LIKE most addicts, Steve Kilbey was outwardly unconcerned about his
looming ruin in 1992. He and his psychedelic sparring partners in the
Church were poised for a slow crash in the chasm of rock'n'roll
oblivion. In that glorious narcotic dawn, the view from the precipice
was all that mattered.
''I was deliriously in love with opium and heroin,'' the singer says, contemplating the world through impenetrable sunglasses. ''I was using them every day … drugs were becoming very important to me.''
The standard disclaimer of the damaged survivor has an ambivalent edge. ''People can only visit that space for a short time with narcotics. Quickly the honeymoon is over,'' he says. Read More
''I was deliriously in love with opium and heroin,'' the singer says, contemplating the world through impenetrable sunglasses. ''I was using them every day … drugs were becoming very important to me.''
The standard disclaimer of the damaged survivor has an ambivalent edge. ''People can only visit that space for a short time with narcotics. Quickly the honeymoon is over,'' he says. Read More
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