When The Sun Hits is ecstatic to present Steve Kilbey, the bassist/vocalist of long standing Australian dream pop band The Church. From the early days of post punk through late 80's post modernism, from 90's grunge and into today's shoegaze/dream pop revival, The Church have continued to make brilliant, stand alone music and be the common bond for smart, discerning music fans the world over. From the stoner Pink Floyd fan in the southern United States, the melancholy Cure lover in Estonia, the smart Radiohead fan in England, to the noise enthusiast My Bloody Valentine shoegazer in Malaysia, The Church are one of the few bands we all agree on. There aren't many like The Church, or like Steve Kilbey. He is a rare being, a true gentleman and a real renaissance man - musician, poet, producer and painter (his piece "Painkiller" is pictured above left): Mr. Steve Kilbey.
It was from a line by David Bowie : "The church of mad love is such a holy place to be." (From the song "Moonage Daydream" to be exact, taken from the famed LP The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders From Mars.)
David Bowie. Moonage Daydream.
5. How does it feel to have been inducted into the Aria Hall of Fame? (Your speech was AMAZING!)
The Church. Sisters.
7. Steve, you are a highly influential bassist, songwriter, poet, producer and painter. What keeps you going and excited about art? What/who is your muse?
The Church. Tantalized.
9. Which artists have most influenced your work?
11. What was the impetus for doing this latest Church tour and playing the three albums: Starfish, Priest+Aura (My favorite of the three!) and #23?
12. What song do you think best represents you and/or the band?
December 26, 2010~"THE IMPERFECTIONIST":
the male fire penetrates the female earth the elusive ether trembles above the submissive invisible air
the water as rain
falling falling oh falling down
no one would believe this life i dont
the morning wakes up and says im sore!
the night says why, where are you sore dear thing?
the morning says everywhere
tiny cold drops on my skin blow in thru the window
i type type type because that is what i do
the rain becomes insistent but what exactly is it insisting on
i remember deep in the night of love i remember how lost i was
i must be stumbling round in my own head
i cant believe the things i hear myself saying
at least im indoors at least im just dreaming
the cool rain is real but nothing more
steve kilbey is elsewhere
all of his voices get to roam free now
we jostle forwards demanding a platform
we start to kick up a clamour
we insist upon the gory details
we weasel and connive and we wriggle about
christmas day is over it exploded behind my eyes so pleasantly
at 3 a.m. i’m in a dream dressed in a towel
the street is very very quiet
not a breath of air the temperature is perfect
the future around the corner
i move thru darkness like shark
in my mind i see red
swimming up the blood dimmed tide
but in my strangest dreams i am the one who is bitten
on film i see my shoulders tense and relax
still i move thru the dark summer air like neptune come to life
down by the frothy shore the wavelets danced to their own tune
and the old stings of monstrous jellyfish suddenly flared upon my belly
the salty night air all pierced now with rain
but i never finish what i’m saying.....