Cody Weathers

Music so hip you'll need a bigger belt


Flip Natsy: Archaeology (studio, 1996)






$10 for CD, available by special order

The Songs

Ordinary Guy/ Archaeology/ Hero/ Twenty Miles/ I Wish That You Were Here/ Million Valentines/ Champagne /Jerks/ Open Up/ Skulls of Angels/ You Can Wait/ As I Am/ I Am The Moon/ Island

all songs written and arranged by Cody Weathers (c)(p)1996, Cody Weathers, all rights reserved.  Island arranged by John Speranza.  Ordinary Guy arranged by Cody Weathers and John Speranza.  No stealing the worthless material, OK?

Additional MP3 Singles:

Don't Hate the Players: 


John Fried: bass

Cody Weathers: vocals, drums, keyboards, guitar, bass

John Speranza: guitar, bass, drums



  • None posted


    Liner Notes



    AP Wire Service

    DENVER-Early Thursday morning, Flip Nasty backup singers JOHN SPERANZA and THE CODIES were reported missing from the secluded mountain-man residence of fellow backup singer CAT “THE BASS FROM SPACE” MAYHUGH.  Authorities suspect foul play and reportedly are questioning Mayhugh with regards to his alleged extra-terrestrial sympathies.  PETE VINCELETTE, who played the guitar solo on Million Valentines, was quoted as saying, “this is the kind of loss that people probably won’t notice in the traditional manner of feeling sad....”  An entirely different JOHN SPERANZA, who also played drum set on Island and auxilliary percussion along with CODY WEATHERS, could not be reached for comment.  “All programming and incidental music by CODY WEATHERS,” reported one source from the Arapahoe County Sheriff’s Office.



    UPI Wire Service

    DENVER- Although Archaeology was produced by CODY WEATHERS for Checkmate Productions, the real story of the day hinges on a top-secret military autopsy performed on the presumably alien pilots of a mysterious craft which crashed last week near Skokie, Illinois.  CAT “WE’RE GOING BACK, RIGHT?” MAYHUGH, who also took all the photos of Flip Nasty, launched an immediate inquiry into the procedure.  JOHN SPERANZA used his status as producer of Island to demand the release of all documents pertaining to government secrecy.  CODY WEATHERS, who once worked with SPERANZA to engineer this recording according to standard alien procedure, was spotted coming red-handed out of Buckley AFB.  Confronted, he could only say, “I’m not really sure what my extra-terrestrial medical qualifications are, but here are some abductees and expert witnesses whose speech was provided to us courtesy of Truth or What? Productions, Frumples Pictures, and Checkmate Live Archives: JOH3N “NECKMASTER” O’MEARA, SARAH “MEGHAN O’MEARA” GLINDENKOPF, DR. OWEN P. O’MEARA, M.D., ANNIE STAMPER, SPERANZA, FRIED, and CODY”




    UFO Wire Service

    DENVER- SETI radio telescopes decoded an extremely complex geometric sequence of radio pulses in the waning hours of last night.  The shocking results read, as we’ve always suspected: “Cat, Pete, our families, Joh3n and the rest of Clan O’Meara, Annie, Eric, fellow voyagers from planet Attrac-ton, everyone on our fabulous mailing list, Taco Bell, Siri, Seyca, Brian, Addington, Doc, Eli, Lyn, Robert, Elise, String, Christy, Vaunne, Gin, Karma, Jess, Kathy, Dannielle, Dave, Alaina, Scott, Jake, Lon, a gigantic list of coffeeshops and waitresses, the rest of you.”


    Notes on the 2000 CD re-release of Archaeology: [by Cat Mayhugh, independent record producer]:

    When I first got the call that Flip was going to start working on Archaeology and needed me to produce the album, I was ecstatic. I was told the band was tired of studio production and was returning to my jazz-basement “lo-fi” stylings which made early Roque recordings so ground-breaking and exciting. In addition, I was told, a certain young guitarist was being added to the group’s lineup (Pete Vincelette) who had at least some formal blues training and who might take on the sorely vacant spot on lead guitar that Nick Walsh had so competently occupied. Of course, the situation turned out to be quite different than what was described to me so that when I arrived on the first day of rehearsal I wasn’t met, exactly, with what could be called open arms. Of course, Cody begged me to do some back-up vocals for the album, but in the same breath he informed me that I wouldn’t actually be producing the album and that there had been some miscommunication between himself and the label. I was disappointed, needless to say. After replacing John Speranza’s guitar (a careless mishap which needs no explanation) the band resumed rehearsals and I joined them, striving to do my best to keep things simple.

    Now, although the album was recorded primarily in the basement, rather than use the Label’s old boom box and return to a 2-track, more gratifying sound, Cody bought his own 4-track and layered much of the album by “bouncing down” tracks. It was a long and unnecessarily tedious process, but it did prove somewhat advantageous. Particularly on the first two tracks, Cody’s inexperience with the 4-track imbued the vocals with a deliciously muddy, “lo-fi” edge. Other stand-outs on this album include Pete Vincelette’s solo on “Million Valentines” (sadly, the group was unwilling to work with Pete through most of the project…ultimately only this solo was finally accepted among all his contributions…to be honest, I suspect that Cody was somewhat jealous of Pete’s uncanny ability to maintain almost perfect, a-synchronous rhythms. But that’s another story…) As usual with Cody’s “late-millenium” projects, a certain intellectual fervor pervades this album (the use of Ivesian independent simultaneous orchestration on “Hero”, the complex (although conventional) rhythms on “Wish You Were Here”, “You Can Wait”, and “Champagne”, the blatant musicianship (sometimes I wonder why Cody insists on impressing all of us by playing most of the instruments on some albums? And why can’t Speranza just stick to guitar? Drums?! Bass Guitar?! I mean, granted he’s some sort of mutant Wunderkind, but my personal opinion is that the band could have used a healthy does of modesty…really, whenever they record). Regardless, I hope these brainy intrusions don’t intrude upon the listening pleasure of the album too much. I did what I could to keep the guitars scratchy and real, Cody’s lyrics are at the best they ever really get (although too intelligible for my tastes), and “Skulls of Angels” is given “new life” in a (too keyboard-intensive) version. It’s best not to worry about what this album might have been with a few more guitars and a lot more distortion and noise. It’s better to enjoy the album as it is. After all, it is a Flip Nasty album and even with its failings, it’s still better than half of at least a third of the other music out there. 




    Ordinary Guy: Karma, when you gonna let an ordinary guy pursue you with his shyness and his orange disguise? Your men may be buff, but they've got boobieville eyes. Surrender your heart and kiss your crying goodbye. Chorus: Dry your eyes with an ordinary guy. Karma, what's an ordinary guy supposed to do --just club you with a hammer like a neander-clue? There's love in my heart, and when you touch it, it's glue. Surrender your time, and I will bury your blues. Chorus. Oh Karma, give an ordinary guy a decent chance to win you with a mango or banana romance. An army of spies still couldn't get you to dance. Surrender your doubts and be contented at last. Chorus.


    Archaeology: Did you love me in the Stone Age? Did you have a choice at all, having only the fire and each other? Now I've got my shovel, yeah, I really want to know: did you emasculate the sabre-toothed tiger or did he set you free? Did you need my heart in Giza? Was I just another slave, counting only to carry your water? Why'd you wrap me like a package and include me in your grave? Was the tiny one your death and our daughter, or was she of the king? Chorus: Digging up the past, wearing down the stones, looking for clues in these bones. Did I tie you to a table? Did I bleed you for the rain? Did I think that you were not a virgin? Did I weep over you beating heart, a captive in my hands? Did I long to undo, as a surgeon, the damage I had done? I was wrong. Chorus. Did you love me back in High School, where we never did the deed? Did you feel that your chest was half empty? Although some dust has settled, my heart still can feel the need to be pressed to the glow of your body and never let you go. Chorus.


    Hero: A crisis must be faced somehow, though hiding may look safer. A queen is all a country has. To save her takes a hero. So take this sword across the sky; the crowd is all behind you. The unfamiliar, friendly eyes of nice girls will remind you.... Chorus: The only heroes now are sailing far away. Up away across the sky, just find the queen and bring her home, just save her from the lightning king. Wait, I don't believe that I've ever fought a king, and though I love the queen and don't want her to die, it seems to pin our hopes on me is a silly thing, although I'm just eighteen, and I don't know these things. But here I am across the sky with no clue what I'm supposed to do. I have a sword, but I can't fight. Chorus. "Help me," sings the queen, "my magic's tired, or I'd be free. Don't you remember me?" "Hero," says the king, "your country has made war with me. Are you surrendering?" "Please, sir," I tell the king, "I'm not the best at anything, but they've sent me for the queen." "Young thing," now laughs the king, "I can't believe they do such things, but you are the ransoming." Chorus. A crisis must be faced somehow, though lying may look quicker. A traitor is a country's wound. To heal it takes a hero. So take your hate across the sky; the crowd is all behind you. The unbelieving, angry eyes of nice girls will remind you. Chorus. Highness, will I be betrayed? Have I been betrayed? Who has betrayed me? Up in arms across the sky, the baby thugs of nations made of fouler stuff than need survive. Hunt like bees to honey thieves, blind to everything --your empty retribution is a dying sting. Dead, the traitor lies there dead --arrows in my head. Freedom can be won, but it's a final price. Still, in chains here lives the queen --root of everything-- with no one but the elders winning anything. Chorus.


    Twenty Miles: Get yourself on out, go on and brand your feet with the butter and the pollen and the unfamiliar sweet. Lonely though you are out in the stillness and the snow, don't go reaching for reverse just to get the thing to go. Chorus: Though you may feel twenty miles past no return, when you look ahead, I'll be bound the other way. Get yourself on out, go on and bust some teeth with the bat you save for salesmen who've been lying underneath. Though I think she's posted more than your 3000 miles, if you meet my own embarassment, won't you bust her pretty smile? ChorusII: And though I do feel twenty miles past no return, when I look ahead, it's for you the other way. And when you do find yourself your better man, remember to shed some luck my way. Chorus.


    I Wish That You Were Here: First time that I saw you, you were sitting on Mama's fence eating jelly beans, that old black lab, Sam Magic, right behind you with his belly on the green. I think of the pictures, and I wish that you were here. Later, when I touched you, you had grown to be a woman, but the jelly beans were still a little girl's. Kissing in the shower in the motel in the foothills, wearing nothing but your mother's precious pearls. I think of the pictures, and I wish that you were here. Omaha in summer, when I drove my father's car across what looked to be the surface of the sun. You looked me in the eye under the moon and twenty cottonwood and told me that I'd always be the one. I think of the pictures and I wish that you were here. Last time that I saw you, you were deadly as the ocean. A hurriacane of chocolate-painted eyes. A whisper of a kiss, the recitation of a list of all the reasons we must learn to say goodbye. When you look at the pictures, don't you wish that you were here?


    A Million Valentines: Oh, I could be stupid, but she could be dumber still. Leave cookies for Cupid and maybe the bastard will go pick up some roses for someone who doesn't feel I'm the lesser of a million valentines. Unpack my charm from the mothballs, please. Leave the windows up for the birds and bees. If they don't come, I still could use that breeze. They say that people die from lonely heart disease. I need inspiration. I need an original line. I've got to be patient, but I'm running out of time. I want to enchant her, dispelling that dreadful sigh, "you're the lesser of a million valentines." I rode my heart to the county line with the sheriff's mob just a mile behind. I put too much stock in this face of mine. Now, in deadwood, I'm an outlaw valentine. So roll out the whiskey --I'll be on the windowsill. I'll bet she won't miss me, but maybe her sister will. So if I look misty, it's only 'cause now I feel I'm the lesser of a million valentines.


    Champagne: That kiss was from the champagne, not the Gin that I had hoped. And I left her one week later through a window in the snow. If I call her, will she miss me? Will an orange make her kiss me? All bananas promise falsely, "if you peel me, you will know." Chorus: No, no, my fool, your dream's not true. No love in her eyes is meant for you. Her body was a liar, but I didn't understand, and my love for what I wanted made me lose the things I had. So I said so and it haunts me; not a raisin made her want me. All the roses whispered falsely, "If you send us, she'll be glad." Chorus. One day, you will all regret the way you made me feel. One day, you'll need me, but I won't hear you.


    Jerks: You have been pissing on the wrong dog, just like the wannabe sub-Philistine you are. You think you're clever, but you're duller than a spoon. Your skull would make a good balloon --I'll pop it soon. Chorus: Say, have you met my angel? For her, you just might work: she's precious as the air, but her heart is full of jerks. I have been loving her the wrong way --I should've acted like a weasel long ago. I know I'm clever, but I didn't understand her heart would dry a kinder man --you'll be the plan! Chorus. She has been starving for a long time. In all her eating dirt, she's come across some worms. She is so clever, but she can't embrace the rain. Just likes it on the windowpane --I'm just the same. Chorus. One day she will say goodbye to everything you are. One day, she'll need me, and I'll be waiting, as I've always been.


    Open Up: The future sits, and her ears are open. Liquor sipless, tableside. Her eyes are fixed, she's got long-stemmed fingers, scarless hands.... copper pride. Chorus: She doesn't suspect a thing, but she's going to be Mrs. Me. Knock, knock, knock, knock --open up, I've come to get your heart. Did you ever have such a precious moment when you knew for certain something good? They fizzle out like an old sensation --the scent of rain or familiar wood. Chorus. I look at her and know my way --the endless days I'll contemplate. Maybe I could buy some guts today. I can't believe that an ounce of kindness --one funny story-- is all it takes to bring her close like a cloud of morning or star with eyes of long embrace. Chorus.


    Skulls of Angels: Why do I hurt the things I love? Why do I treat you in this way? Why am I jealous of the things I cannot change? What can I do to make you stay? Chorus: Sheltered by the shadow of the angel's wings, I saw the stone I cast at her, saw it strike her --shelter no more. I see you turn and walk away. I really know not what I've done. Where there was fire now is little more than dust. I did not see what I'd begun. Chorus. I do not see you with my open eyes, I only see you when you're not there. You're like a ghost within my fever dreams --the skulls of angels seen so clear. I'm looking down into the clearest pool, and looking up, I say myself. Your heart is full of blood, and blood is full of pain. I wish you were not somewhere else. I try to shake myself, but mock myself instead. The waves that melt me melt away. I try to look again, but the light is fading fast. Apologies some other day. Set me free from the weight upon my head. Set me free, let me live again instead. Why do I speak to you again? What can I do to make you see that there is magic if you trust in me again? What can I do to make you see? Chorus.


    You Can Wait: Misty are the edges which tomorrow will snap clear. Will you remember? Can you forgive me? Distance is the cushion from the blade of my embrace. Will you remember I could've hurt you? Solace in the evening in your secret little space. I can still hear you. I know you're crying. Thunder is the curtain on the breaking of each tear. Will you remember how much you loved me? Chorus: You can wait, but I think you'd better leave me in the rain. Memory is the watchdog for the courage that I crave. Will you remember? Will you forgive me? Fragile is the moment of the breaking of your heart. Will you remember? Can you forgive me? I could only scar you with my hand upon your skin. I know it sounds like I don't remember. Sad and so familiar is the mirror of your face. I hope you know that I won't forget you. Chorus. Distant the horizon, and the champion of your heart. You will embrace him. He will adore you. Shadows of a journey, and a dream that speaks my name. Will you remember? Will you forgive me? Chorus.


    As I Am: As I am, I don't make sense. Seven years' of blisters on my heart. I ought to let you go. I ought to let us grow apart. As I am, a simple thought propels me on a journey through your blood. Don't you know by now? Don't you know that you're in love? If your eyes were out, would you want me as I am? Chorus: Kiss me, oh kiss me --I've loved you all this time. As I am, I bite my tongue, count to eight, and slowly drive away. I have to make a game, I have to make a frame to say. As I am I know you well --tell you truthful jokes and somber lies. Somewhere in the veil of lingering and lost goodbyes. If the truth were out, would you want me as I am? Chorus. My muse, my love, my angel ocean blue, you are the very beating of my heart. As I am, I wish I knew words to make you stop on any dime. Instead I'll have to say, I haven't gone away with time. And you ought to know I love you as you are. Chorus. And you ought to know I love you as you are.


    I Am The Moon: I am your glass medallion, silver dollar watching you above your shoulder. Following your walks at night. Kissing you with pleasant light. CH:You are the soil, you want the stars. I am the moon, I am the moon. I can elude your vision from beyond the trees, in your shadow or a cloudy breeze. I pull your oceans, blood and tears --indirectly hold you near. CH Bridge: Let my lunacy keep your heart. Let my lunacy light your dark. I am your glass medallion, silver dollar watching you above your shoulder Safety in my icy light --beacon of your dreams at night.

    Island: Oh Island, would you bury me, maraud me with your stones and trees? This land I loved, her soil to wet, and seeds --which sown-- I reap not yet. I leave you now, your rocky shores are sovereign of my heart no more. And should my voice blow back again, 'tis only echoes on the wind.

    Listening Log:

    Subtle theme of burying the past --see, now that's clever right there.  After several studio albums in a row, we returned to recording ourselves in the basement in order to cut album costs and have more time to record.  And although I hold later home studio efforts up as equals of the pro studio recordings we made (e.g., Flame Cow vs Guitool), this one is admittedly quite rough.  It was recorded on 4-track cassette, with many of the keyboard parts recorded live by piece (i.e., no quantization --correction of timing) into my keyboard's onboard sequencer.  Fried was in Japan for much of this time, and only was able to contribute bass to a few tracks.  The remainder are covered by Speranza or myself, with a small handful sequenced.  I've always liked this album for its material, but the recording quality is only marginally better than Checkmate, and I've been tempted more than once to re-record the entire album as Archaeology II.  Ironically not letting go of the past, see.


    Ordinary Guy: One advantage of having all the time you need is getting dozens of takes to pull of those piano trills, then looping them together into the entire song once you've hit them.  Hypothetically.  Having just ripped this album, I'm now enjoying listening to it.  Nice bass part from Speranza, nice backup vocals from Speranza & Cat (in addition to me).  Nice solo from Speranza, using one of our favorite effects tricks --the "dead battery flange."  We had this Fender flange pedal that we discovered sounded really great when its battery was dying.  Eventually, we learned to duplicate that effect by using a variable-voltage AC adapter, which is what we're doing here.  Unfortunately, we fried the board on that particular pedal recording Lost, and subsequently couldn't quite get the same sweetness with another pedal.  This lyric's not particularly meaningful, about a pretty girl a buddy of mine wooed unsuccessfully on behalf of ordinary guys everywhere.


    Archaeology: Fried on bass for this one.  Nice tone from Speranza again.  For a lot of this album, he didn't own an electric guitar, so he either made the best he could of my somewhat crappy electric, or else we just amped up his acoustic.  This was mine.  Very muddy backup vocals -- with only 4 tracks, you have to make a lot of decsions early, and combine ("bounce") tracks down, and I didn't really master that technique fully until River Dreams.  Generally, you can track like this: record 3 things, then mix them onto the 4th track.  Then record 2 more and mix them onto the thrid track, finally, record single elements onto the final two tracks for a total of nine elements.  If you're willing to add some karaoke during the bounce, you can push that to 11 items on 4 tracks (which we didn't figure out until River Dreams).  The conceptual key to the album, digging up and wondering at the past, with no answers to those questions.


    Hero: One of my personal favorites.  Out of necessity, all of the instruments except the drums are on two separate sequences.  I'm ripping off one of my favorite composers, Charles Ives, in a subtle way by introducing a second, independent ensemble running counter to the primary song (a la several of his works, including "The Unanswered Question" and "Central Park in the Dark").  In that second ensemble, I follow a morph, which is a technique that I'm not aware of anyone else using --although it's doubtful that I really invented it-- in which I change a figure very slowly from one thing to another through very tiny variations in repetition.  I also used that same technique in Cockroach Crude.  This is based on a short story I never quite completed about a pariah sent on a fool's errand to deliver the ransom of a kidnapped queen.


    Twenty Miles: Most of these spoken segues are lifted from our Frumples film, Alien Autopsy: Truth or What?  Fried on bass.  O'Meara, Cat, and Speranza on backup vocals.  This song of support is somewhat out of place on what is otherwise a fairly dark album from a dark time in my life.


    Wish You Were Here: Speranza on guitar and bass.  I like the percussion breaks on this song.  Unlike studio albums, this album marked the first time where the drums were generally not laid down first, but rather as an overdub to a click and following the ideas generated in other parts.  I've come to prefer this method for its results, although it is more challenging as a performer.  Reminiscences from photos of a love long lost.


    Million Valentines: I play all the instruments except for the guitar solo, contributed by the infamous Pete Vincelette of Live Bait.  Despite how things ended, I've got a lot of respect for his playing.  This is a laying to rest of the worst Valentines day ever.  Screw Cupid!  Screw him!


    Champagne: linked to Jerks by the fade.  I like this one a lot --I think the words really flow right together.  Of course, you have to know the code to get it, DixieDIXIE: mister, you can push me, but you might not like it when I push back.  I play bass on this one.


    Jerks: This one could really use a second chance re-recorded.  This drum part is very hard and took quite a while to get right.  Very sarcastic ode to the jerks that seemed to always win out over me.


    Open Up: Another personal favorite among my songs.  I love this sequence, and I love this drum part, which may feature some of my best brushwork ever.  I start out playing open hands on drumset, then move to bundled dowels for the first chorus, then brushes for the second verse & chorus, then back to dowels for the bridge, then brushes on the final verse.  This is about that optimistic spark that surges through you when you first realize you are falling for someone.


    Skulls of Angels: Borrowing Steve Reich's (another favorite composer) phase music concept in the arrangement.  This is a fairly old song, which had been waiting for the right album.  I like how this worked out.  An early lament for my own role in my romantic failures.


    You Can Wait: Here, I wish we'd used an electric instead of distorting Speranza's acoustic.  This song is in mixed meter, combining 4/4/, 7/8, and 3/4 at times.  Fried on bass.  That written piano part on the fade grew out of monkeying around with a quarter-tone version of this song, then re-tempering it to 12-tone octaves.  As Sting says, "just like the old man in that famous book by Nabokov."  Only his song is a #1 hit 100 times over, and this is just some stupid filler Flip Nasty song.


    As I Am: Fried on bass.  I like this song, but its catharsis is done for me, I don't often feel moved to play it anymore.  True of much of the album, which reflects a lot of personal pain, humiliation, anger and other negative feelings that I wanted to lay to rest.  Nice solo from Speranza.  Speranza and the Codies pulling their normal backup vocal tricks.


    I Am The Moon: This song's in 5, as you can hear in the smarmy countoff ("1....2....5-4-3-2-1)  This is my daughter, Cara's (age 2), current favorite "dada song."  A slightly augmented version of this recording is on Songs You Hate (adding an extra rhythm guitar and re-recording the muddy vocals).  I rank this in my top 20 best songs.  Thin metaphor masks theme beaten to death by songwriters (approximately 300 blows coming from me) throughout the ages: "I'm the one who's there for you, but you love someone else, oh why don't you love me, I'm so terribly sad."


    Island: Capping off the angst of the album with this cheery half-veiled "screw you!" lyric was sheer brilliance.  As a fresh twist, Speranza produced this song (i.e. made decisions about performances, levels, mix, sounds, etc) and also played all the instruments (bass, drums, and guitar).  The post-song material is the backup vocals to As I Am played backwards at a slow digital rate on DAT followed by two soundbites from Alien Autopsy, then a segment with Annie Stamper playing a supposedly irate Demi Moore, who threatens me over my "Nerdtease" posters.  I recorded it on a handheld tape recorder and played it as a joke at the Peaberry in Boulder.