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Terence Fletcher: Get the fuck off my sight before I'll demolish you!

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[last lines]
Terence Fletcher: [Andrew keeps playing after the music ends] Andrew, what are you doing, man?
Andrew: I'll cue you in!

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Terence Fletcher: Now are you a rusher, or are you a dragger or are you gonna be ON MY FUCKING TIME?
Andrew: I'll be on your time.

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Terence Fletcher: Either you're deliberately out of tune and sabotaging my band, or you don't know you're out of tune, and that's even worse.

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Andrew: [after being replaced by another drummer] Are you serious? That shit?

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Terence Fletcher: So, imagine if Jones had just said, "Well, that's okay, Charlie. That was all right. Good job." So Charlie thinks to himself, "Well, shit, I did do a pretty good job." End of story. No Bird. That to me is an absolute tragedy. But that's just what the world wants now. People wonder why jazz is dying.

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Terence Fletcher: The folder is your fucking responsibility, Tanner. Why would you give it to Neiman? Right? You give a calculator to a fucking retard he's gonna try to turn on a TV with it. Now get your sticks and get your ass on stage.

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Terence Fletcher: We have a squeaker today, class. His name is Andrew Nieman, he's 19 years old. Isn't he cute?

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Terence Fletcher: Everybody remember, Lincoln Center and its ilk use these competitions to decide who they are interested in and who they are not. And I am not gonna have my reputation in that department tarnished by a bunch of fucking limp-dick, sour-note, flatter-than-their-girlfriends, flexible-tempo dipshits. Got it?

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Terence Fletcher: You're here for a reason. You believe that, right?
Andrew: Yeah.
Terence Fletcher: Say it.
Andrew: *I'm here for a reason*
Terence Fletcher: [Smiling] Cool. All right, man. Have fun

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Terence Fletcher: [after Andrew stops drumming] Is that all you have you worthless Hymie fuck? No wonder mommy ran out on you.

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Terence Fletcher: Nieman, you're done.

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Terence Fletcher: Motherfucker! Connelly, get your ass back on the kit.

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Terence Fletcher: If you deliberately sabotage my band, I will fuck you like a pig.

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Andrew: I'm just gonna lay it out there. This is why I don't think we should be together. And I've thought about it a lot and this is what's gonna happen. I'm gonna keep pursuing what I'm pursuing. And because I'm doing that, it's gonna take up more and more of my time. And I'm not gonna be able to spend as much time with you. And when I do spend time with you, I'm gonna be

thinking about drumming. And I'm gonna be thinking about jazz music, my charts, all that. And because of that, you're gonna start to resent me. And you're gonna tell me to ease up on the drumming, spend more time with you because you're not feeling important. And I'm not gonna be able to do that. And really, I'm gonna start to resent you for even asking me to stop drumming. And we're just gonna

start to hate each other. And it's gonna get very... It's gonna be ugly. And so for those reasons, I'd rather just, you know, break it off clean... because I wanna be great.
Nicole: And you're not?
Andrew: I wanna be one of the greats.
Nicole: And I would stop you from doing that?
Andrew: Yeah.

Nicole: You know I would stop you from doing that. You know, for a fact?
Andrew: Yes.
Nicole: And I'd barely see you anyway?
Andrew: Yeah.
Nicole: And when I do see you, you'd treat me like shit because I'm just some girl who doesn't know what she wants. And you have a path, and you're

gonna be great, and I'm going to be forgotten, and therefore you won't be able to give me the time of day because you have bigger things to pursue?
Andrew: That's exactly my point.
Nicole: What the fuck is wrong with you? You're right, we should not be dating.

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Terence Fletcher: What the fuck are you looking for? There's no pot of gold down there.
[Ryan starts adjusting the seat]
Terence Fletcher: Really? Adjusting the seat, really? That's been your problem the whole fucking time, the seat height? So now you have it, right? Go!
[Ryan starts playing]
Terence Fletcher: BULLSHIT!

FUCK YOU!

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Terence Fletcher: Truth is, I don't think people... understood what it was I was doing at Shaffer. I wasn't there to conduct. Any fucking moron can wave his arms and keep people in tempo. I was there to push people beyond what's expected of them. I believe that is an absolute necessity. Otherwise, we are depriving the world of the next Louis Armstrong, the next Charlie Parker. I

told you that story about how Charlie Parker became Charlie Parker, right?
Andrew: Jo Jones threw a cymbal at his head.
Terence Fletcher: Exactly. Parker's a young kid, pretty good on the sax, gets up to play at a cutting session, and he fucks it up. And Jones nearly decapitates him for it. And he's laughed off stage. But the next morning, what does

he do? He practices. And he practices, and he practices with one goal in mind: Never too be laughed at again. And a year later he goes back to the Reno and he steps up on that stage and he plays the best motherfucking solo the world has ever heard. So imagine if Jones just said "Well, that's okay Charlie. That was alright. Good job." Then Charlie thinks to himself "Well, shit. I did do a pretty

good job." End of story. No Bird. That, to me, is an absolute tragedy. But that's just what the world wants now. People wonder why jazz is dying. I'll tell you, man - and every Starbucks "jazz" album just proves my point, really - there are no two words in the English language more harmful than "good job".
Andrew: But is there a line? You know, maybe you go too far and you

discourage the next Charlie Parker from ever becoming Charlie Parker?
Terence Fletcher: No, man, no. Because the next Charlie Parker would never be discouraged.
Andrew: Yeah.
Terence Fletcher: The truth is, Andrew, I never really had a Charlie Parker. But I tried. I actually fucking tried, and that's more than most people ever

do. And I will never apologize for how I tried.

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Terence Fletcher: At 5:30, that's in exactly 11 minutes, my band is on stage. If your ass is not on that stool with your own fucking sticks in hand or you make ONE FUCKING MISTAKE, ONE! I will drum your ass back to Nassau where you can turn pages until you graduate or fucking drop out! By the time you're done at Shaffer, you're gonna make Daddy look like a fucking success story.

Got it? Or, we can let Johnny Utah play the part. You choose.
Andrew: It's my part, I'll be on your stage.
[Rushes to pick up his rudiments, but turns to Connelly]
Andrew: Fuck you!

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Terence Fletcher: Now this one really upsets me. We have an out-of-tune player here. Before I continue, would that player care to identify himself? No? Ok, maybe a bug flew in my ear.

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Terence Fletcher: Let's go with the Irish Mick fucking Paddy cracker. You know, you actually do look quite a bit like a leprechaun. I think I'm gonna start calling you Flannery.