Great Performances (1971–…): Season 38, Episode 7 - Passing Strange - full transcript

Hey, what's up?

I feel like Barack next year.

It's really cool.

You can do that.

♪ Now you don't know me ♪

♪ And I don't know you ♪

♪ So let's cut to the chase ♪

♪ The name is Stew ♪

♪ And I'll be narrating
this gig ♪

♪ So just sit tight ♪

♪ We might play all night ♪



♪ Been on the road, me,
Heidi, and this band ♪

♪ For 10,000 days
of one-night stands ♪

♪ And oh, by the way ♪

♪ Can we crash
on your couch tonight? ♪

♪ I said, is that all right? ♪

♪ Is that all right? ♪

♪ Is that all right? ♪

♪ Well before we cab it
back to your uptown flat ♪

♪ We're gonna do a little play
since you paid for that ♪

♪ A play where this band
tells you where it's at ♪

♪ So just follow along,
just follow along ♪

♪ Just follow along ♪

♪ Well, if this mic feeds back
or the drums rock out ♪

♪ Or an amp explodes
or the bass player pouts ♪



♪ Hmm ♪

♪ Or if you're ever not sure
what I'm on about ♪

♪ Just ask the song ♪

♪ Just ask the song ♪

♪ Just ask the song, okay? ♪

♪ Now since it's my job
I'ma set the scene ♪

♪ In a big two-story,
black middle-class dream ♪

♪ With all the mod cons,
the manicured lawn ♪

♪ Some savings bonds ♪

♪ A boy and his mom ♪

♪ A colored paradise
where the palm trees sway ♪

♪ A colored paradise
where the palm trees sway ♪

Cue music.

Sunday morning,
South Central L.A., 1976.

Mother stands in doorway.

Youth is sleeping.

Wake up, pillow-huggin'
son o' mine.

It's your turn to rise
and shine.

Fo' too long now you been
on the wrong side of right.

I ain't studyin' how late
you was up last night.

Lord, have mercy, child.

Look at your head.

Look just like a feather bed.

Now let go of dat pillow.

Leave dat dangerous dream be.

Jump out of that bed
and come a-churchin' with me.

She drops the Negro dialect
and speaks in her natural voice.

It's such a beautiful
Sunday morning.

And so begins her weekly sermon.

Son, it wouldn't kill you
to go to church this morning.

Youth's eyes open.

And as for all this new
Zen Buddha talk...

Youth sits up in bed.

Zen Bu-ddhism!

The Bible clearly states,
"Thou shalt place"...

oh, wait a minute.

How does that go again?

Om.

I know you'd be happier
in one of them white churches,

praising the lord
in jeans and a T-shirt.

She finds a jacket.

- But what about this one?
- She hurls it at him.

Uh, four words, Mom: Brown,
poly, ester.

No.

Why are normal everyday things
like sheer agony for you?

'Cause normal everyday things
are phony.

Why do I have to change?

Om.

Now, look, swami.

The tiny inconvenience
of a tie and a nice jacket

is a small price to pay
fo' eternal life.

Note the return
of the Negro dialect...

Since the day they done
dragged us offa that slave ship,

the church has been our only
real home...

Rising to its authentic,
authoritative crescendo.

Lord only know what black folk
woulda done without the church!

'Cause there ain't nothin'
in this ugly, unforgiving world,

and I mean nothin',
like a good black church!

Then why don't you ever go?

[dramatic blues music
and singing]

♪ Those catty church bitches
give me the blues ♪

♪ And Lord,
look at these shoes ♪

♪ And you know ♪

♪ Church people,
we're all about the shoes ♪

♪ Mama says you got to go
to the Baptist fashion show ♪

♪ Silk ties, shiny purses,
fancy hats, and jewels ♪

♪ Mama says you got to go ♪

♪ Jesus gonna save your soul ♪

♪ And that Christian catwalk
was real unforgiving ♪

♪ Mama says you got to go ♪

♪ But she didn't want to go ♪

♪ To anyone who couldn't
fit in for a living ♪

♪ Mama says you got to go
to the Baptist fashion show ♪

Now, honestly, son,

does this hat go
with these shoes?

Colors are colors, Mom.

But if you had to choose?

Well, if it was up to me...

Oh, you'd still be in bed.

I know.

Why don't you go make
some pancakes?

Then we'd be too late to go.

♪ Holy war on Sunday morning ♪

I won't be breathing easy
once this noose gets knotted.

♪ It was war on Sunday morning ♪

You men don't know
how easy you got it.

♪ Now the church
on Adams Boulevard ♪

♪ Is usually a bore ♪

♪ The ladies wave fans
and the old men snore ♪

♪ The kids cut up on cue
in the very back pew ♪

♪ And the Holy Ghost
ain't been here since 1972 ♪

all: Look who's here!

Seems like we never
see you anymore!

♪ They got real estate,
college funds ♪

♪ Jobs with benefits,
homeowners, debutantes ♪

This place is as phony
as it gets.

♪ Look, everybody sharp ♪

♪ Ain't not one head nappy ♪

♪ But it's been a long time
since this church got happy ♪

♪ With their judgmental eyes ♪

♪ See, they've all just
realized... ♪

All: 14 years old
and still ain't been baptized.

Son, bring me a fan
and a tithing envelope.

Like they ain't got
enough money already.

♪ Now just as he thought ♪

♪ "This'll be a nightmare
come true," ♪

♪ His conviction turned to ice
in that chilly church pew ♪

♪ His conviction turned to ice
in that chilly church pew ♪

Jesus'll make it back here
before I do.

♪ He saw
the brownskinded ladies ♪

♪ In their oversized crowns ♪

♪ And the jet-black deacons ♪

♪ With those
"Don't you do that" frowns ♪

♪ And those high yellow girls
in skin-tight gowns ♪

♪ A collection of verbs
disguised as nouns ♪

♪ And every Sunday
she pushed him ♪

♪ But she never wanted to go ♪

♪ Every Sunday he listened ♪

♪ But he didn't want to know ♪

♪ It's too bad
they never talked about ♪

♪ The shared truth
that dwelled below ♪

♪ Who could handle
the pressure ♪

♪ Of this
Baptist fashion show? ♪

♪ Listening is waiting ♪

♪ Listening is waiting ♪

♪ The whole congregation
was listening and waiting ♪

♪ To be released
from its collective frown ♪

♪ Even the bad kids in the back
pew were wondering... ♪

Together: Is something real
gonna go down?

Ew.

♪ Now some said,
"Lord, please read us, ♪

♪ Collect us,
then lead us to higher ground" ♪

♪ And then all asked
the very same question... ♪

Together: ♪ Is somethin'
real goin' down? ♪

♪ Down, down, down? ♪

Lord, show up
and save him this morning.

Show him you are real.

♪ And then the chilly church
pews got suddenly warm ♪

♪ And the notes of the music
began to swarm ♪

♪ And then bridges of spirit
began to form ♪

♪ Subjecting and connecting
everyone ♪

♪ To what they needed to feel ♪

♪ This is how a church made way
for the real ♪

♪ Waiting and vibrating
for more than Christ's sake ♪

♪ As the organ started doing
that earthquake shake ♪

♪ When it sounds like the
speakers are starting to break ♪

♪ And time itself slips
into Earth's crack ♪

♪ And Mrs. Kelso's
getting happy ♪

♪ Ahhh! ♪

♪ Mrs. Kelso's getting happy ♪

♪ She keeps hitting you
in the back ♪

♪ And Mr. Franklin plays piano ♪

♪ Like he was mad at it ♪

♪ Till it started to hum ♪

♪ And the church
was getting' bad at it ♪

♪ Like a stained-glass drum ♪

♪ Like a stained-glass drum ♪

♪ Like a stained-glass drum ♪

♪ And then the mystery of life ♪

♪ Was on its way
to getting solved ♪

♪ Don't look now, church ♪

♪ I think the real's
gettin' involved ♪

And then something strange
happened,

something that's never happened
in this church.

I'm having a religious
experience.

Thank you, Jesus.

This is real.

Thank you, Lord!

♪ It's mighty real ♪

Reel him in, Heavenly Father!

♪ 'Scuse me while
I kiss the sky! ♪

And then the right
Reverend Jones revved up

and started banging the pulpit
like a conga drum,

and his screams cut through
the organ's swell

like a bolt of sonic lightning.

And then it struck.

Oh, fuck.

♪ I'm gonna tell y'all a story
'bout Apostle Paul ♪

♪ All right! ♪

♪ All right now ♪

♪ All right, father! ♪

♪ Come on now, church ♪

Could you repeat that?

♪ I said, I'm gonna tell y'all
a story 'bout Apostle Paul ♪

♪ All right! ♪

♪ Yes! ♪

♪ Y'all don't have to wait ♪

♪ Come on ♪

♪ Hallelujah! ♪

♪ Cruisin' up and down
that fretboard ♪

♪ Like it was the road
to Damascus ♪

Where you headed, Pilgrim?

♪ If you don't know the way,
you better ask us ♪

♪ You better ask somebody ♪

- ♪ It was a mind... ♪
- ♪ Yeah! ♪

- ♪ Expanding... ♪
- ♪ Yeah! ♪

- ♪ Revelation! ♪
- ♪ Yeah! ♪

- ♪ Revelation! ♪
- ♪ Yeah! ♪

♪ Revelation, revelation,
revelation ♪

♪ Yeah ♪

♪ Who came here to feel
the spirit? ♪

♪ I did! ♪

♪ Well, are you ready
to get inspired? ♪

♪ Come on, now! ♪

♪ We built this house on love ♪

♪ Can you feel it? ♪

♪ Now the boy and the Reverend
are tradin' licks now ♪

♪ Yes, praise Jesus! ♪

♪ Hotter than a party
on the River Styx ♪

♪ Come on, now! ♪

♪ Praise God! ♪

♪ Leading the church
on a holy ghost search ♪

♪ It's a pilgrimage of a solo ♪

♪ Well, well, well ♪

♪ It's a Fillmore West bank
solo ♪

♪ Well, well, well ♪

♪ You're tappin' your foot
but you don't hear me though ♪

♪ And the boy's tagging along ♪

♪ Behind a message in his song ♪

♪ He was freed, guaranteed
had to let the pilgrim lead ♪

♪ Come on, Jones! ♪

♪ Now is God real? ♪

All: ♪ Yes, he's real ♪

♪ Well, can you deal
with the real? ♪

All: ♪ We can deal
with the real ♪

♪ Now is God real? ♪

All: ♪ Oh, yes, He's real ♪

♪ Well, can you deal
with the real? ♪

All: ♪ We can deal
with the real ♪

♪ Now, is God real? ♪

All: ♪ Oh, yes, He's real ♪

♪ Well, can you deal
with the real? ♪

All: ♪ We can deal
with the real ♪

♪ One, two, three, four ♪

♪ The bubble was expanding ♪

♪ There was
a new understanding ♪

all: ♪ Music is
the freight train ♪

♪ In which God travels ♪

♪ Bang! ♪

♪ It does its thang
and then my soul unravels ♪

♪ Heals like holy water
and it fights all my battles ♪

♪ Music is the freight train
in which God travels ♪

♪ Music is the freight train
in which God travels ♪

♪ Bang! ♪

♪ It does its thang
and then my soul unravels ♪

♪ Heals like holy water
and it fights all my battles ♪

♪ Music is the freight train
in which God travels ♪

Whoo!

Whoo!

Mom, Mom, I can feel
the spirit, and it's real!

And check it out!

Reverend Jones
is singing the blues.

And what we're doing
is call and response.

We brought it over
from the motherland.

Mama, we're just a tribe
of bluesy Africans!

And church ain't nothin'
but rock and roll!

But it was on PBS.

Are you trying to embarrass me
in front of all these people?

But that was the coolest thing
that's ever happened here.

Do you want these people
thinking I've raised a heathen?

- I'm not like you.
I don't care what they think.

Don't you know the difference

between the sacred
and the profane?

I can't hear the difference.

♪ She slapped him
back into himself ♪

♪ And then he pulled away ♪

♪ To be nurtured
by his destiny ♪

♪ On that warm L.A. Sunday ♪

♪ And so it was in church
he began his search ♪

♪ Down a road
that would not bend ♪

♪ In stained-glass light
the pilgrim went in search ♪

♪ Of a song that would not end ♪

I got to get out
of these clothes.

♪ And there he goes ♪

♪ After service, Mom and I
are church celebrities ♪

all: ♪ Praise Jesus! ♪

♪ Flashbulb smiles
light us up like paparazzi ♪

♪ Praise God! ♪

♪ A Christian Kodak moment
is what everybody wants ♪

all: ♪ That's right! ♪

Together: ♪ Now we are ♪

♪ A Madonna and Child
tableau vivant ♪

all: Smile, God damn it!

Ding!

Enter Mr. Franklin,

the Reverend's
piano-banging son.

How are you, Miss Irma?

Tout va bien?

Oui.

Franklin, you are so talented.

I just love the way you spice up
those old spirituals.

And I don't care
what these old fogies think.

Onward, Christian Soldiers
as a rumba?

You go ahead on, boy!

I'm so glad you liked
the arrangement.

It's God's work, you know.

I'm just the vessel.

Preach.

Oh, and can I say you're looking

very Marilyn McCoo today.

You must be tryin' to catch one.

Oh, Franklin,
you know I look terrible.

If I had the nerve,

one day I'd show up here
in an outrageous gown

and show everyone.

You go ahead on, girl.

You go head on, girl.

If it's the last thing I do,

I'm gonna get him
into your choir.

That is not going to happen.

Choir is a fabulous place

to develop one's
harmonic sensibilities.

I'm developing my own
sensibilities.

Did I hear you say you're
joining the youth choir?

No, I'm not.

See, what none of you understand
is that...

So you're joining
the youth choir.

Aw.

Lord knows we could use a new

member.

♪ Ever since her
transformation ♪

♪ Into a teenage goddess ♪

Hi!

♪ Edwina Williams never said
more to him than... ♪

Hey.

♪ In that halfhearted way ♪

♪ Teenage goddesses
are obliged to do ♪

♪ Oh, but now her magnetic eyes
were fixed on him ♪

♪ Drawing him into the vortex
of her Ebony Magazine smile ♪

Hey!

Ahh!

♪ Sunday morning's steamy
stained-glass window vision ♪

♪ I am the way ♪

♪ The wriggling bait ♪

♪ At the end of God's
fishing hook ♪

♪ I am the truth ♪

♪ She was the Master's bait ♪

♪ And the light ♪

♪ She was a Prayboy Bunny,
Lord... ♪

♪ Airbrushed by the Almighty ♪

Whoo!

You in my choir now!

Lord, have mercy!

You want some of this blessing?

Yes, brown sugar.

I said, do you want some
of this blessing?

Yes, brown sugar!

Then I need some new clothes.

Yes, brown sugar.

You got to do something
about your hair.

Yes, brown sugar.

- And get that B.A.
in communications

from a prestigious
black college.

Yes, brown sugar.

And after we marry,

and you've got a job
in the corporate sector,

you'll buy me a sprawling
two-story house

full of African sculptures

from tribes
we know nothing about,

kente cloth couch covers,

and Malcolm X
commemorative plates

lining the walls of our airy,
peach-colored breakfast nook.

Oh, yes, brown sug...

Breakfast nook?

And lastly,

you'll need to blacken up a bit.

Blacken up?

Yeah.

Like...

Not so much that you become
unhirable or anything,

but you know,

you kind of act too white.

You're not black enough for me!

Put a little soul
in your stroll.

Had he assumed the costume,

he could have bathed
in her fire.

But he's still got to deal
with that dorky youth choir.

Greetings, Christian comrade.

Mr. Franklin has requested
your presence...

At the prayer circle.

What?

It's a mandatory ritual
for new choir members.

Oh, God.

Exactly!

Welcome to the prayer circle.

He smoked his first joint
that Thursday afternoon...

Right before choir rehearsal

in a powder blue VW bug
parked atop Arlington Hill

overlooking South Central L.A.

The man behind the wheel

was none other
than Franklin Jones.

I'm just the vessel.

Church pianist,
youth choir director,

but more significantly,
the Reverend Jones' son.

That's right, Mom.

I'm smoking weed
with the reverend's son.

He works
in mysterious ways indeed.

Our hero had found his tribe.

Now Sherry and Terry
were the bad kids at church.

Terry obsessively drew cartoons
of Jesus water skiing.

Check it out.

And Sherry always looked
at our hero

as if she knew his most
carefully guarded secret.

And as for Mr. Franklin,

well, he was a completely
different person

when it wasn't Sunday morning.

♪ Vissi d'arte ♪

Hello.

Maria Callas speaking.

Yes, it's me, darlings,

with my funny nose,
skinny legs, and all.

And I have nothing to hide.

If I were any more real, child,
I'd be fictional.

Children, if we were
in Amsterdam right now,

we'd be inhaling this...
this sacrament

in a comfy cafè
with a wicked cup of espresso.

All: In public?

In flagrante delicto, kinder!

Nobody's hiding anything
over there.

Dig me?

Wow.

♪ He took a hit
for the first time ♪

♪ In a bug on Arlington Hill ♪

♪ Hip to hip
shoulder to shoulder ♪

♪ The radio,
it blasts in everyone's ears ♪

♪ Oh, she sees you there
in the rearview ♪

♪ Choking on smoke
and trying to be cool ♪

♪ When he and Mr. Franklin ♪

♪ Were parked up there
on Arlington Hill ♪

♪ Just the two of them ♪

♪ It was like sitting next
to a soulfully played cello ♪

♪ Franklin made him feel like
that powder blue VW bug ♪

♪ Was just hovering
over South Central ♪

♪ And y'all were just escaped
slaves in a beautiful balloon ♪

♪ And yes, there's a place
in this world... ♪

For whatever...

♪ For everyone... ♪

Or whoever you are tonight.

I mean, baby,

we're all freaks depending
on the backdrop, you know?

Yeah, we're all freaks...

Lookin' for a home.

And as for this
Philistine fishbowl

we're swimmin' around in?

Shoot!

If you want to deal
with le real,

I'm talking Stockholm,
baby, persona, you know?

I'm talking about Rome

and one of them La Dolce Vita
parties, you know?

I'm talking about
Godard's Paris, baby, I mean,

'cause we a Band of Outsiders
too, you know.

I mean, I'm talking
about brother Al Camus,

The Stranger.

Brother said, "Algeria?"

"See ya!

Wouldn't want to be ya, okay?"

I mean talkin' about
little Jimmy Baldwin, baby.

You got to go to Another Country

if you want to get
to Giovanni's Room.

Ha!

Now that's what
I'm talking about.

Half the time he didn't know

what the fuck Mr. Franklin
was talking about.

But that was cool,

'cause Franklin's words
would just wash over him

like a Bach fugue creeping out
of a cheap car stereo

on the brother side of midnight.

You know how when the music
goes right over your head

and straight into that part
of you which is most beautiful?

I mean, when your mind can't
grasp the music's math,

♪ And your heartbeat
has no clue ♪

♪ Your pilgrim soul just
follows the melody's path ♪

♪ Then it looks back ♪

♪ It looks back and says ♪

♪ I want to thank you, brother ♪

♪ Hey, I want to
thank you brother ♪

♪ Hey, I want to thank you
for this fugue ♪

♪ And it just is and is
and is so much ♪

♪ That whether you get it
or not it's got ♪

La Baker walking a panther
down the boulevard.

♪ Oh, oh, Adams and Crenshaw
is beautiful ♪

♪ And they are laughing
in the Sun ♪

♪ Then they parachute
into church ♪

♪ So they can sing
before practice is done ♪

♪ When they raise one voice ♪

♪ Stoned angels weep ♪

♪ Then he feels the Holy Ghost ♪

♪ And it's creeping up slowly ♪

Where should I go in Europe?

Anywhere.

Where did you go?

Nowhere.

Holy Father keeps me
on a short leash,

keeps me in check
by signing the checks.

You could say that he's
paying me to not be myself.

I could say that I'm chained
to the church piano.

But that would an insult
to actual slaves.

These were the parameters
of the cage.

Because you see, my boy,
slaves...

oh yeah, that's it.

Slaves got options.

Options, you dig?

I'm talking escape, revolt,
death.

Options.

But cowards ain't got shit.

Cowards only have consequences.

Dig me?

Hmm?

Do you dig me?

Hey, man, don't let him know
you're freaked out.

Say something clever.

I don't believe in God.

Does He know?

Does He know?

I appreciate your feeling
compelled to share

one of your deep and dirty
secrets with me.

That was very sweet of you.

I apologize if I went overboard.

So in this corner,

the sensitive, artistic soul.

And in this corner,

moi, La Franklin,

the wicked Baptist rebel.

Yet, in the end,

we're just two brothers passing.

Like your high yellow grandma
back in the day,

only we're passing
for black folks.

Ha.

Good lawn trimmin', tax payin',
morally upstanding,

narrow-minded Christian
black folk.

Now ain't that a bitch?

Black folks passing
for black folks.

That's a trip.

If it were any more real,
baby...

It'd be fiction.

Well.

Holler.

♪ And suddenly there
is meaning ♪

♪ Arlington Hill
helped him see everything ♪

♪ Yeah, suddenly there
is meaning ♪

♪ And everything's all right ♪

♪ See, everything's all right ♪

♪ Oh, but is everything... ♪

♪ Everything... ♪

♪ All right? ♪

♪ Is all right ♪

♪ I said, is everything... ♪

♪ Everything ♪

♪ All right? ♪

♪ It's all right ♪

♪ Is it all right now? ♪

♪ Everything's all right ♪

♪ Is it all right now? ♪

♪ Everything's all right ♪

♪ Is it all right, all right,
all right, all right? ♪

♪ Everything's all right ♪

♪ Everything's all right ♪

♪ Everything's all right ♪

♪ Everything's all right ♪

Get up!

Find a garage
with a lot of space.

Get Sherry to buy
a little pawnshop bass.

And if Terry can't play,
just make him understand.

It ain't no problem.

This is punk rock, man!

I suck!

I suck, I suck!

Told you I couldn't play drums.

And we should've believed you.

Look, it's not
about playing the right notes.

It's about pure energy
and relentless self-expression.

My dad says the odds of making
it in the music biz are zero.

So go sell air conditioners
like him.

Yeah, just forget
about our music career.

- We have no music career.
We suck!

Hey, I'd rather suck at this

than be great at selling
air conditioners.

Do you think your dad is happy?

Can we play the fucking song?

Go ask him.

Ladies and jerks,

we are...

The Scaryotypes!

- One, two, three, four!
One, two, three, four!

♪ I'm at war with Negro mores ♪

♪ I'm at war with ghetto norms ♪

♪ My mother stands in doorways
beggin' me to conform ♪

♪ Be a good football-playin'
snazzy-dressin' brother ♪

♪ So the sisters won't be able
to tell me from the others ♪

♪ Yeah I'm the sole brother
up in this motherfucker ♪

♪ Yeah I'm the sole brother
up in this motherfucker ♪

♪ Yeah I'm the sole brother
up in this motherfucker ♪

♪ Yeah I'm the sole
brother here ♪

So Roots blew your mind?

You didn't know it was that bad?

I learned that shit
in third grade

in Miss Medearis's class.

♪ But you're still
a bunch of slaves ♪

♪ And you're driving me insane ♪

♪ 'Cause the whip
across your shoulder ♪

♪ Is connected to your brain ♪

There are some sandwiches
in the den

for when you kids get hungry.

Mom! God.

One, two, three, four!
One, two, three, four!

♪ I'm the sole brother ♪

♪ And it's not all right ♪

♪ I'm the sole brother ♪

♪ And it's not all right ♪

♪ I'm the sole brother ♪

♪ And it's not all right ♪

♪ I'm the sole brother here ♪

Oh, yay!

Scaryotype!

Man, that was the best
it ever sounded.

We're gonna be huge.

Bravo, children!

Bravissimo!

Listen, my father
just informed me

that he's giving the youth choir

a Sunday all to ourselves.

Now, listen, this is gonna take
a lot of rehearsal.

We're rehearsing now, man.

Mon frère, is it time for
a little lesson in priorities?

Yeah, I guess it is.

Franklin, man,
us and the choir...

it ain't workin' for us no more.

What "ain't workin" '?

The double life shit
ain't workin'.

Double life?

- This band is our choir now.
We're writing our own songs.

Songs?

So that's what
you're calling them.

Spicing up the spirituals
with your stupid-ass

little arrangements
ain't got shit to do

with dealing with le real.

You see, we're gonna live
the way you just talk.

We're not in your
little car anymore.

Hey, Franklin, man.

We're rehearsing.

♪ The punk rock freight train
turned with the tide ♪

♪ Into a psychedelic
underground railroad ride ♪

Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds,
man.

My brother says this shit
is wicked.

Hold on to your hats.

Welcome to the new school
of slave rebellion.

♪ See, Terry's folks,
they went out of town ♪

♪ So they bought a sheet
and they all got down ♪

♪ Chandelier eyes
and electric chairs ♪

♪ Visit your mind
and spend two days there ♪

♪ Where every song sounds
just like an angels' choir ♪

♪ Your edges get rounded ♪

♪ You'll have wings of fire ♪

♪ Soaring through the sky ♪

♪ They must have been ♪

We got to tour, man.

I can't wait to tour
the country.

Fuck this fishbowl.

If we're gonna deal
with the real,

we got to tour Europe.

Hendrix had to go there
to get famous.

America can't handle
freaky Negroes.

Knee grows.

We got to start saving money
to get over there.

We're not going anywhere.

What?

Shut up.

We're tripping now,
but when this trip is over,

we're still gonna be right here,

just north of the 10 freeway

between Crenshaw Boulevard
and West Boulevard

on 4257 Saturn,

Saturn, Saturn, Saturn Drive.

And you want to know why, man?

Because we're not going
anywhere!

That's bullshit, man.

Is not!

It's been two years,

and I still can't find
my natural sense of rhythm.

- Make him stop.
- Look at Franklin!

Look at him!
He never made it out.

Oh, you really think
you're better than him?

Do you?

Look, man it's not about who's
better than...

We're all gonna wake up one
day and be 30 years old, man!

Why you got to get all morbid
and shit, man?

Oh, God.

It's happening right now.

Look, I'm aging.

I'm aging.

My skin is wrinkling.

You're just high, man.

That's no excuse!

I just turned 30.

I'm 30, and my life is over.

I haven't even been to SeaWorld.

That's okay.

That's okay because I'll just
go there with my boring wife

who hates music

and my ugly kids who hate me.

Help me, somebody.

I'm a resident of Los Angeles.

I know what it's like
to be dead.

Well, we'll just have to get
another drummer.

We're a band.

How can you say that?

We can't make it unless
we make the band our lives.

And he's scared.

So what if I get scared?

You gonna kick me out too?

♪ And everything mattered ♪

♪ It's so different now ♪

♪ The ashes were scattered ♪

♪ They moved on somehow ♪

♪ Never asking why ♪

♪ They must have been high ♪

Terry?

Terry, we have to go.

♪ They must have been high ♪

♪ Sitting on the balcony
watching the rail rust ♪

♪ Time slips
through your fingers ♪

♪ Slips through your fingers
just like angel dust ♪

♪ Slips through your fingers
just like angel dust ♪

♪ Slips through your fingers
just like angel dust ♪

♪ Slips through your fingers
just like angel dust ♪

♪ It's breaking your heart ♪

♪ His questioning
of everything ♪

♪ Unannounced, he's flown ♪

♪ Out from under your wing ♪

♪ I'm hardly afraid ♪

♪ Of your new world's
strange design ♪

♪ Why don't you make room
for me ♪

♪ As I made room for you
in mine? ♪

♪ See, I've been running
from this world ♪

♪ For far longer than you ♪

♪ But I didn't know
where else to go ♪

♪ And so I hid from it in you ♪

♪ And then for a time
this world was yours and mine ♪

♪ And that was only yesterday,
you see ♪

♪ But now you've got
your own thing ♪

♪ And it does not include me ♪

♪ It's breaking her heart ♪

♪ She says you seem so distant
these days ♪

♪ Unannounced you've grown ♪

♪ Into a living thing ♪

♪ Into a living thing ♪

♪ Into a living thing ♪

♪ Into a living thing ♪

all: There he is!

How nice of Mr. Musician
to grace us with his presence.

Seems like we never see you
anymore.

You still messin' around
with that guitar?

Terry and Sherry gave up
that mess a long time ago.

All: Mm-mm-mm.

Instead of trying
to find yourself,

why don't you try to find a job?

"I'm just tryin' ta' live
mah life."

You better leave
that kind of crap to whitey!

♪ Got to get away from these
Philistines, Philistines ♪

all: ♪ This is your life ♪

♪ And it's the only one
you've got ♪

♪ This is your life ♪

♪ And there ain't no way out ♪

♪ Oh, oh, whoa ♪

♪ Make room for me ♪

♪ As I made room for you ♪

Ain't no way out, huh?

Is that what you think?

Well, guess what.

You know what I'm saving
money for?

I'm going to Europe

and not just to visit.

I'm moving there for good.

♪ At this point in the play
we were planning a show tune ♪

♪ An upbeat
"got to leave this town" ♪

♪ Kind of show tune ♪

♪ But we don't know how to write
those kind of tunes ♪

However, we do know

how to make fun of European
avant-garde cinema.

So without further ado...

I have my ticket.

Such a selfish person
I never dreamed I'd raise.

And how callously
you serve me my fate,

to die alone
in this shell of a house.

This brings me no joy.

Joy is for children.

Then I remain a child.

What is wrong
with a comfortable home,

a loving family,
and sunshine all year round?

All of the above.

People died so that you might
enjoy these comforts.

And those comforts
are killing me.

How can you be
so unappreciative?

It's easy.

My dream is to live
as an artist.

Love is more real than a dream.

What would you know
about dreams?

That they can haunt you
to your grave,

that they can be...

torture.

You torture me with love

when what I need
is understanding.

You formed inside my body.

I understand everything
about you.

You understand nothing!

Clearly you've never
had a dream.

Is that what you think?

Not a dream like mine,
not a dream like this.

I am at least owed
an explanation

for why you are
destroying my life.

♪ Well, it's something
like this ♪

♪ La, la, la, la, la ♪

♪ La, la, la, la, la ♪

♪ Uh-huh ♪

♪ La, la, la, la, la ♪

♪ La, la, la, la, la ♪

♪ Yeah ♪

♪ La, la, la, la, la ♪

♪ La, la, la, la, la ♪

♪ Whoo-whee! ♪

♪ La, la, la, la, la ♪

♪ La, la, la, la, la ♪

♪ Naked girls
at breakfast tables ♪

♪ Talking Hegel and Camus ♪

♪ Adieu, Disneyland! ♪

♪ While men dressed up
in Gauloises smoke ♪

♪ Quote Marx right back at you ♪

♪ Auf Wiedersehen, LAPD! ♪

♪ All this might seem obscure ♪

♪ That would depend
on who you are ♪

♪ Ciao, ciao, Mr. Reagan. ♪

♪ Fellini, Truffaut, Pasolini ♪

♪ And don't forget
Monsieur Godard ♪

♪ Can you dig it? ♪

♪ Welcome aboard
Air Amsterdam Flight Zero ♪

♪ A panorama of sculpture ♪

♪ Of music
painting and culture ♪

♪ Nonstop to the real ♪

♪ An intellectual arcade ♪

♪ Did I say he needed
to get laid? ♪

♪ La, la, la, la, la ♪

♪ La, la, la, la, la ♪

♪ La, la, la, la, la ♪

Hey.

Hi.

♪ It's culture! ♪

♪ La, la, la, la, la ♪

♪ La, la, la, la, la ♪

♪ La, la, la, la, la ♪

♪ La, la, la, la, la ♪

♪ La, la, la, la, la ♪

♪ It's culture ♪

♪ La, la, la, la, la ♪

♪ La, la, la, la, la ♪

♪ La, la, la, la, la ♪

♪ La, la, la, la, la ♪

♪ La, la, la, la, la ♪

♪ Let's get some culture, baby ♪

♪ Whoo! ♪

Oh, baby.

♪ Amsterdam, spring sunshine ♪

♪ Amsterdam, spring sunshine ♪

♪ Ahh, ahh, ahh ♪

♪ So now let's jet the scene
of the crime ♪

♪ Touch down in
once upon a time ♪

♪ As Plasticland gives way
to a new world born today ♪

♪ Amsterdam, spring sunshine ♪

♪ And the vibe is alive
and the girls look fine ♪

♪ He sits in a cafè
like Baldwin in the day ♪

♪ Day-Glo walls incense air ♪

♪ Lounging 'round
in velvet chairs ♪

♪ So glad he took the trip ♪

♪ Out the slaveholder's grip ♪

He knew his destiny was looming,
and an epiphany was blooming.

And the lost
was gonna get profound.

And the real was about
to go down.

And he saw
that his whole journey

through the bowels
of the middle-class coon show

had led him
to this single moment

of utter crystalline clarity,

for the real was to be revealed
right here

within this very venue.

There's hashish on the menu

and prostitutes in windows,
all vices in full view.

Everything was
in its proper place,

including the smile on his face.

♪ Like another coffee
while you make up your mind? ♪

♪ Thank you, yes, excuse me ♪

♪ I'm still startled
by the sign ♪

♪ This one's free, man,
it's on me ♪

♪ You don't have to pay ♪

♪ How's about a sample
of the special of the day ♪

♪ This your first time? ♪

♪ Does it show? ♪

♪ I'm like an ice cube
gone to melt ♪

♪ I hope you find yourself
at home ♪

♪ I like the cards
that I've been dealt ♪

♪ And how's your mind? ♪

♪ Oh, it's blown ♪

♪ It's a vibe I've never felt ♪

♪ Welcome to Amsterdam ♪

♪ Amsterdam ♪

♪ I'm your flight attendant,
Miss Renata Hcholiday ♪

♪ Welcome to Amsterdam ♪

♪ Amsterdam ♪

♪ And I welcome you
most happily ♪

♪ To our little cafè ♪

No way.

I'm Renata.

I make abstract drawings

because representational art
is just an ego stroke, you know?

I'm Christoph.

I'm a philosophy professor
and part-time sex worker.

You could say,
I hook, therefore I...

♪ Amsterdam ♪

♪ Amsterdam ♪

My name is Joop,

and I believe everyone
should be naked all the time.

Clothes are chains from which
we must break free.

I'm naked, therefore I...

♪ Amsterdam ♪

♪ Amsterdam ♪

I'm Marianna,
and I'm into tantric meditation,

organic psychedelics,
and white magic.

White magic.

Wow.

And anything that's beyond
my understanding.

White magic.

Wow.

Ja.

It might sound strange,
but that's just who I...

♪ Amsterdam ♪

♪ Amsterdam ♪

♪ The enlightened
aren't frightened ♪

♪ We let untamed spirits roam ♪

♪ Welcome to Amsterdam ♪

♪ Amsterdam ♪

♪ But we're
the freedom experts, man ♪

♪ So don't try this at home ♪

♪ Only in Amsterdam ♪

♪ Amsterdam ♪

♪ While there ain't no witch
or a yellow brick road... ♪

♪ It's an emerald city
after two bong loads ♪

♪ Amsterdam ♪

♪ Amsterdam ♪

♪ You can trip all day
till your mind just melts ♪

♪ Makes Berkeley look like
the Bible Belt ♪

♪ Amsterdam ♪

♪ Amsterdam ♪

♪ Whoo! ♪

♪ The pilgrim made
some progress ♪

♪ And was pleased
he'd gone forth ♪

♪ I done broke my chains
and escaped to the North ♪

♪ He was gonna meet
his destiny ♪

♪ Before he met his maker yeah ♪

♪ King James Baldwin ♪

♪ Queen Josephine Baker ♪

♪ They blazed his trail ♪

♪ When they stepped
out of line ♪

♪ They owned Paris
and Amsterdam's gonna be mine ♪

♪ He was born again ♪

♪ See, the real was at hand ♪

♪ Oh, hallelujah ♪

♪ I'm standin'
on the promised land ♪

♪ It was like they'd been
expecting him ♪

- ♪ Whoo! ♪
- ♪ Whoo! ♪

♪ Like they knew
he was on the way ♪

♪ Those casually enlightened
regulars ♪

♪ Have a seat ♪

♪ Here at
the Headquarters Cafè ♪

♪ Yeah ♪

So do you play jazz?

Do you play da blues?

Do you live
in a fuckin' windmill?

Do you wear clog shoes?

You should play here
at Headquarters.

Is Titia still out of town?

Where do you stay tonight?

The wire got connected.

Oh, I guess I'll find a hotel.

The mistake got corrected.

A hotel?

Don't you know where you are?

Then she made him understand.

We're your new family, man.

♪ Hey, Mr. L.A. ♪

♪ I know a place
that you can stay ♪

♪ Right next door to here
is a nice flat ♪

♪ Yeah, it's okay ♪

♪ The roommate's gone to Spain ♪

♪ The place is sloppy ♪

♪ It's insane ♪

♪ But the sun shines
through big windows ♪

♪ Only Dracula would complain ♪

♪ No one's ever there ♪

♪ You'll have your peace ♪

♪ There's a view
and a bottle of gin ♪

♪ She's back in, oh,
two or three weeks ♪

♪ Her room would be all yours
till then ♪

♪ So here's the keys ♪

Oh, you mean...

♪ My keys ♪

Wow, I mean...

♪ Here is my address, you see ♪

♪ It's really quite a mess ♪

♪ But take them, please ♪

♪ My keys ♪

♪ I got an extra set
back at the place ♪

♪ So take mine now ♪

♪ That's just in case
you'll need ♪

♪ My keys ♪

♪ My keys ♪

♪ She had a crazy
mixed-up flat ♪

♪ He wasn't thinking
about that ♪

♪ You know the bed
was kind of hard ♪

♪ A prison cot cum yoga mat ♪

♪ 10,000 paintings everywhere ♪

♪ She was kind of an acrobat ♪

♪ Oh, you were lucky
to find a chair ♪

♪ The sweetest dump
in which he'd sat ♪

♪ She had nude
photos everywhere ♪

♪ From freaky deeky
to plain arty ♪

♪ Some of her girlfriends
showered there ♪

♪ As you can see
Amsterdam's a party ♪

♪ I appreciate this more
than you could ever know ♪

♪ I promise I won't
break a thing ♪

♪ Don't promise ♪

♪ You never know ♪

♪ My place ain't
all that wonderful ♪

♪ But I hope
you find it comfortable ♪

♪ So please ♪

♪ Take my keys ♪

♪ The faucets leak ♪

♪ The cupboard's bare ♪

♪ My underwear are everywhere ♪

♪ But please ♪

♪ Take my keys ♪

♪ Take my keys ♪

♪ And after so long
feelin' so alone ♪

♪ I feel like picking
up the phone ♪

♪ And calling up that place
called home ♪

♪ To say I found
a brand-new family ♪

♪ Where I can be
that thing called me ♪

♪ No more saying uncle
to Uncle Sam ♪

♪ I'm telling L.A.
just where I am ♪

♪ Color me Amsterdam ♪

♪ Amsterdam ♪

♪ So after
a little conversation ♪

♪ He's got keys to her flat ♪

♪ After a little conversation ♪

♪ He just walks across
her welcome mat ♪

♪ Now who woulda thought
trust could be bought ♪

♪ For a song
and a little chat? ♪

♪ See, he had friends
and family ♪

♪ Nowhere near as cool as that ♪

♪ She gave him these ♪

♪ Her keys ♪

♪ Now, in Beverly Hills
they gave him chills ♪

♪ And South Central put his soul
in the deep freeze ♪

♪ Brrrr ♪

♪ But she gave him her keys ♪

♪ You know those L.A. ladies
in their Mercedes ♪

♪ They locked their doors
if he'd just sneeze ♪

Now he's like "Bitch, please!

She gave me her keys."

♪ He said "The kind of place
I want to be ♪"

♪ Is where no one's cold
or scared of me" ♪

♪ And then she handed
him these ♪

♪ Her keys ♪

♪ Yeah, I guess no one
ever made him feel as real ♪

♪ As when she mended him ♪

♪ By lending him her keys ♪

♪ And said,
"Welcome to Amsterdam ♪

♪ "Welcome to Amsterdam ♪

♪ Welcome to Amsterdam" ♪

♪ She said "Yeah, it might look
like Sodom from top to bottom ♪"

♪ "A shopping mall of vice ♪

♪ But it's all right
with me now" ♪

♪ It's all right ♪

♪ She said it's all right ♪

♪ Yeah, it's all right ♪

♪ She said "Yeah, it might
look like Sodom ♪"

♪ "From top to bottom ♪

♪ "A shopping mall of vice ♪

♪ But it's all right
with me now" ♪

♪ Yeah, it's all right ♪

♪ She said it's all right ♪

♪ Yeah, it's all right ♪

♪ She said "Hey, it might look
like Sodom ♪"

♪ "From top to bottom ♪

♪ "A shopping mall of vice ♪

♪ But it's all right
with me now" ♪

♪ Yeah, it's all right ♪

♪ 'Cause Gibbs
said it's all right ♪

♪ Yeah, it's all right ♪

♪ And Heidi
said it's all right ♪

♪ Yeah, it's all right ♪

♪ And Christian
said it's all right ♪

♪ Yeah, it's all right ♪

♪ And Spurney said
it's all right ♪

♪ Yeah, it's all right ♪

♪ The band said it's all right ♪

♪ Yeah, it's all right ♪

♪ And the actors say
it's all right ♪

♪ Yeah, it's all right ♪

♪ The actors say
it's all right ♪

♪ Yeah, it's all right ♪

♪ And James Baldwin
said it's all right ♪

♪ Yeah, it's all right ♪

♪ He told me it was all right ♪

♪ Yeah, it's all right ♪

♪ And Chester Himes
said it's all right ♪

♪ Yeah, it's all right ♪

♪ And Richard Wright
said it's all right ♪

♪ Yeah, it's all right ♪

♪ And Josephine Baker
said it's all right ♪

♪ Yeah, it's all right ♪

♪ She came and told me
it was all nice ♪

♪ Yeah, it's all right ♪

♪ Then she told me
it was, whoo! ♪

♪ Yeah, it's all right ♪

♪ Yeah, it's all right ♪

♪ Yeah, it's all right ♪

♪ Yeah, it's all right ♪

♪ She said it's all right ♪

♪ Yeah, it's all right ♪

♪ Josephine Baker said
it's all right ♪

♪ Yeah, it's all right ♪

♪ And then she said,
"Get up, Stew" ♪

♪ Yeah, it's all right ♪

♪ She told me "Get up, now!" ♪

♪ Yeah, it's all right ♪

♪ She told me "Get up, now!" ♪

♪ Yeah, it's all right ♪

♪ She told me "Get up, now!" ♪

♪ Yeah, it's all right ♪

♪ She told me "Get up, now!" ♪

♪ Yeah, it's all right ♪

♪ She told me "Get up, Stew!" ♪

♪ Yeah, it's all right ♪

♪ She told me "Get up, now!" ♪

♪ Yeah, it's all right ♪

♪ She told me "Get up, now!" ♪

♪ Yeah, it's all right ♪

♪ And then she said ♪

♪ "Oh, oh, oh!" ♪

♪ Go wicked on me ♪

♪ Yeah, it's all right ♪

♪ Yeah, it's all right ♪

♪ Yeah, it's all right ♪

♪ Yeah, it's all right ♪

♪ It feels all right to me ♪

♪ Yeah, it's all right ♪

♪ It feels all right to me ♪

♪ Yeah, it's all right ♪

♪ It feels all right to me ♪

♪ Yeah, it's all right ♪

♪ It feels all right to me ♪

♪ Yeah, it's all right ♪

♪ It feels all right to me ♪

♪ Yeah, it's all right ♪

♪ It feels all right to me ♪

♪ Yeah, it's all right ♪

♪ It feels all right to me ♪

♪ Yeah, it's all right ♪

♪ It feels all right to me ♪

♪ Yeah, it's all right ♪

♪ Hey, see it's all right,
all right ♪

♪ It's all right, all right ♪

♪ It's all right, all right ♪

♪ Whoo! ♪

Welcome to Amsterdam.

♪ It's all right with me, yeah ♪

♪ It may look like
Sodom and Gomorrah ♪

♪ But who could ask ♪

♪ For more-a? ♪

Are we disturbing the moment
of creation?

"The moment of creation"?

My God, Marianna.

Songwriting is a job
like any other.

It's a sacred calling.

It doesn't make you special.

I ask you,

who can fathom
the mysteries of music?

It's a fathomless mystery, yeah.

Yeah.

Often I feel as if it's
the song that's writing me.

Oh.

Hey, tell me your secret.

Where, I ask you,

♪ Where do songs come from? ♪

♪ Open up the flood gates ♪

♪ Knock down all your fences ♪

♪ The real is just
around the corner ♪

♪ Test-drive your new senses ♪

♪ Unfetter, un-sweater ♪

♪ It's wetter ♪

♪ And it just keeps getting
better and better ♪

♪ And better and better ♪

♪ We just had sex ♪

♪ There's nothing sleazy
'bout a natural reflex ♪

♪ It's nice and easy ♪

♪ No need to crane your necks ♪

♪ It's all cool breezy, baby ♪

♪ What's a little
bedroom traffic? ♪

♪ Evening news is pornographic ♪

♪ We just had sex ♪

♪ That's right,
all three of us ♪

♪ It's not complex ♪

♪ It's no big deal at all ♪

♪ We'll smoke cigarettes
and probably talk about... ♪

♪ 10 or 15 things... ♪

♪ Before anyone
brings up the fact that... ♪

♪ We just had sex ♪

♪ To keep it fresh sometimes
we shuffle the decks ♪

♪ We realize that this might
fog up your specs ♪

♪ But that's just how it goes ♪

♪ You might find it
quite risquè ♪

♪ But it's the European way ♪

♪ La, la, la, la, la ♪

♪ La, la, la, la, la, la ♪

♪ Contessa ♪

♪ Don't get too vexed ♪

♪ It's really no big deal ♪

♪ That we just had sex ♪

♪ And now we're gonna
roll five big cigarettes ♪

♪ And have a cup of coffee ♪

♪ I love how they're
so nonchalant ♪

♪ About the only thing I want ♪

♪ The pilgrim crossed
both land and sea ♪

♪ To find a cathedral home ♪

♪ Then two girl Jesus'
colored him Lazarus ♪

♪ And rolled away the stone ♪

"Dear Mr. Franklin,

"Today I don't feel as ugly
as I did yesterday.

"In high school gym showers,

"I crouched in shame
like Adam in the garden.

"But this morning in Amsterdam,
I was ten foot tall

"on a movie screen staring down
at myself in the back row.

"And today in Amsterdam,
I sat before her

"as she explained the history
of Dutch colonialism

"without her shirt on.

"Today in Amsterdam,
their tobacco mouths tasted

"like sweet blood oranges.

"Today in Amsterdam,

"I learned how to pronounce
their last names,

"lost track of how many
times I came,

♪ "And stared out of windows
and nothing was the same ♪

"Today in Amsterdam,
the unspeakable beauty

"of overflowing ashtrays,

"espresso gone cold
and a half-smoked joint

"on the table awed me.

"Today in Amsterdam,
the charcoal drawing

"she made of me naked
doesn't look as ugly"

"as I felt yesterday."

"This is the real
city of angels.

"They remade me in their image.

"Did I say already,
Mr. Franklin,

"that today in Amsterdam,

"they taught me
how to wear my body?

"Today I learned
that even if it's ugly, man,

"you got to wear it like a gown.

Now I can write
some real songs."

He writes his own songs,
you know.

♪ He measured time passing
in hits from the bong ♪

♪ All-day cafè hangs
and unfinished songs ♪

♪ Then her keys weighed more
than the axe in his hands ♪

♪ When he tried
to write a song ♪

♪ He knew she wouldn't
understand ♪

It's such a beautiful
Sunday morning.

♪ She's living
in a phony paradise ♪

No, wait.

♪ So many things
she doesn't realize ♪

♪ She's basking
in hell's sunshine ♪

How does this song go?

He's just going through a phase.

Even artists have to grow up.

♪ He's trying to write a song ♪

♪ But the song is writing him ♪

♪ It's a song about paradise
wearing thin ♪

After all, a real man
doesn't ignore his loved ones.

No, sir.

♪ Today paradise was the enemy ♪

♪ Today the real
became routine ♪

♪ Today my edges
dulled together ♪

♪ Yeah, that's it ♪

♪ And there's no point left
to dream ♪

♪ I want to scream ♪

♪ Mama ♪

♪ Marianna and Moroccan hash
have got me stoned ♪

♪ And I can't find my way home ♪

♪ Mama ♪

♪ She's serving every one
of my desires on a platter ♪

♪ But it doesn't
even matter anymore ♪

♪ Oh, oh, oh,
paradise is a bore ♪

♪ It doesn't even
matter anymore ♪

♪ Oh, oh, oh,
paradise is a bore ♪

♪ It doesn't even
matter anymore ♪

♪ Oh, paradise is a bore ♪

You get it?

Yeah, I got it.

I thought everything
was all right.

It's hard to write songs
when you're already in paradise.

Ah, so I see the problem.

It's like I can't get
too comfortable.

Otherwise I'll forget

all the shit there is
to complain about.

How wonderfully neurotic.

It's good you're going
to Berlin.

You'll fit right in.

You're making this so easy
for me.

Why make things hard?

♪ Well, here's your keys ♪

Keys to her city
opened his floodgates.

He followed her river's weave.

The same keys that gave him
the power to stay

now gave him the courage
to leave.

She gave him these.

You know, there's so much more
to Amsterdam

than hash bars
and squatted houses.

One day maybe you'll know
the real city.

So if Berlin sucks,
I can come back to you.

No.

♪ No one ever made him feel
as real ♪

♪ As when she mended him
by lending him... ♪

♪ Hey, I got to leave ♪

♪ Her keys ♪

♪ Right when it was starting
to feel real ♪

♪ Why you want to leave? ♪

♪ Right when it was starting
to feel real ♪

♪ Why you want to leave? ♪

♪ Right when it was starting
to feel real ♪

♪ It doesn't even
matter anymore ♪

♪ Why you want to leave? ♪

♪ Oh, oh, paradise is a bore ♪

♪ But it doesn't
even matter anymore ♪

♪ Paradise is a bore ♪

♪ Right when it was starting
to feel real ♪

♪ Why you want to leave? ♪

♪ Oh daisy chain
of soulful days ♪

♪ Good-bye, city of Amsterdam ♪

♪ Sometimes the melody's
goin' one way ♪

♪ And then the song
has other plans ♪

We're gonna take a little break
right now

and come back with all
to reveal.

♪ Right when it was starting
to feel real ♪

- Oh, Lord!
- Yeah, I know.

What's going on?

We are all completely
drenched today.

Oh, my God.

Are you serious?

Hey, I'm walking away
from the stage.

Fix the sound.

It's not our problem.

Hello, here's your hat.

Oh, thank you very much.

Are you gonna change your shirt?

Eventually, yeah.

Okay.

Hmm, hmm, hmm.

How do I turn him off?

That's pretty.

Okay, okay, fix me up.

- Lights.
- Here we go.

Whew.

♪ Berlin:
A black hole with taxis ♪

♪ Berlin:
A forest of sharp corners ♪

♪ Berlin: Swallowed if harmful ♪

♪ It was two miles from right ♪

♪ It was always all night ♪

♪ A concrete pool that kept
diving into you blind ♪

♪ Berlin was always
creeping up ♪

♪ From behind ♪

Ausweis!

Huh?

Identity, your identity.

My identity?

Pass!

- Okay.
- Pass!

I don't know what you're saying.

Give me your passport!

♪ Mayday, Mayday,
there's a riot going down ♪

♪ In a deep, dark corner
of West Berlin town ♪

♪ Mayday, Mayday,
there's a riot going down ♪

♪ In a deep, dark corner
of West Berlin town ♪

♪ Mayday, Mayday,
there's a riot going down ♪

♪ In a deep, dark corner
of West Berlin town ♪

♪ Mayday, Mayday,
there's a riot going down ♪

♪ In a deep, dark corner
of West Berlin town ♪

Narrative is a capitalist plot.

Meet Hugo, bitter music critic
and part-time bartender.

He poured a mean
Molotov cocktail.

Pop music is the religion
of the opiated!

Und zat means you,
fascist piggies!

Make movies, not love!

And here's Sudabey,

postmodern pornographer
and social critic.

I greet you.

Whoa, Jesus!

My porno films feature
fully clothed men

making business deals.

Yeah, that sounds hot.

♪ Molotov cocktails
are turning up the heat ♪

♪ And the overturned cars
are burning in the street ♪

♪ And the people
keep on screaming ♪

♪ And the billy clubs
are swinging ♪

♪ And the people
keep on screaming ♪

♪ And the billy clubs
are swinging ♪

♪ Molotov cocktails
are turning up the heat ♪

♪ And the overturned cars
are burning in the street ♪

♪ And the people
keep on screaming ♪

♪ And the billy clubs
are swinging ♪

♪ And the people
keep on screaming ♪

♪ And the billy clubs
are swinging ♪

♪ What the fuck is going on? ♪

♪ What the fuck
is going wrong? ♪

♪ Can I get a straight answer? ♪

♪ Uh, uh! ♪

♪ Motherfucker! ♪

♪ What the fuck is going on? ♪

♪ What the fuck
is going wrong? ♪

♪ Can I get a straight answer? ♪

♪ Check the chorus
of this song ♪

♪ Mayday, Mayday,
there's a riot going down ♪

♪ Mayday, Mayday,
there's a riot going down ♪

♪ Mayday, Mayday,
there's a riot going down ♪

♪ Mayday, Mayday,
there's a riot going down ♪

And then she came
to the rescue...

♪ Miss Desi, that is ♪

♪ Desi, Desi, that is ♪

♪ She was a left-wing
love machine ♪

♪ Can you dig it? ♪

♪ She was uptight,
out-of-sight ♪

♪ Workers of the world unite ♪

♪ Workers of the world unite ♪

♪ Whoo-whee! ♪

♪ All night ♪

♪ Until you get it ♪

Have a discussion with ze hand!

A woman can speak for herself.

Yeah, that's right.

Ich bin Desi.

Welcome to our riot.

And when Desi started talkin',
everybody got quiet.

♪ I am the founder of Nowhaus ♪

♪ The home where life
becomes art ♪

♪ It's a halfway house,
I guess you could say ♪

♪ For those who have
to live life more than halfway ♪

♪ I don't write or paint
or sculpt, you see ♪

♪ My masterpiece
is this family ♪

♪ I've built
this radical sanctuary ♪

♪ Where only love
is revolutionary ♪

Hey, what do you say
after this riot

we grab ourselves
a little drink?

Hey, man!

♪ Nowhaus was not looking
for your real ♪

♪ Nowhaus was not looking
for the real ♪

♪ Nowhaus built the real
with their ideals ♪

♪ Nowhaus built the real
with their ideals ♪

♪ Nowhaus was not looking
for your real ♪

♪ Nowhaus was not looking
for the real ♪

♪ Nowhaus built the real
with their ideals ♪

♪ Nowhaus built the real
with their ideals ♪

♪ And then the sirens sang
a hymn to him ♪

♪ To frame this episode ♪

♪ They sang, "Are you ready?" ♪

Yeah! ♪

- ♪ "Are you ready?" ♪
- ♪ Yeah! ♪

♪ Are you ready to explode? ♪

♪ And then the billy clubs
stopped swinging ♪

♪ And the police
held their breath ♪

♪ What's inside is just a lie ♪

♪ Molotov cocktails
cops could handle ♪

♪ But performance art
scared them to death ♪

♪ What's inside is just a lie ♪

♪ And then the front line
of the uprising ♪

♪ Became a gilded stage ♪

♪ What's inside is just a lie ♪

♪ There's only surface ♪

♪ Welcome to Mr. Venus'
riot cabaret ♪

♪ What's inside is just a lie ♪

♪ What's inside is just a lie ♪

♪ What's inside is just a lie ♪

♪ What's inside is just a lie ♪

♪ Ideas are dependable ♪

♪ There's a new one every week ♪

♪ Emotions are expendable ♪

♪ Because they aren't unique ♪

♪ Ideas are dependable ♪

♪ There's a new one every week ♪

♪ Emotions are expendable ♪

♪ Because they aren't unique ♪

Culture is cosmetic.

Culture is cosmetic.

Culture is cosmetic.

Culture is cosmetic.

♪ What's inside is just a lie ♪

♪ What's inside is just a lie ♪

♪ What's inside is just a lie ♪

♪ What's inside is just a lie ♪

thud!

Now, say your songs sounded
like this...

♪ Don't try to hide ♪

♪ The truth is inside ♪

And then you heard this...

♪ What's inside is just a lie! ♪

It would have to make some
kind of impression on you,

now, wouldn't it?

Or in other words,

♪ His song was ugly,
cold, and cracked ♪

♪ But Venus had something
our hero lacked ♪

♪ Courage to bleed ♪

♪ Venus gave him speed ♪

Okay, I know this is gonna sound
a little bit crazy,

but according to the
Nowhaus manifesto, and I quote,

"What's inside of each and every
one of us here in this room,

"what we mistakenly call
our thoughts,

"our feelings, and our dreams,

"have actually been put there
by a system.

Therefore"...

♪ What's inside is just a lie ♪

♪ Our minds have been invaded,
conquered, and occupied ♪

♪ Hence... ♪

♪ What's inside is just a lie ♪

♪ And like a catchy refrain ♪

♪ That gets trapped
in your head ♪

♪ What's inside is just a lie ♪

♪ Like a catchy refrain ♪

♪ That gets trapped
in your head ♪

♪ What's inside is just a lie ♪

♪ Somebody else's desires
get lodged in your brain ♪

♪ What's inside is just a lie ♪

♪ And so the only way
to become your true self... ♪

♪ I'm starting to feel real ♪

♪ You've got to create
your own self ♪

♪ I'm starting to feel real ♪

♪ You turn your life
into a work of art ♪

♪ You turn your life
into a work of art ♪

♪ That stands in opposition
to capitalist society ♪

♪ I'm starting to feel real ♪

♪ So the real that I've
been searching for ♪

♪ Is in the beauty
of these burning streets ♪

♪ It's the song I couldn't
write yesterday ♪

♪ What's inside is just a lie! ♪

♪ Till Mayday gave me
the courage to bleed ♪

♪ Only love is real, yeah ♪

♪ I'll write a song
called Revolution ♪

♪ What's inside ♪

♪ 'Cause Mayday gave me
the courage to bleed ♪

♪ Only love is real, yeah ♪

- ♪ And now I'm ready ♪
- ♪ Yeah! ♪

- ♪ And now I'm ready ♪
- ♪ Yeah! ♪

- ♪ And now I'm ready... ♪
- ♪ Yeah! ♪

♪ To explode! ♪

- ♪ And now I'm ready ♪
- ♪ Yeah! ♪

- ♪ And now I'm ready ♪
- ♪ Yeah! ♪

- ♪ And now I'm ready... ♪
- ♪ Yeah! ♪

♪ To explode! ♪

- ♪ And now I'm ready ♪
- ♪ Yeah! ♪

- ♪ And now I'm ready ♪
- ♪ Yeah! ♪

- ♪ And now I'm ready ♪
- ♪ Yeah! ♪

♪ To explode! ♪

Then they all walked back
to Nowhaus,

where the two sat down to tea.

Did I mention Desi and Hugo
just broke up recently?

Well, anyway,

life was revolutionary,
and love was almost free.

And the riot, comrade,
was you and...

That riot was me.

This is where me
and the real shall meet,

not in some stupid little song

but in the middle of the.

♪ Burning street
where she lives ♪

When they weren't taking
long afternoon walks

by the Berlin Wall,

mornings and evenings found Desi
and the new guest

taking tea in the Nowhaus
rec room

where she would open up
the world

and invite him inside.

The system wants us sick
and unsatisfied

so we'll mindlessly consume
their products

and call that living.

We're all damaged.

But here at Nowhaus,
we feel that healing

and the smashing of capitalism
go hand-in-hand.

Healing?

Art heals, man.

When we are
in the presence of art,

we are taking the cure.

And that's revolutionary.

I don't know how
we'd manage without it.

♪ She had an everyday solution ♪

♪ For the emptiness you'd feel ♪

♪ She called it revolution ♪

♪ She told him... ♪

Only love is real.

And days would pass,

and he would never know where
Desi ended and Berlin began.

He just knew that she was
a new kind of music,

the music of Mayday, man.

You didn't know that 80°/°
of the farming in Africa

is done by women?

Hey, I don't even know

who does 80°/° of the farming
in America.

♪ In L.A., okay,
the sun shines ♪

♪ Every single day of the year ♪

♪ But if you loved
paradise's confines ♪

♪ You wouldn't be sitting here ♪

And like the bank and the
burned-down supermarkets

still smoldering
in the distance,

his American soul had been razed
to the ground

by Desi's irresistible mind.

But out of the ashes
of him arose a new soul,

the soul of a young lion.

You cannot accuse
third-world men of being sexist

when sexism itself
is a Western concept.

Listen to you now!

We can't force our values
on them!

You can't ignore
the cultural specifics.

Nazism was culturally specific
to Germany.

Should we have ignored it?

Oh, that's...

wow, I walked right
into that one, didn't I?

Yes, you did.

Hey, I started off
pretty strong though.

Ja.

Not really.

Shit.

♪ She was a riotous proposal ♪

♪ She was an overthrow, a coup ♪

♪ She said
"The day's at your disposal ♪

♪ We can seize it, me and you" ♪

♪ And he would steal
her sweet blessings ♪

♪ And bathe all night
in her fire ♪

♪ But he never said ♪

♪ "Thank you for quenching
my desire ♪

♪ "Thank you for leading me
through the flames ♪

♪ "Through the noise,
through the chaos, ♪

♪ "Through the dark night
of your mind ♪

♪ And your small hand guiding me
through the teargas clouds," ♪

♪ He never said, he never said ♪

♪ He never said
"Hey, thank you" ♪

♪ For all the love she allowed ♪

♪ But he was thankful
in his way ♪

♪ Thankful for the music
of Mayday ♪

And when the house grew quiet

and the cigarette smoke curled
between them in the lamplight,

♪ He'd find her more
than beautiful ♪

♪ Staring out the window
onto the street ♪

♪ Almost whispering... ♪

The system does all kinds
of damage.

Ich Lieder dich.

Du liedst mich?

Baby, we need to work
on your German.

What'd I say?

"What'd I say?"

♪ Only love is real, yeah ♪

Ich Lieder dich?

Well, it means
"I love you," right?

Liebe is love.

Lieder means song.

You said, "I song you."

Oh.

♪ He depended on the music
of Mayday to heal ♪

♪ Depended on Desi to touch,
see, and feel ♪

♪ But we'll never know exactly
just what was the deal ♪

♪ Whether he heard her or not
when she said... ♪

♪ Only love is real ♪

♪ Did you hear her
when she said... ♪

♪ Only love is real ♪

♪ Did you hear her
when she said... ♪

♪ Only love is real ♪

♪ Only love is real ♪

♪ Only love is real ♪

♪ Only love is real ♪

It's about commitment
to your own vision

and having the courage
to bleed for it,

one uncompromising vision:

The orchestra conductor,
the puppet master.

The super revolutionary artist

must be prepared to trample
all in his path

to reach the final
aesthetic conquest:

The whole fucking world
as my own multimedia spectacle.

Mere mortals mate.

But only gods like us create.

You need to create a place
to stay tomorrow.

Your guest period is now over.

Auf Wiedersehen.

What do you mean?

Hey, I'm an artist too.

I belong here.

Nowhaus is a family
of art revolutionaries.

And you really don't seem like
a team player.

Look, Mr. American
Pop Song Maker,

if your songs do not critique

the hegemony of populist
consumption...

Or if they mimic
the phallocentric narrative

of verse, chorus, verse, chorus,
climax, fade out,

smoke a cigarette, turn over,

snore all night
and never call me again...

Then they are nothing more
than tools of the oppressor.

Wait a minute.

Rock and roll,
a tool of the oppressor?

- What about the Clash?
- Yeah, man!

The Clash.

Sandinista!

Punk rock was
a marketing strategy.

And what about zat Dutch girl

singing about her fucking keys?

Good for her.

She has a nice flat.

Heterosexual love lacks drama!

That's bullshit.

Welcome to an average day
among the Nowhaus tribe.

This little discussion lasted
for two whole weeks

until finally...

Look!

Let's cut to
the chase scene, ja?

Please, give us one reason why
we should allow you to stay.

Uh, well, uh...

Because I'm black?

All: What's that?

Yeah, Mr. May, '68.

Do you know what it's like to be
the object of oppression

living under police occupation
in the ghetto?

He did not.

His police-occupied ghetto
looked more like...

Your friend Terry
stopped by again

in that brand-new Datsun 240Z.

He's making good money.

And he's not even in a gang.

Well, let me ask you this,
Mr. Know-lt-All,

do you know what it's like

to hustle for dimes on the mean
streets of South Central?

Nobody in this play knows
what it's like

to hustle for dimes on the mean
streets of South Central.

His mean streets looked
more like...

I ran into Sherry
at the arts and crafts fair.

Boy, has she turned
into a beautiful young lady.

And as you know,
she is not a crack 'ho.

♪ Whoa! ♪

♪ Ever hear of the projects? ♪

♪ This palatial two-story
house feels empty without you ♪

♪ They call it the projects
'cause we all workin' ♪

♪ On a project called
"Just trying to live" ♪

♪ Whoa! To see tomorrow ♪

♪ And I'm working
on a project called ♪

♪ Furniture re-upholstering ♪

♪ For this wonderfully spacious,
almost-paid-for house ♪

♪ Nobody knows the trouble
I've seen ♪

♪ Nobody! ♪

♪ I come from hell on Earth ♪

♪ Illiteracy, guns, drugs,
insanity, decay... ♪

♪ I wish you'd call me
sometime ♪

♪ And death ♪

♪ Yeah, motherfuckers ♪

And I am no mere pop song maker.

I'm an artist.

My work is about reinvention.

My work is about transcendence.

My work is about the limits
of blackness.

♪ Whoa! ♪

♪ Whoo! ♪

Welcome to Nowhaus, comrade.

So blackness is the main
subject of your work?

Uh, yes and no.

In other words, "yo."

♪ Cast your eyes
to the center ring ♪

♪ Of a chilly art space
in the Nowhaus scene ♪

♪ Only the transgressors
can take this chance ♪

♪ Only the guest's listed
can enter this trance ♪

♪ In a metal skirt of bananas ♪

♪ He would do a song and dance ♪

♪ Strip your mind naked,
pilgrim ♪

♪ It's an opening, so take it,
pilgrim ♪

♪ Like Josephine Baker,
don't fake it, pilgrim ♪

Knock 'em dead,
my ghetto warrior.

♪ Just dance, dance, dance! ♪

Meine Damen und herrings,

in the most anticipated
Berlin debut in recent memory,

I force on you,

Mr. Middle Passage!

I am bleeding sunshine.

I am emptying my veins.

And when I'm done
bleeding sunshine,

this song will break my chains.

Your gaze completes my being,

but I'll make you gaze in vain.

I illuminate with fiction

the truth
darkness cannot explain.

♪ America is flowing ♪

♪ Slowly exiting my veins ♪

♪ I am giddy, cold and glowing ♪

♪ And this song will break
my chains ♪

♪ The chains of ♪

♪ I-i-i-i-i-i-i-dentity ♪

♪ The chains of ♪

♪ I-i-i-i-i-i-i-dentity ♪

♪ The chains of ♪

♪ I-i-i-i-i-i-i-dentity ♪

Why don't you want to be
around your own people?

♪ The key to the real
is finally in my hand ♪

♪ And now your expectations
are exiting my veins ♪

♪ The key to the real
is finally in my hand ♪

♪ And now your expectations
are flowing out my veins ♪

♪ Hit the wall ♪

♪ Free at last ♪

♪ Hit the wall ♪

♪ Free at last ♪

♪ I am the 20th century
incarnate ♪

♪ Hit the wall ♪

♪ Free at last ♪

♪ The 20th century coming home
covered in mud ♪

♪ And missing a shoe ♪

♪ Child, what's become of you? ♪

♪ Haven't you got any sense? ♪

♪ Child, what's become of you? ♪

♪ Haven't you got any sense? ♪

♪ Child, what's become of you? ♪

♪ Haven't you got any sense? ♪

♪ Nein, Mama, Nein, Mama
Nein, Mama ♪

♪ Nein, Mama, Mama, Mama, Mama
Mama, Mama, Mama, Mama ♪

Mutti, bist du da?

Hallo?

Mutti, kannst du ein bisschen
Geld für mir senden?

Hallo?

Mutti, wir haben ein
bad connection.

Wir haben ein bad connection.

Wir haben ein bad connection.

Wir haben ein bad connection.

Wir haben ein bad connection.

Wir haben ein bad connection!

Wir haben ein bad connection!

Connection, connection,
connection, connection,

connection.

Why don't you want to be
around your own people?

♪ My pain and my ego ♪

♪ Once stood at opposing ends ♪

♪ But they met up in Berlin ♪

♪ Now they're
the best of friends ♪

♪ And now I'm drained
of your expectations ♪

♪ I was instructed
from the start ♪

♪ To let my pain fuck my ego ♪

♪ And I call the bastard "art" ♪

Pain!

Ego!

Art!

Pain!

Ego!

Art!

- ♪ I let my... ♪
- ♪ Pain! ♪

- ♪ Fuck my... ♪
- ♪ Ego! ♪

- ♪ And I... ♪
- ♪ Call the bastard ♪

♪ Art ♪

- ♪ I let my... ♪
- ♪ Pain! ♪

- ♪ Fuck my... ♪
- ♪ Ego! ♪

- ♪ And I... ♪
- ♪ Call the bastard ♪

♪ Art ♪

- ♪ I let my... ♪
- ♪ Pain! ♪

- ♪ Fuck my... ♪
- ♪ Ego! ♪

- ♪ And I... ♪
- ♪ Call the bastard ♪

Only the slums of America
could produce such pain.

His ghetto angst
is far superior to ours.

Exquisite.

Like an orgasm in reverse.

We love you like an
anthropologist loves a tribe.

Tribes must love the attention.

I bet it makes them
feel like stars.

♪ Who lends the club
that speakeasy air? ♪

♪ The black one, the black one ♪

♪ Who dances like a god
and has wunderbar hair? ♪

♪ Der Schwarze ♪

♪ Now he's the life
of every soiree ♪

♪ He'll give the bum's rush
to your ennui ♪

♪ Turn up these lights
'cause I barely can see ♪

♪ The black one ♪

♪ Is he the postmodern
lawn jockey sculpture? ♪

♪ The black one ♪

♪ The black one ♪

♪ Or just a soul on a roll
exploding your culture? ♪

♪ That black one ♪

♪ An artist creates surfaces ♪

♪ And then comes the fee ♪

♪ He's doing the same thing ♪

♪ Except I call the surface me ♪

♪ He's dancing in a cage ♪

♪ But I'm the one with the key ♪

♪ And he's the black one ♪

♪ He's the real voice
of America ♪

♪ And Berlin listened closely ♪

♪ Speaking as a Negro
from there-ica ♪

♪ He was automatically... ♪

♪ Am I real now? ♪

♪ An expert on its evils... ♪

♪ Can I feel now? ♪

♪ An authority on its crimes ♪

♪ Am I real now? ♪

♪ And he could wax lyrical ♪

♪ His knowledge
was almost empirical ♪

♪ Of oppression from the present
back to slavery times ♪

♪ Ya, da, da, da ♪

♪ Da, da, da, da ♪

♪ Ga, ga, ga, ga ♪

all: ♪ Who lets us know
that we're in the right place? ♪

♪ The black one, the black one ♪

♪ Who's got Good Times
painted right on his face? ♪

♪ The black one ♪

♪ He's living truth ♪

♪ 'Cause his life is a dare ♪

♪ In L.A. he had two left feet ♪

♪ Our Berlin Fred Astaire ♪

♪ He's so down to Earth ♪

♪ When he's moonwalking on air ♪

♪ Just 'cause he's
the black one ♪

♪ I'm the ghetto warrior,
yowza! ♪

♪ Oh, the LAPD never thought
he was that cute ♪

♪ But now a squad of ice queens
are in hot pursuit ♪

♪ I'm Super Fly
in the buttermilk ♪

♪ And we find him sehr gut ♪

♪ 'Cause I'm the black one ♪

I envy you so much.

I want to be re-incarcerated
as a black man.

♪ Oh, yeah! ♪

Why do you lie
about who you are?

What?

This ghetto warrior persona,
it's not you.

Look, black people
go through hell

every fucking day
in America, okay?

I know that.

And you will never understand
the hell that I'm from.

Remember the story you told me
about your grandma,

the one who had to pass in order
to get a job?

Well, I think you are passing
for ghetto.

♪ Listening is waiting ♪

You came here to be real.

But you're not.

♪ Listening is waiting ♪

How can I love you
if I don't even know you?

♪ Now you are knee-deep
in your head's footnotes ♪

Let me see your pain.

♪ I'll take your complex
out of context ♪

Let me know the geography
of your hell.

♪ I've been listening
to you talking in your sleep ♪

♪ It's a strange poetry ♪

♪ You're always running
from something, it seems ♪

♪ Let me chase away
whatever's hurting you ♪

♪ Just have to ask it of me ♪

♪ My love is more real
than all your dreams ♪

♪ 'Cause I been thinking
about leaving ♪

♪ My fingerprints
on your being ♪

♪ I've been thinking
about leaving ♪

♪ My fingerprints
on your being ♪

♪ I've been thinking
about leaving ♪

♪ My fingerprints
on your being ♪

♪ It's like church now ♪

♪ Leaving, oh, oh, oh ♪

♪ So come down now ♪

♪ Remove your mask ♪

♪ See, all you got to do
is ask me ♪

♪ I'll give you all the love
life allows ♪

♪ So come down now ♪

♪ Remove your mask ♪

♪ See, all you got to do
is ask me ♪

♪ I'll give you all the love
life allows ♪

♪ All you got to do is ask me ♪

♪ All you got to do is ask me ♪

♪ All you got to do is ask me ♪

♪ All you got to do is ask me ♪

♪ All you got to do ♪

♪ What does this feeling
mean to you ♪

♪ Both to be seen
and to be seen through? ♪

♪ What does this feeling
mean to you ♪

♪ Both to be seen
and to be seen through? ♪

♪ See, love raged like an ocean
in a state of withdrawal ♪

♪ A fishbowl of emotion
and the Berlin Wall ♪

♪ Love raged like an ocean
in a state of withdrawal ♪

♪ Right when it was starting
to feel real ♪

♪ How you gonna deal? ♪

♪ It was starting to feel real ♪

♪ Right when it was starting
to feel real ♪

♪ It was starting to feel real ♪

♪ All you got to do is ask me ♪

♪ Feel real ♪

♪ How you gonna deal when
it's starting to feel real? ♪

♪ To feel real ♪

♪ To feel real ♪

♪ To feel real ♪

♪ How you gonna deal when
it's starting to feel real ♪

♪ To feel real ♪

♪ How you gonna deal when
it's starting to feel real? ♪

♪ To feel real ♪

♪ Ask me ♪

♪ To feel real ♪

♪ How you gonna deal when
it's starting to feel real? ♪

♪ To feel real ♪

♪ Ask me ♪

♪ All you got to do... ♪

Did that jacket I sent
fit all right?

The jacket?

Oh, yeah, the jacket.

No, it fits fine, Mom.

It's great.

Snazzy.

I know you're picky, but shoot.

When it's cold, a coat's a coat.

Yeah, that's right.

Home.

Well, seeing as how you didn't
make it out last year,

I know you're not gonna
let me down this Christmas.

Let you down?

It'd be nice
having you around, son, to talk.

But we're talking now, Mom.

Don't you miss the sunshine?

What do you want to talk about?

Oh, you know, lots of things.

Like?

Well, I mean, first of all,

you've been on this trip
of yours for so long.

Trip?

- And you're so hard to reach.
- Mom, this is not a trip.

And there are so many things
we have to talk about.

I live here now.

Important things.

We have important things
to talk about.

Mom, I live here now.

Did you hear me?

Now, one thing you need to
realize right here and now, son,

is that I am...

I mean, your family
is important.

You can't just sit over there
and act like I...

like we don't exist!

Family is not some...

some service you can take
advantage of for 20 years

and then cancel when it's
convenient for you.

It don't work like that.

I couldn't come back
even if I wanted to.

Why not?

Why leave a place where
I can be myself

to come back to a place
where I can't?

Why do you need a particular
place to be yourself?

Can't you be yourself at home?

No, Mom!

I'm already 22.

Life's passing me by.

Los Angeles is just death row
with palm trees.

I'm scared of waking up one day
and being...

Me?

Well, and not having lived
the life I wanted to live.

Your deep concern for yourself
is very moving.

It's touching, really.

Mom, you need to start focusing

on other things besides me,
like your own life.

We need to talk, son.

God, if I could focus on my art

like you focus on me,

I'd be Picasso by now.

Besides, what's waiting
for me in L.A., Mom?

Okay, look, Mom, there's this
show I got to do in Kassel

in like, I don't know,
two months or so.

And it's big, okay;
It's really big.

But then maybe sometime
after that,

I can start thinking about
when I can visit.

Is that okay?

Is that all right?

I love you.

But is that all right?

Mom, I said I'll try to visit
you as soon as I can.

Is that all right?

You see, brothers and sisters,
our hero, the fiery pilgrim,

never saw the point of love
without understanding.

How 'bout now?

♪ It's Christmastime
in old Berlin ♪

♪ And the snow is all about ♪

♪ What could this mean
to the Nowhaus scene? ♪

♪ The hero's about to find out ♪

One last piece
of house business.

I'm pleased to announce
that my seven-hour composition.

Shower Hum Song is finished.

Put the needle on the record.

Not so fast.

I've decided to unveil it
on Christmas Day.

Christmas Day?

Are you completely crazy?

I know, I know,
how embarrassingly.

Judeo-Christian of me.

But it's not about
a stupid holiday.

It's about how I feel.

Just being here is like
Christmas to me.

And the song is just something

for us to listen to
while we party.

No one is here for Christmas.

We all go home for ze holidays.

Home?

To our families in their
sleepy West German villages.

I am missing
my stupid old friends.

I cannot wait to lay around
with my teddy bears.

I love the look
on my father's face

when he serves
the blood sausages.

He remembers how I loved them
as a child

but forgets I'm a vegetarian.

You know, absence really does
make ze heart grow

into a state of mind
which somehow transforms

what you once could not stand
about your family

into a somehow quaint,
pleasure-giving construct.

Ain't zat ze truth?

So what, you're just
leaving me here all alone?

You said you'd never
be caught dead

in my backwards little village.

With her backwards
little parents.

It would be a nightmare for you.

It would be a nightmare
for your parents.

Well, why isn't your backwards
little village

a nightmare for you?

- Why do you think I left?
- I know why you left.

I'm just trying to figure out
why you're going back.

One week out of the year
I see my family.

I'm sorry, but I don't want
to take you.

What, you think I give a fuck

about your little
redneck village?

I just don't know why
you'd choose it

over spending Christmas with me.

Scheisse, man, it's my family.

It's Christmas.

Well, hey, I guess it's
just me and you, home skillet.

We'll hold the fort down.

I mean, this is Berlin,
God damn it.

Somebody's keeping it real
for Christmas, ain't they?

I'm going home.

Come, Hugo.

Come view my new
blue leather miniskirt.

Why should I want to see your...

Come see the goddamn miniskirt!

True love can only exist
after the revolution.

So much for me understanding
the geography of your hell.

When I visit my parents,
I barely speak.

There's an ocean between us.

They don't know who I am
or what I am doing.

And they will never,
ever understand me.

So why be with people
that don't understand you?

Because they love me.

But that seven-hour piece
was written for you.

I don't want to be a song.

I want to be loved.

And you don't know
the difference.

If you would like to learn
the difference, I'll stay.

It's not love
if somebody has to change.

Okay.

I don't want to be a song.

As snow began to fall,

all Christmas Eve long
he worked through the night

on one of them
"Why'd she leave me?" songs.

♪ Why leave me alone? ♪

♪ Her eyes were red,
but her heart's stone-cold ♪

♪ Why'd she go from me? ♪

He was soothed by the hush
of snow-caked streets at dawn.

His voice echoed
in the ghost house

all Christmas morning long.

♪ I couldn't be her dream ♪

♪ She focused on things
that weren't there in me ♪

♪ Then she split the scene ♪

And for once he wanted
to be taken from his singing

by his mother's Merry Christmas
telephone ringing.

But her call never came,
and his song never ended.

♪ She wanted me to change ♪

♪ That's not love in my view ♪

♪ Let's inspect the remains ♪

♪ As she's alone now too ♪

♪ What's the point of looking ♪

♪ For what's not there in you? ♪

♪ You lose track of... ♪

♪ You lose... ♪

How does this song go?

♪ Ah, da, da, da, da, da ♪

♪ Da, da, da da, da, da, da ♪

♪ Every day I build a mask
up to the task ♪

♪ Another song, you see ♪

♪ I live behind the rhyme
and verse ♪

♪ I lift my voice
till I lift the curse ♪

♪ It's all rehearsed, you see ♪

♪ This music always rescues me ♪

♪ There's a melody
for every malady ♪

♪ Prescription: Song you see ♪

♪ And should the mask
begin to fall ♪

♪ My chorus comes in
like a 12-foot wall ♪

♪ So you can't see me ♪

♪ And I'm blessed to entertain ♪

♪ The crowd laughs and swoons ♪

♪ It's loud guitars
and champagne ♪

♪ And I sleep well past noon ♪

♪ But I've got a lot
to explain ♪

♪ To myself, not to you ♪

♪ Like who lost track
of her pain ♪

♪ While working their wound? ♪

♪ Ah, da, da, da, da, da ♪

♪ Da, da, da da, da, da, da ♪

♪ So I finally found a home ♪

♪ Between the clicks
of a metronome ♪

♪ In a song, you see ♪

♪ Then I went out on a limb ♪

♪ But the tree disappeared
and the sky grew dim ♪

♪ And the song changed key ♪

♪ But then you told me
my pain entertained ♪

♪ I heard the applause,
thanking God you're sane ♪

♪ But what about me? ♪

♪ See I'm cursed to entertain ♪

♪ The crowd laughs too soon ♪

♪ And all I have is my pain ♪

♪ Sharp and way out of tune ♪

♪ But you know,
I feel a bit ashamed ♪

♪ Since I'm still
here marooned ♪

♪ And you lose track
of her pain ♪

♪ When you're working
your wound ♪

♪ And you lose track
of her pain ♪

♪ When you're working
your wound ♪

♪ And you lose track
of her pain ♪

♪ When you're working
your wound ♪

♪ And you lose track
of her love ♪

♪ And you lose track
of her pain ♪

♪ Just hop back on my train ♪

♪ And keep working ♪

♪ And keep working,
like he's working ♪

♪ And keep working
like he's working ♪

♪ And keep working
like he's working ♪

♪ And that's how the fucking
song goes ♪

Hey, Spurney,
that's how the song goes.

Am I right?

Gibbs, Gibbs,

that's how the song goes, right?

♪ But the problem
is it never stops ♪

You know, it's weird when you
wake up that morning

and realize that your entire
adult life

was based on a decision
made by a teenager...

A stoned teenager.

I know there must be some
investment bankers out there

that know the feeling.

You know, some time ago
we had a dress rehearsal.

It was free.

Sorry, we forgot to tell you
about it.

We invited some friends
and family and stuff.

And I invited a friend of mine

whose offices are downtown
on Lafayette and Astor.

He sells pretzels.

Sat him down in your seat,
and he watched the play.

Then afterwards, we ran back
downtown to this bar.

After about 5 or 16 beers,
he looked at me,

and he said, "The real."

And I said, "Yeah."

And he said,
"The real, you know,

"the thing that the kid
in your play keeps looking for?

"I got news for you, Stew.

"The real is not real.

"The real is a construct.

"The real is a creation.

"The real is artificial.

"The kid in your play is looking
for something in life

that can only be found in art."

And I was like
"Damn, pretzel man.

You're a heavy motherfucker."

Some people feel like art
is more real than life.

And that really gives you
something to think about,

especially if you're
at a funeral.

It's so great to see so many
friends and family

gathered here to see
my mother home.

In the plane from Berlin
to L.A.,

I prayed for her to wait

long enough for me
to see her again,

long enough for me
to hear her again...

Long enough for me to tell her
I'm sorry

and mean it.

Last night I woke up
in darkness.

And I didn't know where I was.

And so I just sat there
asking her questions

all night long...

like, "How can I go on

when the love that kept me aloft
is gone?"

So now she's free.

She made it home, I know.

But now that she left me,

where am I to go?

I got to fill this void
inside me.

Where am I to go?

♪ I got to fill the void
with music ♪

♪ I'll fill the void with song ♪

♪ Until my cup runneth over ♪

♪ All night long ♪

♪ I'll live in vans
crammed with guitars ♪

♪ I'll sleep on floors
and play in bars ♪

♪ I'll dance to my own
metronome ♪

♪ Till chaos feels like home ♪

♪ I'll grow colder ♪

♪ I'll grow bolder ♪

♪ I'll grow older
and keep fillin' my cup ♪

♪ I'll grow colder ♪

♪ I'll grow bolder ♪

♪ I'll grow older ♪

♪ But I'll never grow up ♪

♪ And this is not
a passing phase ♪

♪ It was just a passing phase ♪

♪ No, this is not
a passing phase ♪

♪ It was just a passing phase ♪

♪ You see, I'll stay young
for so long ♪

♪ It was just a passing phase ♪

♪ Till chaos feels like home ♪

♪ It was just a passing phase ♪

♪ Up and down
from town to town ♪

♪ Tour van wheels
go round and round ♪

♪ Up and down
from town to town ♪

♪ Tour van wheels
go round and round ♪

♪ Every night
play rock and roll ♪

♪ Get fucked up after the show ♪

♪ In the morning lock and load ♪

♪ And then leave ♪

♪ Right when it was starting
to feel real ♪

♪ Wish we could talk about
how the means ♪

♪ Will not prepare you
for the ends ♪

♪ How your epiphanies will
become fair-weather friends ♪

♪ How death will make you
lower your defenses ♪

♪ The only truth of youth
is the grown-up consequences ♪

♪ You see, song is a balm ♪

♪ But song cannot heal ♪

♪ You believed in it too long ♪

♪ Now I need something more ♪

♪ I need something more
than real ♪

♪ Someday the chords of age ♪

♪ Will drown out the life
you've been dreaming of ♪

♪ Then you'll be out
on your ass and cursing, alas ♪

♪ 'Cause your song is just
passing for love ♪

♪ Like my song was just
passing for love ♪

♪ And you will never
see her again ♪

♪ And I will never
see her again ♪

♪ And we will never
see her again ♪

Is that it?

That's it?

Hey, you're right.

You cannot bring her back.

But why lose faith
in the only thing that can?

I will see her again,

because life is a mistake
that only art can correct.

I will see her again
every night.

Cue music.

Lights up on Mother
in an outrageous gown

showing everyone.

What do you want me to say?

Tell him it's all right.

♪ Is it all right? ♪

♪ Don't be sad
about your chosen path ♪

♪ And where it's taken you
thus far ♪

♪ 'Cause this is what you did ♪

♪ And that is who you are ♪

♪ And it's all right ♪

♪ Is it all right? ♪

♪ Yes, it's all right ♪

♪ Is it all right? ♪

♪ Yes, it's all right ♪

♪ Is it all right? ♪

♪ I remember when
I owned everything ♪

♪ The Sun and the Moon
and the rain ♪

♪ And my domain stretched
and yawned ♪

♪ Along the astral plane ♪

♪ The universe is a toy
in the mind of a boy ♪

♪ And life is a movie too ♪

♪ Starring you ♪

♪ Your whole family's
the cast and crew ♪

♪ That's a little secret
between God and you ♪

♪ But ain't it strange
how it all makes perfect sense ♪

♪ Once your life
becomes evidence ♪

♪ Of the need to feel ♪

♪ Love is more than real ♪

♪ Because your mother's love
might seem insane ♪

♪ That's 'cause she really
knows everything ♪

♪ Too bad it takes so long ♪

♪ To see what you've
been missing ♪

♪ Love like that ♪

♪ Too bad it takes so long... ♪

♪ Can't be measured anyway ♪

♪ To see what
you've been missing ♪

♪ Too bad it takes so long ♪

♪ To see what
you've been missing ♪

♪ Too bad it takes
so long to see ♪

♪ Too bad it takes so long ♪

♪ 'Cause the real
is a construct ♪

♪ It's the raw nerve's
private zone ♪

♪ It's a personal sunset ♪

♪ You drive off into alone ♪

Christian Gibbs
on guitar and keyboards.

Jon Spurney on keyboards
and guitar.

♪ Christian Cassan on the drums
in back of me ♪

And my collaborator,

Heidi Rodewald on the bass
and the voice.

And now for the rest of the
band, Mr. Chad Goodrich...

De'Adre Aziza...

Colman Domingo...

Rebecca Jones...

Eisa Davis...

And Daniel Breaker.

We'd like to thank everybody
who makes the show look

and sound so good.

We're gonna get out of here now.

All I have to say is,
whatever you do,

rock on.

Last Saturday rock show
at the Belasco.

Last night at the Belasco!

Last night at the Belasco!

♪ Uh, uh, uh ♪

♪ Now whip it on in ♪

all: ♪ Yeah, it's all right ♪

♪ Yeah, it's all right ♪

♪ Yeah, it's all right ♪

♪ Yeah, it's all right ♪

♪ It feels all right to me ♪

♪ Yeah, it's all right ♪

♪ It feels all right to me ♪

♪ Yeah, it's all right ♪

♪ It feels all right to me ♪

♪ Yeah, it's all right ♪

♪ It feels all right to me ♪

♪ Yeah, it's all right ♪

♪ Yeah, it's all right ♪

♪ It feels all right to me ♪

♪ Yeah, it's all right ♪

♪ It feels all right to me ♪

♪ Yeah, it's all right ♪

♪ Bad Brains
said it was all right ♪

♪ Yeah, it's all right ♪

♪ Living Colour said
it was all right ♪

♪ Yeah, it's all right ♪

♪ Jimi Hendrix
said it was all right ♪

♪ Yeah, it's all right ♪

♪ Lee Perry said
it's all right ♪

♪ Yeah, it's all right ♪

♪ P-Funk said it's all right ♪

♪ Yeah, it's all right ♪

♪ Sun Ra said it's all right ♪

♪ Yeah, it's all right ♪

♪ Coltrane said it's all right ♪

♪ Yeah, it's all right ♪

♪ Coltrane said it's all right ♪

♪ Yeah, it's all right ♪

♪ Coltrane said it's all right ♪

♪ Yeah, it's all right ♪

♪ Told me that it's all right ♪

♪ Yeah, it's all right ♪

♪ Arthur Lee
said it's all right ♪

♪ Yeah, it's all right ♪

♪ Arthur Lee
said it's all right ♪

♪ Yeah, it's all right ♪

♪ He come to tell me
it was all right ♪

♪ Yeah, it's all right ♪

♪ He told me it was all right ♪

♪ Yeah, it's all right ♪

♪ He told me it was all right ♪

♪ Yeah, it's all right ♪

♪ They told me I was all right ♪

♪ Yeah, it's all right ♪

♪ They told me I was all right ♪

♪ Yeah, it's all right ♪

♪ They told me I was all right ♪

♪ Yeah, it's all right ♪

♪ Yeah, it's all right ♪

♪ It's all right now ♪

♪ Yeah, it's all right ♪

♪ It's all right now ♪

♪ Yeah, it's all right ♪

♪ It's all right now ♪

♪ Yeah, it's all right ♪

♪ It's all right now ♪

♪ Yeah, it's all right ♪

♪ It's all right now ♪

♪ Yeah, it's all right ♪

♪ It's all right now! ♪

♪ Yeah, it's all right ♪

♪ It's all right ♪

♪ It's all right ♪

♪ It's all right ♪

♪ It's all right ♪

♪ It's all right ♪

♪ It's all right ♪

♪ It's all right now ♪

♪ Yeah, it's all right ♪

♪ It's all right ♪

♪ Yeah, it's all right ♪

♪ It's all right now ♪

♪ Yeah, it's all right ♪

♪ It's all right now! ♪

♪ Yeah, it's all right ♪

♪ It's all right now ♪

♪ Yeah, it's all right ♪

♪ It's all right now ♪

♪ Yeah, it's all right ♪

♪ It's all right! ♪

♪ Yeah, it's all right ♪

♪ It's all right! ♪

♪ Yeah, it's all right ♪

♪ Yeah, it's all right ♪

♪ Yeah, it's all right ♪

♪ Yeah, it's all right ♪

♪ Yeah, it's all right ♪

♪ It's all right! ♪

♪ It's all right! ♪

♪ It's all right! ♪

♪ It's all right! ♪

♪ Yeah, it's all right ♪

♪ It's all right now ♪

♪ Yeah, it's all right ♪

♪ It's all right now ♪

♪ Yeah, it's all right ♪

♪ I say it's all right,
all right ♪

♪ It's all right, all right ♪

♪ It's all right, all right ♪

Whoo!

♪ For if love knew
what was good for it ♪

♪ It would play it
passing for song ♪

♪ Fill an empty house
with harmony ♪

♪ And play on after things
go wrong ♪

♪ Days and opinions
and all of fate's minions ♪

♪ Tend to fade like the bang
of a gong ♪

♪ There's a ballad to break
any fall, you see ♪

♪ And a rhythm to still
any row ♪

♪ There's a melody
for every malady ♪

♪ You're listening to one
right now ♪

♪ Art is made up
but artificial it ain't ♪

♪ Art is love in clay
and words and paint ♪

♪ Play on ♪

♪ Play on ♪

♪ Play on ♪

♪ Play on ♪

♪ Be the food of life ♪

♪ And play on and play on
and play on ♪

♪ So what's life
without a few lost bets? ♪

♪ It's no fun
if you're all contrite ♪

♪ What's life
without a few regrets? ♪

♪ If you didn't fuck up,
you weren't doing it right ♪

♪ Art is made up
but artificial it ain't ♪

♪ Art is love in clay
and words and paint ♪

♪ Play on ♪

♪ Play on ♪

♪ Play on ♪

♪ Play on ♪

♪ Be the food of life ♪

♪ And play on and play on
and play on ♪

♪ Be the food of life ♪

♪ And play on and play on
and play on ♪

♪ Be the food of life ♪

♪ And play on and play on
and play on ♪

♪ Play on ♪

♪ Play on ♪

♪ Play on ♪

♪ Play on ♪

♪ Play on ♪

♪ Play on ♪

♪ Play on ♪

♪ Play on ♪

♪ Play on ♪

♪ Play on ♪

♪ Play on ♪

♪ Play on ♪

♪ Play on ♪

♪ Play on ♪

♪ Play on ♪

♪ Play on ♪

♪ Play on ♪

♪ Play on ♪

♪ Play on ♪

♪ Play on ♪

♪ Play on ♪

♪ Play on ♪

♪ Play on ♪

♪ Play on ♪

♪ Play on ♪

♪ Play on ♪

♪ Play on ♪

♪ Play on ♪

♪ Play on ♪

♪ Play on ♪

♪ Why you want to leave? ♪

♪ Right when it was starting
to feel real ♪

♪ Why you want to leave? ♪

Clank!

Slam!