Paneye Live 26 June, 2025

 

Bent Shoulders Tremble (live) - Paneye

Your House

I stood at the foot of the trail that winds through the salt marsh. 

I was on my bike with my brothers here once, 15 years ago. I hadn’t been back here since then. Now, here I stood. 

I closed my eyes and thought back to 15 years ago. I’d just arrived back in Sydney from a student exchange program in Tokyo, and had quickly settled back into the malaise of Sydney suburban life. I was winding down my final year of art school, I had broken up with my girlfriend, and I was briefly living back at my childhood home in Dulwich Hill with my parents, my brothers and my sister. 

Immediately upon arriving back in Sydney, my brothers had wanted to go on a stoned bike ride with me. This had become a brotherly tradition before I went to Tokyo, and we were keen to recommence our psychedelic explorations of the endless bike trails, mangrove swamps and forests that snaked out from our neighbourhood. 

15 years ago we jumped on our bikes and headed for the river near our home. We followed the river south, across bridges, through parks and forests, and eventually ended up at the trailhead of the salt marsh. 

Although we had passed this way many times before, we had never noticed this particular trailhead. We decided to explore it and see where it led. 

The trail began as a dirt path winding through the salt marsh, but after a few hundred feet it became duckboards. We rode our bikes over the wooden duckboards, and they made a pleasant bumping vibration as the wheels rolled over them. 

Sam had ridden up ahead, but stopped and turned back towards Eddy and me. Covering Sam’s face was a protruding, white mask that gave him the mixed-appearance of a duck, and a plague doctor from the Middle Ages. He had recently undergone a nose operation for sinus issues, and the mask was to aid his healing. It gave him a menacing and ghostly look. 

Behind Sam, and further up the trail, I could see a line of figures moving down the path, away from us. I strained to look closer and could see the figures wore black robes and hoods. There were nuns!

My brothers and I hurried towards them, as they disappeared behind a bend in the trail that was dense with mangroves. 

As we drew closer to the bend in the trail, and rounded it, we saw a long corridor of spindly mangroves, forming a dark tunnel over the trail. The nuns were far off in the distance and rounding another bend, disappearing from sight. 

The trail through the mangrove tunnel was very boggy, and we couldn’t ride our bikes easily through it. Regrettably, we decided to stop following the strange nuns and head for home. Turning our bikes around, we rode away from the salt marsh and back towards the river. I didn’t know it would be 15 years until I would come to this place again. 

Where did that trail go? What was at the end of the long corridor of mangroves?

For 15 years I had wondered. For 15 years my brothers and I had told the story about the nuns in the forest, but we never went back to see where the path led. Now, I had my chance to find out.

I entered the salt marsh and began to follow that same old trail. 

As I walked towards the bend in the trail, past the duckboards, and drawing closer to the thick mangrove forest, a shy looking man appeared from behind a tree. 

The shy man smiled at me nervously, and began looking towards the tree tops, clutching a camera. I smiled back, and I guessed quietly that he must have been photographing birds.

As I passed by the man, I arrived at the bend in the trail. I felt a melancholy wash over me as I rounded the bend, and my stomach began to knot. 

The mangrove corridor was exactly the same. The trail, still boggy, cut that familiar, black, ropey path through the trees. 

The dark, muddy trail did not look at all inviting, but today I decided that I would finally solve the mystery that had been circling my dreams. 

My sneakers sank into the mud as I entered the mangrove tunnel. Looking to the sides of the path, I watched inky water slosh around the gnarled fingers of the mangrove roots. It looked prehistoric, and I could imagine giant crocodiles lurking in the shadowy gloom. 

My imagination getting the better of me, I smiled to myself. The mangrove swamps and rivers of Sydney are full of giant eels and bull sharks, but it is too cold for crocodiles down here. 

As I neared the central point of the trail, it became almost completely engulfed in the inky water of the swamp. I had no choice but to get my shoes covered in it, as I was determined to go on. I made my way through the bog, feeling the cold water ooze into my socks, glancing towards the final bend in the path up ahead. 

Passing through the worst of the mud, I finally reached the place where I had long wondered what lay beyond it. The final turn of the trail. 

Feeling excited, I rounded the trail’s bend, and saw that it carried on further through mangrove forest, but then opened up onto a road. 

Walking through the final section of the mangroves, I emerged on a tiny cul de sac that looked over a wide, grassy park. The cul de sac had a white cottage at the end of it, nestled up against the mangrove forest. 

Something washed over me at that moment, and the sky changed its colour to something more faded. Everything around me became both blurry and bright at the same time.

I looked back towards the house. A figure was moving behind the window, and the front door of the cottage clicked open. 

Sam walked out of the door, and onto the road, greeting me with a big smile and holding a small bottle of beer.

Sam looked healthy and strong. He was wearing a crisp polo shirt, white tennis shorts and boat shoes. He looked like a fisherman. 

“Hey Villo! Can you come in and help me choose what movie I should watch?”

The laughter of a small child floated from the house, and the sound of a woman singing. 

The family he always wanted.

“Nice house, bro! I’m really proud of you!”

Sam smiled, but his eyes looked sad and faraway.

I turned back towards the path that went into the mangrove forest. The mystery was solved. 

As I approached the duckboards at the trailhead of the salt marsh, the shy man with the camera wandered out from behind a tree. 

This time, I passed by the man without exchanging a smile. He didn’t notice me at all because he was focused on a beautiful bird that was sitting on the tree’s fork above him. 

The Empty Ones

The Empty Ones by Will Treffry

We are the empty ones,

The ones sewn tight with silence,

Huddled in a hush,

Crown stuffed with brittle chaff -

Sadness lives in our spines of sand. 

Our shrivelled murmurs,

When they tremble from our lips,

Are hollow and forsaken,

Like wind skimming bones 

Of plagued and withered fields,

Or vermin skittering on shattered stone

In the damp oubliette below.

Our vague voices whisper in the dark,

Any notion of sacredness rings hollow.

Fleshless Phantoms, hues without flame - 

Apparitions without shadows,

Sunlight passes through our faded forms.

Here we go again…

 

Void Serpents

A vision I had while lying in bed, looking at my clothes hanging on their hooks. 

lil Choo

 Displeased until the burger arrived

My Nephew, Freddie

 

11

 

I’m playing tomorrow night

 

Pan

Frances Joan Berry Treffry

 

Chorozon

 

The cave at Kings Cross

 

Gig this Thursday @ el Rocco

 

Familiar Dreams

Dreams are portals

The sense that you’ve been here, in this dream place, before. The dream causes you to remember the forgotten dream. This means that the places we go in our dreams are places that we are visiting, and the portals open when we sleep. 

Adventures with Marnie

 

The fake Paneye

 

Many years ago, a guy called Jordan got inspired by my Paneye music.

Jordan took my name after finding my music in a forum.

Jordan started his short-lived music career, before he switched to making Pokémon videos. He has been making Pokémon videos ever since.

I’ve asked Jordan many times to change his name because it’s confusing people, who think we are the same person. He just ignores it and continues to produce Pokémon videos on YouTube. His Pokémon videos have hundreds of thousands of views now, which is causing people to contact me for Pokémon reasons.

I don’t want to be confused with this guy. This post will hopefully clarify this unfortunate situation. 

 

Aaron Carter

About 2 years or so ago, I suddenly became obsessed with Aaron Carter’s life and music. 

Aaron Carter was a child star who fell off and became a drug addict. Later in life he made an incredible album called Love, and then died at 34 years old. 

Aaron had an older brother called Nick Carter, who is a famous backstreet boy. 

This is very similar life path to a long term musical obsession of mine, Layne Staley of Alice in Chains. 

Layne also died at 34.

34. 

Here is a photo of me in 2023 wearing my Aaron Carter T-shirt. I have 2 of them - one black and one white. 

TETRIS by Paneye (from 2013)

Tetris was (and still is) one of my oldest friends from art school. Tetris was a big DJ at Candys Apartment in Kings Cross and was the lord of the scene. This is my song to him from 2013, set to a painting video we did together much later in 2021.

Enwiden Your Sighs by Paneye (from 2013)

An old song that I've started listening to again. It was meant to go on Remote Summer Clouds, but stayed on an earlier demo that I'll re-release soon. I wanted to put 100 songs on Remote Summer Clouds, but I just couldn't - The album was already an epic 27 tracks. I ended up leaving off many of my songs with vocals, and Enwiden Your Sighs was cut.

Enwiden Your Sighs

Lyrics

Enwiden your sighs

To surprise the dark

When it hides

Thinking it has won its war of midnight

Covering your midday skies

Going back to the soil and the leaves and the rivers

 

Amnesia Formation (Impaled by the Daydream outtake 2016) - Paneye

I've been digging through the old archives and I've found a tune that should've gone on Impaled by the Daydream, but I felt it was too cheesy for that album. I didn't like the title and I felt the song was too unambiguous and poorly expressed. Looking back, I realise now that I was (and still am) obsessed with time and fading memories. I haven't changed much in that respect. That's what this song is about - I will not forget that I have forgotten.  

The Serpent in the Triangle Forest

Can you see the large snake head hidden in the leaves?

It’s to the far right of the photo, on Sam’s left side.

The head is slightly turned to the side, but still looking towards the camera.  

Can you see it yet?

Here’s a close up:

Once you see it, it’s startlingly obvious. Hidden in plain sight. 

The snake from the triangle bone, manifest in the Triangle Forest. 

October

Less than 2 years to go before we reach October 2024, and there it is on my shirt. October. The hidden word is Rust.

Photo taken in January 2023, his birth month.

The soggy remains of flooded archives

 

In this black period for Pan, he has delved into the soggy remains of his flooded musical archives. 

Pan has found a pleasing trove of sounds, demos, albums and sketches that have remained unreleased via official labels and channels. This music only exists, outside the archives, in the mediafire downloads of Pan’s friends and family. This collection gathers music all through Pan’s 2006-present musical odyssey.

This music will see the light of day on Spotify and other platforms, starting with an EP that Pan did with his brothers Eddy and Sam. This was done a long time ago, and it has a more stoner rock/doom focus (Pan was really into Type O Negative and Kyuss back then - Pan still loves these bands). 

The EP with Pan’s brothers will be released soon, followed by Pan’s extensive back catalogue of albums, demos and EPs.

What’s the reason this music hasn’t seen wide release? 

Insecurity. Pan felt nothing was good enough. Pan’s musical ego was extremely fragile. 

Those days are over. It’s all coming out now. Self belief has found its inception in the darkest corners of Pan’s dreams. 

Love and Kiss,

PET 

(Pan’s Executive Team) 

Goosebumps Kid

I was randomly recommended this YouTube video tonight in bed. 

Being a Goosebumps fan as a kid, I was curious about what had happened to the series. 

After hovering my finger for a bit, I decided to watch it. 

Suddenly, there I was. A kid with a pile of goosebump books on my head.

I turned to Johann and hollered triumphantly “it’s meeee!”

Johahn leaned over my iphone and said “What? No it’s not…wait….omg! That’s soooo cool!”

I was a huge Goosebumps kid back in the 90’s. Everyone knew me as having huge stacks of Goosebumps books piled around my bedroom. 

I truly loved the artwork on the covers of early Goosebump books and began amassing them, all steadily supplied to me by my grandfather John.  

I ended up owning far more Goosebumps books than I’d ever read. I had unlimited books if I wanted them. I wanted unlimited computer games, but my parents were strict about anything they would term as “audio visual stimulation”(I eventually found ways around it).

At the age I was in the photo, most of my literary investment actually went into re-reading my Mad Magazine comics over and over again. Also supplied by my grandfather John, reading Mad Magazines from such a young age probably did a lot of weird things to me. 

Even though I spent more time reading Mad Magazines, my Goosebump books were displayed in proud towers all around my room.

My auntie Sally, who happened to work for Fairfax Media in Sydney, one day asked me if some people could come and take some pictures of me with my Goosebump books. 

I felt very shy about it, from memory. The adults who came to take photos asked me to put the Goosebump books on my head. They were so excited and I remember they thought it was an awesome photo. They also took some other photos where I was supposed to look scared while pretending to read a Goosebump book with a torch. 

I remember hating the photos and feeling embarrassed about the whole thing. I was a very anxious boy. 

The photos ended up going in a popular magazine in Sydney, much to my horror at the time. I buried it from my memory, eventually forgetting all about it.

I was probably about 6 years old in this photo. 

Here’s the YouTube video:

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=kFtaQlJKk8Y&t

Take my leaves

My soul 

Sways in this breeze

Take 

The leaves that you please

The Black Dog

The Treffry Family come from Cornwall.

The Treffry Family, in medieval times, dominated the region around Foy from a castle called Place, otherwise known as the Treffry Castle. 

The Treffry’s appear to be a genetic mixture of English aristocracy and Jews. This was typical of the times. 

I have begun to embrace my Jewish side, and I am very interested in Jewish Kabbalah and King Solomon. The magick contained within this knowledge is real. 

My grandfather, John Treffry, had a father who was a Freemason. Freemasonry and Kabbalah have affinity. His name was also John Treffry, and he married my great grandmother Else Green(berg).

My great grandfather, the Freemason John Treffry, left Cornwall and started managing banks around Australia. My own father, Mark Treffry, tells stories of seeing John Treffry’s Freemason swords mounted in the living room of the family home.

But then a break happened.

My father and grandfather, Mark and John, decided to make a complete break from the Treffry clan. There was something in the Treffry atmosphere that they didn’t like. I don’t really know what it was. 

My father had travelled to Cornwall to visit the Treffry Castle, which still is inhabited by Treffry's to this day. My dad saw something there that made him want nothing more to do with the noble Treffry Family ever again. He forged a new future in Newtown, Sydney with my mother, and told us almost nothing of the Treffry’s and our noble past. We grew up humble. 

My dad, Mark Treffry, grew his hair long and embraced the 70’s as a proper Newtown hippy. A total break from the past and a new era of hope was before him.

My grandfather, John Treffry, was a great presence in my life. He was a strong, calm and loving man at all times. John always had pockets full of butter menthols and fisherman’s friends mints. John flowed with stories about old battles and war. He loved the Napoleonic Wars. He also loved Sean Connery and Roger Moore-era James Bond. I watched them all with him. 

I am writing about John Treffry now, in light of the many spiritual things that have happened to me recently.  

John Treffry, just prior to Covid lockdowns, developed cancer on the back of his neck. The cancer quickly spread and left John to waste away slowly in his bed at home. He was eventually a mere skull on a pillow. It was a very slow process of wasting away for John. 

As John’s state deteriorated, and within his final few weeks where he was in terminal agitation, an incredible thing happened.

A black dog, belonging to no one we knew, appeared in the room. It bounded to the foot of John’s bed and sat there, staring at him. 

Everyone was shocked. 

Eventually, the owner of the dog called out. The black dog had broken free from the owner outside and ran into the room, apparently, to visit John Treffry just before his death. 

Mary Treffry, John’s wife, would constantly talk about Black Dogs when I was a child. It was her favourite story. When my brother Eddy would get angry, Mary would often remark that he was overcome by the Black Dog. 

I have since researched the Black Dog and have discovered it is a well-known omen of Death in old England.

I now believe that the Black Dog came all the way from Cornwall to visit John Treffry just prior to his death. I also believe that perhaps all Treffry’s get this same visit when our time has come. 

Maybe something happened to the Treffry’s a long time ago. Maybe a Treffry, long ago, was attached to a Black Dog. That Black Dog is now passed down through the family as a signal to prepare for the end of life. 

The Spider

 I was in a house with my family. 

The house was a strange hybrid of all the houses we had lived in over the years - Newtown, Dulwich Hill, Wentworth Falls.

Living in the attic of this house was a spider. 

The spider was a humanoid monstrosity that resembled Sam as a small boy, but hardly recognisable. The upper half of the body was human, with the bottom half being a black abdomen, with eight shiny legs looming over the shoulders of the boy. The upper human portion revealed a twisted torso, leading up to a face that was fixed in a strangled, silent scream. 

Underneath the strangled scream was a maniacal and gleeful voice. The voice was saying tormenting and teasing things, but I couldn’t make out the words. They were drowned out by the loud sounds of the clicking and clacking of scuttling legs.

The humanoid spider was emerging from all places around the house, scuttling after me, and stinging me repeatedly with a large needle-like fang that protruded from its front leg. 

I was trying to ask it what it wanted, but I wasn’t able to grasp onto anything. 

The other members of my family appeared to be in different sections of the house, either lost or looking for something.

Everyone was alone in a seperate section of the house, and distracted from one another. It seems they didn’t register the presence of each other, and were somehow blinded. 

Suddenly, my mother frantically called out to me from a room upstairs. 

I went up to the room and saw my mother frozen in place. She said that she could not walk over this area, and that there was a strong presence.

In front of my mother was a small grey stain on the carpet. 

When I saw the grey stain I was suddenly filled with immense fear. 

The grey stain was the key to it all. 

I could barely scream, because my mouth and throat were so dry that the nerves were all numb. 

“It’s here!”

You were there

When I broke my leg and couldn’t walk, you were there. 

When I lost it all and could scarcely talk, you were there 

When I fell from grace and felt such shame, you were there 

When my brother died and left my heart in pain, you were there.

You were there. 

Pan Rises

Pan Rises 2025

 

My Dad, and me

 

Garnet Street