[Intro – Lo-fi AM radio static, distant surf, gulls, muffled organ] [Spoken – filtered pirate radio DJ voice] You’re listening to Riptide Radio... Broadcasting live from somewhere beyond the breakwater. Exact coordinates? Absolutely not. [Spoken] If the Coast Guard asks— you’ve never heard of us. [Full-band hit – huge brass stab] [Instrumental Intro – fast third-wave ska groove, bright trumpet/trombone/sax hook, clean guitar upstrokes, Hammond organ, walking bass, punchy drums, spring-reverb surf guitar answering the horns] [Verse 1 – tight ska groove, vocals relaxed and rhythmic] Nine-to-five and the clock won’t move, Fluorescent lights got nothing to prove, Traffic crawling underneath the sun, Everybody waiting for the day to be done. But somewhere past the concrete line, There’s a little frequency doing just fine, Turn the dial till the static goes— Hear that trumpet? There it blows! [Horn Response – short brass blast] [Pre-Chorus – horns answer each vocal line] Throw the windows down! Let the whole world know! There’s a signal coming in— From the undertow! [Build – snare roll, rising horns] [Chorus – huge singalong ska chorus, gang vocals, full horn section] Turn it up! RIPTIDE RADIO! [Gang Vocals] Whoa-oh-oh! Let the good times overflow! Turn it up! RIPTIDE RADIO! Catch the signal, Catch the wave, And let it go! From the shoreline to the stereo, Everybody knows— Whoa-oh-oh! RIPTIDE RADIO! [Post-Chorus – surf guitar plays chorus melody with heavy spring reverb while horns punctuate] [Verse 2 – bouncing bass, organ more prominent] We got a transmitter held with tape, An antenna leaning at a dangerous shape, Two blown speakers and a coffee tin, But somehow the whole coast is tuning in. No weather report, no traffic news, Just a stack of records and a blown-out fuse, The DJ says, "Folks, we’re doing fine!" [Spoken DJ – filtered] Probably. [Pre-Chorus – more energetic] Throw your worries out! [Horn stab] Let the whole thing go! If you’re looking for the weekend— We already know! [Gang Vocals] WHERE TO GO! [Chorus – bigger, added backing harmonies] Turn it up! RIPTIDE RADIO! [Gang Vocals] Whoa-oh-oh! Let the good times overflow! Turn it up! RIPTIDE RADIO! Catch the signal, Catch the wave, And let it go! [Backing Vocals] Let it go! From the shoreline to the stereo, Everybody knows— Whoa-oh-oh! RIPTIDE RADIO! [Instrumental Break – extended horn section feature] [Lead Vocal] Can you hear me? [Gang Vocals] LOUD AND CLEAR! [Lead Vocal] Is the weekend— [Gang Vocals] ALMOST HERE? [Lead Vocal] Is the signal— [Gang Vocals] COMING THROUGH? [Lead Vocal] Then you know exactly what to do! [Drum Fill] [Full Horn Section] HEY! [Bridge – half-time tropical ska groove, warmer organ, gentle surf guitar] Maybe tomorrow the signal fades, Maybe they finally find this place, Maybe the tide takes the tower away, And carries our little station out into the waves. So if tonight you hear our song, Don’t worry whether the signal’s strong, Just turn it up and sing along— Before somebody shuts us— [Music stops] [Spoken DJ – filtered] Uh-oh. [Spoken DJ] Listeners, we appear to have acquired company. [Fast snare pickup] [Lead Vocal] ONE MORE TIME! [Final Chorus – fastest and biggest section, explosive horns, gang vocals, harmonized surf guitar] TURN IT UP! RIPTIDE RADIO! [Gang Vocals] WHOA-OH-OH! LET THE GOOD TIMES OVERFLOW! TURN IT UP! RIPTIDE RADIO! Catch the signal, Catch the wave, And let it go! [Backing Vocals] LET IT GO! From the boardwalk to the bungalow, From the highway to the undertow, If you hear us then you already know— WHOA-OH-OH! RIPTIDE RADIO! [Final Chorus Repeat – key energy lift, extra horn counter-melody] Turn it up! RIPTIDE RADIO! [Gang Vocals] Whoa-oh-oh! We don’t care where the current goes! Turn it up! RIPTIDE RADIO! Ride the rhythm, Ride the wave, And lose control! From the shoreline to the stereo, Everybody knows— WHOA-OH-OH! RIPTIDE RADIO! [Outro – horns repeat main hook, surf guitar improvises around melody] [Spoken DJ – filtered, music slowly fading] This has been Riptide Radio, broadcasting from an undisclosed location somewhere between low tide and poor decision-making. [Radio static] [Spoken] Same time tomorrow? [Second Voice – distant] They found us! [Spoken DJ] ...Probably not. [Final massive brass hit] [Surf guitar sting] [End]
