(theme music playing)
♪ All night long ♪
♪ Hey, now, now, now, now ♪
♪ Hey, little baby ♪
♪ You been on my mind ♪
♪ Look in my dreams ♪
♪ Your taste is all I find ♪
♪ Hey, now, darling ♪
♪ Where you stay out all night long ♪
♪ I wanna tell you ♪
♪ You know your daddy's home ♪
♪ All night long ♪
- sync and corrections by Caio - - www.addic7ed.com -
♪ All night long. ♪
(music playing)
(crowd gasps)
♪ Six legs of lamb, four steins of ale ♪
♪ Don't betray the dragon's tale ♪
♪ Bring your children to the fair ♪
♪ To bless my beard... ♪
Where'd you find these guys, fucking Sherwood Forest?
No, they headlined a Renaissance festival up in Canastota.
The place went apeshit.
♪ No last name, no family plan... ♪
Sort of like BTO meets Paul Revere & the Raiders.
Their costumes, power chords.
Comic book characters come to life.
Didn't they try that with the Archies?
Yeah, but, come on, these guys are good.
♪ Some boar's head jam... ♪
They got a flute.
Woman: The fire!
Oh, shit! Shit!
Wizard Fist.
Make a cool T-shirt.
Richie: How many more bands?
A lot. Get comfortable, Rich.
You wanted a big showcase, you got it.
(music playing)
♪ Honey, let's get high ♪
♪ We gonna have a real good time ♪
♪ Honey, let's get high ♪
♪ We gonna have a real good time ♪
♪ We gonna start out on whiskey ♪
♪ We'll end up drinking wine ♪
♪ Let's get real drunk ♪
♪ Let's let it be our ruin ♪
♪ Whoo, let's start out on whiskey ♪
♪ Let's let it be our ruin ♪
♪ Whoo... ♪
(phone ringing)
Want me to get that?
No, I want you to let it keep ringing incessantly.
Hello.
It's your father.
What are you doing up so late?
Spoken like a man with a functioning prostate.
Go to my doctor, I told you.
I talked to the cops. Told them what you said.
- The alibi. - Which was what?
What, is this a fucking quiz?
The day of your thing. Your birthday.
Went to that movie.
"Enter the Dragon."
Stupid goddamn name for a dragon.
It's not a name, Pop. Forget it.
Bunch of chop-socky bullshit.
I couldn't make head or tail.
What'd they say? How'd it go?
What the hell'd you get yourself mixed up in?
- What do you mean? - They made me look at pictures, Richard.
Some fucking stiff with a bashed-in skull.
A Roger somebody.
- Fuck me. - What the hell did you do?
Fucking pills make you screwy?
Listen to me, on Ma's grave it was an accident.
The guy's head was bashed in like a cantaloupe.
- It's complicated. - What's so fucking complicated?
Stop, okay? Enough. Not on the phone.
We'll talk in person you want.
Meet me at my office. Okay? Tomorrow.
- We'll talk then. - Fucking big shot.
You remember where it is?
What, am I an imbecile now?
Let's say 5:30.
Take a shave, wear a suit.
Still telling people I died in the war?
There's more than one way to be dead, Pop.
(music playing)
(snorts, gasps)
Fuck this place.
Clark.
♪ I recall once upon a time... ♪
Just saw Barry. He looked upset, right?
- He was. - He get fired?
- He did. - What did he expect, right?
- With that Leon Russell knockoff... - Have a seat.
Inside every man
is another version of himself.
What the Germans call a doppelganger.
Perhaps this doppelganger has different hair
or a sense of primordial destiny.
I don't know.
Maybe he holds a scepter.
I'm sorry, I don't... I don't really follow.
You're fired, kid.
Wait, no.
- No, Julie, come on. - Come on, my ass.
Bunch of Vikings with Stratocasters? The fuck was that?
Okay, look, they were supposed to be Teutonic knights or...
or something, I don't... I don't know.
- Julie, I had two weeks. - So did everybody else.
And fucking Marvin brought us somebody real.
As did Casper and Penny.
I almost signed Alice Cooper.
And I almost fucked Peggy Lee,
but I ended up jacking off instead.
Julie, come on, you...
you can't let me go.
You'll do something else.
There's no shame, kid.
Really.
This business ain't for everyone.
My dad thinks I'm a fucking loser.
(crying)
Please. Please, I'll do anything.
I just... I can't lose my job.
I...
I'm fucking begging you here, please.
Jesus Christ. Are you completely without pride?
Maybe not completely.
All right. All right. All right, come on.
Schmutz guy, wipe your face.
How about this?
How about this? It's a pay cut,
but you can take over for Jamie.
Get the lunches, help out in the mail room.
- What? - This way you're still employed.
You'll messenger shit, run errands, that kind of thing.
I graduated from fucking Yale.
Really? 'Cause you never mentioned that.
You want the job or not?
Fine.
Okay.
And about that Yale thing.
I were you, I'd take that Whiffenpoof shit off my resume.
You're not doing yourself any favors.
(music playing)
- Olive. - (phones ringing)
♪ I've got a song, but ain't got no melody ♪
♪ I'm a-gonna sing it to my friends... ♪
Heather, there's nobody out front.
Faye is supposed to be covering for me.
- Well, she's not there. - Richie asked me to handle him.
If you'd like to cover the front, be my guest.
I don't, but Julie has the 400s coming in later.
Excuse me.
It can't look like nobody works here.
Take it up with Cece. She usually stumbles in around noon.
- Hannibal again? - Yesterday she arrived in a limo.
In the morning. It's disgusting.
What's disgusting?
He's in a marketing meeting with the Nasty Bits.
Mickey Weiss keeps calling, but Richie doesn't want to talk to him.
And Skip wants 10 minutes before the 3:00,
but he'd like Richie to look at yesterday's "Gavin" before they talk.
- He's not going to. - You can tell that to Skip.
- Are you going back out front? - Go fuck yourself.
- Whoo, man. - How's it going?
A lot of late nights in a row.
What, you gonna tell me how to handle myself?
(phone rings)
Richie Finestra's office.
- Photo session? - Zak: Yeah, our usual guy.
He did the Wings cover. We want to do that next week, too, probably.
So, you know, maybe they can shower.
Can also have a hairstylist on the day if you want.
For what?
What's the plan for airplay?
- We got a call in to Scottso. - Who?
- Scott Muni at NEW. - Lester: What about PLJ?
PLJ, they won't touch them until they're on the map.
NEW will with a little encouragement.
Then we'll take them out to Cleveland, MMS.
- Maybe KSAN. - San Francisco.
- Have Todd go with them. - Todd got let go.
- We're touring? - No, these are radio stations.
You go, you have a drink with the music director.
He'll do an on-air interview.
Yeah, with talking. And eye contact.
Not the sullen looks to the floor like right now.
- Do we have a bio? - No.
Could you write us, like, half a page about yourself,
- your background? - What the fuck is this?
This is what you send into the radio station and they have it.
Normal label bullshit. Don't worry.
I ain't flying to Cleveland to bugger some radio jock.
A fucking bio? Just listen to the music.
- Okay, listen. - Where's Jamie?
- Who? - The towhead with the tits.
He's right. He's right.
Why the fuck isn't Jamie in here?
Cece, can you bring Jamie in, please?
I'm Kip Stevens.
Fuck your mom. There's your bio.
That sucks, Clark, but you're still here with access to A&R.
Maybe you'll find another act.
Don't pretend like you're not secretly loving this.
Well, you have been a giant asshole.
Clark Morelle, sandwich maven.
Wait, does sandwiches just mean food
or does that also mean that I provide weed and blow for the executive branch?
Just food.
How much do you pocket every week off the skag? 50 bucks?
'Cause I'm gonna need that part of the gig. My salary just dropped...
To exactly the same as mine.
Jamie, if I'm not the supplier, then I can't pay my rent.
It's not gonna happen, Clark.
Jamie, they need you in the conference room.
You know what, next time you're drowning, be sure to give me a call
'cause I'll throw you a fucking cinder block.
There she is.
Have a seat, babe.
They want to march us around like it's a bloody beauty contest.
- We need a bio. - Write your own fucking bio.
I'm Horatio Meatsack, a fat, sad wanker.
- I'll write it. You don't have to. - Good, moving on.
Send her to knob the DJs, 'cause I ain't doing that either.
I can come with you, but that's the whole game.
They'll only send you to rock stations. And the guys are cool.
You go, you smoke a joint, you talk about nothing.
- See? Easy. - Where's the rest of the band?
That's what I want to know. Fucking alley jumped here.
- We wanted a minute with Kip. - The guys should be here.
They're not here because I don't want them here.
We're a band. We want to cut a fucking album,
not hairstyling and DJ licking.
Shut your fucking mouth for one second.
Look, you got to make some personnel changes.
- What? - You got one guitarist too many.
You should be a foursome. You're stepping all over each other up there.
And your guy on lead, he's got to go.
- Duck? You fucking... - What the hell you trying to do?
He's a stiff. No stage presence.
And his guitar playing, mediocre at best.
Come on, they're not technicians.
I mean, playing ain't the focus of their vibe.
No, even for them, he's mediocre.
Take all of this and shove it up your sagging fuckhole.
You signed the band. What did you think you were getting?
Him and a couple of other guys.
See, this is what happens when a label picks you up.
We groom you, we work with you,
we turn you into something that might actually have a life.
Duck is the band. He came up with the name.
- Sizable contribution. - He's my friend, you fucking leech.
I'll work with Duck. He'll step up.
He says because of his vast experience developing bands.
You want to shrink the group? Is that 'cause your label's run out of money?
Is that it? You haven't got enough to pay us?
You know who Frank Barsalona is?
He runs Premier Talent. Best booking agency in town.
He's also a friend. And because he's my friend,
he's booking you to open for the New York Dolls
next month at the Academy.
- Are you serious? - Yeah.
So you guys do what you want,
but unless there's suddenly four of them
including a replacement for that fucking lump they think is a guitarist,
I'm cancelling the booking.
And if you ever talk to me like that again,
I'll slap you so hard you'll be singing out of your asshole.
(music playing)
Hey, come on, there's people working here.
I'll come back later.
(snorting)
Ah!
Jessie Walsh contract.
Heather is a fucking idiot. I wanted a bialy.
I had to draw a picture for her.
Is there a hole, is there not a hole?
The guy from "The Voice" needs a quote for Grand Funk's San Diego show.
Bounce it to Zak. Make him happy.
And they're moving your furniture back in later.
Do I need a new secretary?
Heather's available.
I got to replace you with a black chick.
Makes me look hipper. Hepper. Hepper. Hepper?
Neither. Just...
He's not gonna put a ring on your finger.
He's already married. You know that, right?
Hannibal.
He's giving serious thought to Koronet Records.
Jackie Jervis took him out again Tuesday night.
Hannibal likes his PR gal.
Andrea? I taught her everything she knows.
She says she can cross him over,
that you're ghettoizing him in the soul market.
If that twat used the word ghettoizing, I'll kill her.
She's smart. She had all sorts of ideas, Richie.
You were there. Why didn't you tell me?
I'm telling you now.
You think I could take you and your little boyfriend out to eat tonight?
Save this fucking place from going under.
Yeah, I'll see what I can do.
(dialing)
You're gonna bring Devon, right?
I'll see what I can do.
You used to be nicer. You know that?
- (phone rings) - Hello?
Richie: Hey, it's me!
Hi.
You okay?
I'm fine.
You up for some fondue?
If not, we can fon-don't, go somewhere else.
Tonight?
Yeah, I was thinking maybe Chalet Suisse?
Double date.
Who are you trying to impress?
Hannibal's contract's up.
So it's not so much a date as a business meeting.
No, it's both, okay? It'll be fun, Dev.
Look, he's a big fish, you know that.
We could use a night together, you and me.
Please? It's important.
Fine, I'll bring the harpoon.
All right, 8:30. Wear something sexy.
♪ In the evening by your side ♪
♪ Oh, you're hurting deep inside ♪
♪ Watch your step, baby... ♪
Andy, it's me.
What are you doing for lunch?
- (knocks) - Approach.
I'm putting together a list. Go shopping with fucking Kip.
Buy him these albums and then tie him to a chair
and make him listen to this shit till he can recognize
a chord progression when it bites him on the ass.
Clark said he's taking my job.
Does that... are you promoting me?
I brought in the Bits.
- Uh-huh. - So...
- No. - No what?
Clark's doing my job. I signed a band.
Clark was made vice president in charge of lunch.
You are still vice president in charge of coffee, correspondence,
and whatever the fuck else you do out there.
So I get nothing for bringing in a band?
No, you work with them like an A&R person would
and you do your regular job for which I hired you.
And if you don't fuck it up, I will note that on my list of naughty and nice.
But, no, there's no promotion.
I just put a bunch of fucking people out on the street
including support staff.
We're barely hanging on.
Or haven't you noticed?
(music playing)
♪ I got a Maserati GT... ♪
Woman: Okay, great. Hold it right there.
Andrea: The eyelines are fucked up. Where are they looking?
Right here, guys.
Carla, don't be afraid to get in tighter.
You're shooting the band, not the crane.
♪ I got a closet full of clothes... ♪
How's that?
Tell her I want some close-ups of Scott.
How's Devon?
She's great.
She thought we'd be buying a boat and sailing to the Caribbean,
so, you know, it took her a minute.
She wants to gut me like a fish.
What's she gonna do? It's never about the money
until you announce that you're not backing up a Brink's truck.
Then she's a capitalist.
I'm glad that you're not selling.
See, I knew you'd get it.
You busy tonight?
We got dinner, but we can meet you before for a drink.
Dev would love to see you.
I got a thing. Lou Reed.
When are you gonna get the fuck over it?
You got the biggest fucking balls.
I'm talking about a real job like you have with Jackie.
You are habituated to treating me like a hand towel.
You couldn't do otherwise if you wanted to.
Don't give me that line of shit about abusing you.
You came to my apartment
with fucking options to sign at 11:00 at night.
I didn't tie you to the bed.
It was my idea to fuck you, sweetheart,
it wasn't my idea to clean your bathroom.
Your new secretary clean your fridge?
- No. - Imagine that.
She doesn't want to answer your phones, then get on the train,
go up to your apartment, scrape gravy off the stove?
The stove? The fucking stove?
That's what you're still mad about?
Okay, you know what? This ain't gonna work.
Fine, sorry. Go ahead.
You walk around with a chip on your shoulder
like some encounter group dick swatter,
- you're never gonna... - I said go ahead.
- Head of publicity. - No.
What? Why did I buy you a knish?
Your point-of-sale strategies are archaic.
Your marketing makes you look like a vacuum cleaner company.
- So change it. - "Dark Side of the Moon."
Doesn't have a single on it and it's a blockbuster.
A prog-rock concept album.
Every mophead in America can't stop contemplating
the mysteries of that floating fucking triangle.
Pink Floyd doesn't have a face.
Meanwhile, you're still putting head shots on covers and calling it art.
It makes you look boring. I can't change that in PR.
That is a revisualization of the whole company.
Fine, then do it. I'm starting a sublabel, too. You can run with it.
If you don't have a big idea, there's not gonna be any difference
between the sublabel and the original.
The idea is new
and not fed through a machine so hard
that you can't feel the fucking intestines of the artist and the music.
Shit.
I should put that on a T-shirt.
New and alive is subjective.
It's not a vision for a company.
So help me define the fucking idea.
Does that make me a partner?
(sighs)
Look, I'll match whatever Jackie was giving you
and I'll up it 20%.
I'm not coming in to be your PR girl.
That's not growth for me. It's a fucking insult.
You'll call the shots on big ideas.
Baby, you couldn't follow through on that if you wanted to.
You'll have a voice, okay?
I'm different, Andy.
One second.
I love you, babe.
I always have.
I'm meeting Mrs. Fineman.
Oh, yes. Follow me, please.
Sorry I'm late. Someone threw themselves in front of the six train.
Madame.
I take veal. You have a soup?
Serving a potato leek soup and a beef consommé.
I'll have consommé.
Uh, the chicken, please.
Nothing to start.
- And consommé. - No, I'm fine.
I don't want the consommé.
(speaking Polish)
I'm not gonna go in there again.
(speaking Polish)
- No one had alcohol. - (speaking Polish)
I would have cleaned up the cigarette butts, but you didn't give me a chance.
(speaking Polish)
If I had burned it down,
at least you'd have had the insurance money.
I wouldn't have to hear how the business
is such a millstone around your neck.
(speaking Polish)
There's your key.
(speaking Polish)
They're musicians.
(speaking Polish)
You didn't need anyone to take care of you.
(speaking Polish)
Oy, if I have to hear about you
sucking off the Hitler Youth again, I'm gonna throw myself...
Close your mouth before I stab you in the throat.
I got a promotion at work.
There's people who type letters and bring coffee
and then there's people who work with the artists.
I will retire one day. If you cannot take the business...
They fired a bunch of people.
Not only did they keep me, but they made me a...
You're an embarrassment.
(speaks Polish)
(music playing)
♪ I dig the hell in your eyes, baby ♪
♪ I dig the sounds... ♪
Penny: Wait a minute, Richie was how old?
Vince: 12 or 13.
He's got the Philco blasting,
stark naked in front of a mirror
singing, "Josefina, please don't lean-a on the bell.
When you smooch-a, please don't push-a on the bell."
- Hey! - Oh.
Look who decides to show up.
5:30, we said.
I got to get home
to hear the liar address the nation.
- Oh, shit. - So nice to meet you.
It's a real pleasure.
Oh, beautiful.
- Gonna need to change, so... - Thank you.
A fucking zoo, Broadway.
The goddamn rush hour.
Panhandlers every three feet.
Drinking bourbon?
The girl said there's no rye.
Bourbon or scotch?
There's gold everywhere.
The lost city of the Incas.
Yes, you made that very same observation the last time you were here.
Maybe next time you should cut your pecker off, hang that on the wall.
They're achievements, Pop. I'm proud of them.
"Mairzy Doats" sold three million copies. What does that prove?
That not everything has to be Mozart or Thelonius Monk.
I'm changing course, taking the label in a new direction.
I signed this band, Pop.
They have an energy. It's electric.
The fuck do I know?
I'm just an old horn player.
How are your fingers? Your arthritis?
The Bufferin now, it's easier on the stomach.
Maybe lay off the rye.
You gonna lecture me now?
No, it runs in families. It's not a lecture.
Your mother's, maybe, not mine.
It's a known fact mulattos can't hold their liquor.
- That wasn't her problem. - I'd come home, she'd be soused.
Staring off listening to Arthur Godfrey.
She was depressed.
By the way, when the fuck were you ever home?
Since when are you father of the year?
- The dope, the whores. - I don't run around.
Flying around in jet planes like Joe fucking Big Shot
and now this trouble with the law.
You love this, don't you?
It's my fault you got mixed up in this shit?
I'm not mixed up with anything.
Ah. Then why'd you need me for an alibi?
Look, it was a misunderstanding.
Okay, Buck Rogers, the dead guy,
he was a friend of mine
and I'm the last person he called before they murdered him.
It's a coincidence.
Where were you that you needed me to lie?
Out.
Doing something that I'm not proud of, okay?
On the phone you said it was an accident.
Well, obviously it was an accident of some kind.
But it doesn't mean I was involved.
Oh, you got all the answers, don't you?
Big record man, fancy house, built-in swimming pool.
My proud papa.
The fuck I give a shit what anybody else has?
Oh, please, Pop. Come on.
Benny Goodman, Artie Shaw.
Artie Shaw was an asshole!
Artie Shaw gave you a career
which you fucking drank away.
It'd be nice
if I could see my grandchildren every once in a while.
Fine.
We'll have you out to the house.
The one with the in-ground pool.
I'm sorry about your friend.
I hope the cops catch who did it.
♪ It's Saturday night and I just got paid ♪
♪ Fool about my money, don't try to save ♪
♪ My heart say go, go, have a time ♪
♪ 'Cause it's Saturday night and I'm feeling fine ♪
♪ I'm gonna rock it up, I'm gonna rip it up ♪
♪ I'm gonna shake it up, gonna ball it up ♪
♪ I'm gonna rock it up and ball tonight ♪
♪ Well, along about 10, I'll be flying high ♪
♪ Walk on out unto the sky ♪
♪ I don't care if I spend my dough ♪
♪ Tonight I'm gonna be one happy soul ♪
♪ I'm gonna rock it up, whoo ♪
♪ Rip it up, babe ♪
♪ Gonna shake it up, gonna ball it up ♪
♪ I'm gonna rock it up and ball tonight ♪
♪ Everybody, come on... ♪
He's my best mate.
Cooks us fucking rice and beans.
I was gonna call the band the Nips.
Yeah, the Nasty Bits is better.
You don't need to tell me that.
I'm sorry.
I'm not doing it.
I mean, losing Billy was one thing. I hardly knew him.
But Duck.
(tuning)
We'll find another label.
Doesn't seem like you have a choice.
All right, fellas, we're gonna go on four.
(sticks clacking)
(music playing)
Do me a favor, mate.
Sure.
- Get off your bloody amp. - Why?
- 'Cause I'm asking. - I always sit on my amp.
I'm keenly aware of that, Duck, but if you stood,
you might find you'll be a little more connected.
- Connected to what? - The music.
The band. The grit in your anus.
- It's a demo, man. - It looks fucking lazy.
Shall we go for another one, then?
(clacking)
(music playing)
♪ Conquistador, your stallion stands ♪
♪ In need of company ♪
♪ And like some angel's haloed brow ♪
♪ You reek of purity ♪
♪ I see your armor-plated breast ♪
♪ Has long since lost its sheen... ♪
- Richie: So she's playing Cassandra. - Devon: Ophelia.
And at the end she's supposed to drown herself in the river, right?
But this is fucking avant-garde theater,
so, you know, the river ain't water
or papier-mâché or some shit.
No, it's guys.
- Live men? - In blue shirts.
She's drowning in guys.
- I thought he was gonna kill somebody. - I was.
I'm playing my death scene, he's about to rush the stage.
- You could see him. - Oh, yeah.
He's got that thing with his jaw that he does
and the throbbing vein in his neck.
I had to make sure nobody was grabbing her tits, which they were.
- The fucking Canadian. - He was gay. They all were.
Yeah, a lot of groping around for a bunch of queers.
I want to be that river.
Richie: Right? Nice work if you can get it.
Yeah, when's your next play?
Oh, God, that's ancient history.
I don't know. Got to find you another one.
Devon: No, I'm done.
Cece's a baby, though.
She should be a star of the stage.
- There we go. - Uh-uh.
- Come on, Sweet Catch Me. - Stop it, now.
Sweet Catch Me likes to play shy, but it's just an act.
Sweet Catch Me, huh?
It's an anagram of my name.
Cece Matthews, Sweet Catch Me.
He can do them in his head. It's amazing.
No shit? Let me see.
Devon Finestra.
Devon I-N or O-N?
O-N.
- Deaf inventors. - Holy shit.
In your head?
Finest dove ran.
Richie: Uh-oh. What's that supposed to mean?
Means you better hold on tight before your dove run off.
(growls)
- Do Richie. - Yeah, do me.
Terrifies China.
Well, they do hate me in that noodle place on 57th.
- (laughs) - The anagrams don't lie.
He in racist fire.
Racist fire? Come on, man.
I'm taking out girls of every color of the rainbow.
That's right. And if that's the fire,
get me out of the frying pan, yeah.
(all laughing)
(music playing)
What do you think?
Could cut him out of the mix.
But, really, he's no worse than the others.
Dinner.
Nice work, fellas. That's dinner.
See you in a bit.
You feel like Indian?
I got to run home. Left my notebook.
Your notebook's right there.
I got a new one.
New one's got me quality lyrics in it.
Be back in a bit.
(sighs)
Give us a minute.
What'd you do before the band?
I worked in a bowling alley.
- Can you get that job back? - I don't know. Probably.
Then you should do that, 'cause I'm afraid this ain't working out.
You fucking firing me?
- You can't do that. - I'm just the messenger.
- Kip put you up to this? - No, this is above Kip.
- Goes all the way up the flagpole. - But why?
You're not in a rec room anymore.
At this level, they are taking pictures.
They are paying money to put you up in front of a crowd.
Now, you play better than Kip does, we both know that.
But it don't feel that way because Kip is the one you want to look at.
We're making music.
Supposed to be about the music.
Yeah.
Fuck you, man.
Mm-mmm.
I didn't come here to get off.
Neither did I. My knob's always like this.
Kip Stevens.
An enigma wrapped in dungarees and sweat.
- Just leave it. - Oh, shut your gob.
Isn't that what you people say?
(music playing)
♪ Won't you let me walk you home from school? ♪
♪ Won't you let me meet you at the pool? ♪
♪ Maybe Friday... ♪
I love that you like this.
It sold about five copies to rock critics.
It's all about the dosh for you, isn't it?
I don't care about the money.
I care about an album doing well enough
for the label to let the band do another album.
They wanted the band to work, they shouldn't have sacked lead guitar.
You don't need Duck.
You got your deal despite Duck.
And you're gonna blow it if you don't move on.
(scoffs)
I'm up there face-front of all them punters.
To have someone there
take the knocks with you.
You still have that, you dick.
Jamie Vine.
It's nice to meet you.
(chuckles)
Not going anywhere.
(music playing)
- (laughing) - ♪ Hey, baby, let me stay ♪
♪ I don't care what your friends are about to say... ♪
Hannibal: Yeah! Come on!
Cece, get on over there, girl. Come on, now.
(exhales)
(snorts) Ah!
Whoo!
Yeah! Love this.
- Sylvia? - Yeah, Little Sylvia.
♪ Hey, baby, let me stay... ♪
Fucking hot track.
Yeah. Hey, man, we've got to get you guys onstage together.
- Huh? Duet. - Yes. Yes.
We got to get this girl back onstage.
- It's a waste of talent. - Yeah, she's hot.
♪ It can't compete with this pillow talk of mine ♪
♪ Ooh, you can't find love on a one-way street ♪
♪ It takes two to tangle ♪
♪ Takes two to even compete ♪
♪ Oh, yes... ♪
Cece looking cold. Better warm her up.
Oh, come here. He's right.
He's right. Better warm you up.
(giggling)
♪ I'm pleading to you now ♪
♪ Hey, baby, let me try... ♪
You know, I'm all right.
♪ To be the one who's gonna light your fire... ♪
I'm fine.
♪ But it can't compete ♪
♪ With this pillow talk of mine... ♪
(Devon moans)
♪ Ooh, I don't want to see you be no fool ♪
♪ What I'm teaching you tonight ♪
♪ Boy, you'll never learn it in school... ♪
You want a bump?
I don't need no bump. I got a bump.
Why, yes, you do, sir.
♪ I'll ask to borrow them pants on a cold ♪
- ♪ And lonely night... ♪ - (laughs)
♪ Ooh, hey, baby ♪
♪ Let me be ♪
♪ The one who turns you on from A to Z ♪
♪ Ah, ah ♪
♪ What your friends all say is fine ♪
♪ But it can't compete... ♪
Right.
I'm gonna leave that for you.
Party favor. Dev, we got to run.
- Why? - Sitter.
Estella's staying the night.
Yeah, she says yes now, then she's pissed off in the morning.
Takes it out on the kids. You got a coat?
- Rich... - Let's go. Grab her purse.
And you.
You are like a fucking god.
Huh?
Love you. Come on.
Come on.
Hmm?
You be good.
Take care of Cece, okay?
She's got to work in the morning.
- Come on. Come on. - I guess we're leaving.
- All right, baby. - We'll see you soon.
- Mm-hmm. - Get the fuck out of here.
- That was fun. - Yeah...
- (gasps) - Fuck.
- (moans) - No.
You're wet.
Okay.
You were gonna fuck him.
(elevator bell dings)
You were gon... you were gonna fuck him.
What the fuck are you talking about?
You were thinking all four of us
or me and Cece would play Scrabble while you fuck?
You fucking psychopath.
I'm just supposed to sit there and watch, right? Get the fuck out of here.
Telling all your favorite "Devon was a whore when I met her" stories.
You served me up on a goddamn platter.
I brought you to dinner, okay, not to...
I was bait so he'd sign. Everyone in that room knew that.
So you were gonna fuck him for the good of the company? That was your plan?
I was gonna grind on the dance floor until the song ended
and then suck you off in the bathroom. That was my plan.
So that maybe for five minutes you'd remember that you're into me
almost as much as you're into men who can sell fucking records.
You know what? Fuck you with "I don't love you enough."
I'm sick of that shit.
You just drove our future into the ground.
I was trying to save whatever's left of your fucking company.
I don't need you to save anything!
You sure as fuck do. He's one of your biggest artists.
I didn't give you millions of dollars,
so you thought a black cock was your consolation prize.
No?
Say what you want, your cunt doesn't lie.
(grunts)
♪ Before you ♪
♪ Slip into unconsciousness ♪
♪ I'd like to have ♪
♪ Another kiss ♪
♪ Another ♪
♪ Flashing chance ♪
♪ At bliss ♪
♪ Another kiss ♪
♪ Another kiss... ♪
Check it out.
I'll call you back.
The latest hit from Richie Finestra
of American Century Records.
Richie: I'm not mixed up with anything.
Vince: Then why'd you need me for an alibi?
Richie: It was a misunderstanding. Okay, Buck Rogers,
the dead guy, he was a friend of mine
and I'm the last person he called before they murdered him.
It's a coincidence.
Where were you that you needed me to lie?
Richie: Out. Doing something that I'm not proud of, okay?
Vince: On the phone you said it was an accident.
Richie: Well, obviously it was an accident of some kind.
But it doesn't mean I was involved.
Vince: Oh, you got all the answers, don't you?
So we got him, right?
- Is that it? - What, not enough?
For an arrest? I mean, clearly he's involved,
but he doesn't actually say it.
He's like right there.
Leo: So the apartment or home to Greenwich?
Or I could just drive around.
I'm sure Devon's fine. She probably caught a cab home.
(phone rings)
The fuck are you?
Oh, that's nice of you to ask.
I'm with one of my artists, actually.
Richie: What do you want, Jackie?
Nothing. I called to gloat.
I just signed Hannibal.
What?
Yeah, I heard you two had a lovely dinner.
Hey, aren't you gonna congratulate me?
- You miserable piece of shit. - Miserable?
I'm the happiest piece of shit in the record business.
Good night, you fucking putz.
♪ Spend your time when we get back ♪
♪ I'll drop a line. ♪
Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!
Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!
(panting)
(music playing)
(chatter)
♪ White light, white light going messing up my mind ♪
♪ White light, and don't you know it's gonna make me go blind ♪
♪ White heat, aw, white heat, it tickle me down to my toes ♪
♪ White light, ooh, have mercy, white light have it, goodness knows ♪
♪ White light, white light going down to my brain ♪
♪ White light, hey, don't you know it gonna make me insane ♪
♪ White heat, white heat tickle me down to my toes ♪
♪ White light, oh, white light, I said, now, goodness knows ♪
♪ Ooh, hah ♪
♪ White light ♪
♪ Ooh, hah ♪
♪ White light, watch that side, watch that side ♪
♪ Don't you know gonna be dead and dried... ♪
They play here next week. I'll get you tickets.
Hey.
I'll be back in a minute. Don't leave, okay?
- You have to come back. - Richie.
You have to... have to come back.
Andy, I'm going down.
You don't pull this shit with me again.
I'm not saving you. I saved you already.
Fucking Christ, this is bigger than that.
Seven years of my life?
This is the shit you always talked about
and I'm giving it to you... authority, vision.
- Oh, yeah? - Yeah. Unless that was all bullshit
and you just wanted to get married.
Why would I want to marry someone who didn't love me?
I loved you, okay? I loved Devon, too.
Sue me, it was fucked up.
You made a decision, though, didn't you?
- Yeah, I did. - She was easy.
She didn't call you on your shit.
That's why.
You didn't want to be with somebody who was as smart as you.
It's an unattractive quality in you.
But let me tell you something. It helped in the end seeing that.
Okay.
No?
Whatever.
- So why? - It doesn't fucking matter.
Say why.
You're right. I wanted somebody dumb.
If that is not why, say why.
Because she was more beautiful.
Thank you.
You know how many years I wondered that?
- Andy, you're a beautiful woman. - Okay.
You look like me.
You do.
It's like narcissism or something.
I don't know. You're like my family.
Okay, stop.
Jesus.
What, are you gonna cry?
Fuck you.
I could do it.
- The job? - I could think about it.
But you give me an ownership stake.
And I'm not your mother or your extra wife.
- Done. - I don't take care of you.
I take care of the company.
You puke on your clothes, I don't give a shit.
I have a secretary. Got it.
You rolling off the wagon?
Go with God.
The guy in the hat, he's got dots.
The girl in the gold top, she's a cokehead.
She'll let you do blow out of her navel.
Go to fucking town.
Andy.
We're gonna do something great.
Leave me alone.
Ronnie Lang's my lawyer now.
Figure it out with him. Don't call me till it's done.
In fact, don't ever call me at home.
♪ Tickle me down to my toes ♪
♪ White light, white light, I said, now, goodness knows ♪
♪ Let's do it, ooh, ooh ♪
♪ White light ♪
♪ Ooh, ooh ♪
♪ White light, watch that side, watch that side ♪
♪ Don't you know it gonna be dead in the ride ♪
♪ Ooh, ooh, white heat ♪
♪ Ooh, ooh, white light ♪
- sync and corrections by Caio - - www.addic7ed.com -
♪ White light, white light going messing up my mind ♪
♪ White light, and don't you know it's gonna make me go blind ♪
♪ White heat, aw, white heat, it tickle me down to my toes ♪
♪ White light, ooh, have mercy, white light have it, goodness knows ♪
♪ White light, white light going messing up my brain ♪
♪ White light, oh, white light is gonna drive me insane ♪
♪ White heat, oh, white heat, it tickle me down to my toes ♪
♪ White light, oh, white light, I said, now, goodness knows ♪
♪ Do it ♪
♪ Ooh, ooh, white light ♪
♪ Ooh, ooh, white heat ♪
♪ Ooh, ooh, white heat. ♪