Lost Nation (Dreamtime) [6:50] 7.83Mb

(composed by Steven Davies-Morris and Mike Dickson)

Endless Rooms

The second tune from Overful Noise Cascade and I think the best. Overtly ethnic in feel (and with a great slow build) this one always felt like a winner to me. It really shows what Steven and I could do when we set our minds to it. There is a message behind it, of course, but it's an obvious one.

they record the fall of my people, the theft of its land and the disintegration of its culture as quaint fancy goods in their gift shops. in the bad days we used to line up to entertain them and had no illusions that we were being destroyed. these days we think that we are doing something for our own benefit. we are still every bit as wrong. frankly you can keep the treasures because they have been tainted by your touch and idiot snapping at them anyway. we have become a cipher for stupidity and a touchstone for your guilt. we are a footnote in the greater chapter of your own history, or an idiot page in a pretentious collection called 'decades', borne in the empty head of another tourist.

we wish we could all go home somewhere. the young men get drunk and fall into the roads. the gang takes a cut from the price and a turn from the worst. bang bang they say, and the boys all leave town in a hurry. i sit between fir and mace and smell the clean air, listening for the birdsong. some well-meaning people from out of town walk by me and smile politely. they haven't a clue. they walk towards the museum. they won't get one there either. they'll buy some postcards and see a few antiques, but they won't know what has hit us.

Ta’njiw na’kuset ne’a’sij kmtniktuk
Aq wela’kw a’sîkîk wejkwapniaq
Newtukwa’lukwey ni’n kmtniktuk
Me’ nutul nitape’skw toqo mu eimu’n
Wju’sniktuk wet-nutmann
Metasta’ql nike’
Je kisa’likl mikwite’lmul ap ki’l
Ta'njiw na'kuset ne'a'sij kmtniktuk
Aq wela'kw a'sîkîk wejkwapniaq

no boats move in the dock. the whispering waters move their unseen mass below the waterline. i have uncles who sit in silence and look out over the still waters wondering where all our lives have gone. they're selling our own sockeye back at us for five over the market.