.org/tunes/display/4661. (written for my great great uncle I might add!) So I worked it out on the ukelele and began practising it to try to get it smooth and fast. I continue to work on this. It might take a while.
Then a friend asked if I wanted to go and see Tony McManus at the local folk club. We have seen him before, a couple of times, at the National Folk Festival. I have one of his albums that I have listened too many times, beautiful Scottish folk tunes played on the guitar. It was a fabulous concert and lovely to hear the deeply resonant sounds of the guitar. There were pipe tunes played with beautiful skipping melodies against a droning back sound. Tony mentioned Scott Skinner and played one of his tunes, and I beamed with pride, wanting to stop him and tell him about my great great uncle. I came away with another CD, and particular enthusiasm to play my guitar (which is probably vintage by now since I bought it when I was 19). After so much ukelele playing I discovered the guitar was huge, and had a lot of notes on the fret board, but it has stayed out since that concert and I found some folk tunes on a handout from the folk festival that I am trying to work out and practice.
The act before Tony played a classic Scottish tune, covered by many a folk band - Caledonia by Dougie MacLean. I remembered that I had been wanting to buy one of Dougie's CDs for quite some time. So I got onto the web, (after looking up Tony's site) and bought two albums, downloaded them, and started listening. The first few times I couldn't stop myself from crying everytime I heard the tunes. Caledonia is a song about homesickness for Scotland which somehow makes me feel for the country I lived in for two years when I was ' just a wee bairn' as they say - before and when I started school. There is also a fabulous song about learning to use a scythe on the farm (you've got to hold it right its not something you can learn in a day) which turns out to also be a tune about learning to play the fiddle or the guitar, or the ukelele. And did I say Tony McManus was left handed (as noted when he signed my CD) but plays his guitar right handed. Like me! I wonder about Dougie?
I have bought more song books, and stands for my two precious instruments, and have set myself to do some long term practice. These journey's with the minstrels have put some roads in front of me, and I'm eager to walk my way down them.
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
And then in Bali it was about the people
So then in early Oct I went on a long planned, week long trip to Ubud in Bali. Some friends had been there for the better part of a year, volunteering in an organisation dedicated to preserving traditional textile crafts across the eastern Indonesian islands. I was to be their 26th guest, and their last. As well, I had put my name down as a volunteer at the Ubud Writers and Readers Festival . I was looking forward to returning to Indonesia having spent a month cycling on the island of Sulawesi in early 2009. And I wasn't disappointed.
Soon after arriving I discovered I had been invited to a royal wedding - by virtue of the fact I was staying at a hotel owned by the royal family. I invited my friends to join me, and had a lovely day and night. There was Balinese dancing and gamelan playing and wayang kulit. The palace, a collage of outdoor rooms and balconies, was decorated with fruit and flowers, and garudas and statues and offerings. The prince had Australia in his face, having spent much of his childhood in Sydney with his family. His new wife was an actress from Jakarta who had converted from Islam to Hindu the day before the wedding. There were lots of family and friends and staff and others from the community present, and it was a great privilege to be introduced to Bali in that way.
Soon after arriving I discovered I had been invited to a royal wedding - by virtue of the fact I was staying at a hotel owned by the royal family. I invited my friends to join me, and had a lovely day and night. There was Balinese dancing and gamelan playing and wayang kulit. The palace, a collage of outdoor rooms and balconies, was decorated with fruit and flowers, and garudas and statues and offerings. The prince had Australia in his face, having spent much of his childhood in Sydney with his family. His new wife was an actress from Jakarta who had converted from Islam to Hindu the day before the wedding. There were lots of family and friends and staff and others from the community present, and it was a great privilege to be introduced to Bali in that way.
The year of the lotus continued
After spring arrived, and as I continued to unpack boxes and slowly settle into the new home, my year of the lotus continued.
In late September I volunteered at a Japanese candle festival. There were a number of us trying to combat the wind in the late afternoon to light a sea of candles. It was frustrating and not very sucessful. Then as dusk arrived the wind dropped, and the candles were lit easily. And the plastic cups filled with tea light candles became a magical river of light. Families gathered around the candles and gazed in, relaxed. It was a lovely evening.
In late September I volunteered at a Japanese candle festival. There were a number of us trying to combat the wind in the late afternoon to light a sea of candles. It was frustrating and not very sucessful. Then as dusk arrived the wind dropped, and the candles were lit easily. And the plastic cups filled with tea light candles became a magical river of light. Families gathered around the candles and gazed in, relaxed. It was a lovely evening.
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