Jon, a young wanna-be musician, discovers he's bitten off more than he can chew when he joins an eccentric pop band led by the mysterious and enigmatic Frank.

Frank: [singing] Stale beer. Fat fucked, smoked out. Cowpoked. Sequined mountain ladies. I love your wall. Put your arms around me. Fiddly digits, itchy britches. I love you all.
Don: You play C, F and G?
Jon Burroughs: Yeah.
Don: You're in.
Frank: Saddle up / Secure the galactic perimeters / Weak and strong, nuclear bombs / Now what's together / Will soon come apart / When it's all over / No back to the start
Frank: Yes... it's like an aviary! You're birds... rock. You're a cormorant... mana... moorhen! Clara - the owl, night-hunter, silent killer.
[to Jon]
Frank: What have we got here? Lay an egg for me, little ginger bird. Lay an egg!
[During a show, Frank falls to the floor in pain]
Jon Burroughs: What's wrong?
Frank: [strained] Your music's shit...
Clara: You are a mediocre child.
Frank: Lips pursed together as if to say "Enough frivolity" - today, we begin work on the album in earnest.
Frank: [singing] Coca cola, lipstick ringo/Dance all night, dance all night/I've got dancing legs, woo!/I'VE GOT DANCING LEGS!/They won't stop me dancing/No, they won't stop me dancing/Kiss me, just kiss me/Kiss me, Nefertiti/Just the way you like it/Just the way you like it/Kiss me, kiss me/Lipstick kiss me lipstick ringo that's the way you like it!
Frank: Hey Don. Hey, partner. I remember you saying the desert here was your favorite place in the whole world. After Sea World San Diego... I know you were homesick, Don. I know there were times you wanted to come back here, but you didn't because of me. Well, you're home now, Don. I promise those sacrifices you made won't be in vain. Jon has foretold of a night, some nights from now, when thanks to Secret Camera, legions a-and multitudes of already adoring fans shall gather - and they shall receive our music in rapture!
Frank: [after improvising Lone Standing Tuft] It's silly.
Jon Burroughs: Frank... that's amazing.
Frank: Flattered grin. Followed by bashful half-smile.
Frank: We'll have many productive seasons here.
Jon Burroughs: He said I was cherishable, and he picked me to join the band.
Clara: You are fingers being told which keys to push.
Jon Burroughs: I push my own keys...
Clara: Ten little bits of bone and skin.
Jon Burroughs: And I'm perfectly capable of going to my furthest corners and composing music.
Clara: Your furthest corners?
Jon Burroughs: My furthest corners.
Clara: Someone needs to punch you in the face.
Frank: [calming Don, who is hyperventilating] Easy, Don. Start again, from the beginning. Patient smile.
Clara: Stop saying your facial expressions out loud. It's extremely annoying.
Jon Burroughs: Can I ask you something?
Frank: Sure.
Jon Burroughs: Why do you wear that?
Frank: you think it's weird?
Jon Burroughs: Kinda.
Frank: Well, normal faces are weird, too. You know, the way they're smooth... smooth... smooth... and blech! You know? All bumpy and holes, I mean, what are eyes like? It's like a science fiction movie. Don't get me started on lips. Like the edges of a severe wound.
Jon Burroughs: That's true. But your head is still sort of intimidating.
Frank: Well, underneath it I'm giving you a welcoming smile. Would it help if I said my facial expressions out loud?
Jon Burroughs: Well... maybe.
Frank: Welcoming smile.
Clara: Stay away from my fucking theremin.
Frank: We were in the forest like secret squirrels, and now we're likable! We're - we're so like... nnnnng... hmmm... it's gonna be huge! Jon fixed everything! You gotta come see us tomorrow night, I promise nothing bad'll happen to you!
Clara: Let's go take a walk.
Frank: I'm incredibly happy to be here! I'm fine! I'm relaxed!
Jon Burroughs: What goes on inside that head... inside that head?
Clara: I'm not playing the fucking ukulele.

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