the scene is connecticut, 2001. the setting is the studio where interpol is recording turn on the bright lights.
enter: DANIEL KESSLER
kessler: hey, paul, this outro is pretty nice so far and i’m kinda proud of it, but i was thinking maybe we could add some vocals at the end to tie it all together. what do you think?
banks:
kessler:
banks:
carlos d (lying on a couch, playboy magazine over his face): oh paul? paul’s conked to shit dude.
banks is slouched over the mixing board with sunglasses on; it was not immediately apparent he was unconscious. he still looks pretty cool.
carlos d (sitting up groggily; the playboy magazine slides off his face to reveal a copy of trout fishing in america underneath): yeah no he’s gonna be out until like, next fucking month. what’d you need
kessler: ….ah. i, hm. i just thought adding some vocals at the end of pda would be a pretty good idea, but i don’t really feel comfortable with messing with the lyrics, since that’s paul’s thing, y’know? i guess we can just send matador the version we have now
carlos d (sitting up even further; the trout fishing in america slides off his face to reveal yet another playboy magazine underneath): hey, no, fuck paul. write the lyrics yourself. actually, sing the damn lines yourself while you're at it. (passionately) you don't need to rely on him for everything. be your own man.
kessler: um
carlos d:* how hard can it be. honest to god.
kessler: um…… um………………… alright then…….. um… what if i sang something like……. um…….
carlos d:there you go. you got it. you almost got it
kessler (anxiously): "something to... say……. something to do………."
carlos d: genius. it’s genius.
kessler: "….there’s nothing to say. .....there’s nothing to do."
carlos d (tears in his eyes): fuck yeah, daniel. that was from the heart. who needs a double ba in literature. you really got something there, danizzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
[30 days later]
banks (pulling off his headphones): hey daniel. just checked out that version of pda you did while i was unconscious. do you want to hear some constructive criticism?
kessler (chewing on vitamins the next room over): sure
banks: what the fuck