Cody Weathers

Music so hip you'll need a bigger belt


Flip Nasty: I Hate You (Box Set: Disc 1 studio, 2000)






$10 for CD, available by special order

The Songs


  • Garbage: Written for Karl Wicklund underground song project.  Over open. credits of Flame Cow, not on sdtrk.
  • To Know Your Love Again: Demo. Written post-Flame Cow Soundtrack.
  • Falling Hard: Considered for Flame Cow, rejected as “too sissy.”
  • You Can Stop Hiding: Recorded in Archaeology sessions, originally written for Less Yackin’
  • Road’s End: excess material from writing Everything, used as incidental music in film Colfax
  • Someone New: Officially, song #16, c.1988. Recorded in Archaeology sessions
  • Kitten: written for the band Shadows’ c.1993 album w/Cody&Speranza rhythm section; they passed on it.
  • Scissors: Incidental music from the infamous “O’Meara’s Pastel Fantasy” in Colfax
  • I Hate You: John Speranza hates playing Love Is Paper, and isn’t afraid to say it.
  • Seyca’s Special Happy Birthday Song: written for Seyca Manza’s 20th birthday. Recorded with a single mic atop grand piano.
  • Certainly: written post-Flame Cow. c.1999
  • Stay: written for Archaeology, recorded in Flame Cow sessions, again “too sissy,” closing credits of Colfax
  • Heart of It: recorded for Arch., re-recorded for Flame Cow, “far too sissy,” written stranded in Boise, ID.
  • Movie Movie Girl: rejected from Flame Cow “are all your songs this sissy?”
  • At Your Mercy: song # 14, c.1988. Co-written Colby Goff. Basis for I Like Drugs and Sex&Violence(scare the sheep)
  • Memorial: Incidental music from John Fried’s eerie introduction as himself, the interviewer, in Colfax
  • Dance W/Me Anyway: rejected from Archaeology, written c.1991 (#111) between Skulls of Angels & Dollface.
  • Shiny Dimes: Slow version recorded in Archaeology sessions. Includes bridge omitted from Flame Cow version.
  • Courage: Considered for Clapping Sold Separately, from what proved to be Speranza’s final gig 7/17/99
  • Edie: Incidental music from yet another disturbing scene of virginity issues in Colfax.
  • Need: Recorded in Flame Cow sessions. Deemed “sissity-sis-sissified” by the selection committee.
  • Blue As The Moon: written post-Flame Cow. Colfax version. Later re-recorded for Stunt Beatles: 2x3<4.


all songs written and arranged by Cody Weathers (c)(p)1988-2000, Cody Weathers, all rights reserved except At Your Mercy (c)1988 Colby Goff & Cody Weathers. No stealing the worthless material, OK?

Additional MP3 Singles:

Don't Hate the Players: 


Cody Weathers: Vocals, Drums, Keyboard, Guitar, Bass

John Speranza: Guitar 

John Fried: Bass



Robert McIntosh: percussion on Seyca's Special....

John Addington, Michal Broadbent, Siri Harding, Eric Rorem, Mark Timby: choir on Seyca's Special....

Derek Sanchez: percussion on Courage.




    Liner Notes


    Did you know that the official Checkmate Records Flip Nasty archives contain 2530 versions of 376 original songs and 47 covers recorded by Flip Nasty? Did you know that even if you had every single official release from 1988’s Roque & Roll to 2000’s Clapping Sold Separately, you’d still be missing 178 original songs? Did you know that our very own United States Government has tried to file an injunction to prevent you, the freedom-loving consumer, from hearing those 178 songs? Shocked? I’m just warming up! Flip Nasty told Uncle Sam, “hey, kilgore, lighten up!” They’ve begun recording brand new versions of the 178 unreleased songs --new versions not covered by any injunction, State or Federal! This disc is the first release of what is expected to be a 10-disc set of otherwise-unknown Flip Nasty solid-gold songwriting! Turn it up loud, unless you live in the stupid town from Footloose. --Griffin Buboe, editor Torch & Bacon Magazine 




    Garbage: Got so hungry last night that I started eating garbage; I was feeling just fine, then my head came undone, so I threw it away. Now it's lying in the garbage. Got so freezing last night that I had to make a fire, but I burned my guitar on the living room floor, and the lesson I learned is: you shouldn't play with matches. Got so sexy last night that I started getting offers, but I didn't believe they were really for me, so I gave them to Sam. Now he's going to have a threesome. Got so needy last night that I called up Shirley Manson and reminded her how I had once saved her life. So she hopped on a plane --now we're eating breakfast naked. Got so lonely last night that I had to build a girlfriend, and I took her outside just to show her the sky, but she broke from her leash, so I'll have to love my neighbor. Got so sleepy last night that my spirit left my body and I floated outside and I talked to a ghost, and she said I was dumb 'cause I never share my feelings. Got so wistful last night, and I thought a lot of Sarah, and I really regret that we didn't go out. She was really my type, but I'll never get to love her. Got so hungry last night that I started eating garbage; I was feeling just fine, then my head came undone, so I threw it away. Now it's lying in the garbage.


    To Know Your Love Again: The liquid of mere language will not, cannot make a bride of stone. My heart betrayed upon this slate still argues with dry bones. I disbelieve each snap you breathe as poison words of slumber. The truth forgets such baited breath, with love's true weight encumbered. Would I were a dog --a beast more fond to you-- I venture aptly thus your stern embargo lifts and leaves your mercy true at last. CH: To know your bed, to know your skin, to know your love again. The turmoil in our slumber is a darker heart than we possess, yet known to capture beauty in its secret inky nets. In dreams, your face surrounds me and I kiss your cotton lips. Your downy thighs persuade me into sour bliss as this. Would I were the dawn and not the midday sun, I venture I could wake you in that gentle hour and love your simple heart with child. CH. Maybe it was you who lit the fuse that singed my clumsy wings, your flame a strange-lit spectacle illuminates the mirrors near. I rush to find you in them, only bringing injury and shame. My damaged heart is drowning --float me in your blood. The murmur of your pulse is somehow known to me in silence, but I chant you like the rhythm of the sea. Rise to me, my darling --every star betrays a story. I've seen you as you are, and you are glory on a wing. Would I were the air and deep and cool invade to feed your hungry heart, that you would need me simply as I need you in my blood.

    Falling Hard: I fear so many things --your pretty eyes turned aside, bored with me. I reach, I think I touch, pursue too much. I want your mind to think of me. Pre-Chorus: I've got some kind of luck, some kind of blindness. I wish that I could read you, but I fear that it might tear me down. Chorus: Why can't I be myself? What keeps me from telling you I'm falling hard? These days, our crossword dance defies romance. Oh, I might ask one more chance. My thoughts, they sink like stones amidst the bones and apple tones of tales I've known. Pre- CH/CH Why must we hide so much, reveal no fuss, disguise our lust or lack of trust. I say I want your time, you must be mine. I speak no crime, but stand in line. I've got some kind of luck. You must be frank. I wish that I could read you, but I think instead you'll hint around. Why can't we be ourselves? What keeps you from catching me? I'm falling hard. Why can't we be ourselves? I can't keep from gravity, I'm falling hard. Happy birthday, you're a baby.


    You Can Stop Hiding: The way you think you're sexy as if all the world would stop if you just asked. And if I tell you that I love you, you just pout and turn and say to kiss your ass. CH: Really, baby, you can stop your hiding and pretending that you didn't see me come because I know you must be tired of lying, and --in fact-- I'm really not that dumb. After way too many phone calls, I finally let my head think for my heart, but you could've saved the trouble if you'd thought enough to say no in the start. CH. Although I acted foolishly, I always knew the score --that you desired riddance and considered me a bore. So I let myself get tangled with no struggle to break free, for I found that I still loved you even though you might hate me. CH. Now I think I need a waitress, just a tender face to make me feel at home, for to try to overcome you will be easier if I am not alone.

    Someone New: Someone new to stare at just walked in today. Vivacious beast from out of town --was it New York or LA? Silver rings around her fingers, eyes so warm and kind, friendly smile that seems to linger in my love-struck mind. CH: So dance with me, I don't care when or how 'cause can't you see I love you here and now? More than just a beacon, more than just a light, more than just a winding highway, winding through a starlit night. Golden bracelets, silver earrings, lips so scarlet red. Can't believe the things I'm hearing, echoes in my head. CH. Someone new to stare at just walked in today. Vivacious beast from out of town --was it New York or LA? Hair falls gently on her shoulders, tumbling down her spine like breaths of sweet wind rushing bolder, whistling through the pines.


    Kitten: Psychopath and fantafiction blisters bleeding red. Raised and wrecked on pulp like acid burning through my head. Cast aside and thirst inside --insipid bypass heart. Bent like bamboo, snapped in two, throw money to the mart. Chorus: Forget my heart, forget everything --seductive little kitten, come and play with my ball of string. Promise made is promise broken, taping up the shreds. Cut the rope and lunge for hope, still held back by the threads. Desperate, blind steam locomotion running out of room. Sliver split and painted nitro, shake and it goes boom. Chorus. One day, someday, Monday maybe --push it out for good. Clawing, biting, always fighting --long since understood. Will the hole fill up with love or rot and fall away? Will the abcessed cancer lust still ache to be replaced?

    Seyca's Special Happy Birthday Song: Chorus: It's Seyca's special happy birthday song. It's a beautiful day to freeze a banana, roll out the bicycle, shave the dog. It's a beautiful day to sharpen some pencils, get out the NordicTrak (tm), raise a frog. Chorus.


    Certainly: Certainly there's passion in the loveless space between us; the great and feathered valley, here a splash, a glint of red? This rose, this apple pie, this applesauce a-creeping down. Certainly there's something on the wall. Here, the bad advice a sour stream, a taste of unclean water; something in the water made us sick in sixty seconds. Certainly there's passion in the moments of our youth misspent with weighed regrets, separate and alive. Here, the secret objects: groceries and a sharp card of short facts. My mother filled my mouth with moths. Is Nicole Janine the one? Motley and apparent carelessness, I project a waiting wife upon a harsh and tiny canvas. Certainly it's love. I anticipate a strategy, a method to my motions, an easiness yet purposeful connect. She finds me charming.... or just to choose me. Chorus: From a distance I am almost like desire. Certainly her young heart is on fire.

    Stay: If the object of desire is in this constant, the tiny space before the rush of hot frustration, if the object of the chase is in the journey, to know the sequence of terrain your heart will follow, if the presence of your skin can never be, why is it on me like a fire on a breeze? CH: Won't you come stay with me? I will drape you like a sheet. If the purpose of attraction is an instant, a simple glimpse of an impossible duration, if consumption of the patient seed is early, to know the present through the future will be hollow, if the virtue of the stream is clarity, why is it thirst that finds me growing ever green? CH. If the secret of the spark is in the balance, the shuffled taking and erasing of a difference, if the purpose of the shock is parity, why is resistance all the heat I'll ever need?


    Heart of It: Well I guess I'm all right, but it's a long way home and baby, I can't leave tonight. Stuck here by the airport, trying to grab myself a bite. I'll sleep one more night --if there was beer in here, then Vince and I could have a fight. Traded in my tin star --doesn't mean that he was right. Chorus: Here in the heart of it, it's only dreams that make us real. Cast my line --she won't bite. I could be Superman and Lois would stay home tonight. Hands upon my eyes, now guess who's hidden from my sight. I'm not always bright, but I was thinking were I bottled beer she'd hold me tight. Also, i'd be sure to get her lips on me tonight. Chorus. Well you might miss your flight, but I still likely wouldn't tell you you remain my light. Never since I met you has this heartbeat been quite right. I know that you'll write, and I'll be jealous of the men who fill your distant life. Tongue between my teeth beneath a Boise moon tonight.

    Movie Movie Girl: Movie movie girl, you make me shiver in my sleep, you make me long you in this bed I've newly bought, as there is room here for a friend and also love inside this jar. Oh, let it out before the lid is made too hot. Let me love you in the evening with your lemonade and cream and the sunlight in your raven, sleepy hair. Let us ravish, let us languish, let us fall asleep and dream and harvest hope from every future that is there. She was the most pure --eyes that adopted a child-- and I married her for a nervous mile. Oh, Renee, siren Grover: sex in her fingers and toes, but she caught my breath when she smelled the rose. Lug all the junk you want, haunt every corner in town --we are both just plague that can run the crowd down. Hop aboard a train and strip to keep your tender body cool; drink the water made bitter by the lumbering aluminum oven, offend the secret circus and mention it in passing to paint yourself out-of-bounds. I wish you'd stop falling for pricks and be my wife instead; I should've smashed that drum before she murdered that tune, and you think you look fourteen. Look there, that lonely girl has got the prettiest shoes.


    At Your Mercy: Watching highlights in your hair, I'm nobody, I'm nowhere. All I do is sit and stare. Perfect beauty is so rare. Always, I am lost in time watching patterns in your eyes. My emotions can't disguise the warmth I feel inside. Chorus: I'm just wrapped around your finger, at your total mercy, but I know that you care. Emerald green describes your eyes. Winning them, a diamond prize. Clear as ice, they tell no lies. Love comes through, it never dies.

    Dance With Me Anyway: I must admit that from across the room, this seemed like a better idea. And I can see by the way you look at me that I'm not being too clear. but in the open air, only the stars will care who you hold in your arms, so let us leave the room and touch the drunken moon and dance beneath the stars. Chorus: Regardless of the circumstance that keeps you over there, despite the situation that keeps you sitting in that chair.... Maybe an ounce of magic doesn't mean the same thing today, but come on Senorita --dance with me anyway. I must observe that within your eyes, I see some reservation, and I can sense within your heart, you feel some deprivation. But in the feeble light that marks the passing night, no one sees who you are, so let us leave the room and touch the drunken moon and dance beneath the stars. Chorus. I must confess, I'm just like all the rest --poor fools, we want to be with you. But you can sympathize with all my little lies: my heart tried to always be true. But if you like the chase and you enjoy the race, I'm sure this brings no surprise: we danced the night away and now it's time to say our sad and lonesome goodbyes.


    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.


    Courage: I ask the Sphinx a question, unlike the proud before me. Can I subsist on nothing? Will my beloved ignore me? Chorus: You know the right thing for you. Move that stone and move along. I come to face a traitor. I come, no gun beside me, to stop and still the clockworks, and with no mask to hide me. Chorus. At my feet, wash away what was fear yesterday. Blood for blood, love for love, courage brings my little dove. I give my heart an answer: be brave, the truth is simple. Chorus.

    Need: Well, I've always loved the dog. The dog has always loved me. And I've always loved the rain, although it's cold and smoky. But I can't remember when the rain has been this angry, so I sit all by myself --I guess I always will be. Chorus: In or out of my arms, I need you. Well, I've always loved this place, I think they made it for me. And I've always loved that song, although it makes me lonely. And I've always loved you, too --I wish you'd fall and find me. But I know I make you choke. You say such things to break me. CH. Well, you've always been my friend, but you might soon forget me, and I'll live here underground, and you can think about me. CH. Well, I've always been the dog, and you have always loved me. And I've always been the rain, though you won't go out in me. And I can't remember when your smile has been so lonely. So I sit all by myself. At least you'll sit beside me.


    Blue as the Moon: Chorus: Red is the moment I'm blue as the moon. Me, me, me --what's wrong with me? Where's my hidden head? It is I, the fox, and you the wary lamb. You'll be back, you mark my words --I know your favorite trails. It is I, the fox. I'm after you again. Chorus. Come to me, my birthday wish. Oh where's my secret bride? It is I, the fox, and you've no place to hide. You will need my magic ways --I know your fairy tales. It is I, the fox; I'm taking you inside. Chorus. You, you, you --what's wrong with you? Why are you still crying? It is I, the fox, and you the bluest eyes. Please, my darling, shut the door. Alone within this gale. It is I, the fox. I'm shedding my disguise.

    Listening Log:

    This album of hitherto-unreleased material mines session leftovers from several different albums over the years, with the lion's share coming from the Flame Cow sessions.


    Garbage: I wrote this as part of Karl Wicklund's open challenge to all songwriters.  He and another friend of his had written the original "Garbage" and invited every musician they knew to write their own version to include on a compilation album.  I kept his first verse and the guts of the melody, but changed the chords and put the whole thing in 7/8 with new words for all the other verses.  This song is under the opening credits of Flame Cow, but not on the soundtrack (obviously!  Duh!)


    To Know Your Love Again: This is a demo of the song I later re-recorded for The Tale of A Sad & Lonely Boy Who Dreamed of Love.  This was recorded in my Denver apartment with a single mic on 4-track shortly after I wrote the song.


    Falling Hard: Written in college, recorded for Flame Cow, didn't make the cut.  Sometimes, I feel like cutting a jazz album, but it hasn't quite risen up the priority ladder yet.  Also, despite its influence on my writing, I can't write straight jazz any more than I can write straight heavy metal.  This period of time is where I began to cut my teeth on some guitar solos for the first time.  I'm miles behind Speranza, and didn't really start feeling comfortable with my efforts until Fortnight (although soloing still remains my Achilles' Heel as a player)


    You Can Stop Hiding: This an unrecorded alternate for the Less Yackin' sessions.  This recording is a 4-track version that was recorded for, but not included on Archaeology.  I played all the instruments.


    Road's End: This was incidental music in my feature film, Colfax.  It plays under the scene where the three friends finally reach the anti-climactic end of

    Colfax Ave.


    Someone New: This is one of the first 20 songs I ever wrote.  Perfect illustration of one of my pet mantras and pieces of advice for budding songwriters: you need to write a lot more songs, man.  Bear with me, here are my first 20 songs by the list I typically use (which ignores some snippets I wrote prior to ROQUE and doesn't incorporate certain improvised or experimental stuff): 1.It Don't Come Easy 2. Feelings 3. Man in the Shadows 4. You Didn't Have To Put My Life Away 5. Exploitation 6. Struggle to the Top 7. Overboard 8. Slime Bunnies 9. I Was There, It Just Wasn't Funny 10. Prophecy 11. Jamming/HSJ 12. At Your Mercy 13. Met Her Through A Friend 14. Someone New 15. Little Miss NYC 16. Send Me A Letter 17. Moonlight 18. My Little Ray of Sunshine 19. Teenage Crop 20. Ellen.  I've bolded those that I would even consider playing now (7/20), and of those, only Little Miss NYC would even be considered as a regular part of the rotation (roughly defined as the best 75 songs I can actually play live).  So of the first 20 songs I wrote, only one is still good enough to keep active (and even that's open to debate).  In fact, the next lowest numbers on the most recent rotation I printed up are 58 (Separate Ways) and 60 (Always).  Very subjective, of course, and I'm naturally biased towards my most recent stuff, but here's the point: I often talk to or play with songwriters who have the chops to play paying gigs.  A big subgroup of those have written 10-20 songs and basically stopped, secure in the belief that they're now ready to play original shows.  But I can almost guarantee you that your first 20 songs are, at best, mediocre with some upper mediocrity thrown in for good measure.  I've written approximately 400 and my top 20 are still only "refreshingly decent" by international standards.  Only supah-geniuses write hits in their first 20.  You need to write a lot more songs, man.


    Kitten: I don't normally do too much re-writing after a certain point (I know, I need to write more songs, man), but I tried three separate overhauls of this song in an attempt to somehow salvage this riff.  Three strikes.  It just ain't happening.


    Scissors: Incidental music for the "Cat & Cody's screenwriting method fantasy" scene from Colfax.  Obviously, these are all writing-related percussive noises.


    I Hate You: Speranza has always hated playing Love Is Paper.


    Seyca's Special Happy Birthday Song:  Great little throw-together featuring a chorus of dozens (well "manies") of Seyca's friends chiming in our own little private "Hey, Jude" down in the Stewart dorm lounge.  You know who you are.


    Certainly: Stream of consciousness lyric about --it can now be admitted-- my budding crush on the then-verboten Vaunne.  Oh why can't I find someone like Vaunne for my very own self?  The answer to that is because I AM FATED TO BE WITH VAUNNE, THAT'S WHY.  The secret theme of a handful of other songs from the Flame Cow era.


    Stay: This was written circa River Dreams and recorded for Flame Cow.  It was top of the list of alternates, and as mentioned elsewhere is probably one I would now include in lieu of "Sorry."  The main reason for exclusion was that I played all the instruments, but Sorry featured the rest of the band very prominently (including Fried's only bass solo for the batch).


    Heart of It: I wrote this while stranded in Boise, Idaho, waiting for my car to be repaired on my way back to Denver post-graduation.  I was in a dark and anxious mood while writing it, and these lyrics focus on three separate regrets on my mind at the time --times where I bit my tongue instead of speaking my mind.  I played all the instruments on this recording.  I like my 12-string on this song.


    Movie Movie Girl: Actual message from Joh3n left for my 25th birthday.  I pressured him into leaving the followup at the end.  I like the sound of the cacophanic "rabble rabble" at the beginning, but this is a fairly dumb idea for a song, and as time has gone by, I can't get past that.  I do like the fade, which is comprised of snippets of verse I wrote walking around my apartment, looking at dozens of old photos.  Yeah, if this were a little more cryptic in the beginning, I'd probably still like it.  But I don't.


    At Your Mercy: Colby and I wrote this very early on in ROQUE.  This is a re-arrangement recorded on 4-track with new ADAT vocals.  Decent little tune, but definitely not in the upper echelon of my material.


    Memorial: More incidental music from Colfax; this is under the scene where Charlie and Tyler meet Peter prior to their interview.  The best thing that can be said about my harmonica playing is that it is spirited!


    Dance With Me Anyway:  The segue is Speranza mocking my go-to scat during a particularly dead gig.  This song was written in high school, and this recording was a 4-track shot that didn't go on Archaeology.  I played or sequenced everything.  I've always liked playing latin-jazz rhythms.


    Shiny Dimes: The original, more melancholy version recorded for Archaeology.


    Courage (live): From our final full band gig with Speranza in the fold, at the Rising Phoenix (Derek Sanchez on percussion, Fried on bass, Speranza on electric guitar, me on acoustic), which was the source of much of the material on Clapping Sold Separately.


    Edie: Incidental music underneath Charlie's uncomfortable monologue in Colfax.


    Need: This is probably #2 on my list to go back on Flame Cow if I did the album over.  Again, it got marked down a little bit at the time because I played all the instruments, and I wanted to favor songs with the band.  This song modulates up a step with each time around.


    Blue as the Moon: I rank this as my best song to date.  This was the original version, as recorded for the Colfax opening credits.  This underwent a very rapid evolution live, as I noticed people connecting with it (i.e. not leaving, possibly even looking at me or --on occasion-- applauding), and as Hal Mortenson encouraged us to include it in the Stunt Beatles' set.  As a result, this was shortly re-recorded in more of its live form for the Stunt Beatles 2x3<4 album with me on everything but bass (upright played by Larry Elwood).  This version is just me on two vocals (a very high-gain mic for the "quiet" verses, and a "normal" setting taking over for the chorus) and two guitars (rhythm & lead).  All percussive guitar strikes (and a little extra scat) are covered during the guitar tracks.