I never really had a Charlie Parker. But I tried. I actually fucking tried. And that's more than most people ever do.

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. And they wonder why jazz is dying.

Terence Fletcher

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.

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.

Terence Fletcher

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

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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?

Terence Fletcher

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

Terence Fletcher

Nieman, you're done.

Terence Fletcher

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

Terence Fletcher

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

Terence Fletcher

Terence Fletcher: [Andrew keeps playing after the music ends] Andrew, what are you doing?
Andrew: I cue you!

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.

Terence Fletcher

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