Friends, the endless coastal grey continues. Urrggghhh. I’ve got Chopin on the sound system and it seems to be the right fit. At this moment Ivo Pogorelich is playing Prelude No. 15 on the piano and the melancholy crawl that he’s into dovetails right into the disappearing horizon into the pacific. Summertime in SoCal via a slight detour to Warsaw —gotta dig it!

Here’s something different. With the release of my Calling Me Home CD a few folks have asked about the lyrics to “Weird Science, Modern Times.” As you remember, this is the mash-up of my convoluted phrase-ology and imagery from the strange gig nights at the Coyote Bar and Grill. The words fly by at a breakneck tempo plus they’re weird words to begin with so even if you listen hard, you’d probably miss half of them. The stories told are magnified real events and yes, my van did get hitched up to a tow truck once while we we’re playing just a few feet away. And one night the tattoo lady’s margarita drink splashed a wake up call into the audience. If you’ve ever been to the Coyote, you know that the trains thunder through and pretty much halt everything, usually right on cue as we’re playing Metheny’s “Last Train Home.” True cosmic alignment exists in Carlsbad!

So for those that are still wondering what Lisa and Leonard are making all of the fuss about, here you go with the lyrics to the tune.

Weird Science, Modern Times
lyrics by Randy Phillips

When you beat a path, toward the screaming sax, and where a crowded life will fall away
Kundalini rise, under summer skies, when the guitar-anandas come to play
And then when it sparks your mind, loosen up your spine
Weird, weird science modern times
Peter skidding in with his guitar and amp
Hook it up
Get in gear the sonic palate's tuning up
Bring your good ears of jazz, dress down, drink up
Transcendental hang zone
Freedom in sound you know, slo-mo

Span of day is wide, when the waves are high, sent from the edges of a hurricane
There's some twisted jazz, 'cause these surfers have, some sonic magic to dilute the pain
Shredding on a fusion tune, improvised monsoon
Weird, weird science modern times
Tattoo lady trash talks and it's way too loud
Keep it down
Prima donna's margaritas splash the crowd
Order another round
Coyote style
Change the flow to those that know
Freedom in sound and go down deep

Driving on the low end, bass-man, mix up, smash up, explosion, motion, kick drum
Pushing up the high end, song-man, hits up, blasts off, fusion, feel it, in every strum
The sweet elation of innovation has come to call, at the free for all
So let the mayhem keep the sky inside your head
Weird science and modern times

Well the van's been towed, from the loading zone, and now the band will have to bail it out
But they're tearing through, some down dirty blues, in spite of all of it they're blissing out
Metheny song lyricized, Leonard testifies
Weird, weird science modern times
Freight train locks the tempo as it thunders through
what'd you say?
Tripp is spinning sax and now transitions to
Full on inflammable bop
Lift off, let go, spontaneously morphing out
Freedom in sound, go down, thumbs up

Driving on the low end, bass-man, mix up, smash up, explosion, motion, kick drum
Pushing up the high end, song-man, hits up, blasts off, fusion, feel it, in every strum
The sweet elation of innovation has come to call, at the free for all
So let the mayhem keep the sky inside your head
Weird science and modern times