Girls give you the cash?
What about that other thing I gave you?
It's a goddamn shame what they did to you, Roger.
Nothing's more valuable than a man's mind,
except maybe his soul.
And they robbed you of both.
Where you headed?
Got room for another?
Sure, why not.
Gracias.
Get on.
Hey, Asshole!
Hey, Harpo, you fucking speak English?
As a matter of fact you do.
Who the fuck is playing tonight?
The up-and-comers.
Like who?
That's their name, The Up-And-Comers.
These fucking bands today.
They all try to be cute.
They're all rich kids.
Never worked a fucking day in their life.
When I first got here, no money.
How many decades ago was that?
A few.
That's right, a few.
Still no money, integrity.
We're not open.
Let him stay, money is money.
Owner wins.
What are you having?
Yo!
You know where I can find The Transcendents?
Sure, they're on our jukebox.
We got all four of their albums.
Four?
Yeah, released them all in a year.
Got everyone's attention and then vanished.
Used to be our house band
back in more respectable days.
They still play here?
We booked them back when they were too new to be known,
Nowthey're too famous to be found.
Are they still together?
The band?
Kim and Foster.
Married still, divorced maybe.
Maybe dead, maybe who cares?
Nothing but memories now.
My memory is fucked.
You know where I could find their address?
You a psycho fan or some shit?
What brings you in here, man?
It says that bands play here.
Pussy ass nothing nobody bands.
When's the last time you saw a real artist, Bartender?
Some time.
Some fucking time.
You like live music?
You're just looking to get your drink on, huh?
I don't drink anymore.
Oh, fucking cute.
What's your name?
Roger.
You a musician?
I'm Jan, I own this place.
And that's Bartender, he runs it.
Your bar smells nice.
Like Arabian pepper.
What the fuck?
You're very attractive.
Oh, thank you.
I'm celibate.
Straight celibate or gay celibate?
- Cool, right? - I collect weird shit.
I mean, it's not weird to me.
The rest of this goddamn homogenized country
might find it, never mind.
I got to work on my anger issues.
When I was younger, I wrote a love letter
to Ted Bundy, he wrote one back.
Look, he even sent me a chunk of his pubic hair.
Oh, that's Cecilia, my little sister.
Deaf, paraplegic, car crash.
Lost everything but her vision and good looks.
She can read lips though, which is a fucking miracle,
'cause I don't do sign language.
I do take care of her, though.
You see her T-shirt?
She likes The Transcendents too.
When was she injured?
10 years ago.
Best thing that ever happened to her.
She was a bit of a junkie,
and the crash got her off the drugs.
She seems to have found a healthier way of living.
At least that's what I tell myself.
That's when I left.
Left where?
This town.
Nervous breakdown?
What?
You look like someone who might've had
a nervous breakdown, or 10.
Went to a farm.
Roger, take the magazine out of the gun.
Now check the chamber.
Make sure there's not a round in there.
Alright, now clean it good.
Not like your dick, clean it good.
You eat?
You want me to fix you something?
What do you want?
Oh no you little minx.
She's always trying to steal my men.
Some perverts like her,
but they alwaysleave after she strokes 'em off.
Assholes.
Girl never seems to learn her lesson.
Cecilia, are you hungry?
All right then, I'm gonna go in the bedroom,
and rob Roger of his celibacy.
She always has this effect on men.
Pretty girl that can't walk, talk or feel pleasure.
She's a Muslim's wet dream.
Kim!
What?
They're gonna evict us.
Your daddy got us covered.
Unfair.
You want me to find another band mate?
All you do is play bass.
You're a dime a dozen.
Thanks.
Clones.
Thank you, Kim.
Marsupials.
What?
Algae on the aquarium of my mind.
Whatever.
Look, Foster, theonly reason I let you in my band
is because I needed a square bassist.
And the reason I needed a square bassist
is because square bassists
don't fuck with my vision.
What vision is that?
You don't write songs and we never play out.
You have no vision.
Do you think me moving in meant sex?
I'd never even touch you. Take a shower.
Wait, don't take a shower,
you'll be running up the bills that you don't pay.
Call your daddy.
He wants to see some results.
Art ain't about results,
it's about know it when you see it shit.
Know what I mean?
Relax, I'm gonna find us our song man.
I told you, I think I found him.
Oh, I'm sure the guy youmet at church is gonna kick ass.
I didn't meet him at church, I met him outside church,
cursing in his song.
Cool.
Thought you'd like that.
He's here.
Okay, listen, he's a little strange.
Definitely kind of weird, but I think he's onto something.
Very like, I don't know.
I can't really explain it, but, you'll see.
Rog, come on in.
That's Kim, the singer.
You got a girlfriend?
What?
Ain't a decent song man on earth
that don't got at least three.
So you got a girlfriend?
No.
You're not shit then.
You want some wine?
I don't drink.
Song man that don't drink.
Back to the girls.
Girls don't like me.
Sure they do.
You're good looking enough.
Bet you just fuck it up somehow.
I was molested.
Often.
So when people touch me, I go cold,
and my mind detaches from my body.
Or sometimes it doesn't and I have an emotional fit.
Girls tend to find either scenario disturbing.
Something I'm working on.
So.
As I was telling Kim, when I found you playing those
amazing songs, I just-
- You got yourself a therapist?
Is that what you mean by, "I'm working on it?"
My music, that's how I work on it.
Takes me to another level, the peaceful place.
A place of perfection.
Since I obsessively seek such a place,
I suppose I could be labeled a perfectionist.
That place gets you to stop thinking about it?
It does.
I was molested.
I'm sorry.
I'm just kidding, I wasn't.
Perfect upbringing, I'm dandy.
Oh.
I don't remember muchabout my childhood, if anything.
Maybe it didn't happen, type thoughts.
The mind is an iceberg, most everything only floats
with like a seventh of it above water, Sigmund Freud.
Paraphrasing possibly?
My point is that that's how we get through it all, right?
We deny this, accept that.
I ran away from home really young
and starting singing songs on the streets for money.
Maybe you should go back out there,
bang on a garbage can, earn your keep.
I would rather bang on a garbage can
than a can of garbage like you, Foster.
So who got you?
Like an uncle, or auntie?
The orphanage.
The older boys had a utility room.
Everyone ignored it.
Happened regularly.
Did you know that you can grab a piece of God,
put it inside you, and eat it, digest it,
metabolize it, and in a way you become God.
It goes for all animals.
Like when a cat knows a person has cancer
before the person does, that's God power.
We're all capable of that.
But we're more prone to the evil, to the darker energies.
My music is a battle between both.
The struggle to transcend the soul
and reach a place of universal holiness.
Wow.
This has to be the most morbid start to a band in history.
Well, you fit the external criteria for our song man.
Let's hear your shit.
So, you like combing hair
but go all catatonic when I ride you?
She wanted grooming.
Grooming, yeah.
Atleast you stay hard long enough.
I'm sorry.
Or thank you.
Are you just gonna keep doing that to her?
Why do you think they disappeared?
What?
The Transcendents.
They probably just shot their load,
which is more than someone in this room can admit to.
It's been 10 years since,
I just can't.
I can't relax.
But you were happy.
Oh Lord.
You got somewhere to stay?
I'm looking for The Transcendents.
Yes, I know.
You're looking for the Transcendents.
Why?
I wrote every song they ever recorded
before they were known.
I am The Transcendents.
And when I find them I'm going to kill them.
That was unbelievable, man.
What type of music is that?
I can play the sitar.
I found one on the streets, taught myself.
If we wanna go the eastern route.
Eastern, western, antarctic.
It's all about dimensions.
Yeah, it's like shaman shit.
How'd you do that?
Things speak through me,
I channel them.
Like what?
Creatures.
Creatures?
Yeah, creatures man.
That's fucking bad ass.
You'll let me be the singer?
I guess now you got me auditioning for you.
What do you mean by creatures?
This little guy here.
He wrote them.
They're hissongs and he gave them to me.
Yeah, I know man.
Some people.
So you wanna hear me sing?
Yes.
Oh that's amazing.
Fucking amazing.
Hey, how many songs we got now?
Five that Kim can sing, 15 she can't.
Okay, so that's enough for a live show.
Certainly enough for an EP.
No, it isn't.
Can you lower the key?
Maybe I can sing the other 15 better?
No.
Just lower it a half step.
No, you can't sing the songs I wrote.
Some yes, but not all.
I'll have to write some new ones.
When I get to 10 we can reassess.
You ask the mouse if we can lower the key?
No.
Why?
He's gone.
No.
Those were all the songs he had in him, so I set him free.
Well, I'm sure he wouldn't mind if we lowered the key.
He might even scurry down the street and hear 'em,
and say, "Not bad, sounds better."
He's not on the street.
Where is he?
So can you maybe find another small animal
that you can get some songs out of?
Maybe some that are in my key.
Yes.
So legally, how can you prove those songs are yours?
I told you, I'm not suing them.
If you could prove it, it's your word-
Stole my fucking soul.
Roger, what about the masses.
Shouldn't they know they've been worshiping false idols?
Don't give a shit about that.
What the fuck do you give a shit about, Roger?
Restoring spiritual order.
You forgot his beard.
Well, if anyone's meant to be with her,
it sure seems like it'd be someone like you.
We share a connection.
Connection, right.
So, you have any tapes?
No.
No demos?
Nothing recorded with you playing with them back then?
I can help you, but I want a little taste
of whatever it is you're going for.
Unless it's blood there won't be much to taste.
Oh, the revenge fantasy.
I don't buy it for a second.
You get your revenge by taking their money.
You understand that?
I can help, you need me to help you.
You're luckyas hell you came into Jan's bar,
'cause I know every musician in town.
All I want in return is a little pinch
to help me keep my bar open.
I believe what you're telling me.
I like the smell of real artist when I see one.
Even before I hear him play.
Speaking of which, why don't you play something for me?
Put my opinion of you right over the top.
I haven't picked up an instrument in over 10 years.
So?
So I mind.
It's me, can I come in?
Hey.
Are you okay?
Can I have some whiskey please?
I thought you didn't drink.
It's good, right?
You want a puff, too?
Yeah?
How's the cat?
You getting any good songs out of her?
You want me to go?
You sure?
Can I sit next to you?
Will you touch my face?
No!
Trigger?
What?
Smell my hair.
Have you ever kissed a girl before?
It's been over a year.
I let you live here rent free.
We have at least 50 great songs.
15.
50 great songs and at least 25 others
that I think are good, but you don't.
And even if we only had 10.
You said that last year,
that's all that we needed to take 'em out.
You wanna be a songwriter Foster?
Write some fucking songs, man.
'Til then let me deal with how this shit's gonna go down.
What shit?
Playing live, going public, dealing with people.
Kim and me got problems, man.
What good is making art if it only costs us more.
Right now it's pure, helps our insides.
Your spiritual balance.
The second it goes out there,
people can fuck with it and us.
Aristotle would call you a pussy, man.
That whole, if you wanna avoid criticism line,
what is it?
Say nothing, do nothing, be nothing.
Exactly.
Well, he'd be wrong, man.
'Cause we are something, man.
We're fucking artists.
Tree falls in the woods artists.
Grab your bass, let me teach you
how to play my new song.
No.
Then shut up, let me play my xylophone.
[LIGHTER CLICKS[
How is she?
She's almost good.
Almost good?
She's good at singing 15 songs,
but she's a hell of a sitar player,
so we're getting somewhere.
That's not what I'm talking about.
That's none of your business, you sidecar.
What is my business?
Paying your rent?
While having to listen to two freaks silently screw?
Oh, wait, one.
One freak.
'Cause Kim's faking it, you know that right?
She's never suffered a day in her life.
She just wants to be your muse.
Someone to give herhillbilly upbringing a purpose.
She's a careerist.
Like you?
Yeah, except, I'm tryingto help this band take off.
Supporting its ass, believing in you.
Covering up all the dead animals
people on the block keep asking about.
Think I'm a fucking idiot?
The mouse, the hamster,
the gerbil, the cat.
I mean, a fucking cat, Roger.
When's it gonna end? Dogs?
Babies?
You should bearrested, put it the nut house.
Send some electricity throughthose temples, make you normal.
I believe in the music.
I believe in The Transcendents.
And I believe in-
Money.
Yeah.
That too.
So when are we playing live, buddy?
Hey guys.
Hey.
Rog?
What's going on, baby?
Kim, will you come to the bedroom?
Sure, why?
I wanna try some things on you.
Oh, come on Roger.
I'm done talking to you.
I was lying.
Shut up.
What are we gonna do, Roger?
Not sold on you, brother.
Play this, a few chords.
No thank you.
Why'd you walk into this bar?
You better not be fucking with Jan.
Me and her-
Okay.
So I found an ex junkie fresh out of facility.
Used to drum for the Rogue's Agents.
He said he knewyou back before you dropped off.
He said you were batshit by the end.
He said you killed animals.
He admit the songs were mine?
You killed animals?
I knew you were lying, Foster.
Yo!
You ain't gonna believe what I got.
No tax records since the
initial advance on the album deal,
which all went to Foster.
There's no current address, never bought any property.
No investments, nothing.
A complaint was filed a decade back
that Foster went missing up in Nova Scotia.
It was made by a woman named Kim McShane,
said he was her husband.
Is that our Kim?
Yeah, that's Kim.
Wanna hear something neat?
That band's royalties have been going to some farm
ever since the albums were released.
What?
Yeah.
Going where?
5994 Nieblo Road, you know anything about that?
That's her uncle.
Don't let me push your head down.
What, are you gonna give me a blowjob?
Come on. That's it!
Stop hitting like a woman.
With George and Sylvia McShane?
That's the farm I was staying at.
You didn't know it was being subsidized by the band?
You fucking shitting me?
Anyone else live there?
Her cousins, there are six of 'em.
Kim?
That's where she grew up before she ran.
Before she ran away.
Well here's the other thing,
there ain't no record of Kim being born.
No birth certificate, no social.
No documentation of anyone else ever living there.
Just George and Sylvia McShane, brother and sister.
They're brother and sister?
That's strange to you?
Your Bloody Maria, darling.
Give it to me.
Do you need anything else?
No, thanks, we're good.
Just let me know. I will.
So, I was able to get ahold of their contract
through an exec I used to fuck.
It's for five records, not four.
It says that The Transcendents don't release a fifth record
within 10 years of the first one,
100% of all future royalties
revert back to the record company.
It's total crap.
Bastards just make shit up and hope you'll miss it,
and that they did.
They didn't have a lawyer, no manager.
They signed away their Souls. Signed away your soul.
Regardless, the only one who signed it was Foster.
Kim's name was nowhere to be seen.
Listen.
Yeah?
I need to speak to your guy who knows me.
Hey.
You feel like apologizing yet?
You know how hard I worked to get that A&R guy there?
I worked very hard.
You fucked it up.
Insulting him, not really getting it.
What does that mean?
He liked it.
And you're making the decision
that you wanna fail for all of us.
And there's nothing that I can do,
'cause they're your songs.
Look, Rog,
it's been over a year since Kim dumped you.
I mean, I don't know what you said to her in that room,
but it changed her. It changed you.
I don't know if you gave her part of your mind,
or she took part of your soul.
Whatever, it's cool.
But she's mine now.
Mine.
We're leaving this town for good.
Band's over.
Yeah, we got a shit-load of good songs
and I'm proud of them.
But no one's coming to the gigs.
You need friends for that, build an audience.
And you don't have any friends.
Neither does Kim. I know.
I know.
You two got rough pasts.
You don't like to let people in.
But a band has got to be inviting, literally.
And well, literally.
You turn people off.
You insult their work.
Fucking kneel with your back to the audience?
You're an unmarketable, alienating guy.
You should have never gotten started with this hard stuff.
Hey, yo Rog, wanna try this shit?
Help you look out at your five fans.
No, seriously, Rog.
You wanna get it with Kim?
Miss Kimmedy-Kim-Kim.
This shit will help.
Listen to Ralph.
Oh, yo, my man.
Yo, somebody help this motherfucker sit down.
Hey, yo, Rog, roll up your sleeve.
So that's that.
Music's brilliant, just didn't work out.
Dreams die, chapters close.
Books open.
What, you think I like saying this?
Wearing this monkey suit?
My dad cut me off.
Rock star on the inside, but on the outside.
Goddammit.
You're the one that needs help.
You need religion, or yoga,
or somethingbesides your art and your pain.
It's fucking taxing.
I mean, when was the last time that you
finished a song?
Maybe you should put down the needle
and pick up another animal.
Suck it soul-dry, whatever it is that you do.
I'm just kidding. No, you shouldn't do that.
I'm only saying that that mad genius part
only plays if you're making something beautiful out of it.
Even then, I don't know if it justifies it.
Look, long story short,
Kim and I are trying to be happy.
Happy and healthy.
And until my old man dies, we'll probably be poor.
But we'll be happy poor.
Unlike this unhappy poor.
Fuck me!
I can feel the judgment seethingfrom your fucking pores!
After five fucking years I've taken care of you!
I don't deserve this!
Happiness is not a state of being, bro.
It's a fucking pursuit. Like in the constitution.
And right now the constitution side of me is saying
Bye-bye to being famous.
Bye-bye to The Transcendents.
Bye-bye.
Bye-bye Roger.
No, no.
Sorry.
Sorry, your neck, I forgot.
Kim, you can tell me about it.
No.
You kept things buried for so long.
I misremembered it.
I can help.
Stop it.
Okay.
You'll get better.
Music will help.
Can I try it?
Just let me try it.
Come here.
Hey Kim, have you seen my keys?
I can't find them anywhere.
What the fuck!
You motherfucker.
Wait, I asked to try it!
Get the fuck off of me!
You fuck!
Stop!
It's my fault, Foster!
Shut up!
Get your shit or I'm calling the cops!
Give him some time!
Fuck that!
Roger, you're a junkie who kills animals.
They're gonna putyou right back into the system.
Okay, you wanna act like an asshole,
I'mgonna treat you like an asshole.
Go, go, go, go, go.
Just go.
Hi, this is Foster Matthews, my address-
Yeah, I'll hold.
They re going to put youright back into the system where
you spent your childhood getting fucked up the ass!
Let's go! Come on!
I'm not fucking around!
Roger, get the fuck out!
Get the fuck out!
I swear to fuckin' God, Kim!
What the fuck are you doing?
Come on!
What the fuck, you ve gotta be fucking kidding me!
Get up, get up, get up.
Get up!
This is my uncle's farm, that's his address.
He'll help you.
Don't read this one, just give it to him.
Go, go, go, go, go.
Go.
I loved you.
Go.
Yep, still waiting.
Yep, still will wait.
Hey, Ralph.
Hey Rog, how you doing?
How are the Rogue's Agents?
We're doing great.
Great man.
I mean, they kicked me out, but we're doing great.
Hypocrites.
You know how it is, the singer gets clean,
everybody gotta get clean.
Speaking of which, you got anything on you
for old time's sake?
I don't do that anymore.
Well, you wanna buy my ma-fucking goat?
No.
You killedall them animals. Fucking sicko.
I like it.
When's the last time you saw Kim or Foster?
Foster, he disappeared not too long after you did.
Right before he released them albums.
You know that on all them shits,
it's listed as just Foster as the lone songwriter?
Fuck.
Did he move to Nova Scotia?
What about Kim? When's the last time you saw her?
Month ago, Copping.
What are you talking about?
Looked just like her, though a version of her
that must have been tied to a truck
and dragged through a field of broken glass.
She on drugs?
Does the pope shit in the woods?
Where do the kids score these days?
Copperhead's. Ironic, right?
Hey Rog, you got a few bucks I could bum off you?
No, but you can have this.
Lets go.
Jan, what are you looking for?
A shark recommendation?
Your club finally go on life support?
Did you ever book The Transcendents?
Does this look like a psychedelic bar to you?
Shut the fuck up.
You'd give anyone time that'll work your worm.
You'd give anybody time that'll bring 50 friends.
It's called capitalism.
It's called ladder climbing.
Except mine don't border on prostitution.
Of course, it does you naive hussy.
How often she come around?
Never seen her.
She might not look like that anymore.
You fucking deaf, Jan?
Oh wait, that's your sister.
Kim comes around.
Kind of an unspokensecret. The street keeps quiet.
Cops every three nights or so.
Might be around later tonight.
Back door, outside.
That's where they come in and out of.
Hey man, she's in real bad shape.
Tell Jan I'm sorry about that comment on her sister.
It was a goddamn tragedy.
Did theyever catch the guy that did it?
I don't know.
What happened to your sister?
Head-on collision.
Other car was stolen.
Dude in it took off running.
There was a few witnesses, but no one got a look.
And life can go eat a big fat fucking dick.
How close were you to Kim?
We were in love, then we weren't.
You like my sister?
I do.
You are aware she can't have sex.
Sex isn't the only way to express love.
No, but it's the best.
You ever been in love?
Once.
Yeah?
Too many missed hellos turned into a long goodbye.
Faded.
One day you turn your head and just know
something went in a different direction.
It's the saddest feeling in the world.
No cheating, nothing dramatic, just yeah, faded.
We both realized it during sex.
We were both making love to a memory.
We stopped mid, sat there in silence.
Chain smoked.
And that was that.
Ever since, just give me the first three months
four times a year.
You lonely?
Promise you won't tell anyone?
No.
Maybe you should wait in the car.
Why?
Look, I ain't no fucking car service, Roger.
I'm in on this.
She's in rough shape.
I may need to kidnap her.
I need you waiting behind the wheel.
You got childproof locks back here?
Do I look like a mom?
Hey you.
How are you, Kim?
No!
No, no, no, no, please.
No, no, no, no.
Okay.
I know, I know.
Good. Okay.
Good. Good.
He told you I'm just crazy?
Did he say he'd kill me, or?
He gave me a gun.
I gave it away.
The man has guns.
You should've hawked it.
I don't care about money.
Oh yeah, that's right.
Kim, why'd you send me there?
Because maybe he didn't.
He ever ask about me, or anything?
You know that he wasn't my uncle, Rog.
He was my...
My...
And Sylvia.
She was my...
You got a place?
I'm about to shit my fishnets.
I missed these hands.
They wrote a lot of good songs.
What happened?
What happened to your finger?
Car crash.
You don't remember me, Kim?
Jan, from Jan's Basement?
Okay, yeah.
Yeah, I do.
Is that how you know Roger?
I know Roger from recently.
Oh yeah, I guess you wouldn't.
You booked us the five p.m. shit slots.
Bring 10 friends.
That was when Roger still played with us.
Did you know me?
Hey, we up first?
Yes, sir.
Great, we're gonna go set up.
Hey, I don't think that we have 10 friends tonight.
I'll mark you down for 10.
My sister is on vacation with her stupid husband.
Thanks.
Hey Roger. Got something for you.
How many times I gotta do this?
You sick?
That'll help.
Whose baby is that?
Double Duchess of York's.
They're going after you.
They're English girls, triplets.
They think they're so clever.
You like kids?
I love 'em.
I'm gonna have a big family some day.
Just gotta meet the right man.
Here you go.
Rock star.
Hey Roger, can you keep a secret?
And that's the truth.
Oh yeah, you were that fucked up booth girl
from before the...
Yeah.
You look good.
I remember just you and your husband.
Two person band.
Yeah, that came a little later.
We actually got signed at an A&R showcase
that you put us on.
So thanks for that.
A&R ain't been in our club in half a decade.
Basement got a lot of bands signed back in the day.
Suppose people got short
term memories when it comes to that.
No, they don't.
We got a lot to talk about, don't we?
Do we?
Sure as fuck think so, honey.
Okay then.
Well, no more money, no permanent home.
I bounce around a lot.
Let people have sex with me.
My body at least, you know.
My mind is a patch of kaleidoscope gray.
Been fucked up for about a decade.
Off and on, but mostly on.
It's not your fault, Rog.
I would havegotten into it anyway, you know?
I did get into it anyway.
So there's that.
What do you wanna know?
Why Roger didn't get credit for the songs?
Yeah.
I mean, Roger kind of lost his shit
after we broke up.
I was self-medicating hard.
We were together, what? A year?
I don't remember exactly.
The sex was good.
I mean, as good as it can be for people like us.
Not aggressive.
I mean, I know some girlslike it rough, but I never did.
In the beginning I guess I pretended to like it
just to get guys to like me.
But I had to just shut my mind down
to make the animal noises,
or whatever the fuck young girls think guys wanna hear.
But with Roger it was different.
I couldkinda be more available to him.
Our minds and our bodies could kinda sync up.
He was gentle.
'Til one day Foster told Roger
some shit that made him go all Svengali on me.
He showed me me in his eyes,
or my truth, you know.
My truth as well as I could perceive it at the time.
And then he didn't let me look away.
I couldn't connect to Roger after that.
His mind grip on me was too powerful.
I mean, I love you.
Still do in a way you know,
but love is heart thing,
and I suppose a body thing.
But it sure as shit ain't no head thing.
And when somebodygets up in your head like that.
You know, everything seems dangerous.
So I jumped into the arms of the safest guy I knew.
Turned out he wasn't so safe after all.
His boyish simplicity outweighed
Roger's dangerousness by mansions.
So after Rog ran away,
I found myself spending more and more time alone.
That's when I started using.
You know Rog, when you're alone
with your thoughts, it helps.
It helps a lot, 'til it doesn't.
Foster tried to rescue me
by forcing me into a quick marriage.
It's a fake marriage when it's a quick one.
I didn't want to,
but what the fuck was the difference at that point?
I knew I wanted to get clean.
Thought maybe being a housewife
would be my ticket out of this junkie hell.
His daddy was dying, so he thought maybe
there's an inheritance on the way.
Get ourselves a nice house,
granite countertops, pastel walls.
Porcelain fucking unicorn collection,
or however the fuck it's supposed to go.
His daddy finally croaked,
and he didn't leave Foster with nothing.
His mama died in childbirth,
so maybe his daddy had that against him.
I don't know why actually.
Not getting that moneybrought the worst out in Foster.
After every beating, he'd cry.
Blame it on his daddy and whatnot.
Guess everybody's gotta blame somebody.
Exceptthe weakest use it as an excuse
to avoid shakinghands with their own hypocrisy.
Did you know Foster was a cutter?
A male cutter.
Fuck, that wasn't him.
Was that you?
I don't remember.
Anyway, we needed money.
What do you think came next?
We had the stack of songs.
You weren't gonna do a goddamn thing with them.
Why not? Give it another shot.
Go down to being a bass and sitar band.
Stripped all the songs of your weird sounds.
You'd fucking hate 'em, but it worked.
Soon after we played Jan's Dump again.
Basement.
Jan's Basement.
We got our break when the Rogue's Agents' drummer
was too strung out to play.
We signed our record deal soon after that.
Took some convincing of the label heads.
They came around to theidea of a husband and wife duo,
with a sitar, singing songs about childhood trauma.
I rediscovered the needles the minute we signed.
How much was your advance?
I don't know.
Enough, I guess.
Enough to makeFoster think he was a big shot.
But, contract was for five records, not four.
We thought we hadenough, but they disagreed.
So, we did four.
We had 10years to release the fifth one.
I guess we figured that in that time
we'd learn how to write.
I did get my way on one thing, though.
We released all four at once.
That was my idea.
It was a good one.
You know, when you're using,
you're walkingaround with that death feeling.
Like today is the day.
I was living that nightmare.
I just wanted to make sure
all the music went out before I did.
So I said all at once, or nothing.
They didn't know I was using.
They just thought it was a cool way
to market us as mad geniuses.
Epic.
Foster thought it was a bad money move.
But I knew the truth about the songs,
and I was prepared to sabotage it all just to get my way.
And I did get my way, except on one thing,
publishing.
See, I technically don't exist.
That's why I had to make it so that
if anything ever happened to Foster
all the royalties would go to the farm.
You were there, my sisters were there.
Cousins.
I don't know what you'd call them.
Half sisters.
No.
Anyway, somebody needed to collect if he was gone, right?
I was his only family at that point,
so fuck it, right?
If I can't, better y'all.
I wanted to give you credit Rog, but.
No buts.
We offended the sensibility of the universe.
Fucking thieves perpetuating the longest of long cons.
What's a little wording under a song title, though, right?
After I killed Foster, there went The Transcendents.
Nova Scotia.
We took a vacation.
Somewhere healthy, somewhere I could get clean again.
Plus there was somebody up there I wanted to see.
Never did end up getting to see her, though.
Around this time, Foster hadbeen getting terribly disgusted
with my comatose sex, as he called it.
I couldn't fake it anymore.
The act was like watching an infomercial on Mescaline.
So he started doing things to get me to react.
That night in the cabin hewent all Nazi surgeon on me,
started playing me like a pinball machine.
I snapped.
I must've had some kind of baby under the car strength,
'cause he went down.
Watched him, waiting on him to wake up.
Nothing.
Not evenblood in his eyes, it was clean.
I knew an autopsy would prove otherwise, though.
Nova Scotia's got some nice waterfalls.
Deadly ones too.
Middle of the night you can push a body through the woods
and dump it into oblivion.
Chucked a bottle of CC off after him.
One of them will show up,
hopefully the other one will too.
Somebody got too close to the edge, oops.
I went down to the
local department the next morning
and filed a missing person's report.
Showed 'em my bruises, told 'em he'd been drinking
and we been fighting.
He wanted to take a walk down to the water, cool off.
That's the last I saw him.
They went looking, never found a body.
They found a bottle though.
That was enough to chalk it up to a missing person's.
The reason it never hit the press
was becausel never made no noise about it.
Our records hadn't dropped yet, so
we weren't famous or anything.
In fact, the record company actually thought it was cool
that Foster was gone.
Can you believe that shit?
They were like, let's create this whole
ambiguous Transcendents persona.
Like the music was from the gods or some shit.
It was from rape and dead animals.
Obviously, we never toured again.
No public appearances.
My job was just to lay low.
Keep the myth of the band in exile alive,
while you all back home collected the checks.
It was my penance.
Decade later, here we are.
So you wanna kill me?
The songs, they belong to Roger.
Kim, you need to look him in the eyes
so you know for a fact, or you're gonna die.
Jan, I appreciate your help,
but you need to stay out of this.
When we get back we're gonna write a new
Transcendents album, and you can have the money,
and the rights, and the royalties, whatever.
But right now I need to borrow your car.
You get them royalties sorted out for me?
For you?
For us.
The farm. Our utopia.
I don't see much of a utopia here, George.
I don't know what that means, but did you get 'em?
I don't want 'em.
Well shit boy. Them checks stop coming,
who's gonna keep this place afloat?
You gonna ask how she's doing?
Why didn'tyou tell me you were her father?
Kim decided a long time ago
she was gonna call me uncle. I don't know why.
Why don't you do yourself a little research
on post traumatic stress disorder amongst rape victims.
What?
Kim was never, none of the girls were.
She's ill in the head.
How long you known me?
Have I ever once exhibited those signs?
So explain Kim.
I fucking told you, she's ill!
Came out that way.
Well she mentioned she didn't know
if her cousins were sisters, or half sisters.
What do you think that means, George?
When'd you meet Sylvia?
Childhood sweethearts.
Sister?
What?
Was she your sister?
Shake it off. You'll be all right.
As for the uncle, I was following orders
she gave me on the note.
Her wishes, not mine.
Hell, how come she never told you?
Weren't you two together?
And the band, the money?
How long were you gonna keep that from me, George?
Well, for that I apologize.
I thought you were gonna go after them
and keep the money for yourself.
The important thing is, I shared it with you eventually.
When it was convenient.
I apologize.
You knew all along they were screwing me.
It just didn't matter 'til it screwed you.
Where's the money, George?
Where'd the money go?
Kickbacks.
You've seen what's inside the barn.
Cleaned most every piece.
There's a reason for that.
This country's at a crossroads, Rog.
Too many fucking people,
and they're all coming for your property.
Either the property of your mind
or the property of your hands, but they are coming.
Can't believe you don't want your rights back.
Write all those great songs.
I wouldn't even have known about it,
unless you bought that goddamn computer.
Fuck George, I was happy.
Now you wannahelp the man that's helped you?
I'd greatly appreciate the
reciprocality, mister song man.
If not, get the fuck off my property.
But she's staying.
You ain't family, she is.
This ain't a family situation.
This is a hostage situation.
Hostage?
It's called family.
Why do you think Kim sent all that money here?
The kickbacks weren't for the guns, George.
They were for your family.
Those in highplaces knew that you and Sylvia
This whole fucking place.
I know, I know.
I saw them suitscoming up, collecting envelopes.
You saying things like, "Oh, you go tell the congressman."
That was for the arms, son.
You can't stockpile what I've got
without some federal bureau coming in
and wondering what the fuck is going on.
Why you even need to stockpile?
Defensive violence! WACO shit in case they take the farm.
Why they wanna take your farm?
Plenty of farms, this is fucking America.
It's built on fucking farms.
Why do you think theygot an eye on this one, George?
Because of the guns!
It's 'cause none of your daughters have birth records.
Look at yourself, man.
You're a goddamn walking falsity.
Seven beautiful daughters, and they're all in-
God!
Fuck! God!
George, did you do it?
Did you do it?
George?
You tell Kim the truth, man.
Kim needs to know, man.
Just tell her the fucking truth!
God!
Just tell her the truth man, nobody's going to jail.
She just needs to know, man, she's fucked up!
She wants to fucking kill herself.
You're gonna want to put a bandage on that leg
before you bleed out.
Let me help you up.
You tell her.
You tell her the truth and I'llget you your fucking royalties!
Y'all hungry?
Girls made a stew.
Kim, it's been a long time since you left.
Missed you.
You a good daughter, always was.
Keeping this farm breathing. Owe it all to you.
How's your leg?
Okay, okay, I get it.
It's gonna be like this?
Kim, this guy here, after he kicked it,
wanted to learn everything about farming.
So I tried to teach him.
The problem was, he couldn't handle a kill shot.
All my girls could do a kill shot,
but not Rog.
Didn't have it in him to slaughter an animal.
I don't know what you think happened, but it didn't.
Boogeyman in your mind doing a tap dance with you.
It never happened.
I never.
We slept in the same bed sometimes,
but a lot of kids do with their daddy.
It's normal.
We used to play the octopus game, remember?
But I never touched you like that.
You know if I did that to you
I would have done it to the others.
That's how sickos work.
Ain't just one. Predators need to prey.
Christ, will you say something, Kim?
Ain'tutter a word since you got here.
Roger, will you get her to talk?
If she's got a question, have her ask it.
If not, what else I gotta say?
I don't care what you heard the day she snapped,
but you're pure.
Your mama had an illness, that's why I sent her away.
But she wasn't my
Even though, you know that thing doctors talk about.
Bad chromosomes, down's, janked up teeth.
That's all movie maker's myth.
I did my research all about it.
A person couldhave that type of relationship,
and their kids turn out fine.
Why is it one guy can have one drink
and another can't stop at 100?
Nature? Nurture?
Life s mysterious. Embrace it or run away
and start your own thing like me.
Here I'm a role model,
and fuckersgonna sit here and accuse me of.
Even if she is what youthink she is, and she's not.
It takes two to tango.
Your mama had an illness.
Minddegenerated to a breaking point.
George!
Stop it! George!
Stop! George!
Stop it! Goddamn it, George!
Kim, look me in the eyes.
You remember me touching you?
Kimmy?
Where you at, Kimmy?
Where you hiding?
All right, I know you're in here.
Boo!
Oh!
Roar!
Oh, oh, oh!
Kim.
You remember me touching you?
I would just cuddle with you.
I'm a teddy bear.
I just want a hug.
You're gonna find a way to keep this farm rolling, Roger?
Saved your life. Got Kim clean just now.
All my other girls are happy and healthy.
Don't bother no one.
A place like this goes, it's a bad sign, brother.
The rest of Rome ain't far behind.
First they take your guns. Then they take your land.
And I fucking never touched you!
You little fucking whore!
You ready, Kim?
Yeah, ready.
Hey, Roger.
You're safe, it's okay.
Hey Jan, why don't you come up here
and give us an introduction or some shit?
Ladies and gentlemen, I give you The Transcendents.