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Description
Part of my work involves long drives up and down the coast between Pambula Beach, where I live, and Wollongong, near Sydney - around five hours each way. I usually stay in Batemans Bay on my way home, in a motel overlooking the Clyde River, then pass by Gulaga as I head back through Narooma. Gulaga is a place of great significance to the local aboriginal people (members of the Yuin tribe), and is considered to be the “mother mountain”, the source of life in their legends. Gulaga the mother – Najanuga (a smaller hill at her feet) and Barranguba (Montague Island out to sea) are her sons.
These long drives are a time of meditation of sorts, and a time when I write and review songs – this song was written on the last trip I’ll do in this job.
I wanted to write something more like my earlier songs – my recent posts have been a bit far away from what I really love: guitar, bass, drums and percussion behind three part harmonies.
As usual, play it loud.
These long drives are a time of meditation of sorts, and a time when I write and review songs – this song was written on the last trip I’ll do in this job.
I wanted to write something more like my earlier songs – my recent posts have been a bit far away from what I really love: guitar, bass, drums and percussion behind three part harmonies.
As usual, play it loud.
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Lyrics
Gulaga Dreaming
© Neil Porter 5/2006
Another breakfast on the road
In my bower above Batemans Bay
Watching the river boats
Strain against the tide to get away
Who owns these hands?
Who owns the face behind the mirror?
Whose thoughts are these?
That drift around inside my head?
I try to see things differently
It seems the more you look
Sometimes the more you see
Small things say so much to me
Sometimes a different light
Can lead to better sight
Gulaga watches out to sea
The mother mountain sees me passing by
Najanuga at her feet
Barranguba playing in the ocean free
These Yuin lands
What history played out in my garden?
These stolen shores
These remnants of a dreamtime song
Can hardly wait to get back home
Too many hours on this lonely road
Too much time to think
Too much time to be out here on my own
These timeless days
These hours of hope and meditation
Your warm embrace
My old man’s hands, this ancient place
I try to see things differently
It seems the more you look
Sometimes the more you see
Small things say so much to me
Sometimes a different light
Can lead to better sight
Another breakfast on the road
In my bower above Batemans Bay
Watching the river boats
Strain against the tide to get away
Who owns these hands?
Who owns the face behind the mirror?
Whose thoughts are these?
That drift around inside my head?
© Neil Porter 5/2006
Another breakfast on the road
In my bower above Batemans Bay
Watching the river boats
Strain against the tide to get away
Who owns these hands?
Who owns the face behind the mirror?
Whose thoughts are these?
That drift around inside my head?
I try to see things differently
It seems the more you look
Sometimes the more you see
Small things say so much to me
Sometimes a different light
Can lead to better sight
Gulaga watches out to sea
The mother mountain sees me passing by
Najanuga at her feet
Barranguba playing in the ocean free
These Yuin lands
What history played out in my garden?
These stolen shores
These remnants of a dreamtime song
Can hardly wait to get back home
Too many hours on this lonely road
Too much time to think
Too much time to be out here on my own
These timeless days
These hours of hope and meditation
Your warm embrace
My old man’s hands, this ancient place
I try to see things differently
It seems the more you look
Sometimes the more you see
Small things say so much to me
Sometimes a different light
Can lead to better sight
Another breakfast on the road
In my bower above Batemans Bay
Watching the river boats
Strain against the tide to get away
Who owns these hands?
Who owns the face behind the mirror?
Whose thoughts are these?
That drift around inside my head?
Tadashi Togawa
Drums of the start is more powerful than that always.
Impressive.
The slide guitar tells a good sense.
As for the singing voice, it thinks of mellow time.
Is this photograph the vicinity?
Very fantastic rock.