i'm at some sort of australian songwriters event, i'm not sure how i got here, it's the last place you would expect to find me, after all i am a strange reclusive personality, i don't like crowds, loud noises and can't deal very well with most social situations but here i am at a special dinner type tribute in honour of the australian songwriters hall of fame, who have decided in their infinite wisdom to bestow this years award on a certain mr. kilbey whom sits across the table from me making jokes and punching me in a friendly way which is ironic as i feel inclined to punch glen a baker for his stupid review of the opera house gig,(but i don't get a chance) while the ever wondrous miss mayfair sits next to me attempting to keep steve in check and on the tracks that lead somewhere with a beautiful sunset. i share the table with some of steve's friends and his brother russell whom i have to inform has made one of my favourite albums ever, in guilt trip 'ej' and his lovely wife who wears a very striking pentangle, and steve's mother joyce whom hails from the same part of london as i, a terrible slum from what i recall that is now a trendy yuppie area where the rich folk are dying to invest in. and wilde childe who sits opposite me, saviour of all wild beasts including me, friend to the injured, wounded, homeless and fluffy, all in all it's a good table and social phobias aside i can fluidly talk to anyone about anything this evening, in fact this is the only table to be sitting at in a room filled with personalities and familiar faces, up and coming singers and musicians, movers and shakers this is the only table to really be at. we are waited upon, food, drinks, i take the opportunity to order a lemonade. various personalities come and go, some people sing some songs and then the room is filled and silent as glen a baker makes a speech and steve accepts his award and makes a great speech about his origins of being a songwriter, he mentions having been lucky in his ascent and yeah i guess it's hard to refute that luck plays a part in all things however i do strongly feel luck didn't come into it as far as his writing is concerned, eventually it would pierce through the shallow illusion of what constitutes art into the very focused realm of excellence and distinction that certain art inherently has as a quality, fame and recognition are a side effect of this intention, and i'm not familiar enough with steve to say if he set out to be famous over being good at his craft. it was quality that got awarded this evening, a quality that one does not get much off in a world of quantity.
i joked with steve saying, 'i've waited 30 years for him to get recognition' adding that he 'must have been waiting for it to.'
it wasn't really that steve had been overlooked or undervalued, it was just the world wasn't ready to accept him on his terms, and that just added to the quality, he never sold out, he never gave in, he kept on writing, following his muse and doing what he does, irrespective of events around him, circumstances, money, fame, glamour, he knew the difference between what was elusive and what was exclusive and you don't sell out your muse, he just kept making sure what he delivered was high quality and believe me in the early days he was limited to using the most primitive of equipment but he still set out to write quality songs that made the listener think, nay, it demanded something from the listener. 
now what kind of writer demands something from their reader? 
i'm certain that none of the other artists in the room do. in fact there's only a handful of writers on planet earth that expect their readers to be as thoughtful or reflective or emotive as steve's work asks. and this is what got recognised in the most subconscious of ways yesterday. ambiguity, steve describes it as being open to interpretation, yet ambiguity is an evasive term itself, you may as well say a song is purple or deep blue. however ambiguity is what it is. and sometimes the writer does not know what they are writing, yet they write it and send it off into the universe and sometimes these songs or narratives seem to come back laden with seven types of meaning. 
no art can really be defined, it's just a quality, a vibe but there is a quality of art that transcends the mundane world, the world of formation, it takes the observer to a place of purity and spirit and this is what i think was celebrated tonight in steve's award. 
after the speech he played four songs with george ellis and a kinda string quartet that were re imagined into these intricate contemporary chamber music filled with detail and nuance and beauty, and if a song can shine then here was the proof. 
these days steve would be far to modest to suggest such a thing, yet i'm a great admirer of his work and of the art of writing specifically, therefore i feel i can say this all of this objectively and one day people will look at his work like they would gershwin or van morrison. 
well done steve, it's really only just begun.