baa! ba ba dang!
holy shiite! what the fuck's this?
well that's problematic because it sucks ass.
yours, i assume.
what are you doing?
public enemy! all i'm trying to do is cheer us up. go ahead and put on some old sad bastard music see if i care.
but it's my new tape. my monday morning tape. i made it last night just for today.
don't you want to hear what's next?
play it.
"little latin lupe lu."
no. the righteous brothers.
what?
no, not nothing. what's wrong with the righteous brothers?
bullshit.
since when did this shop become a fascist regime?
great. that's the fun of working in a record store. playing crappy pap you don't want to listen to. i thought this tape was going to be, you know, a conversation stimulator. i was going to ask you for your top five records to play on a monday morning and all that, and you just had to ruin it.
well what's the point in that?
oh yeah. we got it.
no, you can't.
because it's sentimental tacky crap, that's why not. do we look like the kind of store that sells "i just called to say i loved you?" go to the mall and stop wasting our time.
do you even know your daughter? there is no way she likes that song. or is she in a coma?
b'bye!
rob. top five musical crimes perpetrated by stevie wonder in the '80's and '90's. subquestion -- is it in fact unfair to criticize a formerly great artist for his latter- day sins? "is it better to burn out than to fade away?"
we didn't even really have it. i happen to know for a fact that the only stevie wonder single we have is "don't drive drunk." i was just goofing on the straight, and it never cost you a penny.
oh, so what's the point then?
"our customers?" you think that mr. l.l. bean out there is going to be a regular?
bullshit. the guy was going to buy one record -- which we didn't even have -- and leave and never come back again anyway. why not have a little fun? big fucking deal.
he offended me with his terrible taste.
oh, now you're defending that motherfucker? you're going soft in your old age, rob. there was a time when you would have chased him out of the store and up the street. now all of a sudden i'm offending your golf buddy. you're right, rob. i am so sorry. how are we ever going to make enough money to get you and laura into the country club?
and by the way, i tell you this for your own good: that's the worst sweater i've ever seen. i have never seen a sweater that bad worn by anyone i'm on speaking terms with. it's a disgrace to the human race.
what are you, some kind of fucking maniac? if this jacket's torn you're gonna pay big.
yeah.
isn't her album called "number four with a smile?"
no, no, no, you said "the number four with a smile," and there's no "the" at the front of the title of the album.
you can be and are wrong.
i wanna date a musician.
maybe a picture of me in the liner notes.
let's go get one.
you like it?
on clark street!
we work there!
a little of anything that matters. rock, soul, r&b, punk rock, hip- hop, ska, new wave.
i didn't know it was classified information. i mean, i know we don't have any customers, but i thought that was a bad thing, not, like, a business strategy.
rob! phone!
we're only on the fucking list for marie's gig at the pulaski pub, that's all! all three of us.
we can take your car.
jaggoff.
it's almost impossible to find, especially on cd. yet another cruel trick on all of the dumbasses who got rid of their turntables. but every other echo and the bunnymen album --
oh really. well what about the first jesus and mary chain?
they always seemed what? they always seemed really great, is what they always seemed. they picked up where your precious echo left off, and you're sitting here complaining about no more echo albums. i can't believe that you don't own that record. that's insane.
do not get ahead of yourself.
that is perverse. do not tell anyone you don't own fucking blonde on blonde. what about television?
no--!
what?
what are you snickering about?
what am i missing? what do you have to be happy about?
ehh.
oh no, rob, that's not obvious enough. not at all. dick, did you hear that?
ooh! a kind of recent record! rob's sly declaration of new classic-status slipped into a list of old classics! nice! "let's get it on?" couldn't you make it more obvious than that?
rob! what about the beatles? what about the fucking rolling stones? what about fucking.  fucking.  beethoven? track one side one of the fifth symphony? you shouldn't be allowed to run a record shop. you shouldn't be allowed to --
-- you're like a little squirrel of music, storing away dead little nuts of old garbage music, musical lint, old shit, shit, shit --
to me, it would mean that you're a liar. you saw it twice. once with laura -- oops -- once with me and dick. we had that conversation about the possibilities of the guy making ammo off-screen in the fourteenth century.
i'd think you were a cinematic idiot. and i'd feel sorry for you.
i'm sorry, rob, but i'm struggling here. i don't understand any part of this conversation. you're asking me what i would think if you told me that you hadn't seen a film that you've seen. what am i supposed to say?
"-- i haven't seen evil dead ii yet," yeah, yeah, i hear you --
well.  you couldn't have been desperate to see it, otherwise you'd have already gone.
but the word "yet" yeah, you know what, i'd get the impression that you wanted to see it. otherwise you'd say you didn't really want to.
how the fuck am i supposed to know that? you might get sick of people telling you you've really gotta go see the movie.
because it's a brilliant film. it's funny, violent, and the soundtrack kicks fucking ass.
i never thought i would say this, but can i go work now?
fine by me. i still want pay to 7 o'clock.
why?
who are you going to see?
rob, looky looky. dick! are you getting some?!
un-fucking-believable. dick's out on a hot date, rob's boning marie lasalle, and the best-looking and most intelligent of all of us isn't getting anything at all.
oh come on, rob. what am i, an idiot? i'm more bothered by dick's thing. how did this happen, dick? what rational explanation can there possibly be? what's her name?
anna who? anna green gables? anna conda?
anna moss. mossy. the mossy thing. the swamp thing. is she all green and furry?
yeah, you would say that, wouldn't you? you two have to stick together now. boners united. united in getting some.
suck my ass.
he's not worth it!
hey.
my band.
the band that found me and asked me to join.
thanks for your support, rob. really appreciate it.
i didn't make up the name. it's the steely dan song. and it was in the commitments.
they were fucking called that before i was in it, okay? it wasn't my idea.
that was one of the reasons they asked me to join originally, yes. but --
how many tickets can i put you down for?
you're not even coming?
so much for friends, then. you're a bitter bastard, rob, you know that?
what's up?
ooh. drag.
hey. top five songs about death. a laura's dad tribute list.
okay, okay -- "leader of the pack." the guy fucking cracks up on a cycle and dies right? "dead man's curve," jan and dean.
-- it was dean, you fucking idiot.
whatever. okay. "tell laura i love her." that'd bring the house down. laura's mom could sing it.
i'd want "one step beyond" by madness. and "you can't always get what you want."
haven't seen it.
oh. right. but i'd forgotten about that. i wasn't biting the idea.
what about sabbath? or nirvana? they're into death.
"somebody's gonna die" by blitz. "bella lugosi's dead," bauhaus. it's got that creepy halloween feeling.
"goodbye laura's dad. blah blah la di da di da.  seems to me. you lived your life. like a dentist in the wind.
the little skate-fuckers.
yes way. it's really.
it's really fucking good.
what the fuck is that?
i heard you, man. don't give me that "what" shit. you just told them that you're gonna put out a record with them.
hello. do you see anyone else around here with a band, mr. branson? mr. phil spector?
oh, hi.
the malcolm mcclaren of clark street is in his executive suite. do you have an appointment?
just that rob seems to think it would be wiser to start a record label by putting out a record with business- crippling nazi youth shoplifters than with someone he knows in his bitter jealous heart is a musical visionary. that's all.
laura said we could. if we helped out with the posters and stuff. and we did. and we are.
we're getting that anyway.
no. we need the gig.
we're not as bad as you think, rob.
we're not called barrytown anymore, by the by. they got sick of the barry. barrytown thing. we're called sdm. sonic death monkey.
what do you think? dick likes it.
i owe it to myself to go right to the edge, rob, and this group does exactly that. over the edge, in fact.
that's what we want. reaction. and if laura's bourgeois lawyer friends can't take it, then fuck 'em. let 'em riot, we can handle it. we'll be ready.
yeah, well.
thanks for the enthusiastic intro, rob. we're not called sonic death monkey anymore, though, ladies and gentlemen. we might be on the verge of becoming the atavistics, but we haven't decided yet. but tonight, we are.  barry jive and the uptown five! one two three --and they launch into marvin gaye's "got to give it up," almost flawlessly faithful to the original. barry is transformed -- shuffling footwork, a wide smile, and when the intro winds up, an almost perfect falsetto. the crowd goes nuts, filling the floor. rob is stunned, begins to smile. laura takes his hand and leads him out into the crowd.