Flip Nasty: Albums: Flame Cow Original Motion Picture Soundtrack

Flip Nasty: Flame Cow: Original Motion Picture Soundtrack (studio, 2000)

(songs largely neither contained in, nor inspired by the film)

	BUY IT: $10 CD/$5 mp3 full-album/.50/track a la carte at CD Baby.
The Songs Disc 1: Flame (Bål): Afraid of Love/ Coyote/ So Will I/ Eclipse/ Cinderella Dream/ Thursday's Fool/China, Present Day/ Shiny Dimes/ Fire/ Sorry/ Along/ Creeps/Cockroach Crude/Deploy Flame Cow Disc 2: Cow (Ku): When/ Birdy/ If You Had My Eyes/ Crush/ Salt of the Memory/ Love Is A Secret/ Patience/ALITB/ Everything/ No One Could/ Cruel/ Hidden Tracks! /Love is Paper (live) /That Dress all songs written and arranged by Cody Weathers (c)(p)1991-1999, Cody Weathers, all rights reserved. No stealing the worthless material, OK?
The skinny: Everybody in America today loves the fact that movie soundtracks are merely shallow corporate marketing devices that often contain songs that aren't even in the movie advertised. Flip Nasty hears your desires and responds in force with Flame Cow! 26 glorious anthems on 2 discs having practically nothing to do with the movie for which they were "commissioned."	30 other online retailers, from amazon to napster, prices vary.
Don't Hate the Players: (L-R) John Speranza: guitar Cody Weathers: vocals, drums, keyboards John Fried: bass with: Terri Kempton: cello on Along, backup vocals on Fire and Love is Paper Elizabeth Trice: backup vocals on Love is Paper Libby Martin: backup vocals on Love is Paper Eric Rorem: backup vocals on Fire Amy Lin: speech on Cinderella Dream Joel Pietsch: Piano on ALITB Robert McIntosh: Ghost Ensemble toms on Cockroach Crude Elise McIntosh: Ghost Ensemble toms2, bass drum on Cockroach Crude Jon McConnell: Ghost Ensemble toms3 on Cockroach Crude Jennifer Rittenburg: Cockroach Ensemble snare on Cockroach Crude JJ McCabe: Cockroach Ensemble wood block on Cockroach Crude Evan Louden: Cockroach Ensemble castanets on Cockroach Crude Mark Goodenberger: Conductor on Cockroach Crude	MP FREES: No One Could So Will I Cruel China, Present Day MERCH:

Liner Notes:

About Flame Cow: Flame Cow is the epic tale of a heroic cow (in the classic tradition of heroic cows), a jaw-dropper gorgeous brainy milkmaid, and a cratchety old farmer who together must save the world from a deadly plague of clones unleashed in secret by a dark and brooding supervillain whose inky nebulous influence transcends geographic, political and cosmic borders at an alarming rate. Despite rumors circulating on the internet, the script was absolutely not written by robots.

Flame Cow, the Movie: Directed by Alan Smithee. Produced by Frumples Pictures/Cosmonaut Films. Screenplay by Script Applicator 4.1 (TM)

Flame Cow: Brian Costello

Milkmaid Petra: Corinna Buchholz

Farmer Johanssen: Krandler

The President: A. Boring

Gringor Stynx: Himself

"David Bowie": "Himself"

The Vice President: Mannequin Man

FLAME COW FAQs

1. Will Flame Cow be playing at my local theater multiplex chain?

A. Maybe. Be sure to write 1-10 letters to your theater proprietors demanding that it be shown on the big screen.

2. Does Flame Cow have a girlfriend?

A. We think so.

3. Does Flame Cow like carrots?

A. Not as a rule.

4. If Flame Cow and R2D2 had a fight, who would win, and by how much?

A. Flame Cow. 40-Love.

5. Who plays Flame Cow?

A. Flame Cow is not so much played as lived for real by Brian Costello.

6. How does Flame Cow go to the bathroom?

A. In much the same way as Incendiary Otter.

7. Why did George Lucas create Jar-Jar Binks?

A. It's unconfirmed, but we believe Lucas may be just another clone.

8. If Flame Cow and Jar-Jar had a fight, who would win?

A. It's tough to say. Jar-Jar is obviously at least as tough as a Wookie.

9. If Santa gets sick, will Flame Cow save Christmas?

A. No, there will be no Christmas that year.

10. Will there be a Flame Cow II?

A. No. As you have probably seen in the exciting and enticing trailer that gives everything away so that you'll want to see the movie even more desperately than if it was all a surprise, the surprise ending is that all the characters are killed --some of them twice.

ALAN SMITHEE TALKS ABOUT THE MAKING OF "FLAME COW"

Interviewer: I've just seen the film, and I've got to confess that I don't understand it.

Smithee: Have you considered that your brain may be undersized?

I: Oh, I recognize the genius --I just don't understand it.

S: That seems to be a common reaction from the undersized-brain crowd.

I: Can you tell us about how the project got started?

S: Well, Brian Costello, who plays the lead in the film, has a chemical imbalance in his brain.

I: Excuse me?

S: If this is too fast for your undersized brain to process, I can slow down.

I: What is it with you and brains?

S: I find that most people I meet have some manner of brain problem. Brian's brain problem is a chemical imbalance. The nature of this imbalance is such that he approached the people at Frumples Pictures and told them that he wanted to do an adaptation of the popular Norwegian comic book, Bål Ku, which roughly translates to "Flame Cow." The higher-ups at Frumples were very keen on making this happen because Brian is, hands-down, the best --or even "only"-- dramatic talent ever to be attached to a Frumples Production. Furthermore, they were encouraged by the fact that Brian claimed to already have the Bål Ku adaptation rights, and they knew that in the current cinematic climate, comic book adaptations are solid gold --just think of The Phantom, The Saint, Batman & Robin, and As Good As It Gets, just to name a few....

I: I guess I don't see how this has anything to do with a "chemical imbalance in Brian's brain." It seems like a pretty standard pitch-and-catch to me.

S: Sure, to the tiny-brained. Let me ask you something: in all your travels to Norway, have you ever heard of a comic book called Bål Ku?

I: Well, I haven't actually been....

S: I don't have time to wait for your answer. Of course you haven't. That's because there is no Bål Ku comic book. Brian Costello is a seriously delusional baboon.

I: So did you tell Frumples Pictures?

S: Are you kidding? I'd sat in on meetings with Brian and the executives where everybody was going on about how much they liked the books, and how we should try to stick to the original look and feel as much as possible.

I: So what did you do?

S: I paid my son $15 to draw a couple of Bål Ku comic books.

I: $15?!

S: Hey, it's twice what he gets to mow the lawn. Anyway, he drew a couple of books --I had them printed up real nice, then we started talking about story.

I: Tell us about the writing process.

S: Well, I'm not allowed to tell you that it was written by a computer. Contractually forbidden to tell you that they scanned in one of the comic books, gave the thing a cast of characters and let an algorithmic drama generator crunch the thing over Labor Day. What I can tell you is that the first draft had a lot of problems, including the fact that all of Milkmaid Petra's lines were just "I prefer beef" written in binary ASCII text. So we definitely didn't purchase an upgrade to the software and do a rewrite, that's for sure. So we went through a few revisions, then we ran out of money, and just shot it. Although it might seem like each scene was written entirely independtly of any other scene, that's definitely not the case. I think --despite the poor first draft-- we've managed to really make a pretty meaningful statement about clones and cloning.

I: Wow. So where can people go to see Flame Cow?

S: The film will be shown at a variety of secret times and locations around the country. Basically what you should do is try to just randomly walk around, looking for it. It could be anywhere: the side of a building, an access tunnel, projected on the ground from a moving airplane, your office, the back seat of a Datsun, even a movie theater. Just look for it, and you can't help but find it.

Lyrics:

Afraid of Love: I won't speak, and I won't call. I'll never make a move at all. I love her, but I'm paralyzed and small. I've got bad instincts, and my first plan is my worst plan, and I'll drive away the woman who might one day understand. ChorusI: She said, "No, go back. Don't you come back this way." The lantern's lit, her fire is bright, but even if she's warm tonight, the monkey in my tongue will hold it tight. I've got no timing, and I can't confess I love her, and my coldness serves to shove her to the arms of angry men. ChorusII: I was choking on the promise, I'm afraid of love. I'm afraid of loving you.

Coyote: So cold says the coyote as the willow whips the crow. So quick, thick, and easy just to let these arrows go. I try not to break you, says the coyote to the snow. It's hot-fought and rotten, but it's the only food I know. Chorus: Seeking my anguish, this dog loves a tree. Fill me with warmth, and I'll feed you with me. I know I travel to die at your knee. Take me from cold, and I'll feed you with me. So fierce is the fire that the willow might explode. So cold is the coyote, he forgets the ashen crow. She whispers and touches with her passion underglow. The canopy collapses, and the coyote smokes his bones. Chorus. So cold, screams the coyote, and his hide it heals too slow. So scabbed-up and skinless, I'm a skeleton, I know. I pause just to die here --let my inside-out unfold. Silent seeds turn to saplings, sprouting willows feed and grow. Chorus. Feed me with fire and I'll feed you with me.

So Will I: Sweet little line of color and sound, I can't see the shape you follow as the song breaks down. Soft little pace creeps with the ground. Will my blanket shield you when I turn around? Sweet little spot, mumbled and hot, creepers spill like ivy that the seed forgot. Soft little nest, bitter and blessed, linger for the first and only time we kissed. Chorus: I see anger in your eyes, I'm not blind, I'm not blind. I say dogs and babies die; so will I, so will I. Sweet little drop of liquid and silk, pushing slowly, sliding coarsely like spider's milk. Soft little bud yearns for the flood. Speak the drop as if it were your aching blood. Chorus. Soft was the whispered breath, muttering and stuttering. Hot thorns with blood to press, always wistful, wondering. Sweet little face of mangoes and sand, please don't slide aside from shape in my shaking hand. Soft little eye, deep as the sky, I would be your chattle if you wouldn't cry. Chorus.

Eclipse: Pain, pain, songs of pain. Songs of loss and love and rain. My songs, me all drawn in crayon. This heart, dumb anchor, drowns smart brain. Where will you go, who will you see, who'll fail you each morning --neglect if not me? Chorus: These years wasted, foolish strings that tie me to such hopeless things. Your heart in shadow seems mine to light. The moment passed --without me, bright. Love, love, long and low, lived in deserts, stars, and snow. My love, mine, all hope, you know --this golem's wicker, brittle bones. How warm your eyes, how bright their rays. I thought of you for days on days. I loved your heart, your thoughts, your gloom, your crazy ways, your deep, wet room. Your kiss was stolen, bed on fire. I said to go, but was a liar. We laughed and cried, we tried and tried. The moment came, and, coming, died. I cling to ashes, hair, and bone, your shadow in each woman shown. Chorus. Kiss, kiss, lips I miss, promises in oil and piss. My kiss bites a phantom wrist. Mouth without me, you exist. Where is the heart, pulled from the mud. Who'll love your disaster --live with your blood? Chorus. I miss the voice, I miss the trust, I miss the days I missed --I must. My words all lies, my lies all art. "It's love or nothing," breaks the heart. My love was great, my heart was vast, that love is gone, that shadow passed. "There's love or nothing," screams my will. No hope, no love, yet something still.

Cinderella Dream: Two blue hearts on a napkin, whiskey and crabs in the spring. She slips into my dreams, and she comes teasing me with fire. It's a pumpkin, it's a f***ing wedding ring. Chorus: She was the best who ever wore the glass slipper, even though I could see only a chimneysweep. Two red boats on the ocean. Careful, I'll kiss you if you breathe. She labors me with oil, and she comes trickling at my door. It's a knick-knack, it's a pearl between my teeth. Lariat the doe-brow eyes of a legend, and she'll pull you like a kite through the ether of the night. Chorus. Dreamspeech: You are so full of s***. I'm freezing. That is neither innocent nor accident. The spring snakes of desire. I only wanted you for your mittens. I have a nice car and I am a good driver, but, for some reason, you want to push the car all the way to Portland. No, that's not going to work. It's time for you to decide. Either get in the car or start hitching. You know, it's not like we'll be there in an hour --we'll still have a long way to go, but you need to travel like a normal person. This is "riding in a car." You know that by "hanging out" I mean with kissing too, right? Panic. Move over, I want to go to sleep. You're not wearing anything. I sleep nude. You didn't always sleep nude. I was born nude. Yeah, but you own a lot of pajamas. Are you scooting over or what? All I'm saying is --how long have we been friends? Since I bit off your finger --move. Right, pretty much since I was born, and I've slept in your room on the floor with the big white sleeping bag with the life-sized grover on it. It's much bigger than life-size. It's how big he would be if he was real. But it's not how big the puppet is --it's bigger than the puppet. Regardless, you weren't nude at the time. Charlie, I'm getting cold, and you'd best be making a whole lot of room. But you wouldn't be cold if you were wearing your pajamas, many of which I've seen --When you were packing for school last year, you made me look at your pajamas-- I think this to be odd for a nude sleeper. Take your time, why don't you.... Will you sleep nude when you're married? If I'm married --it's very comfortable; you should try it. Oh, I don't know. Charlie, I've seen you. When?! Oh, hush up with the questions! I don't think you get to be shy if I have to stand naked while you grill me about pajamas from the warm covers; I mean, Charlie, you're sleeping in jeans --how comfortable can that be? More comfortable than being naked. Are you afraid I'll jump ya? No. Well, I promise not to jump ya. Cody, you are so full of s***. You're not looking at me and wanting to be with me. You want a scarecrow with my a** --a f***ing Scarejane. Well f*** you.

Thursday's Fool: This pillow cold can surely wait. This brittle sky will surely snow. This blanket old has known more heat. I wish you had some thought of me. My ink is dust, my tongue abates. I'll meet you where there's mistletoe. My hands are touched by fragile cuffs of angel down you shed on me. I'm thursday's fool, but years from now I hope you'll have my drop of gold.

Shiny Dimes: Met her on the lawn, and I thought I would forget her, but I should've known better, yes I should've known better. Twenty-eight months, and a thing or two later, and she ought to know I love her, but I don't know how to let her. Standing on the roof, with the rain above the ground, and my ears are optimistic for that one gold sound. Something like, "I love you, won't you please come down?" But I know that it's not coming, like I knew she'd frown. Chorus: I'd be had for shiny dimes but she still can't be had for a song. Met her in a dream and she wore a yellow sweater. Said she could've done better, and I knew I would regret her. Question and a scream and a stupid little letter. These are acts of klutz seduction that I'd rather not remember. Standing in the trees in the middle of the night with the pins up in the ceiling bleeding lantern light. Hearts cannot be won because they don't know how to fight. It's a matter of arrival; is your passport right? Chorus. Meet her at the door in the middle of September. I have come to light a bonfire with a pinpoint of an ember. Cigarettes and stars, what is close and what's forever? Will her tender feelings blossom by the sunrise or December. Standing in the wind like a fool without a voice, my stupid silent serenade continues and destroys every single option born of passion, born of noise. It's a question, it's an answer, it's a simple choice. Chorus.

Fire: Hot burns fast, makes smoke and dies. Wet wood smoke, all smoke see I. Slow is rare, with heat that stays, but hard to see --its plume mere haze. You have a way of starting a fever. Boil my blood with warn and warmth. Time will make me crisp and crackle, flicker into roaring swarm. Orange, purple naked eyes underneath these batman skies, I painted you and came alive. You have a way of looking at fire. Right through me, you sense the spark. Oh, you know the way that these things start. You know the matchbook of my heart. Chorus: You've got fire, you've got spark, but you got burned, so you got smart, and you took the love I needed far away. Now I've got to pull myself together before my ashes blow away. You have a way of starting with paper. Blood and tinder, flame makes flame. Little wisps of smoke and smolder learn to flare and light again. Vanquish my foes, the game is thick, the tally soon. Pocket me quick, and --finger-to-lips-- exit this angry blue room. Chorus. If I catch you with the matches, you'll be playing in the rain. Nothing's wrong with coming home --I'm coming home again. How many words can I rhyme with "murder?" Burn my body with those hips. Sleepless drowning, this is bliss, bed on fire --flames and water. Chorus.

Sorry: I can see her from the stairway, I can see her from up here, and I want to brew a magic phrase to pull her pretty ear. But a new time is an old time --my hope beat by fear. I could hear her in a dream, her throat her tiny violin, and she tried to tell me something --how to win her through the din. But a new time is an old time, and we won't begin. Chorus: Innocent, she wakes, she's sorry --sorry, but she knows the ending. I can see her from the treehouse, I can see her from the moon, and I know she'll make me ask again, as if it's just too soon. But a new time is an old time, and I'm still the same buffoon. Bridge: Heaven knows it's a cold year for the rose. She says, "If I don't really love you, what're you going to make me do?" Chorus. I could see her in a nightmare, where she burned by blue guitar, and she said, "I'll tell you something: you have pushed an inch too far, and you'd better change the next time. Don't blame me --it's who you are." Chorus.

Along: Would you kiss me good morning if we were the last two fools to flee from here to somewhere underground? Do you love me 'cause I'm funny? I know you don't love me for my money. Chorus: I think I'm turning into one more reason I should go. You think I'm taking you along. If my pantry was empty, would you still marry me in December, when everything is cold? I'm walking through the alleys; the fields of our fathers have been fallow for a thousand years or more. Chorus. Onto the thorny trail, the gates are closed behind us. Two bags of memories on our backs. Are we chasing a dragon? I hope you enjoy the way I treat you. Chorus. Looks like I'm taking you along.

Creeps: Are you mad at me? Are you passion in degrees? I anticipate your options, but your choice is in-between. Always close, I taste defeat upon your door, but if the telephone starts ringing, then I'm off across the floor. Chorus: Maybe you're lonely, calling to say, "I love you after all, and you really don't give me the creeps." Are you dangerous? Is this panic in the dust? It takes two to make a couple and I think there's one of us. Near as I can see, your dial tone never leads to me. You've got some numbers in that thing, but mine won't ever get the ring, unless.... Chorus. I'm disconnected. My voice machine tells me no one calls. I'm out of quarters, out of order, out of borders, are you sort of free? Just no time to make for me! All your words are busy signals, but they sound legit to me. Always home, I've got a blanket and some hope. I guess I've got to give up sometime, but there goes the telephone. Chorus.

When: Yes, I would f*** you for days in a windowless, steamy room, reveling in the salmon and brine of you, ordering pizza and Chinese food until the bank man came and cut my hand off, covering you with chocolate, licking the sweat from your thighs, burying my sadness in your lollipop eyes. Fall into my fat arms, take me out and shoot me by the car. It's who you are. Chorus: When will you be my girl, when will you belong to me. Yes, I hunger for your lanky frame and the sexy thrust-slouch of your deep smooth hips all over me like a blanket of paws. If you don't see me soon, don't you think you will explode? Sneaky me, I knit you a mask, and I ask you to dance and dance and dance. Sexy you, you left the love ray on, and I'm falling in as I write my song. Fall into my fat arms, pull me back, and kill me with a look. You wrote the book. Chorus. I'm in panic; you were just seen laughing. I'll be fine if I can just stop bleeding. Yes, I would weasel my way to the bed that ties you down. Shanghai me, soft and enslaved by a love that never drowns, swabbing the decks for your sharking crew --all you redhead pirates, buccaneers, you. Saving you from danger on the burning ship, tasting love's cool language on your popsicle lips.

Birdy: I am the bird, I am the bird who's known to peck at people's cats, a nervous bird who broke a wing, now I need a nurse --you look so good in white. I want to move into your nest. Look me in the eye and tell me you don't want to fly. You can't imagine what a bird would have to do to get a crack at you --thinking only small cracks do the real big harm-- you can't believe that I'm the biggest in this room. You think a bird is just a bird, but I can love you. I broke that wing when I was looking at your picture. A careless bird, but one who's not afraid to love. You say you're worried --after all, you own a cat, and don't I peck them? Would she eat me? Am I sure I've really thought the whole thing through? You can reject me for your feelings if you want to. I'm just a bird, and you say, "even birds should know a line exists." You might remember, in the air, the rules are different, and you have to climb to reach the open space. Chorus: Think of me kindly, ruffle my plumes, open my birdcage, brighten its rooms. It's today, it's today, you can't believe it's today. Chorus. Pour me my water, feed me my food, give me a cracker, good birdy good.

If You Had My Eyes: You contemplate, you make your plan. With your blindfold on, can you see my hand? You've done your time, you've heard the news. Will you ever see how I look at you? Lovely as the sun is bright, but distant as a star. Chorus: If you had my eyes, you'd never look away. You'd see the star that fell and took your name. You set the date, you watch the clock. You could start again if the bets are off. You miss the mark, you look behind. You believe in the voice, and I know you've been blind. Smarter than the moon is high, but lonely as the sea. Chorus. Don't you know my heart. Splendid as the winter's cold, but secret as a key. Chorus.

Crush: Oh my sassy vampire, point and click the livelong day. I've been working on the railroad, but they never let me play. Doting on your template in clove and coffe stomping grounds. Heaved you into bed every dream --made you rise and fall and scream. Pre-Chorus: Some words come to hide, others to be spoken, some hearts love to fly, others to be broken. Chorus: A dangerous crush, she murders me with screaming, I die in a hole. Dislocate your work facade with your passionate disgust. Sexy you, you've never said "hi" or "proactive" in your life. When I nail the paper down on my hermit place to hide, will you let me kidnap you then --be my scarlet shotgun bride? Pre-Chorus/Chorus. Flushed from cover, noisy blunder, made to lie and left to wonder. Give the swill who keeps you there twenty minutes and a box, watermelon and something silk --he'll be lonely without you. Danger me with water tales, open up your baby blues. Boil my heart and jump every bone. 'Til that day I sing haikus. Chorus.

Salt of the Memory: Oh, I have eyes to see you. Light one more torch on the water. You lay rings of mercury between us. I throw the stones, I will follow. Oh, bitter wind to doubt me, just one more word to silence. You lay rings of memory around me. I hear the sea, "follow...." Chorus: All of the salt in the seven seas burns in my blood with a memory. Oh, for the days when my heart was free. Salt of the memory. Oh, you have strength to pull me in. Oh, so my feet touch the water. You sing songs of magic and entrapment. I touch the face of my captor. You lay me down on your table. You touch your mouth to my shoulder. Red the plumes that rise towards the surface. Love in the eyes of your supper. Chorus.

Love is a Secret: I hear the voice behind you on the phone and once again, my job is done. I'm a dedicated soldier, but when the fight is through, I'm not the one. Chorus: Love is a secret I'll never tell you. Can't you just figure out? You call me in the evening. In the trash and f***ed again, you need someone. I'm addicted to the crisis, for when your heart is new, my heart is fun. Chorus. You leave me in the summer, but when the winter's here, I'll be your sun. Chorus. I'll distract the dragons while you go f*** the queen --the queen I love. A kiss on the lips, a mouth on the heart, a whisper through the dark. Chorus.

Patience: Keys and grabbed and rode away --matches in the door. Flown and fled this flat astray --mop your love a floor. Handed me a monkey's mouth, shouted "kiss!" and skittered south. Grapes and condoms tucked away --fill your heart a drawer. Chorus: Patience, love, and angles true --different sort of blue. Time will weep your bad love gone and I will be with you. Drove and dragged and met a fish. Stopped to burn a tree. P***ed on ice cream, made a wish, rented love from me. Gave me shivers, jokes and moods --f***ed your voice a time or two. Decorated and dismissed --rotten love is free. Chorus. SpeechI: I drove by that dark house every night I neared despite the fact that the windows were marbled, and even after the house had been sold, I still glanced up at the yellow light as I careened around the corner and I wanted to go back and stop that kid from dialing one more time just to be told because sometimes it's enough to know. SpeechII: How do I feel about her? She kills me. I look at her and I think, "F*** me with a hammer if that is not the most sensual, brilliant woman I have ever seen." She slays me dead. Oh, she could give the word and I would drop everything. Quit this f***ing job, vacate the apartment, pick up the pieces later. It would be my little life moment --my whole life in this one act. I want her all the time, I have to be with her, and she murders me --I can't have her. She's got this guy, this nice guy, but he's wasting her, he leaves her dangling and she dangles. I'm insanely jealous, but there's no price I can pay for her. She's not for sale. I go to the store every day, hoping she's in the window, but there's nothing I can put down and walk out of there with her. She murders me. SpeechIII: Unless she hops on a redeye right now, gives the taxi driver an absent-minded c-note, pounds the broken buzzer until her finger sprains and she is forced to shatter my garden-level window with the decorative pumice boulder and leap through like a dissheveled love commando, tattooing me with feverish feral kisses and barking out confessions like drowning breaths between embraces, "Finally, I dreamt it and saw it and I know it now forever. I love you. I have to have you. I'm wet like a monsoon for you and I need you inside me right now for the rest of my life. F***mekissmetakemehavemefillme with our beautiful babies, I want my life to begin right now!" followed by the most intense 107-degree jungle sweltering sex ever had by two hearts twined and oh f*** the screaming that will drive the rats from these walls back to Ireland where they would rather eat the Pied Piper or give him their lunch money or anything but risk it here because surely he is stabbing her to death with that tiny d*** because no pleasure could possibly be that loud and last so long, that poor girl! ....Ah, the great myth of unrequited love.

Everything: I met you in the dungeon, where they chained my stickman heart, and I knew the way you let me loose was love. I laid my snares, I brought my myrrh, my mother wrote a note. I have to have to have you, don't you know. Chorus: You are everything. I miss you and the future, where we gather up our kids, help them with their lunches and their shoes. I love you, oh my Scully, though the sky is dark today, and you can feel it in the way I sing the blues. Chorus. I want you in December with the mistletoe and snow. I'll meet you in the manger after nine. Your moonshine mouth might pack the punch to knock my sadness out. I'm waiting, you are destined to be mine. Chorus.

No One Could: If you're with me, you will leave me. If you love me, you're a liar. If you meet me, you'll avoid me. If you see me, you'll go blind. Chorus: I'm alone. No one loves me, no one could. I'm so ugly, you must hate me. You must trick me with your eyes. If I trust you, you'll betray me when you tell me it's all right. Chorus. I was choking on the promise, I'm afraid of love. I'm afraid of loving you. If you kiss me, you control me. If you hold me why, why, why, oh why? If you need me, you don't know me. If you want me, it'll die. Chorus.

Cruel: When it comes, best run fast, wild legs might still outlast you. I'm ashamed there's no control: silver moon makes animal. Chorus: Cruel, now there's blood in your eye, and you're trying not to cry, but you think that you want to. I'm so sorry. I recall number one. High school, I was having fun when in the sky, like a song, guides my growling teeth along. Chorus. It can control the sea, so why not me --there's blood in me. Yes, it's true I hunted you. What else was I supposed to do? Silver thorns break my heart. Slow and deep, I fall apart. Chorus.

Love Is Paper: Red, oh Red, you dangerhead, I'll fix my smart spaghetti. Give my dog a beer, you fool. I'd kiss you if I didn't drool. I know your art, you sneakyheart --you'll hide my love in someone's shoes. They tell you each you're in my reach and I'm the one for you. Chorus: Love is paper, love is ink, darling you are every word I think. Love is water, love is light, darling you are every dream I write. Honeybee, you stingerflea, hurrier I behindest get. Sing my songs all wrong, you tease, I'd hold you but you'd only freeze. I know your sweets, I like to eat (I starve in candy shops, you see). They tell you each I'm on your beach and you're the one for me. Chorus. My sorrow is the volume of your blood. My hope is the pressure of my shadow on your shoulder --turn around. Claire, oh Claire, you double-dare sweet pirate of the secret gold. Rope me close, you psychobreed. You beat up trees --I aim to bleed. I know your heart, you pumpkin dart. Your love the truncheon, me the bruise. They tell you twice forget the price for I'm the one for you. Chorus.

That Dress: Cloth has shown the woman known in flight. Given wings, she purrs and sings with light. Sip a drink, my eyes will sink and rest. Trapped in amber when you wear that dress. Chorus: Clicks and whispers, spooky arms to flail. In between our hearts this coat of mail. Taste you in the nicest ways, grin as I confess, "Yes, I love you more or less. Ask me in that dress." Magic is the heart of love tonight. spells and candles popping cinders bright. Cloth is paper, loving eyes be blessed. Blood in water when you wear that dress. Chorus.

Listening Log:

This is by far the best-sounding Flip Nasty album. Too bad it was our last. Hobo diaries aside, Speranza basically quit following these sessions. As his availability dwindled, I covered more of the guitar tracks than on any other Flip album. Fried and I tried a brief stint with me moving to guitar and Kevin Ozias joining the band on drums, which worked very well. However, love intervened, and I moved to Buffalo to woo and wed my best friend, Vaunne, closing the book on our 12-year stint as Denver's greatest nerd band. But enough of these wistful sad tales! Several production decisions worth noting set this album apart from all that preceded it. First, we intentionally over-recorded, which allowed us to be more selective (believe it or not, much is left off of this 120-minute double disc) for the final mix. That said, now that the material has really sunk in, I would probably now exclude "Sorry" and replace it with "Stay," "Need," or "Garbage" (in that order). Second, we took a lot of time --almost 2 years-- to really get the performances right. Third, I had used Monkey Eat Monkey and Fistful of Blues as a crash course in recording with ADAT, and was able to get a much better initial recording quality than I ever had before through better engineering and better production tactics. Fourth, this remains the only album we've ever professionally mastered (through Ty Tabor at Alien Beans studios in Katy, TX --also guitarist for King's X), which polished the mixes to radio-ready quality.

Afraid of Love: The first layer recorded was me singing and playing the rhythm guitar while Speranza improvised a lead line. This allowed us to react in real time to one another, creating a uniquely-nuanced version. You can hear this in the way that Speranza picks up on the fills I insert in the rhythm part or how my scat builds on the lead motif he plays seconds earlier. Next, I recorded a little "hand percussion kit" of djembe, bongos, and conga. That allows me to pick and choose which of the now-established melodic elements I will react to or emphasize with the drums. Finally, we recorded Fried's bass part, which is written rather than improvised. This allows Fried to lock in rhythmically with everything else. When written, this song was supposed to tie to several others via the chorus, but in the final mix, only No One Could made the cut, with M and Train not even recorded for the session. The lyric is a fairly straightforward introspection on (drum roll) fear of love.

Coyote: We set this song aside to re-record rather than include on Songs You Hate. Given our familiarity with the song, we recorded guitar, drums, and bass first (you can hear a nice stereo effect as the drums bleed into the guitar amp mic) with the vocals as an overdub. Great sound from Speranza. The lyric has been talked about elsewhere, so I'll just summarize this as a metaphor for poor choices of the heart.

So Will I: Also set aside to re-record rather than include on Songs You Hate. Speranza and I played the whole song at once (guitar, djembe, vocal) and Fried overdubbed later. On this album, I tried to have as many stereo guitar tracks as possible. For acoustics, that usually meant running a direct line for one channel and micing the guitar for the other. This convoluted web of obtuse words is a hit with audiences everywhere, who naturally gravitate to the undercurrent theme of living for today. Carpe diem, motherf*****.

Eclipse: This song is arranged in a guitar-texture manner akin to the Brothers Three songs on Monkey Eat Monkey. I play all the guitar parts (except Speranza's solo), with Fried on bass. Speranza was in effect phasing himself out of the band during this time, with a limited availability for sessions, so in the latter stages of recording, I assumed most of the guitar duties so that we could use what time he did have for solos (which I couldn't really carry). The first line sums it up for me, "pain, pain, songs of pain. Songs of loss and love and rain. My songs, me all drawn in crayon. This heart --dumb anchor-- drowns smart brain." Obviously, "smart brain" makes this a work of fiction.

Cinderella Dream: I like the song portion of this quite a bit as a nice little reminiscence about chances past. I was determined on this album to try to be more experimental "under the radar" in several different ways. For this, I was trying to incorporate speech and the rhythms of speech into an interactive drum solo on the fade, where drums try to emulate snippets of speech that float by. The text is from a short story I wrote in college, "Children of Bison Spur." Of all the experiments on this album (and I think it was the right decision to push), this is the one whose results I like least, and even I normally fast forward once the speech starts. So there, Fried. I kind of wish I'd just kept this song simple. Fried on bass, me on everything else, Amy Lin reading the text. As a result of skipping, I'd kind of forgotten about the a cappella part, which is supposed to be waking from the repetitious dream.

Thursday's Fool: From my senior recital. This is a very wistful song about loneliness and hope in the face of clear rejection, and the way that feelings of love linger a while even after someone hurts you. So terribly sad, that boy at the piano.

China, Present Day: This thing has a life of its own and probably should form its own band. Unlike so much of this album, this song was actually USED in the movie Flame Cow, as incidental music for Brian Costello's scene, set in.... China, Present Day. Very simple arrangement: drop-D tuned guitar (through a Marshall amp) coupled with a distorted scat and one extra backing vocal to beef up the "Yeah!" part. So popular with other members of the Frumples Pictures crew, this has become mandatory incidental music for all subsequent films.

Shiny Dimes: A more uptempo version of a song originally recorded for Archaeology with 12-string guitar instead of keyboard. I like these words, which chronicle three different women who wanted nothing to do with me. I can say this stuff now without feeling quite so stupid since everything turned out pretty well for me in the end.

Fire: This is one of my favorite songs off the album. I actually wrote this song as independent floating sections (including a long pause) whose order is determined by chance, so what serves as the intro today, could be the bridge tomorrow, verses could turn into double-legth, etc. Of course, just like any other planned randomness (see "Break Up" or "Man in the Moon"), order somehow prevails anyway, which I take as a sign. I played all the instruments, but Eric Rorem and Terri Kempton contribute backing vocals and breathing sounds (or in Eric's case, giggling) at the end, which I "flicker-mixed" in keeping with the fire theme --I moved the faders, mutes and pans around rapidly and at random, emulating the way tongues of open fire dance, disappear, and reappear suddenly.

Sorry: I like this song, but it turned out to be a little too hard an arrangement to really nail. I've always been interested in incorporating latin-jazz rhythms, and these are pretty challenging. In retrospect, I should've replaced this song with "Stay," "Need," or "Garbage," but I was somewhat swayed by the fact that this featured all three of us instead of just me, and that Fried had a solo. Listening to it now, it's not a catastrophe, just a little loose. Still, those other three are better. This song's about not being able to help who your heart chooses, from both sides of the equation.

Along: This is Vaunne's favorite off of this album, which is to say it contains the least "ape screaming." I wrote this several years earlier, and had been waiting for the right arrangement, but ultimately kept it pretty much as written --piano and voice. Terri Kempton plays cello and makes fun of the line "I hope you enjoy the way I treat you." Like several others written around the same time (Sonja's Son, Daughter of Our Enemy, Cruel, Hero, Salt of the Memory), this got put on the back burner in part because the lyrics are a little detatched from my actual life, being a post-apocalyptic love song as a loose analogy for loyalty (the others are about: divorce & reconcilliation, parental disapproval of a mate, werewolves & lust, politics & betrayal, and mermaids. No matter what John Fried says, I was defeinitely NOT obsessed with Dungeons & Dragons and Gamma World before becoming obsessed with music).

Creeps: I originally recorded this on 4-track for Archaeology. For this version, I just lifted the 4-track instruments (drums, bass, and multiple guitars), added an extra stereo guitar, and re-recorded the vocals on the cleaner ADAT tracks. I played all the instruments. The lyric is fairly straightforward, musing on the ridiculous hopeful thoughts of "someone" waiting expectantly for an unlikely return call.

Cockroach Crude: This was performed by the Lewis & Clark percussion ensemble at my senior recital. It's a concept piece, expressing the corruption of a future cockroach society by the ghosts of humans trapped in radioactive crude oil. Extremely weighty, relevant issues that needed to be included on this album. Technically, there are two semi-independent 3-person ensembles: the cockroaches (castanets, wood block, and snare) and the ghosts (bass drum, 2 sets of toms). The wood block & castanet play a long morph (as explained in Archaeology's version of Hero: a musical figure that changes very gradually through repetition into a second motif). The ghosts play a series of other themes representative of periods in human social development, which the snare is influenced by and transfers into the morph. The two ensembles otherwise do not play in time with each other. A conductor (in this case, Mark Goodenberger) is required to signal the ghosts and snare when to commence the different phases of their parts.

Deploy Flame Cow: Actual dialogue from Flame Cow (Joh3n O'Meara as Farmer Johannsen, Corinna Buchholz as Milkmaid Petra) followed by the ensuing incidental music that plays under the (SPOILERS!!) montage of destruction. Similar idea to China, Present Day, but lacking that peculiar unduplicatable magic.

When: I think this is a top-5 song. Can't say why, but it's an attention-getter live. Again, let's remember that I'm not really a rock star, and all these platitudes I declare are more than a little sad to read. Coyote-tuned ode to longing and the thrill of pursuit, liberally using images from dreams to make the compelling case and dance craze sweeping the nation (have you done "the when?"). Fried on bass, Speranza soloing, me on the rest.

Birdy: I'm probably off-base, but I think this is a top-20 song. I played all the instruments, and had to punch in all of the tapping fills for the bass part because "I know John Fried, and you sir are no John Fried." I explained the song concept thusly in a Q&A article with Scott Farr, "Birdy came out of wanting a quirky metaphor for being wrong for someone, yet insisting against hope that it could work. It stemmed from a short story idea that I never followed up on, although some of it came out in Robotica, Mine. The original idea is that this girl's sentient parrot falls in love with her in this very cerebral, complicated way, inventing all these manners and rituals which ultimately don't solve the fact that, well, he's a bird and that's just not going to pan out. I was visiting Joh3n O'Meara in Seattle and in the middle of reading Jeanette Winterson's 'Sexing The Cherry' which has these bizarre stream-of-consciousness passages, got inspired, and just started writing little clips that I refined down into the verses." That chord coming out of the piano solo is a microtonal C7, with the 7th midway between major and minor.

If You Had My Eyes: Originally written for Archaeology. Fried on bass, me on the rest. Sad little ditty about wanting to stop a suicide. See, it's a little better when you think I'm just speaking in tongues, isn't it....

Crush: I really like this one, although it doesn't work well live. The chorus is a haiku in meter but not, as Speranza points out, in mu. "A dangerous crush/She murders me with screaming/I die in a hole." The bridge is microtonal (quarter tones) and in a difficult odd time, requiring that Fried play two overlapping bass parts in slightly different tunings to cover the whole part, which he does seamlessly, not that anyone would notice. That may actually be the definition of "seamlessly," but I'll have to ask my dad. Speranza's solo is in a random spin-the-wheel tuning.

Salt of the Memory: I'm really happy with how well Fried & I got the feel of this song. I tend to play in time, but ahead of the beat (I'm at the right rate, but a little ahead), but here, I did the opposite, playing a little bit behind the beat, which feels very good. Very groovy. It took me about 20 takes to play that piano solo. Since college, I've lost my piano chops noticeably. This is clearly due to the fact that I got really angry at the piano proficiency graduation requirement (which meant I had to re-learn the instrument in a very traditional way) and became very sick of practicing piano as a result. As mentioned elsewhere, this song's ostensibly about mermaids. Deadly mermaids. Avast, ye mateys!

Love Is A Secret: Another texture-guitar arrangement. Poor Cyranno. This just missed the cut for re-recording for Least Significant Failures/I Love You, Helicopter (I recorded/lifted 43 songs. This and Dollface were the first two alternates).

Patience: I love this song. The words are a stream of consciousness imagery canvas, although the chorus has a straightforward meaning that might be stated by a raving lunatic as "Just you wait! Just you wait! You'll all see! You are destined to be mine!" Nice live version of this on Clapping Sold Separately. The two pieces of text are also stream-of-consciousness (written down, obviously) meditations on unrequited love.

ALITB: Joel Pietsch played this at my senior recital. I love his interpretaion and lazy swinging feel. He played three separate piano pieces for me at the recital and prepared for them without much direction from me. I trusted him completely, and I'm glad I didn't get involved, because on paper, I wouldn't have supported some of the interpretive choices he made that worked out so nicely.

Everything: Will the X-Files references seem hopelessly dated ten years from now? Probably, since they already seem dated right now. Great Speranza solo. Oh that's funny, I forgot that I actually do say, "I'm waiting: you are destined to be mine!" just like the raving lunatic interpreting "Patience."

No One Could: I'd say top-10, inching into top-5 for this song. When we recorded this for Monkey Eat Monkey, I realized that it was actually a lot better than I originally thought, and decided to re-record it with the band. Speranza plays all the guitars, Fried on bass, me on drums and vocals. Everything as it should be. As mentioned in the MEM recording, this is "all the negative thoughts eroding at a battered confidence (not mine, obviously --I was dynamite with the ladies in 1998)."

Cruel: Long on the back burner since it is technically a werewolf's lusty lament, the Monkey Eat Monkey recording (this is just a remix of that) made me reconsider its overall quality. I like how I make decisions about songs based on factors that I should be acutely aware have no relevance to my listeners/captives such as "what is this song about" which would be almost universally-answered by audiences everywhere as "gobbledygook!" Maybe that's the basis of my limited appeal. As Seal says regarding his decision not to publish his lyrics in the liner notes of his albums, "I want the words to mean what you want them to mean, not what I want them to mean." To me, a song about werewolves and impulses of the flesh. To you, a song about stabbing your boss in the eye. You're welcome.

Love Is Paper: This is another augmented live track like Monkey Eat Monkey's "Make Still Your Wings." The original track was Speranza and myself playing two acoustic guitars at the Borders Books on County Line in Denver. We played some very good shows there, which --like Gussies-- are ideal for subsequent studio augmentation because of their pristine lack of audience noise. The additional elements are: me playing drums with bound dowels, Fried playing bass (and during the breakdown, rhythmically buzzing his open patch cord with his fingers), and Liz Trice, Libby Martin, & Terri Kempton all singing backup and joining the scat. Liz performs the solo scat --she's a bassist and singer/songwriter I used to run into at open stages. She is the only other singer I ever came across who incorporated so much scat into her live performance. I'm fairly certain that I never gave her a contributor copy of this album. Liz, if you're out there.... Only Terri pulls off the fake spontaneous laugh I asked the singers to insert into their performance when I make my hi-llarious joke as the song winds down. Cat is the only person in attendance at the original gig (possibly because at the time, he couldn't drive away).

That Dress: This was supposed to remain a true hidden track, with "Love is Paper" labeled "Hidden Track" on the track listing, but in actuality containing two songs. I think hidden tracks in the CD era are funny (hence: "it's not like you're not gonna find it."). Mastering engineer, Ty Tabor, however, misinterpreted my instructions and added a start-ID for this one as well. But I have to forgive that lapse because he's one of the greatest guitarists of all time in one of the greatest bands of all time. Tee-hee: I like the chords for this song.

Cody Weathers

Music so hip you'll need a bigger belt