E.G. Phillips: Alien from an Alternate Earth

Album Artwork

Recording Sessions at Hyde Street Studio C, San Francisco

"Here is a songwriter with his own peculiar view of the world, and we are lucky he is happy to share it with us."
— Michael Doherty's Music Log

"...fun, different, whimsical, and clever"
— Simply Jazz Talk

"...precisely the reason why we hope that the album never dies."
— FVMusicBlog

"...feels like a storybook, narrated by an almost Cohen-esque delivery"
— Find No Enemy

"...a touch of sweet madness."
— Boulimique de Musique

“This is a great testament to the wonder of the octopus! I am honored, cheered, and deeply moved at a song that is at once nimble, clever, and profound.”
— Sy Montgomery

1. Till We Have Faces Again (2:31)
vocals - E.G. Phillips
flute - Daniel Casares
flugelhorn - Rich Armstrong
piano, rhodes - Kevin Seal
guitar - Jeffrey Burr
upright bass - Paul Eastburn
percussion - Chris McGrew

2. This Infertile Valley (3:02)
vocals - E.G. Phillips
backing vocals - Renee Padgett
piano, rhodes - Kevin Seal
guitar - Jeffrey Burr
upright bass - Paul Eastburn
percussion - Chris McGrew

vocal arrangement by Kevin Seal

3. The Octopus Song (4:42)
vocals - E.G. Phillips
tenor sax - Daniel Casares
muted trumpet - Rich Armstrong
piano - Kevin Seal
guitar - Jeffrey Burr
upright bass - Paul Eastburn
percussion - Chris McGrew

4. That May Not Be Good Enough (3:18)
vocals - E.G. Phillips
tenor, baritone sax - Daniel Casares
trumpet - Rich Armstrong
piano - Kevin Seal
guitar - Jeffrey Burr
upright bass - Paul Eastburn
percussion - Chris McGrew

5. Fallen Out of Love (2:44)
vocals - E.G. Phillips
rhodes, piano - Kevin Seal
upright bass - Paul Eastburn
percussion - Chris McGrew

6. The Mockingbird's Repertoire (3:01)
vocals - E.G. Phillips
flute - Daniel Casares
rhodes - Kevin Seal
upright bass - Paul Eastburn
percussion - Chris McGrew

7. Ode to the Wildhorse Cafe (3:15)
vocals - E.G. Phillips
rhodes - Kevin Seal
upright bass - Paul Eastburn
percussion - Chris McGrew

8. Brave Heart, Luna! (2:39)
vocals - E.G. Phillips
tenor, baritone saxes - Daniel Casares
trumpets, trombones - Rich Armstrong
piano - Kevin Seal
guitar - Jeffrey Burr
upright bass - Paul Eastburn
percussion - Chris McGrew

horn arrangement by Rich Armstrong

Recorded at Wally's HydeOut, Hyde Street Studio C in San Francisco, Sept 5th-8th, 10th and Oct 3rd 2021

Recording Engineers: Desmond Shea, Liam Craddock
Mixed by Chris McGrew
Mastered by Gary Hobish, A. Hammer Mastering

Produced by Chris McGrew

Artwork by Mario M. Noche

All song written by E.G. Phillips (ASCAP)
(c) 2022 Ducks With Pants Music

1. Till We Have Faces Again (2:31)
Saw you bop’n down the block
Winds flirt’n with your skirt
Your naked eyes flashed a smile at me
In a way that’s bound to hurt
Till we have faces again
Till we have faces again

Kidnapped to a castle
High up in the clouds
You only visit when you’re invisible
That’s all the gods will allow
Till we have faces again
Till we have faces again

Raucous echoes down below
Guess my neighbors are do’in fine
It’s my bad luck the pandemic struck
With no prospects on the line
Been homebound most my days
Quarantine’s hardly changed my ways
Love’s illusory at the best of times

Snuck into your bedroom
Lit a candle to catch a glimpse
Spilt hot wax by accident
Now you’ve vanished to the wind
Till we have faces again
Till we have faces again
Till we have faces again…

3. The Octopus Song (4:42)
From your point of view it must be a wonder
I somehow manage to survive
I don’t have suckers and I can’t change color
To instantly don a disguise

Perhaps this ancient is notion not so absurd
You’re not from the ocean
But a much older universe
You slipped through the cracks between worlds
And you cannot return
You’re an alien from an alternate Earth

You’re a curious one, you have your moods,
You’ve got real personality
You’ll swim up ’n greet us when we open your tank
Or you’ll squirt at me

Perhaps this ancient is notion not so absurd
You’re not from the ocean
But a much older universe
You slipped through the cracks between worlds
Now you cannot return
You’re an alien from an alternate Earth

Does consciousness arise from a series of parallel
But independent processes?
Constructed in the moment it’s a useful delusion
If not a disease
One we are cured of once our minds drift off
Into the oblivious sea?

As for sleights of hand and multi-tasking
You’ve got the humans all beat
With one arm you stole the fish bucket
And occupied us with another three

Perhaps this ancient is notion not so absurd
You’re not from the ocean
But a much older universe
You slipped through the cracks between worlds
Now you cannot return
You’re an alien from an alternate Earth

We’ve built an environment that’s more suited for you
Than it is for us
This infinite division of our attention is not something
To which I’ll adjust
If you grind the gems of paradise
They become worthless dust

I once captained a ship now I’m playing for tips
In the lobby of a posh hotel
I’m the wallpaper; I’m the jukebox
I’m also the wishing well

Perhaps this flight of fancy is not so absurd
I’ve gone and slipped through the cracks
From another universe
I’ve slipped through the cracks between worlds
And I cannot return
I’m an alien from an alternate Earth

5. Fallen Out of Love (2:44)
Stand at Fort Mason, take in the collage
The bridge, the headlands, the pelican pods
Container ships, kite surfers, sailboats and yachts
The creek of the moorings floats up from the docks

Forty-odd hills topped with light pastel frost
Petite Queen Annes and Edwardian facades
Fog fingers drift Eastward in a glissade
Then the window of sun is curtained and lost

The wind picks up, the cold whips by
Sweeping all warmth away

Headlights flicker on, dusk settles in
There is no reason to stay

Nervous white rabbit looks down at his watch
Wolf howls at the moon, expects a response
Alexander cuts through the Gordian knot
Think about Ahab on the Pequod

Forget for a moment all you’ve been taught
Forget his wife’s vigils on her widow’s walk
Say what you will, he had resolve
He wasn't only punching the clock

No lotus eating or doldrum dreaming
Amid the superficial and the subsurface

I’ve slipped down the ladder, in a holding pattern
So sick of existing just to exist

I play close to the vest of an ill fitting suit
In this game of hearts I can’t help but lose
Turn offs include cigarettes and tattoos
Though I’ve made an exception or two

I think I’ve heard almost every excuse
Those I make myself are the most obtuse
I’m no good when it comes to the truth
I’ve fallen out of love with you

7. Ode to the Wild Horse Cafe (3:15)
At a truck stop diner
Outside King City
She’s sprinkling sparkles
On unicorn lattes
She’s a little bit of magic
In the middle of nowhere
I’m so glad she decided to share

Ahhh… the coconut cream pie
With whipped cream piled high
I am contented
Just to pop by
This little bit of magic
In the middle of nowhere
I’m so glad she decided to share

Is she content just to be that?
Does it ever get a little old hat?
A little old hat…

The background din
Of the daytime TV
Courtrooms, Soap operas,
Jeopardy — and
This little bit of magic
In the middle of nowhere
I’m so glad she decided to share

First got a taste
While getting a lift
From Nina who knows it
From many a trip
This little bit of magic
In the middle of nowhere
So glad she decided to share

Is this trip worth it? It has it moments
Got me out of the city — I’d call that a bonus
I’d call that a bonus…

I pass her offramp
On the way to a winery
I’ve got a gig tonight
But I’m playing for free
This little bit of magic
In the middle of nowhere
Reminds me why I’m going there

Strolling through SOMA
Found this brand new toy
This tune I’m composing
Brings me such joy
It’s a little bit of magic
That’s come out of nowhere
I’m so glad to be able to share

So glad to be able to share…
So glad to be able to share…

2. This Infertile Valley (3:02)
You can’t satiate this thirsty ground
Nothing of sustenance can be found
No seeds I plant will germinate
Yet I come here when hunger comes ‘round

Here the tree roots only grow shallow
The blood of the wounded has salted the soil
Out on the skyline a thunderhead blooms
A coyote is skulking along the arroyo

It’s time to leave this infertile valley
It’s time to leave this infertile valley

The unfinished furrows, the abandoned plows
The swords that forged them all nameless now
The well has gone dry, the windmill is weary
Foundations jut out like a sunken ship’s bow

I saw you next to your dingy Volkswagen
Slumped on its side with a busted back axle
You were crank’n away on a rusty pump handle
To coax one last drop forth through your sheer passion

It’s time to leave this infertile valley
It’s time to leave this infertile valley

The ancient Maya and old Babylon
Fell long ago and are long since gone
It’s a matter on which academics debate
Maybe they just felt like moving on

It’s time to leave this infertile valley
It’s time to leave this infertile valley
It’s time to leave this infertile valley

4. That May Not Be Good Enough (3:18)
I’m surprised you showed your face last night
The shades were a nice touch
After you led me down the garden path
I guess shame don’t come easy to some

I bit my tongue and I said nothing
Though I have plenty to say --
When it comes to the fruit of the poisoned tree
Some folks must like the taste

You sure had a lot of gall
Chew’n me out and all

Well, you may be good looking
But that may not be good enough

I’ll admit I took the tenderloin
But I gave you a prime cut
You'd barely tried a mouthful
Before you spit it all out

I hitched my wagon to your star
I made a leap of faith
My efforts were lambs to the slaughter
Your only value was your face

You butchered your own damn name
You're a poster child for the vain

Well, you may be good looking
That may not be good enough

I teeter between resentment and pity
You’re a saboteur; You’re a flake
Next time I’ll choose a partner
Not a self-consuming snake

It’ll be hard to watch you have success
Still I wish you well and all the best

Remember though…
You may be good looking
That may not be good enough

6. The Mockingbird's Repertoire (3:01)
Somewhere after midnight, before the break of day
Carol’s pried from her slumber and forced wide awake
She curses the curtains for failing to mute
What she assumes is a car alarm
Only to discover it’s the latest addition
To the mockingbird’s repertoire

On her way to the kitchen to make herself coffee
She passes a cage she regards as if empty
The silver home of a golden canary
Who’s long been left so loved starved
All because his song was once added
To the mockingbird’s repertoire

Not nearly as malicious a mimic
As his cruel cousin the cuckoo
(Who clearly deserves to be imprisoned in a clock)
This magpie of mating calls
Must be in it for the mischief
Why else would the mockingbird mock?

Weary and walking through fields of sweet clover
Carol’s perturbed by a well known warble
She picks up a stone and nearly hurls it
When out springs a meadow lark
Whose crime was he couldn’t be distinguished
From the mockingbird’s repertoire

8. Brave Heart, Luna! (2:39)
In the luscious brushstrokes of a candied sunset
Or the starkest black night at its apex
Or the dissipating mauve
Of some fresh hazy morn

Whatever witchcraft you happen to be brewing and
Despite moonshine’s gentle mewing
It’s the totality of the eclipse
You’re pining for

Brave heart, Luna! Brave heart, Luna!
Brave, brave heart
Brave heart, Luna! Brave heart, Luna!
Brave, brave heart

For all the phase shifts that you’ve learned to endure
And those terrors to which you’re inured
The worst of which must surely be the
Wolf’s lonely howl

At least there’s the watery shimmers
The skyline’s pallid glimmers
And the enrapturing lethal silence of the
Wing flaps of an owl

Brave heart, Luna! Brave heart, Luna!
Brave, brave heart
Brave heart, Luna! Brave heart, Luna!
Brave, brave heart

It’s okay for you to cry
It’s okay to cry sometimes
Just know who’s on your side
No matter how dark it may seem --
May seem — may see-ee-ee-eem

Brave heart, Luna! Brave heart, Luna!
Brave, brave heart
Brave heart, Luna! Brave heart, Luna!
Brave, brave heart

"The song is whimsical, endearing, and fun...E.G delivers the song in a spoken word style that has a worldly wise feel..."
— Simply Jazz Talk on "The Octopus Song”

After a foray into country for his EP, Nashville Recordings, Vol.1, San Francisco songwriter E.G Phillips returns to the jazz idiom with his new album Alien from an Alternate Earth.

As with At Home at Sea and “The Albatross Song,” this collection’s title is derived from the refrain of one of its tracks — “The Octopus Song,” which was inspired by The Soul of an Octopus by naturalist Sy Montgomery and written to promote a show at Oakland’s Octopus Literary Salon.  While the pretext of the song might be cephalopod perceptions and origins, its underlying purpose is much more personal — a meditation on the singer’s current situation and place in the world — a re-emerging theme throughout these songs.

We open with the breezy Bossa Nova “Till We Have Faces Again” (which alludes to the vagaries of the pandemic as well as C.S. Lewis’s retelling of Cupid and Psyche) and then  explore a variety of textures and emotions — from the venomous, knife twisting swagger of “That May Not Be Good Enough” (which is nasty as Dylan ever was) to the ethereal, music box like “Ode to the Wildhorse Cafe.”  The album is capped off with the frenetic encouragement of the big band number called “Brave Heart, Luna!”

This project was the result of a chance encounter with producer Chris McGrew and keyboardist/vocal arranger Kevin Seal (both of punky prog rock Griddle and Seal Party) at a recording session at the famed Hyde Street Studios in San Francisco (where Santana and Herbie Hancock laid down classic tracks).  This led to McGrew assembling an all star cast of local luminaries to provide that old school, 1950s feel Phillips was looking to imbue into these recordings.  Desmond Shea (Division Hi-Fi, Faith No More) was on hand to act as recording engineer (as well as provide his unique insights).  Mastering was done by Gary Hobish, a veteran of Berkeley’s Fantasy Studios and San Francisco’s CD Studios.

Alien from an Alternate Earth is a tight volume of E.G. Phillips songs where his characteristically cinematic and whimsical lyrics are backed by an imaginative ensemble of the Bay Area’s best jazz players who create a sound that is both classic and striking.