Kill Your Friends Page #4

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I mean, let's be honest,

David was all over the place.

He was too old.

He never got a sense of

what he really liked and didn't like.

It was just about seeing whatever deals were

hot and then getting in on it at the last minute.

It's like with Rage, remember,

it was you that brought that in,

Steven, and now I'm in charge,

I'm gonna make sure things like that

get properly recognised, you know.

You should have had a point on that album

and in the future, I know we can,

we definitely need to broaden the roster,

you know.

We need to find a band like Supergrass...

Smack my b*tch up

F***ing die!

Of course Paul Weller writes his own songs,

you stupid fat bastard.

Of the foremost singer/songwriters

of his generation!

I mean, who gives a f*** about the mod c*nt?

But he's primarily known as

a singer f***ing songwriter.

Nice.

Who would you say your influences are?

I think he's asking what music you like.

- Madonna and stuff.

- You don't even like Madonna.

Your breath stinks.

- I'm also a rap singer.

- Girls...

- Really?

- Sorry, mate.

Can we leave this till later?

- You're giving me a f***ing headache.

- Great.

Well, Danny, let me get back to you, yeah?

All right, be quick, though.

- We're up at Virgin this afternoon.

- Cheers, Danny.

Come on, girls. Let's go.

- Nice meeting you

- Cheers. Thanks, girls.

What d'you reckon to that lot, then?

What do I reckon?

I reckon they look like the worst kind

of sink-estate benefit-fraud trash imaginable,

and to say that their music is dismal

would be an understatement on par

with saying Fred West could probably

have been a better f***ing dad.

But I'd also like to do the lot of them.

I reckon if we got some real songwriters,

decent producer,

world-class stylist, an A-list photographer

and some personal trainers to keep

them off the KFC and the alcopops...

and if we spent a fortune on the right pluggers

and press officers to convince people

they're the real deal,

rather than just a talentless bunch of slags

who'd gobble a f***ing donkey

to get to meet Mark Morrison,

then, yeah, Rebecca,

we might just sell a few f***ing records.

Have you guys heard about Roger?

Yeah, where is that clown?

He hasn't been in for three f***ing days now.

He's dead.

What?

Someone beat him to death... in his flat.

F***.

Holy sh*t.

They even killed his little dog.

Here. It's OK. It's OK.

The police think he disturbed an intruder.

Poor Roger.

Jesus.

Right, so you'll be acting

head of A&R for the time being.

The scouts and Rob

will report to you temporarily.

Now, what are we gonna do

about this f***ing Rage album?

Christ, let's just drop the talentless clown.

Look into what it'll cost us

to get out of the deal, James.

The point is, Steven, we're dead in the water.

We need some activity.

You're off to Austin for South

By Southwest this week, right?

Yeah, me and Darren.

We're gonna see a lot of new bands.

OK. Good.

Watch the expenses.

Thanks, Derek.

I mean, this wasn't how I wanted to get the job...

You haven't got the job yet.

We'll see how it goes, OK?

Christ. What's that bender's problem?

I mean, apart from the f***ing AIDS

coursing through his veins.

- Same problem it always is.

- We need some hits.

Correctos.

Katy, can you dig out

Roger's contract for me, please?

And ring Simon Esplen

and cancel lunch tomorrow.

Thank you.

Steven.

Steven.

Look, come back from Texas with some

hot new bands and you'll be golden.

Christ. I f***ing hate bands.

We all do, Steven. We all do.

Acting head of A&R

The f***ing insult.

Still, it might be a good

opportunity to make a mark,

to stamp my taste on the department.

So I suppose you're wondering,

what is that taste,

what kind of music do I like?

Asking a major label A&R man

this is like asking a stockbroker

what his favourite commodity is,

or saying to an FX trader,

'Hey, what's your favourite currency?'

The answer is:
whatever's profitable.

Hip-hop, trance,

Bulgarian heavy metal played

on sheep's bladders.

If it's a hit, who f***ing cares,

as long as it's profitable.

Hey. We'll catch up later

The truth is, signing bands is a lottery.

But now and then, once in a while,

you do witness something new, fresh,

like f***ing snow.

And then you've got your work cut out,

because then the race is on,

because if you sign a proper band

with songs and longevity,

with sales and credibility,

then you get known as

that ultimate A&R accolade.

You are a music guy, someone with good ears.

You're a man of taste and discernment,

a man like...

Anthony Parker f***ing Hall.

All right, ladies and gentlemen...

Why don't I know about this band?

Everyone bloody loves them.

I told you, The Lazies from Sweden.

Bollocks did you.

F***ing Rebecca's been banging on about them.

That c*nt Parker Hall's all over them.

- Who's the manager?

- Some guy called Jimmy Sien.

They're coming over to London next week.

Right, sort out a meeting, for f***'s sake.

I think it's Stein, actually. Jimmy Stein.

I don't f***ing care.

Just sort out the meeting.

Yeah.

The Lazies. I don't believe this.

Where is their CD?

I mean, I've been going on about

that band for months and now suddenly...

Yeah, but now they're f***ing hot, Rebecca.

That's life.

- Steven?

- Hi, Derek.

- Is he there?

- Yes. Hang on.

Derek.

- That you?

- Yeah.

Phonogram are about to make

an offer on the f***ing Lazies.

No, I know Phonogram are offering, and Island.

- Well, are we meeting them?

- Yeah.

- Today?

- No. They've just got into the country.

Me and Darren are having dinner

with them later in the week.

- We've got to get this, Steven.

- We're gonna get this f***ing deal.

- OK?

- Yes.

- Great. Bye.

- OK, yeah. Bye, bye, bye. Bye.

Now, where is their f***ing CD?

- Been promoted again?

- F*** off.

Look, call Rough Trade.

Get one biked over.

- About the Lazies deal...

- Jesus.

I just had Derek on the phone.

Apparently Independiente

are in the frame as well.

- Two firm, 150 grand per album.

- Oh, f***. You're kidding me?

Steven, there's someone in reception to see you.

Tell them to f*** off.

Actually, I wouldn't do that.

It's a policeman.

Hello. Rough Trade.

- Is that for the Rage album?

- Yeah.

Wow. My wife bought that.

Yeah, not really my kind of thing,

to tell you the truth.

I'm more into the guitar stuff.

Played in a band until a few years ago,

sent a few demos off back in the day.

The usual 'not what we're looking

for at the moment' replies.

Well, it's tough trying

to get your foot in the door.

- Sorry, Detective...?

- Woodham.

Right. I'm just a little bit busy right now, so...

Righty ho.

Anyway, as I said, I'm just following up

on a few things relating to Mr Waters' murder.

I believe you were with him on

the last night he was seen alive.

Yeah. We'd been at the Brits.

We shared a cab.

I dropped him off on the way back to mine.

Right.

What were the Brits like?

Usual nonsense.

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