Cody Weathers

Flip Nasty: Drive By (studio, 1993)

	BUY IT:     $10 for CD, available by special order
The Songs I Must Protect You/ Give Them What They Want/ I Won't Quit/ Lying Down/ The Trouble With Hearts/ Making Fries/ Cricket/ Guide/ Just Like Me /A New Love Who Won't Beat Me Up/ October Air/ Magic Box/ Luck/ Lunacy Will Keep Me Warm/ Dangerous/ Non-Stop Lovely Good Time/ Coyote   all songs written and arranged by Cody Weathers (c)(p)1993, Cody Weathers, all rights reserved. No stealing the worthless material, OK?	Additional MP3 Singles:
Don't Hate the Players:  (L-R)   John Speranza: guitar & bass Cody Weathers: lead vocals, drums, keyboards   with: Backing Vocals: Cody, Speranza, Cat Mayhugh, Joh3n O'Meara, Rebekah Knoll, John Usher Auxilliary Percussion: Cody, Speranza, Cat Mayhugh, Joh3n O'Meara	MP-FREES: None posted

Notes on the 2000 CD re-release of Drive By:

After the breakup of ROQUE in 1992, many feared that Nerd Rock would “dinosate” and slowly decompose on an endless parade of classic rock stations and in the flaccid attempts of lesser imitators. When Cody Weathers joined “The Jeff and Hans Project,” calls to Denver-area suicide hotlines radically spiked. Meanwhile, ROQUE tribute bands such as “BOQUE,” “LOQUE,” “TOQUE,” and “NANOQUE” tried valiantly to carry the waning torch. Little did the faithful know that Cody and Speranza, fresh from a December tryst, had made secret plans for a new project.

Enter Scott Farr.

Cody was approached by Mr. Farr and former ROQUE keyboardist, Neil MacPherson about participating in an auxilliary role in their new band with Dan Langhoff, Shadows. Originally, Cody was to bring some songs to the table, but a spiteful lawsuit by the members of NANOQUE squashed that glorious opportunity, and Shadows furthermore refused to rename themselves to “The Shadows Project,” and so Cody and Speranza were forced to nerd the album up from within. Within six months, their efforts as a subversive rhythm section had insatiably whetted their appetites for more.

Enter John Fried and the estate of Dick McMunchkin, self-proclaimed “financial wizard.”

Ex-ROQUE bass player John Fried had “come into” some property --an abandoned mine shaft outside Blackhawk, CO. Coincidentally, the members of NANOQUE vanished, presumably back to their own crazy-ass home town.

SPLAT MONKEY was free to begin recording.

Lyrics:

I Must Protect You: sand escapes in the cool, dry wind with no warm arms to take me in. You shiver, then you look my way, but you keep your distance and you say that it's not my fault that you'd rather freeze, but there's something still aching --something still believes that your future's on hold, and his name ain't mine, so you're marking you boundary. Drawing your red line. Chorus: I must protect you --follow you around. I understand you will undermine me and make of my life things I don't want to be. Still I must protect you --follow you around. Mercy, ma'am, I think you've blown a fuse 'cause you're standing so still, and to tell you the truth you've grown real pretty and become quite smart, but there's cruel kinds of reasons that you pummel my heart. Your lips are locked and your mind says wait, but your heart's still itchy, and you hate that state. We all must learn to let the past drop. Don't push me away, 'cause one day I'll stop singing.... Chorus.

Give Them What They Want: She tried to sell those clothes at the fashion show, and she worked so hard, but the money's slow. No, a woman ain't got no help trying to save herself. She saw the magazine, and she felt no shame, so she shed her skins with a phony name. No, a woman ain't got no help trying to save herself. Chorus: I'll give them what they want, but I won't bleed myself dry. I'll give them what they want, but I won't take the blame for up 'til now. I'll give them what they want, and they can take it from me: demand equality and I will give you what you want. She tried to pout and purr in the miniskirt for the video like a cheap dessert. No.... She was exhibit B, and PMRC said that little whore wasn't fit to see. No.... Chorus.

I Won't Quit: Angry at everyone who wants me to put my head on the block. Push me, pull me, ridicule me; shatter my knees, then expect me to walk. Ask me who's to blame, aren't you to blame, don't you have shame little boy? CH: I won't quit though I might be left alone. You can have your way, but you can't have my will. Helpless, lunging out, shadows of doubt are cutting my light off. Bleeding from my mouth and from my eyes, I want to break you, too. Ask me who's to blame, I'm not to blame: Why do I fear for myself? CH. Oh, I'm not holding right. How much longer can I keep resisting? Oh, I'm not up in time. Switch of willow breaks my knuckles. Cry tears of salt and ice. Break me down, I know it's coming. Oh, I'm not holding right. Slip into the air. Ask me who's to blame, you are to blame, and I don't care anymore.

Lying Down: A long, smooth stick that prods the sand by the hardly stream that drifts and spreads, absorbs the sun and spies its end in cold, crashing waves. A poet, he, small and sad, touched by ghosts with pleasant hands. "Wriggle, words that torture me, from this wand for all to see." Chorus: Oh, heart, we are a line. We move, we don't slow down. But somewhere, sometime, we sped up, and now I'm lying down. Then the shadows slowly grow. He crosses dunes like sleepy snow. "This day I walk into the sea, and time forgets its name for me." Puddles gather, rains anticipate --the hardly stream must re-create. Lick and roar, those briny pores swallow all then shut the door. Chorus. A loving pair --her shorts to there-- stagger through the shine of moon and tumble, fumble, mumble, crumble, strip, rip, and dip their lips. Awkward, young, impatient, heavy, wet, "I'll make you gasp, I will deliver," whispers he. "I will receive," much sooner than she thinks. She quizzes, puzzes --he just buzzes-- "My love," she points and pauses, "look what's written where we lay." But crazed and nearly bursting to commence the act he kisses hard and rolls her over, leaving imprints, crushing insights, cutting strings. Chorus.

Making Fries: Young and gaunt with rings and holes, cigarettes and black checkers and poems in the streetlight glow of the glassy shrine where the coffee hides. Touches and smiles, flesh that knows me. Hurt little hugs in this foreign homeland. I should be yours, you should be mine, but we don't belong 'til it's closing time. Drive me aside, but don't let me go. Chorus: For I have heard the corporate cries for big young brains to vitalize, but wishes are just pretty lies --the great new minds are making fries. Taut and fit, the urge of it reminds us of the facts. Feeding ourselves from the dregs and cans in the alleyway off the kitchen's back. Kisses and sheets, sweat that knows me. Soft little pleas in this primal safety. I could be yours, you could be mine --we forget the shackles when it's closing time. Drive me.... Chorus. Oh will you believe in me and whisper in my ear that I'm a commodity just shifting into gear? Oh, then I would marry you, my lying little sweet, and we could spend evermore just starving on the streets.

Cricket: Cricket's little daughter, twisting the daffodils. In the air, she sees colors. She hears the haunts in the windowsils. "Daddy please hold my tummy. My head is hot, just like a coal. Can't you see I'm looking at Mommy? Her head is strange and her hand is cold." And the guilty air breathes thick with spoiled ether. And the shallow hole is throbbing like a wound. Cricket's got a sinking --a kind he's had one time before. In the air, he sees nothing, but in his heart he knows it all. "Daddy please, where do the cows go? Or mister Shell's barking dog? Do they go where her shape goes, spinning in the morning fog?" And the guilty air.... Chorus: Cricket can't explain, but he thinks about the blame. She surely is insane. She'll ruin everything. Cricket, he is crying in the lye in the apple juice. Once again, he seeks silence. Once again to hide the truth. Cricket's little daughter, through Mommy's eyes sees it all. When he comes, her chair is empty. The icy hand. The final wall. And the guilty air.... Chorus.

Guide: I wonder should I call you --would I just hang up the phone? I can't explain why I'm afraid --I don't know what is wrong. If I could take a little courage, I'd feel like I belonged. I need you so bad, but I can't tell you, except for in a song. You have the most peculiar way to share your heart. You guide me like the restless wind that blows so hard. Chorus: When I'm cold and on my own, won't you please guide me home. When I'm cold and on my own, I need you to guide me home. I wonder if I take you where you really need to go. I wonder if were going too fast, or do I move too slow? I try to look inside your heart and ask you what you know. I hope that if you love me then you'll let your feelings show. You have.... Chorus. I can't explain my feelings for you, in love, but then afraid. your smile invades and captivates me, your warmth is no charade. An elevator, up then down, my confidence delayed, but I won't leave when I have found you, the choice already made. You have.... Chorus.

Just Like Me: The castles of my youth are all knocked down. Still, I have my cave and trains that speed my dreams. I think of all the patience I have tried: a city in the sky without my woman by the sea. Chorus: Your shell will last forever --you see, you're just like me, except you change your mind a lot. Cast aside your hood, you are no fawn. Eternal is your flush --I hope you get your rush. At last, a kindred thing to recognize the vision of desire is often fragmentized. Chorus. I know that you've had it all before --too many yesterdays stuck on the head of a pin. I know love becomes a random task --fly after fruitfly leaves a tickle on the skin. You think that it's death that makes them last, so something is wrong with you and me. The footsteps I have made are not profound. Mostly I just hide in endless daily lives. Long have I accepted love falls down. Now I've found my kind --why must you be so blind? Chorus. Suul, no that's not really the words....

A New Love Who Won't Beat Me Up: My throat slit by the lovelies and the ogres that attract them. Who's screwing you? Why do you get to be so rude to me? My finger's not for sucking or pandering to instinct. Whose mouse are you? What makes you always flirt, but not deliver? I have nothing to say to you anymore. I could be convenient and find a new love who won't beat me up. Chorus: How come I don't mind being alone? Truth is I can always have someone like you (if you want me to). My path became courageous, but seemingly quite random. Whose pet are you? If you want to, I will take you out. For underneath the laughter, I'm dangerous to be with. Whose prize are you? What makes me really want, but not pursue you? I'll find something to say to you to attest: darling, we're convenient, be my new love who won't beat me up. Chorus. Me and my friendship don't swim a lot, but I'd drown in blood for everything you've got. I've got something to say to you nowadays. Darling, we're convenient, be my new love who won't beat me up. YIKES! A surprise ending!

October Air: When you were young, oh so young, you had your dreams but now you've got to live your life however you can make it work, and I can't wash away your problems with a single potion. And I can't take you where you've never been before. CH: Let it go like the autumn leaves as they fall to Earth in October air. In the spring, you will grow new leaves that will feed you 'til the cold October air. Stabbed in the back, but you still persist. Do you even know what the conquest is when you have wasted all your options on frivolities? If I can't make you see the light, guess you'll have to say goodnight because life doesn't give a damn if you don't give a damn about yourself. CH. When life deals the cards, you can't always hold the aces. Sympathy made me weak to a hundred falsehood faces. I'll never let the day come when I let jealousy tear me apart because nothing ruins friendships more than jealous, broken hearts. CH. Sometimes you must let go to hold on to your sanity. Sometimes you have to take a brand new direction. You've got to give up what destroys you and start again. I cannot help you when you're bringing me down.

Magic Box: Strange, this way I've moved the masses. All this frenzy grips with glue of chance. These small towns, they have their ways. They listen to the box for FBI romance. Chorus: Magic Box, I don't want to die for how I look or what the program said. In the shed I hear them planning. "Raped a toddler, we'll teach him," they say. "Maybe we should get the cops?" "But who respects a radar gun these days?" Chorus. Pepper could have thrown these dogs, but as it is, I make my final stand. Bramble arms and cutlass eyes, they beat me blue then shot me when I ran. Chorus.

Luck: May tragedy be vanquished from every path you tread, and that which would destroy you destroy itself instead. Chorus: Luck in this hand, this charm on your head. Power in your fingers to make gold from lead. Find everything you're looking for, miss everything you dread. No anger for your nourishment, may laughter keep you fed. Chorus. And ask yourself of everything if it's something you'll regret. And if you make mistakes, just move along, but try not to forget.... Chorus.

Lunacy Will Keep Me Warm: Who could be the woman in your overalls? You would never know it from the way you bubble over.... You could be a crackerjane or buccaneer. Be a little flower and the bees will come and kiss you. Chorus: Lunacy will keep me warm, 'cause she sews me up when my skin is torn. Lunacy will lock the locks, but we're both inside of the little box. Dancing in the forest with no clothes at all. You could start a fire if you trip and topple over. You could be a crackerjane or buccaneer. Be a little flower and I'll sprinkle you with water. Chorus. Hold me, arms out, catch my fall, I won't let go at all.

Dangerous: Oh, I can take you, you're not as tough as you think. I can see that you're insane, but I'd die without your rain. Oh, be that thistle, and I will put out my foot. In my slumber I have seen that a crown can't make you queen. CH: Starlight steals my vision, and it likes me cold. And people stop to stare at the tracks I made. Oh, I could have the wisdom of a thousand years, but I'm in love with a dangerous gal, her name is you. Oh, I can reach you, you're not as far as you think. Though you stripe me with your stick, I know anger is your trick. CH. Bridge: Take ugly me and make me the picture in your heart. Oh, be my bubble, and I will keep you intact. Though you kick and bite and scream, you're more fragile than you seem. Oh, be my aching, and I will fill you with sound.

Non-Stop Lovely Good Time: Come be with me, you know I like the way you love me. You're not so sad you can't be sweet. Take all my time, be everything my heart's content with. Kiss me with smiles upon my cheeks. I'm so crazy to fall in love with you, and you're so crazy, too. Chorus: You're my passion, you're my pride, you're the feast before my eyes. Everything you do keeps me inspired. You're my non-stop lovely good time. Come waste my time, come channel me through dumb adventures. Remind me that I'm not my own. Push me around, then give in when I need command. Oh, love of mine, you are too fine. I'm so crazy.... Chorus. Sometimes, I must confess, I fear that you might leave me. Sometimes I don't know why you're here. But then I redirect and simply don't believe me. Why should I have such silly fears? I'm so crazy.... Chorus.

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.

Listening Log:

In the most minimal version of the band, Speranza (guitar, bass) and I (vocals, drums, keys) covered all the instruments under the name Splat Monkey after our first year of college.  We tuned up for recording this by working on a side project, playing drums and bass for Shadows (Scott Farr, Neil MacPherson, and Dan Langhoff).  This album is still arranged as if for ROQUE, with lead guitar and keyboard parts for most songs.  Later on, I started to acknowledge that we didn't really have 5 members anymore.  Recorded at Free Reelin' in only 20 frantic hours with engineer Broz Rowland.  We prepared intensely for the session: mapped out all the sounds, practiced playing the songs as either bass/drums, guitar/drums or piano/click.  Also played incessantly at open stages to familiarize ourselves with each song's core since we wouldn't be able to hear it directly (just infer it from the bassline) during initial tracking.

I Must Protect You: I particularly emulated the way that Boom Crash Opera albums have a groove to each part when arranging the parts for this album.  I wrote out my piano solo because I wasn't very confident improvising one.  This is about the lingering attachment left in the wake of a failed romance.

Give Them What They Want: Bekah Knoll, John Usher and Cat Mayhugh on backup vocals.  For a lame-o political idea (my thoughts on equal rights, which might as well be my thoughts on breathing air), decent tune.

I Won't Quit: Made it onto Songs You Hate.  Shopped around a little bit, but as always no takers.  Speranza can definitely play bass with the best of them.  Great sparse solo.  He's very talented and incredibly cognizant of the big picture of a song --more so than me.  I wrote this while feeling down over a long, harsh period of stinging public criticism in (this is going to sound really stupid) Jazz Band in which every rehearsal was a chance for some lame-o beret-sportin' sax player to chip in about the crispness of my hi-hat, legitimacy of my setups, etc rather than deal with their own absolute lack of rhythm or originality.  Surely it was I, Cody Weathers, who caused them to Anti-Bird.  I and I alone, you see.  As a result, I take no crap from sax players, man.

Lying Down: I went through a "story-song" phase while writing for this album.  This is one of the better ones, though the premise is still alittle lame: a disturbed poet decides to commit suicide by walking out into the tide, but leaves a beautiful suicide note etched in the sand first.  Two young lovers come to the same spot that night and obliterate the passage before it can be discovered.  I love that distant watery guitar tone.  I think Speranza ran it through a bass EFX ring-modulator.  As opposed to double pedal, I'm actually playing double bass on this song, panned left and right and tuned differently.

Trouble With Hearts: It's not that this is a bad song, but it really doesn't fit, and shouldn't have been on here.  Well, I guess it is a little bit bad as well.  Fried says the only good part is the James Bond flute.

Making Fries: I love the groove and sound of this song.  Lyrically, a little limited.  I'm not sure what I was really getting at, other than twentysomething anxiety over how I was ever going to eat food.  I seemed to feel that corporate hiring practices were unfair in some way.  I labored under the misperception that I would be shut out of living-wage jobs by the man.  Eric Rorem is shaking his head while pinching the bridge of his nose right now.  As I've said before, Speranza gets great guitar sounds --way better than me.

Cricket: Another story-song.  As with political songs, I felt like I needed to write about something other than my love life (or lack thereof).  Creepy subject, but I like it --clairvoyant little girl sees her murdered mother's ghost, unsettling her dastardly father, who is then foiled by the protector ghost.  This was years before the Sixth Sense, not that it changes anyone's opinion of it.

Guide: Originally on Checkmate.  I've always liked this.  Speranza suggested re-recording it.  I don't know if we've ever played it live.  The first line is pretty much the topic of the lyric: "I wonder should I call you; would I just hang up the phone?"

Just Like Me: My love song for immortals, hence my most enduring and popular.  That intro is a little tongue-in-cheek snippet from the melody of "Always."  One thing I liked about playing with Speranza was that he was always very up for the little experimental notions I liked to incorporate into my material (like the random solo or the Suul outro).  That outro is Cat, Speranza and me chanting "Suul" (obviously contra-basso Cat caries that one) while banging actual bones and metal pans of water (tilting the pans shifts the pitch), rattling keys, and running fret noise from the bass through a modulator (the last thing you hear).

A New Love Who Won't Beat Me Up: I like this song.  Putting all of these together from the ground up (i.e. starting with drums & bass) was a challenge.  Broz was definitely skeptical that these songs would amount to much listening to us lay down naked bass tracks, though he started warming up once the other elements started filling out the picture.  That's basically the polar opposite of how I now record --often starting with a vocal/guitar performance, and overdubbing drums and bass later.  This song is a good snapshot of a time in my life where I started to question my own "love compass" and the patterns of poor relationships I seemed to be pursuing over and over.

October Air: the drop-D version with a bridge that has since disappeared anew.  This is the version on Songs You Hate.  Cat, Usher, Fried, Speranza, and Bekah singing backup vocals.

Magic Box: I think this was the first song I wrote in odd time (5/4).  The groove is totally copped from Seven Days/Take Five (5-waltz).  This is another story song about a guy who's mistaken for someone on America's Most Wanted (tm) --er, or something like it-- then killed by an angry mob in a small town.

Luck: I really like this groove.  Very tight playing from Speranza.  He really put a lot of feeling into the parts I wrote.  But I also enjoy the looser delay-guitar live version.  It might be nice to combine those two ideas together.  I wrote this for a friend who was feeling blue.

Lunacy Will Keep Me Warm: Whereas Trouble With Hearts seems out of place, this oddly works for me.  I think it's because we squeeze a whole song in under 1:00.  For some reason, this whole album has got some of my shortest songs --very singles-friendly stuff.  Possibly because we were so rushed to complete it.  Whereas my songs about pain and loneliness had a real resonance and confidence to them, my positive songs about nice girls being nice to me always seemed to come off a little hokey and suspect.

Dangerous: Another one that held a lot of personal attachment for me.  I loved playing this song.  This version's on Songs You Hate.  Great sparse solos from Speranza --the same man I still quote proudly as saying "less is more.... than nothing at all."  We did a good job containing this groove.  By this point, I'd really started to write lyrics that resonated with me --I put a lot more effort into these words than, say, the words on Checkmate.  Words like "booga-doo-yow" (sung by Cat at the end).

Non-Stop Lovely Good Time: I wrote this for a girl I was seeing at the time.  Shortly after playing it for her, she decided she'd had enough of me, so this is obviously an incredibly powerful song.  Standard cast of backup singers (Usher, Bekah, Speranza, Fried, Cat).  Fried hung out with us for most of the session and made a lot of good suggestions --he was in many ways a producer on the album.  After ROQUE, he basically planned to never pick up the bass again --sold his stuff, hung 'em up.  But this project was so much fun with just the three of us that he rejoined us for the remainder of our albums (before I moved to Buffalo).  I love Speranza's Cult-like bullroarer solo.

Coyote: This was our mandatory set-closer for a long time.  I invented a special alternate tuning that I've since used on songs like "When" and "My Every Dream's Come True" (D-A-D-F#-B-E).  The subsequent re-recording on Flame Cow didn't have all of the other sub-melodies, but I like them here.  This song also planted a little continuing metaphor that sprouts up in "Leave Me Be" and culminates in "Footsteps."  I think the idea of a wretched lonely coyote loving a burning willow, preferring to suffer rather than leave her cruel side speaks to universal human truth.