Cody Weathers

Flip Nasty: Pronounced "Snausages" (studio, 1994)

	BUY IT:     $10 for CD, available by special order
The Songs Bloom/ Short Leg/ So Will I/ Once Upon A Time/ Rain Today/ No Regrets/ Up To Her/ Scared /Courage/ Puppy/ Dead Man's Blues/ Luck With You/ Make Still Your Wings/ Spider Man/ Raggedy Man all songs written and arranged by Cody Weathers (c)(p)1994, Cody Weathers, all rights reserved. No stealing the worthless material, OK?	Additional MP3 Singles:
Don't Hate the Players:  (L-R)  John Speranza: guitar, bu vocals, add'l percussion Cody Weathers: vocals, percussion, keyboards, add'l guitar John Fried: bass, bu vocals, add'l percussion	MP-FREES: None posted

Notes on the 2000 CD re-release of Pronounced “Snausages”:

Among the many mysteries of this album and this period in the history of the amazing band that recorded it is simply this: what does the elusive title mean? It is said by many band historians that this album (also referred to as The White Album) represents a time of band-wide identity crisis and deep self-examination. It should be remebered that ROQUE had dissolved spectacularly in 1992 with no plans to reunite, but that the success of the SPLAT MONKEY sessions and the peripheral involvement of elite bassist John Fried made it clear to the members of EL SQUEAKO that something had to be done. Yet it was also clear that this was --despite the familiarity and camraderie among the participants-- a new band, needing a new identity. Before “settling” on EL SQUEAKO, the band performed a series of non-publicized “danger gigs” at Denver-area coffeeshops under an interminable host of names: Randy Napkin, The Algae Salesmen, The Ex-Camels, Haardvark, Cody & John, The John Fried Solar-Powered Love Machine, Moose & Squirrel, and countless others lost to the din of history. But, you protest, what of the name of this album? Does it mean that the members have prominent genitalia? Is there a word, misunderstood by the masses, which can only be accessed through the universal password, clued here? Does it mean that John Fried is dead, as we come to symbollically realize in later efforts such as River Dreams? Well, you must understand that this band is --above all else-- a groundbreaking band. A band that leads the way for other bands --other bands that you admire and possibly view as more important are, in fact, subservient to the whims of El Squeako. To wit, astute observers of the national scene may recall that this was the summer that Prince changed his name to a hermaphroditic glyph, entirely unpronounceable by any English-speaking fan. History has shown this to be a poorly-calculated move, opening Prince to a parade of ridicule. How could he have made such a gross error in judgement? Looking at Prince’s phone records, we discover the answer --a three-hour telephone call to Cody Weathers on 8/9/94. I submit that the artist-formerly-known-as-Prince-who-never-really-stopped-being-known-as-Prince became so enrapt in the concept behind the new El Squeako album that he stole its greatest conceptual milestone: the band is spelled E-l-S-q-u-e-a-k-o, but true fans know that it is pronounced “Snausages.” Ibid and Op Cit.

Lyrics:

Bloom: Shut mouth, open eyes, touch face when it sighs. Do you love me, or do you love love? I love you like a dog would. Chorus: Baby, when you're in bloom, there ain't no one can resist you. At least I know I can't, and I'm as close to no one as anyone gets. Open mouth, shut eyes, kiss lips with mine. Do you feel me, or do you feel you? I love you like a heart would. Chorus. Surely if you love me, you will learn to keep me. Share time, share space, eating roses by the fistful. Chorus.

Short Leg: Eighteen and feeling mean. Leaping in love with the junkyard queen. Darling, if I could, I'd hold you down. Don't trip on the short leg now. Antiques all new and clean. Mistaking myself for Jimmy Dean. Darling, if I could, I'd cause a frown. Don't trip on the short leg now. CH: I will bounce back from this, I do bounce back. Nineteen and living lean. Nothing for me on the classroom scene. Darling, if I could, I'd be your clown. Don't trip on the short leg now. Twenty and I loved you plenty. Saying crazy things I knew I meant, yeah. Honey, how'd I turn out to I let you down? Don't trip on the short leg now. CH. Bridge: There's no one in the world I can hold. There's no one in the world that's my own. Twenty-one, I'll need someone. Doing all the things I've always done. How about you, would you like to drown? Don't trip on the short leg now.

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.

Once Upon A Time: Is it healthy to be jealous? Are you sleeping with my friends? Are you lonely in your palace? Was it I who shut you in? I can't swallow everything, but you have to let me know: am I lonely for a reason? Did you want for me to go? Chorus: Once upon a time, when I looked at you there was something in my eyes. Is it midnight where you're sleeping? Are you creeping out the door? Do you envy other women? Did you act like this before? I can't suck your traitor's lips until I know for sure. Are you lonely in your bosom? Does your heart still know the score? Chorus. Inch by inch, a gulf erodes between us. I stand still and watch the sand erase my will. Is it healthy if I love you? Will you leave me all too soon? Are you lonely in your story? 'Cause at least I'm lonely, too. Chorus.

Rain Today: In the beginning, I'd have sworn to you that I was to your liking, but somewhere in a strange translation, I blew it like I always do. Oh, rally around me, ye losers, and I will lead you to greater defeats at the hands of courage than you ever dreamt of in your shy former strategies. One, two, three, you're counting to ten. Why won't you help me please you? I'm not the worst fish in the sea. When I arrive, I'm not your kind --I don't taste sweet to you. Chorus: If there's rain today, I'll raise my eyes again. If there's rain today, I'll raise my eyes again. Give me a little shower, since you gave me no good umbrella. If there's rain today, I'll raise my eyes again. Could you forgive me for the mystery thing that I have done to you? Red is passion, blood of children; my yellow heart hangs heavy with you. Oh, where is my kingdom, I am calling you to one last stand. Princess, love has cut me with a stranger wound than hate's cold hand. One, two, three, you're counting to ten. I didn't keep my secrets. When I said I loved you, that is what I meant. When I'm behind, I'm not your kind --I don't taste sad to you. Chorus. I'm not blind, but there's something that I'm missing here. If there's rain today, I'll raise my eyes again. Here in the present, I'm uncertain of the road I'm on. Map me, scrap me, I'm unhappy. I can't believe how fast you've gone. Now a confession from a bitter day that should've been so sweet: you surprised me, blunt and steady; ashamed and red, I let you leave. One, two, three, you're counting to ten. I had the best intentions. everything I sent you I would send again. In my dreams, I have looked into your shadow's eyes. Chorus. I don't believe in poison apples or fairy tales; I don't think anything is true. I really think that you should give me better chances, but I don't expect that's what you'll do. In my dreams, I have looked into your shadow's eyes.

No Regrets: They're digging graves --selling soil to lay their bones for roaches' spawn to dust. But I would guess from the tides that you and I will drown before we're crushed. They've given up on the Hill, while NASA says I told you so. They're stocking up on guns and locks. The sky is falling, but we fear ourselves the most. Chorus: I ask you as I've asked before, do you live with no regrets? I have but one unsettled score. Will you see me through the end. My hands are cold, it must be love, 'cause I don't think I fear the end much more. Look in the east, the eerie orb becomes the halo that I knew you wore. They've given up on standing still. I hear that arsenic tastes to rats like mother's milk. And even I am growing quick, estranged from every patient urge that led my life before. Chorus. Light every morning, you appear like Tinkerbell, even though you know that we can't fly. I'm half-asleep, I'm thinking of a valley that has never been quite so close to my mind. Chorus.

Up To Her: Nobody called me today, I sat in my chair, and I thought about America. You used to know me, so tell me straight, am I worth the time that I'm taking up with fucking up? I want to win her heart. Everyone says that I ought to have another heart. Chorus: But I leave it up to her. I look her in the eye. I try to say the words --I know the words. I love you, will you walk that knife? Nobody said what to say. I follow my heart, If I fail, then I'd fail anyway. You used to know me and know my ways. What do you think, am I sailing for a sunny day? I'd like to think she pretends. All of my life, I've been lonely, now it just might end. Chorus. Somewhere in the way she moves, I think that I should be more nonsensical. I want to take my dreams like burning corks floating on the sea that spell her name, bobbing for the angels. Chorus.

Scared: Spicy auburn daughter of the sun, in the rain, your father sleeps, his hatchet stance be stung. Would the moon, your mother, cast an eye over every passion pair to capture you and I? You've been hearing naiads in the stream wash their tales of awkwardness, whisperings of me. Are you pushing nails into my brain? Cling to me like creeper then you question me like chain. CH: What are you scared of? I don't kill little girls. Sugar in your pockets can't remain. Turn their secrets to the air and wash them in the rain. You are not so bound to think things through. Analyze to paralyze when you must feel the truth. CH. Bridge: The desert blooms between us in a heat borne by a fog. I can feel your father steaming, trying to burn this water off. Shimmer-dancing daughter of the moon, wrapped in sheets of gossamer, I'll spin you out real soon. You've become a hammer in my heart. Fastened like an April bud, I'll chase you, chase you like a spark.

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.

Puppy: Are they all like you in Bremerton, where the water meets the land? You've got apples on the waves you ride, but there's poison in your hand. I can't screw up what I can't see. Your puppy dog features are a trap to me. Did your mommy dearest tell you right about the way this whole thing works? You've got questions in your sharken eyes. Did you know that this would hurt? I can't screw up what I can't see. Your poison-pup perceptions are a wall to me. You have your invitations, as thin as thin can be. Did you listen when I told the truth. Was there arsenic in your ear. There's still time to pull your rotten tooth --spit the food that brings you tears. I can't defend what I don't know. Your puppy woman customs are away from home. Must I hear another treatise, dear? Ain't it time to say goodnight? You can nibble long upon my ear --I can't feel another bite. I can't screw up what I can't see. Your puppy woman secrets are a mystery. Do they pine for you in Washington? Do they miss your sorrow eyes? Do they stop your lips with eager tongues? Do they sugar you with lies? I can't retract what I don't cause. Your thorny little trail is gonna shred your paws. Your baby bones bending in another way, trying to burst into a brighter day. Will you break if you don't get your way. I'm over here, prying with my 2x4, trying to give you just a little more room to push aside the bitter door. Are they all like you in Bremerton?

Dead Man's Blues: I've got the waking man's fever, the dead man's blues, I'm bundled in a blanket with only you to think of, and I know you think it too. I've got the wisdom of children that guides my head, I think about logic, but blush instead to turn you from your titan and his bed. CH:But I will retain your heart when it's over. You and your rattletrap cargo are overdue, you're hunting through the islands for something new to chew on, and you know I taste it too. You say the thunder doesn't scare you when you're alone, you only wanted weakness to draw someone beside you. Now this weakness is your own. CH. Something quite disturbing when you turn yourself upon your past. Still, I am invited, though there is no promise this will last. I've got the waking man's fever, the dead man's blues, I'm tripping on my coffin in these new shoes, do you hear that? Because the titan hears it too.

Luck With You: Darling, I could hold you very close to me. For a test, you can hold that flame right to my hands. And I can't see the future, or how it sits with me, but for a second chance, I'd talk sense to a stone. You have so much, and I've got nothing to lose. I will tell you all my jokes 'til the fire burns cold. In the middle of the blues, you're all that's on my mind. Can you handle lonely? Can you handle your good fortune? Chorus: I don't know what to do. I think I cursed myself. I need some luck with you. Darling, I've got patience, I've got extra time. I've got a wall made of my own stones that I'm figuring how to climb. Well, ten of my best digits are at your command. If I gave my hands, would you take my hands, darling, take my hands, take my hands, take my hands. So far, so good, or so I'm led to believe. I will hand to you my life in a tin can. In the middle of it all, I must be on your mind. Can you handle lonely? Can you handle your good fortune? Chorus.

Make Still Your Wings: Tight the stripe that winds the frame --I wonder does it squeeze the shape? Do the fingers find me on their own? Like a swan from out the sun, you glimmer on as moves the dawn. If I catch your feather, will you fall? CH: Feather, fall down to me. Darling, make still your wings. Shelter under my tree. Darling, make still your wings. Hollow you as light as air, as heavy as a rainy tear. Gripped by fog, you struggle with my storm. CH. Spinning like an apple in the sun and rain, when your seeds fall out like diamonds, I shall plant their grain. Flashing and reacting like you have no pain, but your head is in the larder and your bones are in the lane. CH. Fly over my golden-draped abode. feather, fall down to me. Touch me with your shape and face --wrap me in your bones. Darling, sway into me. Sharp the teeth that bite the knave that crushed the fruit that filled the cave. Do the strangers bind without a home?

Listening Log:

Fried rejoined us for this album after our second year of college, also recorded at Free Reelin'.  This time, Broz wasn't available to record us, and we instead went with staff engineer Ben Tanner, who had engineered Shadows' album the year before.  Ben was a little more difficult to work with than Broz or Bill Prentice had been, primarily because he was overly focused on trying to "correct" the sound of our low-quality gear (particularly my drums), which led to an inordinately long and tense setup.  As we got further into the session, things eased up a bit, but I was disappointed enough in the experience to attempt to book a different engineer for Guitool (to no avail).  The arrangements for this album were more tailored to a power trio or quartet (when piano was called for), but with a lot of additional percussion.  I wanted to focus on rhythm as much as possible.

Bloom: that opening sound is me hitting the mouths of big glass jusgs with my palms.  There's an overdub for the chorus of all three of us hitting bunches of drumsticks together.  It was great to have Fried back, even though Speranza is also a very capable bassist.  It was a lot better to play as an instrumental trio for the initial take than to lay down bass and drums alone.  That's Fried, Speranza, and Cat singing backup.  That was a good effect which I favored where possible on this album over "The Codies."  This is supposed to be a raw cacophany of desires drawn into one mantra.  Mission accomplished, obviously.

Short Leg: another great guitar sound from Speranza and fantastic sputtering interpretation of the rhythm.  Tremendous solo --great ideas throughout the album that I often steal as the basis for my live scats.  This version is on Songs You Hate.  The phrase, "don't trip on the short leg now," is something I told myself driving back to Denver from Portland when I reached Cheyenne at 2 or 3 AM, pushing the last 90 miles home after two hard days of driving.

So Will I: One of my best songs --easily top 5-- which underwent so much evolution in the hundreds of times we played it, that I decided to re-record it for Flame Cow rather than include it on Songs You Hate.  That's the sort of keen decision I'm always making over at Checkmate corporate office --omit greatest hit from greatest hits album.  Brilliant.

Once Upon A Time: This is a decent role song, helping maintain the pace of the album, but not really good enough o stand on its own outside it.  Pretty straightforward post-breakup song.

Rain Today: I really like this song, although it's very difficult to play live.  Overdub of ripping paper into the first pre-chorus.  A little lift from Dollface on the last pre-chorus.  I wrote this feeling fairly humiliated by a pointed recent rejection, hence the smarminess.  Oh rally around me, ye losers and I will lead you to greater defeats at the hands of courage....  Ah, it's good to be king.

No Regrets: Story song about love in the face of the end of the world, and living a life of no regrets.  Ta-da!  Fried nails this bass part, which in turn carries the energy of the song.  I always like hearing it, but rarely attempt it live.

Up To Her: So sad.  So lonely.  What is wrong with me?  Won't somebody tell me?!  This is a good album, it really brings out the best commentary I have to offer!  I love playing this song, but it really requires a piano.  There are a couple of very good live versions of this floating around, one with guitarist Bill Groh spontaneously sitting in at the Mercury (The Bootleg Nobody Else Would Make) , and the other from my senior recital (forthcoming If Flip Nasty Falls In The Forest....)

Scared: This is the version on Songs You Hate.  Ironically, this song probably makes people who previously wouldn't have considered the possibility wonder if I, in fact, might kill little girls.  What a fantastic song of seduction.  We're firmly in the realm of words that I love, but are largely misunderstood because of a.) enunciation and b.) poetic masking.  What I'm saying is: I love this song.  Live staple even now.

Courage: Unfortunately, this song now reminds me of Ricky Gervais' pretentious song about wise aliens from the British version of The Office.  That comment defeinitely won't be dated by the time you read this.  Putting that aside, fun to play, fun to remember.

Puppy: Another one of those mandatory songs that was good as an opener or closer.  For a long time, my Portland (v 1.0) shows used this as the platform for a variety of very fun group scats.  That trend didn't continue back in Denver, however.  Great solo from Speranza.  As the song goes along, more and more instruments join the guitar part.  This is the version on Songs You Hate.

Dead Man's Blues: Seyca joins the John Speranza lyric interpretation club with this entry: Cody says, "I will retain...." Seyca says, "I wear a ten...."  Not to be outdone, Speranza says, "I'll irritate...."  This version is on Songs You Hate.  There's a very good live version on Clapping Sold Separately, as well.  One of my favorites.

Luck With You: That's the craziest, fuzziest flange guitar sound ever.  I like this, but have difficulty playing it effectively without a piano.  Another great solo idea from Speranza.  Standard lyric of the time, another variation on "the argument for Cody."

Make Still Your Wings: I wrote this as a lullabye, not that I had anyone to sing to sleep at the time.  I really like this full arrangement of the song.  Later, this became the flagship song of our "Gussie's Style" live approach.  I booked a gig at Gussie's in Westminster, which was 4 hours a night for 4 nights in a row.  Well, I was under the weather, so I asked Speranza to come out and help me stretch the songs out with extra solos.  It ended up being a very addictive breakthrough that led us to reinventing songs on the fly for the remainder of the time we played together.  That particular Gussie's version is the backbone of the 17-minute fake "Exemplathon" recording off Monkey Eat Monkey (I just overdubbed a fake spoken intro, bass and djembe on top of the existing live recording).  This version is on Songs You Hate.

Spider Man: I did have a way of scaring Miss Muffet away those days.  Sentimental favorite, you can hear there are a lot of little pieces flitting through the mix.  Priceless quote from Fried may apply here (though issued generally): "There's certainly an enormous variety of instrument noises in each song.  I now regret all that complaining we did while waiting for Cody to 'punch in' some noises using unpronounceable percussion instrument #17 - the one shaped like a weiner with beads on it..."  The instrument in question?  Why, it's my coxswain, of course.

Raggedy Man: re-recording, original version on As Rome Burns (re-released on CD as part of Not!).  Cat, O'Meara, Fried and Speranza championed this song, although I've never considered it a favorite.  Cody says, "Lay me to sleep, sweet angels."  Fried says, "Playmates of sweet, sweet angels."  This is about a drunk, abusive, cheating man regretting what he's done, and wondering if he should kill himself.  Fried has erased that explanation from his databanks twice now in order to keep enjoying the song.  You should, too.