♪Liza Jane
♪ Well, I got a girl That's good to me
♪ Whoa, little Liza
♪ Now, she ain't more than five-foot-three
♪ Whoa, little Liza
♪ Well, this little girl is good to me
♪ Whoa, little Liza
♪ Yeah, this little girl's nearly half of me
♪ Whoa, little Liza
♪ Oh, little Liza Jane
♪ Little Liza Jane
♪ Little Liza Jane... ♪
David? David! # I got a girl who's good to me
David! # Whoa, little Liza... ♪
Quick! Quick, catch it! Catch it!
Catch it!
You'll be pleased to hear I've found a bloke wants to buy the lot.
-That's terrific! -Don't sound too surprised, David.
It is my field. There's not a racket in the world I couldn't flog,
your records being a case in point.
Thanks.
So, who bought the records? HMV?
HMV? No, God bless you, not HMV.
No, it's a bloke got one of them clay pigeon machines.
You know - fires clay discs, people shoot them with shotguns.
He reckons he can rig it up to fire 45s.
How long did you think you were going -to get away with this? -Get away with what?
"Written by L Conn."
-Well? -You didn't write Liza Jane.
I think you'll find that's the reefer doobies talking.
Go on - who's Liza Jane, then?
-A bird. -Describe her.
Er, she's got, er...
legs up to here.
She's got a torso up to here.
-A neck. -Up to here?
That's her, yeah. Les, it's my song.
All right, look, I admit it. There was a small clerical error
by which it appears I've acquired all the rights to the song in perpetuity.
Good job it didn't make any money, -then, eh? -Absolutely, David.
I mean, I would hate for a small typo to ruin our whole relationship.
-Yeah. -Just imagine if I couldn't trust you.
Oh, God forbid!
Well, it happens all the time.
I mean, look at the Beatles.
Eight days a week? I don't think so, lads.
-That's a bit sloppy, isn't it? -Yeah.
Yeah, there's Mark now.
Oi, oi! Hairdresser's that way, darling!
-I can do this by myself. -No. No, this is a two-man job
and I have got two able-bodied young crooners who owe me
for all the hard work I've put into their careers thus far.
Anyway, the song wasn't the problem. It was the band.
As a punter, I want to be intrigued.
I want an aesthetic, not some pack of scruffy Tom, Dick and Harry's.
-Tom, Dick and Harry's? -I mean, I looked all right.
They were your mates, David. George, he was your best mate.
They were very scruffy. That rhythm section looked like one big cardigan.
Yeah, and I told you, didn't I? What did I tell you?
-Turtlenecks. -Over my dead body.
Oh, that's right, sorry, yeah, I forgot.
David doesn't like turtlenecks. So what does he do?
He liquidates the entire band behind my back.
-It wasn't working. -It's not all the money I mind, David.
It's the... It's the time and the experience
with which I've lavished you, just to see it squandered.
But you are still going to plug me, though, right?
-For my sins. -Good.
Cos I've got my next single all lined up.
You know House Of The Rising Sun? I was...
Lo, the prodigal schlump.
Leslie, can you lend me a quid? Very funny.
Mark Feld, David Jones.
-Davy Jones. -Like the fella from the Monkees.
Why does everyone keep saying that?
Well, because he's the only Davy Jones anyone's ever heard of?
Let's just get on with it.
Right, Leslie, this painting gig.
I was going to tell you to stick it over the phone
but I thought, "I'll tell him to stick it to his haggard old face," because I respect you.
Balls. You didn't even have twopence for the telephone.
With a mind like that, you belong in Scotland Yard.
As for me, I am an artist, not a bloody navvy.
Do you know what I've got in my briefcase here?
Last time a fella asked me that was a Tory MP trying to pick me up in khazi.
I'm talking about contracts,
talking about recording contracts for the pair of you.
It's like I keep telling Doris Day there, via her lawyers -
you give me another chance I will shift more records
that you can shake your tush at, so you two, pay your debts.
See me straight and I will make you masters of all you survey.
I don't know what you're laughing at.
You've been singing less than a year.
You haven't written a song yet and quite frankly, you're charmless.
David, fine, queer as a box of birds
but at least he's punctual.
-You're a clown. -Listen, if you want these recording contracts
you paint that bloody wall, you long-haired gits.
Your shoes are shit.
They're winklepickers.
Exactly.
♪You Really Got Me
♪ Girl, you really got me going
♪ You got me so I don't know What I'm doing
♪ Yeah, you really got me now
♪ You got me so I can't sleep at night
♪ Yeah, you really got me now
♪ You got me so I don't know what I'm doing
♪ Oh, yeah
♪ You really got me now... ♪
♪ I don't know what it is that makes me love you so
♪ I only know I never want to let you go
♪ Cos you've started something Can't you see
♪ That ever since we met... ♪
Nice?
"Neece"What?
Nice. It's a city in France.
And? They're nice biscuits, hence nice.
If they weren't, do you think they'd say "not nice"? Rotten?
You don't print bad reviews, unless you haven't got any good ones.
-I'm not sanding your wall. -I don't want you to touch my stinking wall.
So are you one of these art-school types?
It's a wall, it's not a fresco. It's not Picasso's bloody Guernica.
Ooh! Picasso.
I went to Bromley Tech.
-Did you get any O levels? -One.
Oh, all right, Professor.
I failed all my other ones.
Yeah, well. I got expelled.
They couldn't handle my raw, animal magnetism.
Do you think it was that?
I like this one.
So you're from Bromley?
Well, I was born in Brixton.
But you live in Bromley?
Charming. Charming.
Green spaces, quality of life,
no Jews, blacks or Irish.
Dogs welcome, of course. They're man's best friend.
It's like Village Of The Damned.
Did you see that film? All the aliens had your haircut.
-Bromley's all right. -Has it got a Wimpy Bar?
It's got two, actually. Ooh, I just creamed myself.
For your information, there's a lot of talent in the green belt
and a lot of tripe on Drury Lane.
All right, duckie.
Here.
-What about you, then? -Stoke Newington boy.
-What do your parents do? -My father works for a charity.
What about your mum?
Is she...?
-She's not dead. -Oh.
My mum runs a stall on Berwick Street.
-Groovy. -Yeah, she is.
Do you know where Berwick Street is?
Near Carnaby Street.
-How near? -Down, then along.
Ish.
Are they different colours?
Your eyes.
I don't ask about your appearance. Maybe you should.
You might learn something.
King of the mods, the newspaper called me.
Six-page spread, two colour photos, a dozen black-and-whites.
Taken by this cat called Don McCullin. Do you know him?
Fantastic eye. He adored me.
All my clothes are handmade, see? It's a matter of principle.
I got a cat up in Hoxton. Absolute magician.
Like Gandalf in a yarmulke.
Well worth the schlep.
I could take you there if you like.
Suit yourself.
It's definitely "nice".
♪ Calling out around the world
♪ Are you ready for a brand-new beat?
♪ Summer's here... ♪
Do you know the Kinks?
-I toured with them. -The Animals?
A bit square.
Small Faces?
I was their singer.
Really?
Well, I have sung with them.
Are you also Dave from Dave Dee, Dozy, Beaky, Mick and Tich?
So come on - who do you like?
Howlin' Wolf. Muddy Waters. Blind Lemon Jefferson.
Blind Willie Johnson, Blind Willie McTell.
You can just say the blues. You don't need to list every blind bloke in Mississippi.
Yeah but I don't dig virtuosity. I dig feeling.
I love those people who can send a chill up my spine.
Yeah. I dig that.
I like Chet Baker.
That's nice.
No, he's nice. I just prefer Coltrane, Mingus, Monk.
The genii.
Well, how come you're nicking songs off Huey Piano Smith?
Well - one, I've never even heard of Huey Piano Smith.
Really? I thought you were Old Blind Davy McTell?
But even if I had, which I haven't, I never said I wrote Liza Jane.
I modernised it. What's wrong with juxtaposition?
If I knew what it meant, I'd tell you.
Taking a bit of him, a bit of her -
you know, talent borrows, genius steals.
Picasso said that.
Did I mention I've got an O level?
No, I mean,
take an old folk song like House Of The Rising Sun.
My friend, this bloke, George, thought,
what if you put some drums under it? Like...
Maybe some reverby guitar?
♪ Doon, doon-doon Doon-doon, doon doon ♪
It's heavy, it's sexy, it's...
The Animals.
-It's what? -The Animals released that song, literally last week.
-You're winding me up. -I'm not.
I guarantee you, someone will be playing it right now.
The House Of The Rising Sun
Bollocks. # Now the only thing a gambler needs... ♪
♪ ..there is a house in New Orleans
♪ They call the Rising Sun
♪ And it's been the ruin
♪ Of many a poor boy
♪ And God, I know I'm one... ♪
-Hey, guys! Whoo!
Why do you want to sound like other people?
Well, you're always going to sound -like someone. -I sound like Mark Feld, mate.
Or whoever.
Cos I think I might actually change my name.
What do you think of Dirk Baggins?
Quentin Barbados?
But don't you feel like, one day I put on this shirt
and I combine it with that voice and that's who I am on a Wednesday
and that's all there is to it?
All there is to what?
Life.
I don't know if that's cool or thin. Bleak.
Maybe you're not cut out for it.
-Life? -Rock and roll.
I'm sensing a lot of doubt, David.
Do you think your Dylans, your Jaggers, they sit around going, "Ooh, am I doing the right thing?"
Er... It's rhetorical.
Self-doubt - it ain't groovy.
I never interrogate any decision I ever make as a point of principle.
That explains the hair.
Childish.
But I ain't bothered. I've got a destiny.
I am going to be bigger than the Beatles.
That's a fact, is it?
Yes.
So what's the song? What made you get into all of this nonsense?
-Ach!
Well?
When I was nine, my dad bought me this single.
He didn't realise you can't play 45s on a gramophone,
which was all we had.
I put the 45 on and it was far too slow, you know.
But there was something.
I started turning the record with my hand, faster and faster,
faster and faster until it became this...this sound.
What was it?
Tutti Frutti, Little Richard.
Oh!
Ach! My heart nearly burst.
It was like hearing God.
I was hearing God.
What about you?
Couldn't afford a gramophone. When I was nine, I was mostly having sex.
You don't buy it? It's the one thing I'm really good at.
-What, sex? -The whole shebang. People like me.
Maybe they don't want to like me but they can't help themselves, right?
What's your dirty little secret?
Say you're sick to the back teeth of everything - who do you listen to?
Someone embarrassing?
-Yeah. -This is a trap.
-Scout's honour. -That's the wrong hand.
Both say it on three.
OK.
-One, two, three.
-Cliff Richard.
-He's the English Elvis. -He deserves a knighthood.
Summer Holiday is the best film ever made.
Erm...
Do you know how to use a photocopier?
♪Summer Holiday
♪ We're all going on a summer holiday
♪ No more working for a week or two
♪ Fun and laughter on a summer holiday
♪ No more worries for me or you
♪ For a week or two
♪ We're going where the sun shines brightly... ♪
Rimbaud. French cat. Proper filth.
A fella told me I looked like him, so I got the book out the library.
That's quite a peculiar logic. Is it?
No, no.
Rimbaud wrote everything he wanted by the age of 20.
He was dead at 37.
Can you imagine being 37?
I sort of see myself going mad. What, like mad mad?
--Yeah. -Really? -Yeah.
On my mother's side, half her sisters have been locked up, electrocuted,
lobotomised and whatnot.
I don't know why I'm telling you this.
Horrible.
Yeah, well... I don't want to get old.
Amen, brother.
Amen!
So tell us about the eye. I got it playing football.
You don't look like much of a footballer.
About a year ago, my friend George asked this girl out.
Well, he asked her dad if he could take her out.
Anyway, it's all been set up.
On the day, I told George that Kate didn't want to go out with him any more,
which wasn't strictly true.
Anyway, Kate thinks she's been stood up.
She's crying her eyes out in Wimpy's.
-You were going to swoop in. -Right - be a shoulder to cry on.
Only George found out, so he punched me.
In the eye?
He broke it, basically.
I had a couple of weeks in hospital, two operations but...
I like it. I think it gives you mystique.
Yeah?
-You really liked her? -Yeah.
C...Carol.
-Carol Goldsmith, not Kate. -Huh!
Oh, well, that's charming. Very romantic.
It was true love.
Here.
This is my song.
Do you know it?
♪Who Do You Love?
Yeah!
♪ I walked 47 miles of barbed wire
♪ I used a cobra snake for a necktie
♪ I got a brand-new house on a roadside
♪ Made of rattlesnake hide
♪ I got a brand-new chimney made on top
♪ Made out of a human skull
♪ Now, come and take a walk with me # Kate...
Carol.
♪ Who do you love?
♪ Who
♪ Do you love? ♪
Yeah!
That's great.
What?
I've got to get out of Bromley.
-George on the warpath again? -No, he's all right.
It's everyone else in that mock Tudor hellhole.
They look at me like I'm a Martian.
-That'll be the eye. -Fuck off.
--Oi! -Get off. -What?
What, you want a little fight, do -you? -Yeah.
Come on, D'Artagnan. OK.
What? Get off me. What are you doing?
Get off me!
-Hey! -Hey! you, get off!
Get off me!
You fucker!
These aren't contracts.
-They're parking tickets. -Fuck off.
He's dodging the fines.
Let's get out of here.
♪The Prettiest Star
I tell you what. We'll head down to Carnaby Street, have a root through the bins,
see if we can't find you something decent to wear.
Maybe I'll introduce you to my mum. Oh, OK.
Hang on.
Watch this.
♪ So tired
♪ It's the sky that makes you feel tried
♪ It's a trick to make you see wide... ♪
Here you are.
♪ It can all but break your heart
♪ In pieces
♪ Staying back in your memory... ♪
We'll tell him it's art.
♪ How you moved is all it takes... ♪
When you've finished that, boys, you can have a go at the bogs.
♪ The prettiest star... ♪
Very funny.
♪ Staying back in your memory
♪ Of the movies in the dark
♪ How you move is all it takes
♪ To sing a song of when I loved
♪ The prettiest star
♪ One day
♪ Though it might as well be some day
♪ You will rise on high And take us all away
♪ All because of what you are
♪ The prettiest star... ♪
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