by Ross Mueller
ANDREW: This is the heritage! We have to save these spaces or they are going to disappear—like the pubs—the clubs—the gigs—and, man! When I was their age we were playing in back rooms, basements, beer gardens—anywhere we could plug in. Drenched in beer and sweat and God knows what. One night we supported TISM at the Terminus Hotel and there were buckets in the corner collecting the perspiration streaming off the plasterboard ceiling, I mean it was utterly disgusting and completely fucking wonderful.
SIMON: Asbestos is everywhere. / Do you want a young person to come here and get seriously injured? Do you want somebody to contract mesothelioma?
ANDREW: My childhood was clad in fibro. This is nothing. This is nothing. We put ’em on the stage, we’re not sending ’em down the mines.
SIMON: Australia has one of the highest rates in the world. It’s a health and safety nightmare.
ANDREW: We can’t ‘go online’. I mean fuck. I mean fuck! Online. What is it?
SIMON: It’s tomorrow. It’s up there, Flea. It’s in the broadband in the cloud. My firm hosted a Growing Community Leaders Enterprise and Business breakfast. The Dean from the university spoke and she was really— tall. Their School of Commerce, they deliver all of their modules online—they have students all over the world, Andrew. They have students in Hong Kong. Oh-ah. We must be nimble and online is the only way to guarantee a future for the good ship Staccato.
ANDREW: Disgaree.
SIMON: Okay. / I tried to give you the ‘heads up’. You chose to ignore it. Where is the fairy bucket?!
ANDREW: How can you just slam me with this cyber shit? The AusCo don’t know anything about it. Colin is gonna flip. He is gonna freak right the fuck out—
SIMON: Disagree! Colin. Fucking loves it.
ANDREW: When did you speak to Col?
SIMON: He’s been helping us with the admin. He knows what I want.
ANDREW: What did you hire me for?
SIMON: You have great contacts.
ANDREW: Oh-ah. Now you do too.
Beat.
SIMON: It doesn’t have to end in acrimony.
ANDREW: End …? I’m not quitting. / I moved my life here. We bought a dog.
SIMON: Good. Good. Yup … You bought a dog?
ANDREW: Rescued a greyhound.
SIMON: What are you? A maniac? You’re still on probation. Six months.
ANDREW: I thought that was a typo.
SIMON: No. It is a set period of time for us to determine whether or not we like you. What’s happening with you and Jill? She was very angry about your Photoshop.
ANDREW: That isn’t ‘anger’. / Jill’s fine. We understand each other.
SIMON: She broke the amplifier. Look. If a staff member is underperforming: set some measureables and get rid of her.
ANDREW: That your idea of team building?
SIMON: Linda suggested it.
ANDREW: Who’s Linda?
SIMON: Our new Human Resources expert.
Beat. SIMON starts winding up a bundle of fairy lights.
ANDREW: So is Linda working here now?
SIMON: No. Linda is on the board. HR is a gap. She comes highly recommended from State Government.
ANDREW: Arts and Culture?
SIMON: Nope.
ANDREW: Youth Services?
SIMON: Nope. Nope.
ANDREW: Major Events?
SIMON: Road and Maritime Services.
SIMON keeps bundling.
ANDREW: We need Philanthropic. / Development was identified at Planning Day.
SIMON: That’s just a word. It’s jargon. A fad. Linda wants to meet with you after your honeymoon.
ANDREW: How’d you know I’m getting married?
SIMON: Must have been the invitation I got in the mail. Oh-ah. That’s right. Didn’t get one of those. No rush. Soon as you get back. Informal. Offsite at the RMS.
ANDREW: What do you want me to prepare?
SIMON: Nothing. Just a catch-up.
ANDREW: Why don’t we meet here? Hear some / music. Meet some members.
SIMON: Easier this way. Just a catch-up.
ANDREW: Did Linda really say that about Jill?
SIMON: No, Linda actually said that about you. Enjoy your honeymoon.
SIMON smiles and exits, carrying the fairy lights.
ANDREW stands alone with the broken amplifier. Takes a battered guitar and a lead. Plugs it in and slams a chord—it rings with feedback. Hits a few more.
JILL enters, holding an A4 piece of paper. ANDREW doesn’t see her at first. He continues to play. He sees JILL.
Pause. Last chord.
JILL: Always sound better once you’ve kicked the shit out of them.
Pause.
What’s wrong?
Pause.
You want some water or something?
ANDREW: [re: Jill’s paper] What’s this?
JILL hands ANDREW the paper.
JILL: He’s taking those lights home for Christmas, he does that every year.
ANDREW: [reading] ‘Dear Ando, it has been nice meeting youse and hearing about the old school music business all the time. Good luck with your new Annual Program and everything. Cheers … Jill.’
JILL: My notice.
ANDREW: I can’t accept this.
JILL: I’m not going to go back to fucken spellcheck it.
ANDREW: Are you quitting because of me?
JILL: Wow. Overwhelmed by compassion. Ta.
ANDREW: Is it because you broke this amplifier?
JILL: What the fuck?
ANDREW: It’s no big deal. It doesn’t have to escalate—
JILL: I did not fucking break this shitbox Pevey crap.
ANDREW: That’s not what Simon says.
JILL: And you believe that fucker over me?
ANDREW: Fucker?
JILL: You kiss his arse so bad.
ANDREW: I respect his position.
JILL: You suck his dick like a bitch.
Back in the airlock, PERKINS arrives with a wheelie suitcase of documents.
ANDREW: Sczhh. You need a holiday. / Lie in the sun. Read a book.
JILL: I hate this place. He is a skull-fucking / cunt.
ANDREW: Oh—okay. Yup.
JILL: That bag of pus is a goddamned—
She writes ‘Liar’ on the whiteboard, drops the pen and exits.
SCENE FIVE: STRENGTHS, WEAKNESSES, OPPORTUNITIES & THREATS
LEANNE: This is Mr Perkins.
PERKINS: Andrew!
ANDREW: Great—just—just—gimme a second.
SCENE SIX: STAFFING NEEDS
Onstage at Staccato. Lights on the deck. JILL is testing and tagging.
ANDREW: Jill. I’m the boss. I’m serious. I refuse to accept your resignation.
JILL: These old PAR cans are crap.
ANDREW: You actually don’t give me the impression of somebody who is trying to leave the music business.
JILL: Does somebody have to get killed before they’re replaced with LEDs?
ANDREW: Do you sing?
JILL: Do I what?
ANDREW: Sing. Do you sing? With your voice.
JILL: My sister is the singer.
She keeps working.
ANDREW: What’s her name?
JILL: She’s not a puppy.
She keeps working.
ANDREW: You play an instrument?
JILL: You know what I do. I work the front desk and I fuck up the brochures.
ANDREW: I don’t think this is really why you wanna quit, is it—?
JILL: What the fuck is a ‘CoB’? Huh? What is that even supposed to mean? ‘CoB’. Nobody ever said that to me before you got here. Carmel never said it. Colin never says it. ‘CoB’ You sound like a fucking goose. ‘CoB’ ‘CoB’ … ‘CooooBBB’ … You make up words to make people feel like they are fucking failures, that’s what you do. ‘CoB’. ‘CooooBBBB’. You’re so full of shit, it’s coming out of your mouth.
ANDREW: Do you mean C.O.B?
JILL: /
What the fuck does that mean?
ANDREW: ‘Close of Business’.
JILL: Did you swallow a management calendar or something?
ANDREW: I’m not a manager.
JILL: Correct.
ANDREW: I’m sorry. I am a musician.
JILL: What are you doing here?
ANDREW: I applied because I couldn’t play live anymore and … I saw this job advertised and I didn’t think I had a chance … but they hired me. Still not sure why. But. Writing the Annual Program—we have a chance to … And now … you’re quitting? Because I sound like a goose …? Gimme a break. I don’t know the lingo.
JILL: ‘Lingo’ … ? / O.M.G.
ANDREW: I have no idea how a Co-CEO is supposed to talk. I read up on all the jargon for the interview. I am improvising. Still on my L-plates. Hand on heart. This is my first full-time job. Serious. Mind blown? I’m hangin’ on with both hands.
JILL: You never had a proper job before?
ANDREW: Never. Well. I played music.
JILL: But how’d you pay the rent?
ANDREW: Yeah. No. I was pretty good. But played too loud too long. Tinnitus. Ringing in my ears and it gets bad with loud noises …
JILL: You can’t drink coffee or alcohol. Worse with stress. Like a migraine.
ANDREW: That’s right. How’d you know?
JILL: I’ve got friends who suffer.
ANDREW: No way.
JILL: We measure all our shows now, but back in the day … You should try yoga and meditation. That can work.
ANDREW: Yeah, yeah. I know. Got to make time.
JILL: They are getting rid of you.
ANDREW: What?
JILL: Didn’t know that?
ANDREW: No.
JILL: Simon is going to dump you at the end of your probation.
ANDREW: No. No way. I think you’re confused. Yeah. No. I’m getting married. He knows I need this job. I have / a contract—
JILL: Ando … What was Simon doing in here?
ANDREW: Fairy lights. That’s about it. And—he actually came in to say, ‘Well done, to everyone, on the application’. Just a ‘catch-up’. That’s it.
JILL: ‘Catch-up’ is code for ‘We’re fucking you over’ … But you’d know that from your management research. Right?
ANDREW: It’s not a code. It’s words. Just jargon. It’s nothing to worry about.
JILL: I was just getting to know you, too.
ANDREW: Hey. I am here for the long haul.
JILL: That’s what Carmel said.
ANDREW: What happened to Carmel?
JILL: The board did a review of the Org Structure. Re-named her position. She had to reapply and you got the job. I quit.
ANDREW: You can’t quit. You’re the only person here who likes music.
JILL: Andrew! This pressure is killing me.
ANDREW: What pressure?
JILL: You! You bring it big time! You changed everything!
ANDREW: No, I haven’t—
JILL: But you like—want the brochure done—!
ANDREW: / Yes.
JILL: By a certain time and date!
ANDREW: Yes.
JILL: Well, I’m not used to this kind of pressure.
ANDREW: Is the pressure giving you migraines?
JILL: I do not get migraines.
ANDREW: You told me you were getting / migraines.
JILL: I lied. I lied.
Pause.
I lie.
ANDREW: What happened to the amplifier?
JILL: Simon said he used to be an ‘anarchist’.
ANDREW: Do you know what an anarchist is?
JILL: I know what Simon is.
Silence.
ANDREW: Who are you listening to?
JILL puts the earbuds near ANDREW’s ears—but not in them.
[Listening] Red wine and cigarettes. Who is she?
JILL: My sister.
They both listen.
ANDREW: This bass player sounds like Carol Kaye.
JILL: You know Carol Kaye?
ANDREW: Carol Kaye is Motown. The bass in everything.
He listens.
JILL: What do you think of Gail Ann Dorsey?
ANDREW: She’s the … / with David Bowie?
JILL: She played with Bowie, that’s right. Smooth and solid.
ANDREW: Without being flashy.
JILL: Exceptional.
ANDREW: Oh, this. This one—reminds me of Kim Deal.
JILL: Kim Deal? No way.
ANDREW: You know her?
JILL: Man, I love The Pixies.
ANDREW: You’re too young to love The Pixies.
JILL: I know good shit when I hear good shit. But that doesn’t sound like Kim Deal. You’re confused old man.
ANDREW: Old man?
JILL: Kim Deal is history. This is tomorrow.
ANDREW: Who am I listening to?
JILL: Shanghai Susans.
ANDREW: Good demo.
JILL: Thanks.
ANDREW: You made this?
JILL: In my bedroom and I mixed it on the Pro Tools in here at work.
She cuts the sound—silence.
I want to be a producer.
ANDREW: You want to produce?
JILL: So what?
ANDREW: So nothing—so what else have you got?
JILL selects another track.
JILL: Okay?
ANDREW: Assault and battery.
JILL: Arctic Park.
ANDREW: Good shit.
JILL: Très good shit. They meet at the station. They pretend they’re in the subways in Brooklyn or something urban. They tag the place up and I took a field recorder and got them to do some rhymes, mixed it with the sound of the trains and the traffic in the rain and … He needs to slow down—but he’s getting better.
ANDREW: Do your bands play at Staccato?
JILL: Nah.
ANDREW: Why not?
JILL: They’re artists. This place is for kids.
ANDREW: ‘Young people’.
JILL: No. They want kids in here. Ever since Simon has been the boss.
ANDREW: He’s the Chair, he’s not the boss.
JILL: He loves the pile of birdshit. Thinks it looks like a treble clef.
ANDREW: Holy fuck.
JILL: His dream is to get the whole world to stream Celine Dion forever.
ANDREW: Okay. Stop work on the brochure.
JILL: I already quit—
ANDREW: Let’s do something amazing.
JILL: They’re selling Staccato.
ANDREW: How’d you know that?
JILL: I am fluent in whiteboard.
ANDREW: Okay.
JILL: Good luck.
ANDREW: You can’t fucking quit, Jill.
JILL: Just watch me.
ANDREW: Music keeps you breathing.
JILL: What the fuck?
ANDREW: You won’t survive a week without Staccato.
JILL: Look. I don’t even know you.
ANDREW: You got Pro Tools at home, have you?
JILL: I don’t come here for the apps, Andrew.
ANDREW: Why do you come to work? Here? Early. Every day. What’s in it for you?
JILL: The money.
ANDREW: Don’t buy it. No. None of us do this for / the money.
JILL: I’m just telling you the way it is for me.
ANDREW: Okay. Imagine Staccato doesn’t exist. How do you feel about that?
JILL: I don’t care.
ANDREW: You lie. You’re a liar.
JILL: I don’t care.
ANDREW: Music makes me.
Beat.
Makes me cry and shake—makes me wail. I can’t—When I hear Iggy and the Stooges—fuck me—I am a … not because it’s beautiful, but because it is so bloody. ‘Lust for Life’ … Shit. You know what I mean. We are the dogs. Transponders.
Pause.
You can leave now. But you’ll be back. You’ve done the deal.
PERKINS: You are the plaint
iff.
ANDREW: When did you realise you’d die without music in your life?
PERKINS: And this is your case! /
SCENE SEVEN: VISION STATEMENT
PERKINS: Not many people make it past conciliation. But you did. You have a matter of ‘genuine’ dispute. Well done. But beware. The System is designed to discourage individuals from taking action. It is constructed to wear / you down.
LEANNE: Their strategy is to confuse and fatigue the plaintiff.
ANDREW: You make it sound like a conspiracy.
LEANNE: It is.
PERKINS: How many forms have you filled in—?
ANDREW: Hundreds.
PERKINS: How’d that go for you?
ANDREW: Nothing happened.
LEANNE: Exactly—
PERKINS: Now, as your barrister I take instructions from you. This is your case and I want to win.
ANDREW: What do you need from me? / What can I do?
PERKINS: Facts. I need all the facts.
ANDREW: You’ve got / copies of my notes and documents. That’s right, isn’t it?
LEANNE: All the notes. / All the depositions and the witness statements. Yes.
PERKINS: Yes. Doctors’ reports. And your narrative is a predictable chain of events, Fair Work—Work Safe—the Ombudsman—the local council. You met with the local council—the Arts Department—some of them were on your board, weren’t they? They knew what was happening in their building.
LEANNE: Of course they knew. They are complicit.
ANDREW: So what do we do?
PERKINS: And so we fight. Thank God for your union, hey?
The sound of tinnitus coming from a long way away.
LEANNE: What’s the matter …? What’s wrong …? You’re not going to start waving your arms again, are you? You are here. / You are alive.
PERKINS: I am ready for your instruction!
SCENE EIGHT: FACTS AND FIGURES
ANDREW: We are gonna wake the dead! Backlines everywhere. PAs in every room. Just blast away all day and night. Decks upstairs—Shanghai Susans on the main stage, Arctic Park on the balcony over the street after midnight. We have to show this city what is beating inside these walls!
JILL: The board won’t come. / They fucking hate rock and hip-hop and—there are already so many festivals out there.
ANDREW: We don’t want them in here—we want the new faces—with the new sounds. This is different.
JILL: What’s the budget?
ANDREW: If we build it—the box office will come! / My hair is standing on end, come on—we came here for a reason. I can’t walk away without making some noise. Let’s set this place on fire.