The Perfect Age of Rock 'n' Roll

Clifton Hangar, "Revolver Magazine."

I know who you are.

I'm glad you finally...

granted this interview.

I... appreciate you trusting me with this.

Mind if I record this?

Knock yourself out.

Thanks, Spyder.

Thanks.

So what have you been doing with yourself

for the past 20 years?

If you're gonna ask stupid fucking questions, kid,

this will be the shortest interview of your career.

We both know why you're here.

You're on the inside.

So why don't we just get on with it, huh?

Eric Genson.

This...

bullshit about a third record.

So there really is no third Soulz record?

Who was Eric Genson?

Where do you want me to start?

Maybe the beginning of the end, huh?

Okay.

Let's try it one more time.

Except let's try it a bit...

sotto voce.

Three and four and...

Have a nice day, Mr. Genson.

They sound great.

I remember playing that same shit song

in this classroom about 15 years ago.

Best part about playing those plastic dildos

was lining them up on the curb at the end of the year

and... smashing them.

Do you remember that?

Why are you here?

What kind of a welcome home is that, huh?

Huh?

You mind?

Go for it.

See...

I travel 3,000 miles,

this is the kind of welcome I get.

Eric?

Eric?

Hey!

Girl: Thanks, Mr. Rivers.

Eric!

Hold up for a second.

Why don't we...

We'll go out and we'll get hammered like old times, huh?

I can't, I'm working.

- What are you doing here? - Come on, get out of here.

What's going on here, Mr. Genson?

- Spyder... - Nothing, he was just leaving.

Can I have an autograph, please?

Excuse me, can I help you with something?

Yeah, I do believe you can.

What'd you have in mind?

Herman... oh, my God.

I'll see you at the staff meeting.

Yes, you will.

Don't you want to keep me after school?

I always liked detention.

- Hey, where... - Oh, God.

Eric!

Good to see you, too, bro.

So this used to be considered punk?

Yeah, I guess.

I don't know.

I was wandering if you'd sign my Soulz poster for me?

Absolutely.

By the way, you've, uh,

blossomed into a... fucking hot chick.

Yeah, thanks.

I mean, it's been what, like...

Seven years.

- Hey! - Hey!

Big-time rock star doesn't have a fancier place

to dine this evening?

Hey, Stove Top Stuffing.

Eric, of course I'm staying.

Great.

So... what brings you back?

I missed this guy.

And, of course, your amazing cooking.

Liza.

Well, we all missed you around here.

Oh, shit.

Hello.

Hey.

No, uh...

Why are you in a tow truck?

Yeah.

Because it's the suburbs... I don't know.

No, no, no, the Vette's parked out front.

Just keep going.

Keep going.

Perfect.

This is the last time you do this to me.

I've had it already, Spyder.

I want to get back to LA.

Next time, I take the car

and you can hitch a ride with the village idiot, okay?

Rose Atropos.

Manager of The Lost Soulz.

Come sit.

Well.

- I'm Liza. - Nice to meet you.

Oh, come on.

Welcome!

Can I get you something to eat?

Just coffee.

Black, would be awesome.

I was gonna take Rose here to the old chill spot.

Remember the pier?

I thought we could, uh, catch up, yeah?

Hey, this is Roger Luce hanging out with you.

WBAB Babylon.

We thank everyone in Syosset for showing the world

they love rock and roll.

- Hey, Eric! - Spyder?

- What are you doing? - Relax.

Hey!

Wow!

Asshole.

Pretty hot piece of ass, huh?

Hey.

Yeah, we're here.

So your dad's car still fucking moves, huh?

God.

How many beers do you think we drank out here, huh?

Figure 24 times...

Remember that pizza kid we used to pay 20 bucks

to deliver a $10-case to your house?

Fucking thief.

Always had money though from playing shows, right?

Yeah, we did.

Yeah, you remember that?

We were gonna buy a VW bus

and drive to LA with our demo.

Support ourselves playing shows along the way.

You wanted to do that bullshit Route 66 trip

all the way to California.

Rock and roll's the bastard son of the blues, man.

Yeah.

So you been playing?

Sometimes.

With who?

A few guys here and there... you don't know 'em.

"A few guys here and there."

Bullshit!

You haven't been playing with anybody but yourself

in that piss-ass little basement of yours.

Here we go.

- What? - What is this?

What's going on?

We're hanging out now?

What do you want?

We are... making a third Soulz record.

We need a guitarist.

The plane leaves for LA tomorrow.

We start recording in two weeks.

I knew it.

You knew it? Knew what?

So what happened?

You milked and twisted our demo for all it was worth

and now you need me to write some more songs for you?

- God! - Huh?

You're still on that fucking

musical high horse of yours, huh?

I'm giving you a fucking chance, Eric.

- I'm throwing you a bone. - Oh.

Well, I just said no.

By the way, is "Hot Cross Buns"

considered a blues classic?

Yeah.

You have until tomorrow to decide.

"Snake Oil" was the biggest-selling debut

rock album of all time.

Did you steal those songs?

Good artists... copy.

The great artists steal.

Some of the greatest rock songs of all time,

they were stolen.

Plucked from obscurity.

Made immortal, even.

Your point?

Without me, none of those songs would have...

They would have stayed locked in that basement.

Chip was dead 20 years when I got back.

He needed to get the fuck over it.

It sounds like you spent a lot of time in that house.

What about you?

Did you know Chip, were you a fan?

I knew him.

We were seven when he died.

Of course, I'm a fan.

Who hasn't been influenced by the Hawks?