1. |
Introduction
01:13
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The Territory is ground, water, sky, and everything in between.
It is what was here before you came and what will be here after you are gone.
It is the bones, the sweat, the blood, the dreams,
the blessings, the harvests, the floods, the tears,
the rocks, the roots, the broken branches,
fallen leaves, and forgotten paths,
It is the songs of bug, bird, blizzard, wagon wheel,
salmon, elk, beaver, and berry.
It is the bank of the creek,
the bed of the river,
the stump in the ground,
and the memories of the elders.
The territory is the whole story–told and untold.
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2. |
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3. |
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4. |
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5. |
Missoula Floods - Part 2
04:03
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6. |
Mvt. 4 - Rivers
05:57
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7. |
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My son, my body is returning to my mother earth,
And my spirit is going very soon to see the great spirit chief.
When I am gone, think of your country.
You are the chief of these people.
They look to you to guide them.
Always remember…
Your father never sold his country.
You must stop your ears whenever you are asked to sign a treaty selling your home.
A few more years and the white men will be all around you.
They have their eyes on this land my son.
Never forget my dying words.
This country holds your father's body
Never sell the bones of your father.
Never sell the bones of your father and your mother.
So many miles
into the long ago…
All that was wild
courses below the ground.
So many hands
take what they do not own.
Scatter for years
all that our blood has sown
So many miles
into the long ago…
When we were wild,
rising to run the ground.
Sky father smiled
down on these bleached bones
Taught us to fly
carried away one by one.
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8. |
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Mama where are my friends?
Will this nightmare end? When can we go home?
Patience daughter, gather up your tears
lest this dusty land turn our hearts to stone.
We are people without place.
Tossed like stones on a riverbed.
They ignore our deeds and condemn our race
for our heritage denied.
All our dreams stuffed in one suitcase
sink like stones to a riverbed.
“Shi kata ga nai” there are stones in our hearts.
We are people without place.
Tossed like stones on a riverbed.
In a promised land with a foreign face
for our heritage denied.
All our dreams stuffed in one suitcase
sink like stones to a river bed
Close your eyes turn stones into blossoms, stones into blossoms.
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9. |
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‘round Mister Moore's Athletic club.
Finest game on the coast, so you just
have a gin and ease on back.
Leave your bizness cross the tracks.
Portland's only black and tan
Choc'late kiddies bring your man.
On Everett and Broadway.
there's nothing like it anywhere
The heart of the social scene
A place to mingle and mix,
You’ve got to be clean.
We're open to all comers'
Pullman porter or celebrity
This joint is always jumpin’
The place to be.
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10. |
Mvt. 8 - Aftermath
02:37
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11. |
Mvt. 9 - New Land
08:14
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Portland Jazz Composers Ensemble Portland, Oregon
PJCE Records is a grassroots recording label documenting the wide variety of original music being created by Portland area jazz composers and improvisers. We aim to provide an outlet to encourage the dissemination of new music in the area as well as fostering community within the jazz and improvised music scene in Portland. We release one album per month digitally and/or in limited CD pressings. ... more
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