Not Fade Away

This is a test.

For the next 60 seconds, this station will conduct

a test of the Emergency Broadcast System.

This is only a test.

- Is that you? - Hey.

Long time, huh?

Still selling ice creams off your bicycle?

Bollocks.

American R&B?

Did you... Did you nick them all?

I sent off to Chicago. You know, mail order?

I play that Little Queenie.

Still wearing out the stylus on your mum's Philips, Keith?

Fuck, Mick. I don't play it on the fucking hi-fi.

I got me a Rosetti steel-string. DeArmond pickup.

Nice. I've been singing a bit myself recently.

With ol' Dick Taylor.

Is that right?

You go for Jimmy Reed?

"Baby, What You Want Me To Do."

Yeah. Yeah.

I love that song.

This meeting took place

some 20 years after the bombing of London

and the end of World War II.

We know what happened to those two boys.

They became The Rolling Stones.

A couple years after that meeting on the train,

my brother and his friends also started a band.

Not so many people know what became of them.

In fact, like with most bands, you've never heard of them.

Those black diamond Rogers are cooler than shit.

Swiv-O-Matic hardware.

This fucking guy I know goes to Hancock Regional?

He has a 6118.

That's where I fucking go.

I fucking go to Delbarton Academy.

Fucking eats shit.

I'm fucking transferring to Hancock senior year.

What's your friend's name?

Gene Gaunt.

Fuck, I know him!

He's like one of my best friends this year!

Him and me are in a band.

With Billy Schindewulf on drums.

Gaunt's double picking!

They're clapping on the on-beat.

Fags.

Preceding the hearse,

a 13-man Marine Honor Guard,

their bayonets glinting in the glare of camera lights.

Not going to work today, Dad?

Carmine and me are deciding whether to open the store.

Lots of businesses are closed.

Good. I'm happy for them. They're so rich.

I saw my sister Louise at the Celentano wake.

She started right in.

How I should find Ma a new doctor.

Mrs. Kennedy rode with her arm stretched across the coffin.

She was wearing the same pink suit

that was spattered with blood when the President was shot.

Had one of your nightmares last night.

What the hell were you hollering about this time?

This colored boy was trying to come up the lawn to get me.

The kids in schools in the south

stood up and cheered when he got assassinated.

Don't believe everything you hear.

No, you're right.

Let's believe "The heartbreak of psoriasis"

and all those other commercials you sell airtime for.

Buick and those jerks.

The men who had the genius and the daring

to develop the Dynaflow transmission... Kenneth.

...are jerks.

I'm going to volunteer to go down there.

That's a crafty dodge from your plunging grade point average.

How's the bird?

Happy Thanksgiving, Mother.

I think we got a bongo-drum playing beatnik in our midst.

Stop it, you little fag!

You're a fag!

Stop toying with your yams and sit up.

The Southerners cheered because President Kennedy

wanted to pass voting laws for colored people.

Exactly, Gracie.

That is the precise reason JFK went and garnered

such animus for himself down in Dixieland.

Garnered such what?

Look it up, Mrs. Allen Ginsberg.

Clocks are made by men. God creates time.

No man can prolong his allotted hours.

He can only live them to the fullest

in this world or in the Twilight Zone.

You can give this program back to the Indians,

as far as I'm concerned.

- It's cool. -Now, Mr. Serling.

Next time, we enlist the aid of a very talented scribe...

There is a fifth dimension beyond that known to man,

between light and shadow.

At the end of the show, nothing is ever what it seemed.

Real life's too much like what it seems.

Dad, this Army recruiter who came to our school,

he said they got a tank now, the M60,

can drive right through a steel and concrete building.

Maron.

I want to go to a college that has ROTC.

Keep your grades up.

Achieving your goals is 10% inspiration, 90% perspiration.

Night.

Good night.

It's hard to imagine now,

but the next historical event came only three weeks after the assassination.

Scott Muni, WABC.

What's that?

Hey, Bette.

It's hot in here.

I know who he was looking at you. He was, I swear.

It's not just Grace Deitz.

Chicks in general just...

Wait, wait.

Let's face it. I'm a crap drummer.

I'm a shit athlete.

And that is the biggest sin, if you're from around here.

He's right, man. Jocks get 90, 95% of all the poontang.

You played varsity ball till you got disallowed for grades.

The reason me and Wells never asked you

to be in the band is Schindewulf.

The guy's got the fastest bass-drum foot in the county.

I love her, man!

Hey, shut up! You want to bring the cops here?

Nothing has ever worked for me with girls.

I got this skinny physique. I got this skuzzy complexion.

Rolling Stones. Aren't they great?

They're gonna leave right after the show for London.

They're challenging The Beatles to a hair-pulling contest.

What the fuck are you doing, man?

My old man's going to go fucking apeshit!

You see The Stones on Hollywood Palace last night?

Yeah.

This definitely decides it.

I'm starting a band like them and The Beatles.

Wells is in.

You want to play drums?

What about Schindewulf?

He's doing so putrid at school,

his old man's making him join the Marines.

And when our record comes out,

he's got to be available to go on tour.

England, whatever.

Anyway, I need someone to back me up on vocal.

When we fuck around making fun of those songs on the radio,

you sound pretty good.

Isn't Wells going to sing?

He sucks, man. He's got a putrid voice.

Don't tell Wells I said that about his voice.

You know what's interesting?

How Charlie Watts beefed up the Bo Diddley on Not Fade Away.

Like...

He brought it front and center like in Bo Diddley itself

rather than Buddy Holly.

Two chords. And no changes. It's like percussion.

# Bo Diddley bought his babe a diamond ring

# If that diamond ring don't shine

# He gonna take it to a private eye

# If that private eye can't see

# He'd better not take the ring from me

# Mojo come to my house, ya black cat bone

# Take my baby away from home

# Up in that fo' door, where you been?

# Up your house and gone again

# Bo Diddley, Bo Diddley, have you heard?

# My pretty baby said she wasn't for it

We sat around for two damn months

waiting for that battle of Anzio.

See, them Jerrys, they had us pinned down with those 88's.

You're such a retarded driver.

That lieutenant in Italy, he told us,

he said, "Any of you colored troopers

"tamper with these local women,

"you gonna be hung on the spot."

I must have got the clap from all that clapping I was doing

when the generals passed by in their command car.

Anyway, you're going away to college next week.

You wanna make sure you keep your dick powdered.

Happy Thanksgiving, Earth people!

This is what I pay that goddamn college $2,000 a year for.

There's people with longer hair than me.

Fags.

Look at the coat.

Looks like he just got off the boat at Ellis Island.

What?

He kills himself down at that store six days a week,

plus Friday till 9:00,

with that psoriasis. And this is what you do?

I will play just the one song.

Leave 'em wanting more.

One second!

Dial.

Ivory.

Colgate Palmolive.