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Audio Two

BR-You guys are gonna be back in New York on the bread line so fast you won't even know that you were on this fuckin' band. How dare you play a fuckin' set like that. Since when did the fuckin' trumpet players become the leader of this fuckin' band and decide how long they're gonna hold a chord? What the fuck do you think you're doin'? You think you're playin' with some kid up there? I expect one-hundred-and-ten percent fucking perfection every fuckin' tune, you got that? If you can't do it, get off my fuckin' band to-NIGHT! You had a day off yesterday and you come back like this and you suck! What the fuck kind of music do you think you're playing here anyhow? And who do you think you're playing for? You think I'll tolerate that shit? You're worse than any fuckin' high school band I ever heard. You come in wrong because you leave one fuckin' beat out, you can't find one!? I don't know what kind of drummers you think you're playin' with, but you'll play with me or you'll get out! And I mean NOW! I don't need this shit. I have a home in Palm Springs and I can go sit on my ass the rest of my life and not worry about a fuckin' thing...and don't have to meet your fuckin' payroll, and pay you for playin' like a fuckin' high school dropout! How dare you do that! ASSHOLES!! You can't play a simple fuckin' tune; you can't hold a chord; you can't play time when you play solos. What kind of solos am I hearing tonight? (as he turns to the Trombonist) You want to rehearse and practice, get a fuckin' band in Sydney and play the kind of shit you want. Over here you play TIME! You don't like what I play get the fuck out. I'm tired of putting up with you, I'm tired of signing for ya, I'm tired of you period! And I'm tired of you all you guys that can't go up and play a fuckin job for 45 fuckin minutes.

You got it too fuckin easy goddam it. I'll make it so fuckin tough, you won't be able to breath around here. How many fuckin bands you think you got to go to work in? If I decide to quite, you'd all suck. You got nothin. Try it. You think I'm foolin you can quite tonight. I'm up there knockin my fuckin brains and I gotta carry you and pay you at the same time? Fuck you!

When I go back in side, I better hear one hundred and ten percent perfection. Or I'll leave ya here. I'll take you as far as Detroit and you got it. Try me. Fuckers. Try me this next set and see if you get away with one piece of shit. You try it. I'll fire ya on the fuckin band stand. You don't only insult me but you insult yourselves. Don't you have any more pride? Where's your fuckin pride, where's your professionalism? Assholes. That's what...that's what you play like. Where's your own fuckin pride in yourself? Or don't you have any cause your so fuckin dumb that you don't have any pride? Get outta here, right now. I'll have nothin to do with you. You get up on that band stand and you play your ass off.

Audio Three

BR-(screaming)

What the fuck do you think is goin' on here? You had too many fuckin' days off and you think this is a fuckin' game!? You think I'm the only one that's gonna work up there while you motherfuckers sit out there and clam all over this fuckin' joint!? What do you think this is anyhow? What kind of playing do you think this is? What kinda miscues do you call this? What fuckin' band do you think you're playin' on, motherfuckers? You wanna fuck with me on the bandstand?...Shut that fuckin' door! I'm up there working my balls off, trying to do somebody a favor, and you motherfuckers are suckin' all over this joint. What kind of trumpet section do you call this tonight? And saxophones...you gotta fuckin' be kidding me! How dare you call yourselves professionals. Assholes! You're playin' like fucking children up there. You got your fuc...(distracted momentarily) where the fuck are you? Where is Peneke? (turns to the Trombonist) You've got your fuckin' horn so far deep in the fuckin' bell, we don't need to have a band here tonight. You afraid you won't be heard? Everybody can hear your fuckin' clams out there. You don't need a mike for that. You're takin' up too much fuckin' time blowin' what? Shit!! You stand out here all night tryin' to blow your fuckin' brains out; when it comes time to play, what do you play? Clams!! You got nowhere to fuckin' go tonight the next set because if I hear one fuckin' clam from anybody, you've had it! One clam and this whole fuckin' band is through...tonight!! Try me! You got some fuckin' nerve. Nights off, nothin' to do, and you come in and play this kind of shit for me...Fuck all of you!!

You're not doin' me any fuckin' favors, you're breakin' my heart up there. I gotta go up there and be embarrassed by you motherfuckers? I've played with the greatest musicians in the world. How dare you play like that for me! How dare you try to play like that for me. Assholes!! I get fifteen fuckin' kids in rehearsal. The fuckin' time in this band is incredible! We don't play two fuckin' bars in one fuckin' tempo. Not one! You can't keep fuckin' time and play, there's too many things to do, isn't there? You can't pat your fuckin' foot and play. You're all over the fuckin' place. Miscue after miscue...You try one fuck up the next set, and when you get back to New York you'll need another fuckin' job. Count on it! Now get out of my fuckin' bus! Right now! (Band members shuffle out)