Buddy Rich:
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 your 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!!
Buddy Rich-(screaming)
What the fuck do you think is goin' on here? You had too many fuckin' days off and you think this is a 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've 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? That's marvelous. (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 fuckin' 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 in a daze)
(In a tour bus traveling to the next gig. Buddy is pacing up and down the aisle of the bus, searching for a victim)
Buddy Rich-
Two fuckin' weeks to make up your mind whether you want a beard or you want a job. I'll not have this trouble with this band. This is not the goddamn House of David fuckin' baseball team. This is the Buddy Rich Band; young people...with faces! No more fuckin' beards. That's out! If you decide to do it, you're through. Right now! This is the last time I make this announcement. No more fucking beards. I don't want to see it. If you guys don't want to shave it off. I'll treat you just like they treat you in the fuckin' Marine Corps. This is the way I want my band to look. If you don't like it, get out! You've got two weeks to make up your mind. This is no idle request. I'm telling you how my band is gonna look. You're not telling me how you're gonna look, I'm telling you. You've got two weeks to make up your fucking mind, if you have any mind. There's too much freedom in this band. It's taken away. You're not going to do what you want to do, but what I want to do, as long as you're takin' my fuckin' money. I'm presenting my kind of band. The image I present is what I want, not what you want (turns to Dave Peneke, one of the trombonists). You seem to be giving me more trouble than anybody else. Do you want to do something about it? It's up to you. Do you want to do something about it?
Trombonist- (in an Australian accent)
I would definitely not suggest you touch me.
Buddy Rich-
Then I definitely tell you one thing. You keep your fuckin' mouth shut, get the fuckin' beard off, or get off the band, right now. Now what do you think about that? Now that's a definite suggestion. When you go to work tonight, if I catch the fuckin' beard on you, I'll throw you off the fuckin' bandstand, O.K.?
Trombonist-
I'm not taking it off.
Buddy Rich-
You're what?
Trombonist-
I'm not taking it off.
Buddy Rich-
You're through.
Trombonist-
O.K.
Buddy Rich-
Right now. You don't tell me what to do, I tell you. You don't like it, get off.
Trombonist-
When and where?
Buddy Rich-
Get off! Get your fuckin' clothes and get off! Right now! (to the bus driver) Pull the fuckin' bus over!
Trombonist-
Have you got two weeks pay for me?
Buddy Rich-
Have I got what?
Trombonist-
Two weeks pay for me.
Buddy Rich-
I got nothin' for you. I got a right hand to your fuckin' brain if you want it. I'll give you two weeks...two weeks for what? You learn the rules of my band. You don't like it, that's it. You get off. And try to take me to the fuckin' union. I'd love it. I'd love it. You get no two weeks pay, you get two weeks time. Get off. (aside) He was waiting for this for a long fuckin' time.
Trombonist-
No I haven't.
Buddy Rich-
Yes you have...
Trombonist-
No I haven't at all.
Buddy Rich-
...ever since you opened your fuckin' mouth because I don't like the way you write...(pausing), and I still play your fuckin' charts, for you. You understand that...not for me.
Trombonist-
I think you play my charts becau...
Buddy Rich-
Because what?
Trombonist-
...because, in particular, "Manhattan" is the best chart in the book.
Buddy Rich-
It is?
Trombonist-
Yes.
Buddy Rich-
Then take "Manhattan" and get off. I'm a success without you and without your writing.
Trombonist-
I know that. I know that.
Buddy Rich-
Alright. So don't tell me what the best chart in my book is.
Trombonist-
Well, it certainly goes over the best.
Buddy Rich-
Goes over the best?
Trombonist-
Sure it does. People appreciate...
Buddy Rich-
Go back to Sydney and, uh, whatever you do over there, good luck. Not over here. You're through. (to others in the area) I want him off my fuckin' bus right now.
Trombonist-
It's a pleasure to be off.
Buddy Rich-
Keep talkin'...keep talkin'.(Buddy's voice begins to tremble with rage) You wanna, you wanna start some shit with me? Hmm? Keep talkin'...
Trombonist-
Not particularly.
Buddy Rich-
Then keep your fuckin' mouth shut! Right now! Or I'll close it for you. Keep it shut...or try me!
Trombonist-
I don't need to try you, Buddy.
Buddy Rich-
Then shut up!
Trombonist-
Well, I'd just appreciate, you know, being talked to like a human being.
Buddy Rich-
I try to talk to you like a human being and you talk back all the time...
Trombonist-
I don't think you do.
Buddy Rich-
...now keep your fuckin' mouth shut or I'll show you what it's like! That's all!
Trombonist-
O.K., but you have no right to threaten me.
Buddy Rich-
I'm not threatening you, I'm telling you. You don't want to do what I want in my band. I'm telling you!
Trombonist-
O.K.
Buddy Rich-
Then shut up!
Trombonist-
I will.
Buddy Rich-
Alright.(turns to the rest of the band) Let's get that understood by everybody. I want him off. I don't want him on the bandstand tonight. Two bones...(Buddy resumes cruising the aisle, looking for other targets of opportunity) I'm warning you for the last time. You wanna...right now...anytime you're ready...Close your fuckin' eyes. I've done had it with you. Sit down and keep your fuckin' eyes and your mouth to yourself. Grow up. You're not a tough guy so why don't you just sit down. You better start learning to act like one. (Eyes the trombonist) I am one, you are not. So shut up!
Trombonist-
Don't threaten me.
Buddy Rich-
Fuckin' asshole, fuckin' with me. I've got one for you. I own this fuckin' band.
― Washable School Paste (sexyDancer), Friday, 2 June 2006 20:17 (nineteen years ago)