High Fidelity
High Fidelity

Laura: Listen, Rob, would you have sex with me? Because I want to feel something else than this. It either that, or I go home and put my hand in the fire. Unless you want to stub cigarettes out on my arm.
Rob: No. I only have a few left, I've been saving them for later.
Laura: Right. It'll have to be sex, then.

Rob: Right. Right.
Laura: I knew there was a reason I wore a skirt today.

High Fidelity
High Fidelity

Rob: It would be nice to think that since I was 14, times have changed. Relationships have become more sophisticated. Females less cruel. Skins thicker. Instincts more developed. But there seems to be an element of that afternoon in everything that's happened to me since. All my romantic stories are a scrambled version of that first one.

High Fidelity
High Fidelity

Rob: Charlie, you fucking bitch. Let's work it out.

High Fidelity
High Fidelity

Rob: John Dillinger was killed behind that theater in a hale of FBI gunfire. And do you know who tipped them off? His fucking girlfriend. All he wanted to do was go to the movies.

High Fidelity
High Fidelity

[Rob turns off Barry's tape]
Barry: OK, buddy, uh, I was just tryin' to cheer us up so go ahead. Put on some old sad bastard music, see if I care.
Rob: I don't wanna hear old sad bastard music, Barry, I just want something I can ignore.
Barry: Here's the thing. I made that tape special for today. My special Monday morning for

*you*... special.
Rob: Well, it's fuckin' Monday afternoon! You should get out of bed earlier!

High Fidelity
High Fidelity

Rob: How does he do it, you ask. How does
[stops, whispers]
Rob: how does an average guy like me become the number one lover-man in his particular postal district? He's grumpy, he's broke, he hangs out with the musical moron twins...
[shrugs]

High Fidelity
High Fidelity

Barry: Rob, top five musical crimes perpetuated by Stevie Wonder in the '80s and '90s. Go. Sub-question: is it in fact unfair to criticize a formerly great artist for his latter day sins, is it better to burn out or fade away?

High Fidelity
High Fidelity

Rob: I want more, I wanna see the others on the big top-five. I want to see Penny and Charlie and Sarah, all of them. You know? Just see 'em and talk to 'em. You know, like a Bruce Springsteen song.
Bruce Springsteen: You call, you ask them how they are and see if they've forgiven you.
Rob: Yeah, and then I feel good. And they feel

good.
Bruce Springsteen: They'd feel good, maybe. But you feel better.
Rob: I'd feel clean and calm.
Bruce Springsteen: That's what you're looking for, you know, get ready to start again. It'd be good for you.
Rob: Great, even.
Bruce Springsteen: Give that big final good luck and

goodbye to your all time top-five and just move on down the road.
Rob: Good luck, Goodbye. Thanks, Boss.

High Fidelity
High Fidelity

Rob: Now, the making of a good compilation tape is a very subtle art. Many do's and don'ts. First of all you're using someone else's poetry to express how you feel. This is a delicate thing.

High Fidelity
High Fidelity

Barry: [performing at the record release party] Rob, thank you for the enthusiastic intro; but, we're no longer called Sonic Death Monkey. We're on the verge of being called Kathleen Turner Overdrive; however, this evening we will be: Barry Jive and the Uptown Five.
[singing]
Barry: I've been really tryin', baby, To hold onto this feeling for so

long, And if you feel like I feel, sugar, Then, c'mon, oh, c'mon, Woo! Let's get it on, Let's get it on...

High Fidelity
High Fidelity

Rob: Liking both Marvin Gaye and Art Garfunkel is like supporting both the Israelis and the Palestinians.
Laura: No, it's really not, Rob. You know why? Because Marvin Gaye and Art Garfunkel make pop records.
Rob: Made. Made. Marvin Gaye is dead. His father shot him.

High Fidelity
High Fidelity

Barry: Holy shite. What the fuck is that?
Dick: It's the new Belle and Sebastian...
Rob: It's a record we've been listening to and enjoying, Barry.
Barry: Well, that's unfortunate, because it sucks ass.

High Fidelity
High Fidelity

Rob Gordon: Hey, I'm not the smartest guy in the world, but I'm certainly not the dumbest. I mean, I've read books like "The Unbearable Lightness of Being" and "Love in the Time of Cholera", and I think I've understood them. They're about girls, right? Just kidding. But I have to say my all-time favorite book is Johnny Cash's autobiography "Cash" by Johnny Cash.

High Fidelity
High Fidelity

Rob: [lying in bed imagining the scene] You are as abandoned and noisy as any character in a porn film, Laura. You are Ian's plaything, responding to his touch with shrieks of orgasmic delight. No woman in the history of the world is having better sex than sex you are having with Ian... in my head.

High Fidelity
High Fidelity

Barry's Customer: Hi, do you have the song "I Just Called To Say I Love You?" It's for my daughter's birthday.
Barry: Yea we have it.
Barry's Customer: Great, Great, can I have it?
Barry: No, no, you can't.
Barry's Customer: Why not?
Barry: Well, it's sentimental

tacky crap. Do we look like the kind of store that sells I Just Called to Say I Love You? Go to the mall.

High Fidelity
High Fidelity

Rob: What, fucking, Ian guy?

High Fidelity
High Fidelity

Rob: I'll give you ten percent of the door if you don't play.
Barry: Rob, we're getting that anyway. No!
Rob: Twenty.
Barry: No!
Rob: Twenty percent.
Barry: Come on, Rob. We need the gig.
Rob: A hundred and ten percent! That's how much it

means to me, not to hear you play.
Barry: Rob, we're called Sonic Death Monkey.
Rob: Sonic Death Monkey?
Barry: Yeah. And if Laura and her bourgeois lawyer friends can't handle it - fuck them. Let 'em riot. We're Sonic-fuckin'-Death Monkey!

High Fidelity
High Fidelity

Rob: My desert island, all-time, top-five most memorable breakups, in chronological order, are as follows: Alison Ashmore; Penny Hardwick; Jackie Alden; Charlie Nicholson; and Sarah Kendrew. Those were the ones that really hurt. Can you see your name on that list, Laura? Maybe you'd sneak into the top ten. But there's just no room for you in the top five, sorry. Those places are

reserved for the kind of humiliation and heartbreak you're just not capable of delivering.

High Fidelity
High Fidelity

[Liz storms in]
Rob: Hey, Liz.
Liz: [calm] Hi, Rob...
[screams]
Liz: You fucking asshole!
[beat, Liz walks out the store, Barry's in the corner, stares]
Liz: Hi, Barry.

High Fidelity
High Fidelity

Dick: Marie de Salle's playing. You remember I told you about her. I like her. She's kind of Sheryl Crow-ish crossed with a post-Partridge Family pre-L.A. Law Susan Dey kind of thing, but, you know, uh, black.