Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

Everybody remember, Lincoln Center use these competitions...

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

Start practising harder, Neiman.

What the fuck you doing?

All right, everybody, from the top.

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

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

I can still fucking see you, Mini-Me!

Yeah, that's my boy.

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

I'd give anything to be there again this fall.

- I'm upset. -Louder.

Five, six, seven...

- Are you driving, man? -No.

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

That's your idea of success?

Yeah, I mean, it's not for everybody.

Jackson, congratulations, you're fourth chair.

So for the final father-fucking time...

...whatever, now might be a good time.

I believe that is...

...like a fucking 9-year-old girl.

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

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

Connolly, get your ass back on the kit.

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

I do not intend to start losing.

All Connolly ever was to me was incentive for you.

- Good morning. -All right.

...than good job.

I go to Fordham.

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

I'd give anything to be there again this fall.

Bar 17, the and of four.

Not quite my tempo.

Were you rushing or were you dragging?

Connolly, get your ass back on the kit.

Five, six, and...

Okay, maybe a bug flew in my ear.

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

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

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

then why the fuck didn't you say so

...or are you gonna be on my fucking time?

- Answer! -Rushing.

One and two and...

When did you become a fucking expert on what I can do...

Why would you do this to me?

TRY ME YOU FUCKING WEASEL

Faster. Faster.

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

About jazz, my charts. Because of that, you're gonna start to resent me.

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

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

But is there a line?

Bye. I'll see you later. Bye.

You just tell that little fucking redhead I'll-- I'm gonna be there, okay? Fuck.

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

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

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

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

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

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

They'll make great school board presidents.

Four words you will never hear from the nfl

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

What are you doing?

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

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

Yes, you are upset.

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

And I would stop you from doing that?

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

Now, was I rushing or was I dragging?

Hey. Hey. Sorry I'm late.

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

Yeah. It's all right.

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

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

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

Not quite my tempo. Connolly.

One, two, one, two.

Bob Ellis on the drums.

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

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

I left them in the car. I'll be right back. Five minutes.

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

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

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

Trombone, bar 24. The and of two.

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

Cool. Okay, well...

You're rushing. Here we go.

Perfect, Connolly. -Oh, my God.

Cool. Okay, well...

Bob Ellis on the drums.

You never earned anything. You are a self-righteous prick.

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