Original subtitles

I'm sorry. I'm sorry.

No. Stay.

What's your name?

Andrew Neiman, sir.

What year are you?

I'm first year.

-Do you know who I am? -Yes, sir.

So you know I'm looking for players.

Yes, sir.

Then why did you stop playing?

Did I ask you to start playing again?

-Sorry, I... -I asked why you stopped playing,

and your version of an answer was to turn into a wind-up monkey.

-Sorry, I thought... -Show me your rudiments.

Yes, sir.

Double-time swing.

No, double-time. Double it.

Faster. Faster!

Oopsy-daisy.

Forgot my jacket.

-No Swedish Fish? -No, not today.

Thanks. Mm-hm.

-You okay? Hm? -Yeah.

Yeah. Well, I don't know. He saw me play today.

And?

Mm.

Well, you got plenty of options still.

-What does that mean? -Just...

-Other options? -Just, you know...

It's just life.

Listen, when you get to be my age, you get perspective.

I don't want perspective.

Sorry.

All right.

I don't want the Raisinets.

Why didn't you say that?

I just eat around them.

I don't understand you.

Bye. I'll see you later. Bye.

My man, Ry. Oh, shit.

How you feeling, man?

It's been too long. Been too long.

Things were hurting with Neiman on the kits.

Come on, man.

-What? -He's fine.

I mean, if you say so, yo. Good seeing you.

Yeah.

Yo, looking good.

-Hey. -Hey, what's up, bro?

-Hey Ry. -Have you got a good weekend?

-Yeah, real good. -Yeah?

-Yeah. Lot of fun. -Nice.

Hey, don't worry about Greg. Kid's a dick.

Oh.

-No big deal. -Good morning, everybody.

Good morning, everybody.

-Good morning. -All right.

Let's do..".Billy Zane" from the top, yes? Yes?

-How's that? That's good? -Little right.

-Okay. -One, two, three, unh...

Wait. Whoa, whoa, whoa.

All right, let's do... Reese, yeah?

Yo, Ryan.

Watch it.

Yeah.

Accent, yeah...

-Really big on the bottom yet. -Not today.

Put some sugar on it.

... you embarrass yourself like what's-his-face.

That was truly pathetic.

Short.

All right. All right.

That's enough of that. Just back to the core drums, please.

Core players, let's go.

Dude, what have you been practicing?

May I?

Cute.

Down the line. Trumpets, bars seven and eight.

Three, four.

Three, four.

Okay. All right.

Trombone, bar 24. The and of two.

Maybe not.

Tenor, let's start the pickup to 11.

Three, four.

Same spot. Three, four.

Okay. All right.

You're in the first chair. Let's see if it's because you're cute.

Three, four.

Yep. That's why.

Drums. Let's... Let's hear a little double-time swing.

Behind.

Same thing.

Bass, five bars of "Donna Lee".

All right.

Drums, with me.

Thank you, Joe.

No, no, no. Other drums.

Room B-16 tomorrow morning, 6:00 a.m. Don't be late.

All right, everybody, from the top.

A one, two, three, unh...

-Hey. -How are you?

-Good. How-How are you? -I'm good, thanks.

Good.

-Uh, the usual? You want, like...? -No.

Look, I don't really know how...

I see you in here a lot, and I think that you're really pretty and...

Would you wanna go out with me... ever?

Please go away.

-Oh, my God. -Plese get out.

-I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. -I'm just messing with you.

-I'm messing with you. -What? Oh, my God.

I'm sorry.

-That's-That's actually pretty mean. -That should've... I'm sorry.

I didn't mean to hurt your feelings.

-It's okay. No big deal. -What's your name?

Oh, I'm Andrew.

-Andrew. -Yeah.

-I'm Nicole. -Nice to meet you, Nicole.

Nice to meet you too.

-So you wanna take me out. -I would... love to take you out.

-Where do you wanna go? -Pizza.

-Pizza? -Yeah.

-I like pizza. -Yeah, I know this great pizza place.

Cool. Okay, well...

Uh...

I get off at 7 on Monday.

Okay...

-You wanna meet here? Yeah. -Okay. Yeah. I will.

Great.

Okay. Seven o'clock?

-Mm-hm. Here. -At 7 p.m.

-Monday. Andrew. -All right.

-Bye. -Bye.

# Keep me waiting #

# 'Cause I'll keep #

# waiting #

It's not that bad, man. She's a go-go dancer.

She could've did porn, she chose not to.

-Oh, nice. -That make it better?

Yeah, little bit.

-That's classier. -I can deal with that.

Bitch had a foot fetish or something.

-This is good. -You get on that?

That's it.

You are fucking kidding me.

-You the new alternate? -Yeah. I'm Andrew Neiman.

Tune the set to B-flat, then you turn my pages during rehearsal.

Sure.

Excuse me. Um, could I get a B-flat?

Thank you.

Sorry. Can you...? Just one more time?

That's a great kit.

I play the new cymbals now.

Milk the cunt!

We got a squeaker today, people. Neiman.

Nineteen years old. Isn't he cute?

All right, gang, "Whiplash".

Page. Page!

Barker, that is not your boyfriend's dick. Do not come early.

Bar 93.

Five, six, and...

Stop.

Now, this one really upsets me. We have an out-of-tune player here.

Before I continue, would that player care to identify himself?

No?

Okay, maybe a bug flew in my ear.

One-fifteen.

Five, six, and...

No. My ears are fine.

We definitely have an out-of-tune player.

Whoever it is, this is your last chance.

And there it went.

Now, either you are deliberately playing out of tune,

and sabotaging my band,

or you don't know you're out of tune,

which I'm afraid is even worse.

Reeds.

Five, six, and...

Bones.

Five, six, and...

He's here.

Tell me it's not you, Elmer Fudd.

It's okay. Play.

Do you think you're out of tune?

What are you... There's no fucking Mars bar down there. What are you looking at?

Look up here. Look at me.

Do you think you're out of tune?

Um...

Yes.

Then why the fuck didn't you say so?

I've carried your fat ass for too long, Metz.

I'm not gonna have you cost us a competition

because your mind's on a Happy Meal instead of on pitch.

Jackson, congratulations, you're fourth chair.

Metz, why are you still sitting there? Get the fuck out!

For the record, Metz wasn't out of tune. You were, Erickson.

But he didn't know,

and that's bad enough.

All right, take ten. When we get back, the squeaker's on.

Two, two, three. Two, two, three.

If he put half the effort into playing the trombone...

Andrew.

-Parents musicians? -No.

-What do they do? -My dad's a writer.

Oh, what's he written?

I guess he's more of a teacher, really.

Oh.

-College? -Pennington High School.

-What about your mother, what does she do? -I don't know. She left when I was a baby.

No musicians in the family?

Well, you just gotta listen to the greats, then.

Buddy Rich, Jo Jones...

You know, Charlie Parker became Bird

because Jones threw a cymbal at his head.

-See what I'm saying? -Mm-hm.

Listen, the key is to just relax.

Don't worry about the numbers.

Don't worry about what the other guys are thinking.

You're here for a reason.

You believe that, right?

Yeah.

Say it.

I'm here for a reason.

Cool.

All right, man. Have fun.

All right, gang, "Whiplash".

A little under tempo, okay? Neiman, just do your best.

Here we go.

Five, six, and...

Let's hear some fills.

We got Buddy Rich here.

A little trouble there. Just pick it up at 17.

Ready?

Five, six, and...

Not-not quite my tempo.

Here we go.

Five, six, and...

Downbeat on 18. Okay? Here we go.

Five, six, and...

Bar 17, the end of four.

Got it?

Five, six, seven...

Not quite my tempo. It's all good. No worries. Here we go.

Five, six, seven...

You're rushing. Here we go.

Five... Ready? Okay.

Five, six, and...

Dragging just a hair.

Wait for my cue.

Five, six, seven...

Rushing. Five, six, and...

Dragging. Five, six, and...

Why do you suppose I just hurled a chair at your head, Neiman?

-I don't know. -Sure you do.

-The tempo? -Were you rushing or dragging?

I don't-I don't know.

-Start counting! -Five, six, seven...

In four, damn it. Look at me.

One, two, three, four.

One, two, three, four. One, two, three...

Now, was I rushing or was I dragging?

-I don't know. -Count again.

One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four.

-One, two, three, four. -Rushing or dragging?

-Rushing. -So you do know the difference.

If you deliberately sabotage my band,

I will fuck you like a pig.

Now, are you a rusher,

or are you a dragger,

or are you gonna be on my fucking time?

I'm gonna be on your time.

What does that say? "Quarter note equals 215".

Count me a 215. One, two, three, four.

-One, two, three, four. -Jesus fucking Christ.

I didn't know they allowed retards into Shaffer!

Am I to understand that you cannot read tempo?

Can you even fucking read music? What is that?

Eighth note.

-Yes. What is that? -Dotted 16th note.

Sight-read measure 101.

What are you, a fucking a cappella group? Play the goddamn kit.

Stop. Now answer my question.

Were you rushing or were you dragging?

-Answer! -Rushing.

Oh, my dear God.

Are you one of those single-tear people?

Do I look like a double fucking rainbow to you? You must be upset.

-Are you upset? -No.

No? So you just don't give a shit about any of this?

-I do give a shit. -So, are you upset?

Yes or fucking no?

Yes, you are upset.

Yeah.

-Say it. -I'm upset.

Say it so the whole band can hear you.

-I'm upset! -Louder!

-I'm upset! -Louder!

I'm upset!

You are a worthless, friendless, faggot-lipped little piece of shit,

whose Mommy left Daddy, when she figured out he wasn't Eugene O'Neill,

and who's now weeping and slobbering all over my drum set

like a fucking 9-year-old girl.

So for the final father-fucking time,

-say it louder! -I'm upset!

Carl.

Start practicing harder, Neiman.

"Whiplash", bar 125.

Big-boy tempo.

Five, six, and...

This place is nice.

Yeah. I really like the music that they play.

Mm.

-I mean, the food's good too, but... -No, the pizza's really good.

"When I Wake".

-What...? -That's the name of the song.

Oh.

Jackie Hill, July 17th, 1938.

Bob Ellis on the drums.

You know, every time I saw you at the theater, your eyes were glued to the floor.

-Really? -Oh... Mm-hm.

My dad says that I have... I have trouble making eye contact.

My parents like to criticize me too.

When I was growing up, my mom said I had a really big chin,

and that's why guys wouldn't like me.

-Really? -Yeah.

You don't.

Well, she said my dad cursed me with one.

It's like Jay Leno. Look.

-No, it's not. -Yeah, it is.

-I don't... I don't think so at all. -Well, that's nice.

Your chin's very... nice. Very nice.

Your mom sounds insane.

Well, she did wanna be an actress when she was my age.

-What about you? -What about me?

What do you do?

I go to Fordham.

What do you study?

I don't... have a major yet.

-But, like, what do you want to study? -I don't really know.

I don't know yet.

So Fordham was just like a random school?

No, I applied to a bunch of schools, Fordham let me in.

-Why'd you pick Shaffer? -It's the best music school in the country.

Well, Fordham was Fordham.

I don't love it there, to be honest.

-No? -No.

I...

I don't know. I guess it's just the people. I don't know if they like me very much.

I'm from Arizona and I think they can... see it.

I kinda feel the same way about people at Shaffer.

Oh, yeah?

Yeah. I don't-I don't think they like me too much.

But I don't... I don't...

I don't care too much. I think it just... It changes.

You know, people change and things work out.

No, no, I know, I know.

I just...

I feel really homesick sometimes.

I don't know.

It kind of pisses me off when people pretend like they're not.

In college, you know?

Maybe I'm literally the only one, I don't know.

I still go to the movies with my dad.

-Hey... How are you, man? -Hey, good to see you.

And you. And please, is this really Eva? Wow.

Last time I saw you, you were very tiny.

Are you playing an instrument yet?

She started piano last week.

Hey, when you're a big college kid, will you come play in my band?

-Would you like that? -Be my piano player?

Excellent. Give me five, baby.

All right. Hey, great to see you. Great seeing you.

-See you after the show, okay? -All right, absolutely.

All right, cheers.

Listen up, cocksuckers!

Hurry the fuck up. Get your music.

"Irene" only. Set one. Rhythm section out first.

Tanner, the kit is a fucking tonal catastrophe. Get it in tune, all right?

Rhythm and soloists, bar 45.

We're gonna pick up the tempo there, all right?

Bar 106, brass, do not forget we sharp that ninth.

Everybody remember, Lincoln Center and its ilk use these competitions

to decide who they're interested in and who they're not.

I'm not gonna have my reputation in that department tarnished

by a bunch of fucking limp-dick, sour-note,

flatter-than-their-girlfriends, flexible-tempo dipshits. Got it?

One more thing. Eugene, give me that.

If I ever find one of these lying around again,

I swear to fucking God, I will stop being so polite.

Get the fuck out of my sight before I demolish you.

Stage right, in order, now.

I can still fucking see you, Mini-Me!

Let's go. Hurry the fuck up. Let's go.

The Shaffer Conservatory Studio Band.

Hold on this for the second set.

He's dumb but he's not stupid.

At the end of the day, he wants a career, as dumb as he is.

But as long as Fletcher is here, Fudd doesn't have a chance

of getting back in the band, so why would he jeopardize that?

-I need to look at the music. -Oh yeah, it's right here.

-Why isn't it on you? -Where's the folder?

-You're joking, right? -I've no... No...

-You're fucking around? -I literally...

No, I-I swear I just had it here two seconds ago.

-No, no... -It's gotta be around here.

-Did you see...? -How could you be so fucking stupid?

I know. Maybe a janitor came by or something...

-A janitor? -Yeah.

Find the fucking folder! A fucking janitor?

You're a dumb fuck! A dumb fuck!

-Find the folder! -Okay, I'm sorry.

Tanner!

Jesus fucking Christ, where have you been?

-Uh, we have an issue. -Okay, now is not the time.

I gave Neiman the folder and Neiman lost it.

-Neiman lost it. -Yes, sir.

The folder was your fucking responsibility, Tanner.

Why would you give it to Neiman? Right?

Give a calculator to a fucking retard, he's gonna try to turn on a TV with it.

Now, get your sticks, get your ass on-stage.

I... I can't.

You can't?

I... I can't go on-stage. I don't know the charts by heart.

-Are you fucking kidding me? -I... You know this.

I need the music. It's my memory, I need visual cues.

-Visual cues. -Yes. It's a medical...

A medical condition? What, are you fucking Sanjay Gupta?

Play the goddamn music!

-I can't. -I can.

-You know "Whiplash" by heart? -Yes. Every measure.

All right. Well, you better fucking hope your memory doesn't fail you.

And I hope you play it a whole lot better than you did last month in the reherasal.

Because I do not intend to start losing now.

Get your sticks and get your fucking ass on-stage. On-stage!

And in first place,

Shaffer Conservatory.

Hey. Don't fucking touch my folder, man.

Do not touch this kit.

All right, let's get to work, ladies.

Tanner, what you doing? It's core only today. I don't have time for alternates.

"Cherokee". From the top.

Tanner, are you a fucking statue? Let's go. Get off the stool.

Don't forget to turn Neiman's pages. Here we go.

One, two, three, four. Two, two, three, four.

Andy, what did you do to your hand?

-Is that from drumming? -Yeah. It's nothing.

So how's it going with the Studio Band?

Good.

Yeah, I think he likes me more now.

And his opinion means a lot to you, don't it?

Yeah.

Wanna grab the shakers?

Jimbo? Overcooked.

You can barely chew this.

He just laughs. So how's the drumming going, Andy?

Yeah, it's going really well. I'm-I'm the new core drummer, so...

-Hey. -Congratulations.

Tom Brady.

-Did you hear, Jim? -No, what happened?

-Trav got named this year's MVP. -That's fantastic, Travis.

Yeah and Dustin is heading up Model UN,

soon to be Rhodes Scholar and who knows what else.

And Jim, teacher of the year.

-Well, hey, listen... -I mean, come on.

The talent at this table, that is stunning.

And Andy, with your drumming. It's going okay, Andy?

Yeah, it's going really, really well, actually.

I'm part of Shaffer's top jazz orchestra,

which means..., it's the best in the country.

And I'm a core member

so I'll start playing in competitions. And actually I just...

I found out I'm the youngest person in the entire band.

How do-How do you know who wins in a... music competition? Isn't it subjective?

No. Does the studio get you a job?

No, it's not an actual studio.

It's just the name of the ensemble, but yeah, it's a big step forward in my career.

Well, I'm so glad you figured it out. It's a nasty business, I am sure.

Hey, are you gonna tell them about your game this week?

-Living up to your title... -I scored a 93-yard touchdown.

School record, school record, school record.

-Is that true? That's fantastic. -It's Division Three.

It's Carlton football. It's not even Division... Two, it's Division Three.

-You got any friends, Andy? -No.

-Oh, why is that? -I don't know.

I just never really saw the use.

Who are you gonna play with otherwise?

Lennon and McCartney, they were school buddies, am I right?

Charlie Parker didn't know anybody till Jo Jones threw a cymbal at his head.

So, that's your idea of success, huh?

I think, being the greatest musician of the 20th century is anybody's idea of success.

Dying broke and drunk and full of heroin

at the age of 34 is not exactly my idea of success.

I'd rather die drunk, broke at 34 and have people at a dinner table talk about me,

than live to be rich and sober at 90 and nobody remember who I was.

But your friends will remember you, that's the point.

None of us were friends with Charlie Parker. That's the point.

Travis and Dustin, they have plenty of friends and plenty of purpose.

I'm sure they'll make great school board presidents someday.

Oh, that's what this is all about, you think you're better than us?

-Catch on quick. Are you in Model UN? -I got a reply for you, Andrew.

You think Carlton football is a joke? Come play with us.

Four words you will never hear from the NFL.

-Who wants dessert? -Heard from Lincoln Center?

Okay, get out of here. Pick up the new chart by the door on your way out.

Rehearsal 9 p.m. sharp tonight. That's how long you have to learn it.

Neiman. Stick around a minute.

See the tempo marking on there? Uh...

"Quarter note equals 330". Oh.

That is a double-time swing.

-That's what got you in here, right? -Oh, yeah.

As fate would have it, I recently stumbled across another kid

in the practice room working on his double-time swing.

So I'm gonna give him a shot.

-Am I late? -Perfect timing.

Come on in, Connolly.

-Uh, you two know each other, right? -Yeah, yeah, Nassau band.

Hey, what's up, Andrew?

Now..., Connolly, I've made Neiman a temporary core,

but with this competition coming up

I just wanna make very sure this chart is in the best shape it can be.

Yeah, this one right here, right?

I gave Connolly the chart this morning.

All I wanna do now is just to give you both a crack at it, all right?

So, Neiman, go ahead, jump on the kit, we'll take it from the top.

Okay.

I don't want you to worry about hits right now.

-Just tempo, okay? -Okay.

All set?

One, two...

-Not quite my tempo. Connolly. -Okay.

-Yeah, I can take it right from the top. -Connolly, go ahead.

-I can do... -No. We'll go with Connolly now.

Hey, do you mind?

Okay, man, ready?

One and two and...

-Perfect, Connolly. -Oh, my God.

See, this to me is the beauty of Studio Band.

You walk in here an alternate, who knows when you could be the new core.

-Oh, my God, are you serious? -Thanks.

That shit?

Fletcher.

Thanks, man. Here you go.

Don't worry about Fletcher. He's more bark than bite.

Hey, look, you... I can play these charts.

-Now is not the time, I swear to God. -I can play it, okay?

I said not now! If you want the fucking part, earn it.

I'm just gonna lay it out there.

This is why I don't think we should be together.

And I've thought about it a lot, and this is what's gonna happen.

Okay, I'm gonna keep pursuing what I'm pursuing.

And because I'm doing that, it's gonna take up more and more of my time.

And I'm not gonna be able to spend as much time with you.

And even when I do spend time with you, I'm gonna be thinking about drumming.

And I'm gonna be thinking about jazz, about my charts and all that.

And because of that, you're gonna start to resent me.

And you're gonna tell me to ease up on the drumming,

spend more time with you, because you're not feeling important.

And I'm not gonna be able to do that.

And really I'm gonna start to resent you for even asking me to stop drumming.

And we're just gonna start to hate each other.

And it's gonna get very... it's gonna be ugly.

And so for those reasons,

I'd rather just, you know, break it off clean.

Because I wanna be great.

And you're not?

I wanna be one of the greats.

And I would stop you from doing that?

Yeah.

You know I would stop you from doing that?

You know that for a fact?

Yes.

And I'd barely see you anyway?

Yeah.

When I did see you, you'd treat me like shit

because I'm just some girl who doesn't know what she wants.

And you have a path and you're going to be great and I'm gonna be forgotten

and therefore you won't be able to give me the time of day

because you have bigger things to pursue.

That's exactly my point.

What the fuck is wrong with you?

You're right. We should not be dating.

I'm okay. Thanks.

Fuck! Fuck!

Fucking piece of shit!

Fuck you!

The fuck!

Fucking piece of shit! Come on!

Um...

Sorry, we have a new player. Ryan Connolly.

Um... Ahem.

I'm sorry.

Guys, just put your instruments down for a minute.

Just listen for a minute.

Six years ago...

I came across a kid in a practice room working on his scales.

He was early second year and he'd started at Shaffer with a lot of hope.

Like all you guys.

But the truth was that he barely squeaked in to begin with and...

... he was really struggling.

The faculty were all telling him, "Maybe this isn't for you".

But they didn't see what I saw.

This scared, skinny kid

cursing himself because he couldn't get his scales right.

I saw a drive in him.

And I put him in Studio Band.

And when he graduated,

Marsalis made him third trumpet at Lincoln Center.

A year later, he was first.

That's who you're listening to now.

His name was Sean Casey.

I found out this morning that...

... Sean...

... died yesterday...

... in a car accident.

And I just...

I wanted you guys to know he was a beautiful player.

I just thought you should know.

I'm sorry.

Okay.

Let's get to work, huh? How about "Caravan", bar 105?

Two bars for free.

One and two and...

It's not-not quite right, Connolly. Um...

I'd like to try Neiman on this.

Maybe now's the time for Neiman to earn the part.

One and two and...

Nope, I guess not. Tanner?

One and two and...

Motherfucker!

Connolly, get your ass back on the kit.

We will stay here for as long as it takes until one of you faggots can play in time.

One and two and...

Looks like that might be all night. Neiman.

One and two and...

Not my fucking tempo!

Sorry, guys. Hate to put you through this.

If you need to fucking take a dump or get a coffee,

whatever, now might be a good time.

We're gonna stay until I find a drummer who can fucking play in time.

I apologize to the musicians.

Seriously, take 10, 20, a fucking hour.

You hear me, cocksuckers? You better start shitting me perfect 400s.

Connolly, get your fucking ass back on the kit.

Is that really the fastest you can play, you worthless Hymie fuck?

No wonder Mommy ran out on you. Get off the fucking kit.

And here comes Mr. Gay Pride of the Upper West Side himself.

Unfortunately this is not a Bette Midler concert.

We will not be serving Cosmopolitans and Baked Alaska,

so just play faster than you give fucking hand jobs, will you, please?

One, two, one, two.

Not even fucking close.

Let's go with the Irish Mick Paddy cracker now.

You know, you actually do look quite a bit like a leprechaun.

I'm gonna start calling you Flannery.

Get off!

What the fuck are you looking for? There's no pot of gold down there.

... Adjusting the seat? Really?

That's been your fucking problem the whole time? The seat height?

So now you have it, right?

Go.

Bullshit! Fuck you!

Neiman.

Maybe it's time

to finally bring this home. What do you say?

Show me.

Don't slow down.

Pick it up.

Faster!

Faster!

Faster!

Faster!

Faster!

Keep playing!

Keep playing! Keep playing! Keep playing!

Don't stop.

Neiman,

you earned the part.

Alternates, you wanna clean the blood off my drum set?

Okay, we can start now.

5 p.m. call tomorrow in Dunellen.

Give yourselves at least two hours to get there from the city this time, all right?

Save your travel receipts.

Or don't. I don't give a shit.

Hey excuse me, do you know where the cabs are?

No, you gotta call the cabs.

I konw, they say the cabs suppose to be right here?

No, you gotta call. Then they gonna stay here forever.

Okay, how do I get to Hargrove?

Hey. Come on. Please, come on. You're still open.

You're still open. Come on. Come on. Come on.

Yeah, hello?

Neiman, where the fuck are you man? Call time was five.

I know, I know. I'm almost there. I'm almost there. I'm right there.

-We're on-stage in twenty. -I know we're on-stage in twenty.

-And Fletcher's got Connolly warming up. -God fucking da... Okay.

You just tell that little fucking redhead I'll...

I'm gonna be there, okay? Fuck!

Hey. Hey. Sorry I'm late.

Well, glad you could fit us into your busy schedule, darling.

I know. Look I'm sorry I'm late, but I'm here, I'm ready to go.

Connolly's playing the part.

Yeah, like fucking hell he's playing my part.

What the fuck did you just say to me?

It's my part.

It's my part and I decide who to lend it to.

Usually it's somebody that has fucking sticks.

I left them in the car. I'll be right back. Take me five minutes.

I'm warming up the band now.

-Look, I can use Ryan's sticks... -Neiman, you lost the fucking part.

No, I didn't. Look, you can't fucking do this to me.

-Can't? -Yeah.

When did you become a fucking expert on what I can or can not do,

-you fucking weepy-willow shit sack? -I earned that part.

You never earned anything. God, you are a self-righteous prick.

The only reason you're a fucking core is because you misplaced a folder.

Only reason you're in Studio Band to begin with is because I told you

exactly what I'd be asking for in Nassau.

-Am I wrong? -Yeah.

Yeah, I'm in Studio Band because

-I'm the best player... -Hey, why don't you just back off?!

Hey, fuck off, Johnny Utah. Turn my pages, bitch.

Hey. I can cut you any fucking time I want.

-You would've cut me by now. -Try me, you fucking weasel.

At 5:30, that's in exactly 11 minutes, my band is on-stage.

If your ass is not on that stool with your own fucking sticks in hand,

or if you make one fucking mistake,

one, I will drum your ass back to Nassau

where you can turn pages until you graduate or fucking drop out.

By the time you're done at Shaffer,

you're gonna make Daddy look like a fucking success story.

Got it? Or we can let Johnny Utah play the part. You choose.

That's my part. I'll be on your stage.

-Fuck you. -You got 10 minutes,

you fucking pathetic, pansy-ass fruit fuck.

-Hey, tell Fletcher I'm coming. -What the fuck took you so long man,

We're moving on-stage right now.

I know, I got locked in my car, it's fine. I got locked in my car, I'm coming.

Left turn, 200 feet.

-Are you driving, man? -No.

What the hell was that noise?

Okay look, why don't you just tell Fletcher that I'm coming, you motherfucker?

Hey. Hey, hey.

Are you okay? Are you okay?

-I gotta get my sticks. -No, no, no, no, stay away from the car.

-I've called 911. -Look, I gotta go.

-Just a couple more blocks. -No, no, sir.

-You don't have to go anywhere... -Just a couple more blocks.

-Sir, sir, no you don't have to... -Please get off me...

Hey, guy. What the fuck happened to you?

The Shaffer Conservatory Studio Band.

Neiman, what the fuck?

Fuck.

Neiman...

You're done.

Gentlemen, ladies, I apologize

on behalf of Shaffer Conservatory.

Piece of shit. I'll just fucking kill you.

-Fuck you. -Get the...

-Get the fuck off me. Fuck off. -Get off me.

Fuck you.

Fuck you!

Fuck you, Fletcher! Fuck you!

Get off. Fuck. Piece of shit!

Fuck you!

When did you start talking to her?

Your father got in contact with us this week.

Does the name Sean Casey mean anything to you?

You know of his death?

Last month, he hanged himself in his apartment.

What does that have to do with me?

Sean suffered from anxiety and depression.

His mother claims this started during his time as Fletcher's student.

Now, the Caseys aren't wealthy, they don't wanna file suit.

So, what do they want?

To make sure that Terence Fletcher is never allowed to do this to another student.

Hey, Dad, look at my paradiddle.

Yeah, that's my boy.

-He didn't do anything. -What is wrong with you? It's over, okay?

He's out of your life. Why would you let him get away with what he did to you?

Would you characterize his conduct as extreme, Andrew?

Did he ever intentionally inflict emotional distress?

This would not be a public hearing, you know.

Fletcher would never know it was you who spoke up.

Why would you do this to me?

Do you think that I would let him put my son through hell

and then just walk away scot-free?

Don't you know I would never let that happen?

That there is nothing in the world more important to me than you?

Don't you know that?

Andrew?

Andrew?

Just tell me what to say.

Hey...

I'd give anything to be there again this fall, wouldn't you?

I guess I like weddings, provided of course they're not mine.

Oh, marriages are very healthy, sir.

They say married men live much longer than bachelors.

That's true. They're only trying to outlive their wives so they can be bachelors again.

Haven't you ever thought of getting married, sir?

Once in fact back I did.

The young lady changed her mind at the last moment.

I've been deeply indebted to her ever since.

All right... And I-I loaded the pantry up with Gushers.

-Saw that. -Okay.

All right.

Thanks.

Right on, man.

Andrew.

Hey.

I don't know if you heard. Uh...

I'm not at Shaffer anymore.

Yeah, I did hear that.

Did you quit?

Not exactly.

Some parents got a kid from Sean Casey's year, I think,

to say some things about me.

Although why anybody would have anything

other than peaches and cream to say about me is a mystery.

Yeah.

-That's a good laugh, right? -I'm sorry.

-No, listen, hey... I get it. -I'm sorry.

I know I made enemies.

I'm conducting a little, though.

They brought back the JVC Fest this year.

They got me opening in a couple of weeks with a pro band.

That's great.

Yeah. It's all right.

Truth is, I don't think people understood

what it was I was doing at Shaffer.

I wasn't there to conduct.

Any fucking moron can wave his arms and keep people in tempo.

I was there to push people beyond what's expected of them.

I believe that is...

an absolute necessity.

Otherwise, we're depriving the world of the next Louis Armstrong.

The next Charlie Parker.

I told you that story about how Charlie Parker became Charlie Parker, right?

-Jo Jones threw a cymbal at his head. -Exactly.

Parker's a young kid, pretty good on the sax.

Gets up to play at a cutting session, and he fucks it up.

And Jones nearly decapitates him for it.

And he's laughed off-stage.

Cries himself to sleep that night, but the next morning, what does he do?

He practices.

And he practices and he practices with one goal in mind,

never to be laughed at again.

And a year later, he goes back to the Reno and he steps up on that stage,

and plays the best motherfucking solo the world has ever heard.

So imagine if Jones had just said:

"Well, that's okay, Charlie. That was all right. Good job".

And then Charlie thinks to himself, "Well, shit, I did do a pretty good job".

End of story.

No bird.

That, to me, is an absolute tragedy.

But that's just what the world wants now.

People wonder why jazz is dying.

I tell you, man, and every Starbucks "jazz" album

just proves my point, really.

There are no two words in the English language more harmful

than "good job".

But is there a line?

You know, maybe you go too far and you discourage the next Charlie Parker

-from ever becoming Charlie Parker. -No, man, no.

Because the next Charlie Parker would never be discouraged.

Yeah.

The truth is, Andrew, I...

... never really had a Charlie Parker.

But I tried.

I actually fucking tried.

And that's more than most people ever do.

And I will never apologize for how I tried.

I'll see you later.

Yeah.

Hey, Andrew. Listen, I've no idea how you're gonna take this, but...

the band I'm leading for JVC, my drummer is not cutting it.

You understand what I'm saying?

No.

I'm using the Studio Band playlist.

You know, "Caravan", "Whiplash".

I need somebody who really knows those charts.

What about Ryan Connolly?

All Connolly ever was to me was incentive for you.

Tanner? Tanner switched to premed.

I guess he got discouraged.

Hey. Uh...

Take the weekend. Think about it.

-Hello? -Hey, Nicole, it's Andrew.

-Hi. -Hey.

It's been a while since...

I talked to you. Um... Look, I...

I'm really sorry about everything.

I know that's not...

you know, enough, but I'm just really sorry. Um...

But anyway, I got... I actually have this show this weekend.

It's a, uh...

Like, a JVC thing. And I didn't know if maybe you'd wanna go, and...

... we, you know, maybe get some, like, pizza afterwards, and...

..., like, complain about our schools again.

What is...? You said Jayvees?

No, it's, heh, JVC.

It's like a... It's a jazz thing.

Yeah.

Oh, okay.

Well, I don't know if I can come. I...

I'll have to check with my boyfriend.

Okay.

Yeah.

Yeah, I'll tell 'im and I'll check, but I don't know.

I don't really think he likes jazz music though.

Yeah, I mean, not for everybody.

Okay. Well, I guess maybe I'll see you guys there.

-Okay. -Okay.

Bye.

All right, gang, listen up. Now, for those of you who are new at this,

which looks like it might be everybody except Cal, tonight could change your life.

The folks out there make a phone call, you could be a Blue Note signee,

an EMC client, a Lincoln Center core.

On the other hand,

if you drop the ball, you might be looking for a new line of work

because the other thing about these cats is they never forget.

We all set?

All right. Let's have fun.

You think I'm fucking stupid?

-What? -I know it was you.

Thank you, ladies and gentlemen. We're...

We're very excited to be here kicking off the JVC Festival this year.

I'm Terence Fletcher and these are some of the best musicians in New York,

which means they're some of the best musicians in the world.

And we're gonna do some old standards for you,

but first we're gonna start with a new tune

by Tim Simonec called "Upswingin'".

What the fuck you doing?

Come on, man.

Yeah, I guess maybe you don't have it.

That was a little extra avant-garde there from the rhythm section...

Come on, let's go home.

What are you doing?

Uh...

Now we're gonna slow it down a little bit.

I'm guessing most of you folks have heard...

I'll cue you in.

"Caravan".

Three, four.

I'm gonna gouge out your motherfucking eyes.

-Andrew, what are you doing, man? -I'll cue you.