Original subtitles

Why?

We did everything.

Okay, check it out.

Dune and Waterworld are, like, the best movies in the last 30 years.

Did you see Kevin Costner?

He's a fucking merman.

Did you see the things behind his ears? That's where the gills were.

-Right? He was like half fish. -What about Dune?

Dune is '80s.

Waterworld's all water, and no Dune.

And also no Sting in the thong. It was like a space thong.

Space thong? You talking about Sting?

You know what Sting does? Are you aware of this?

He delivers albums.

Where's my fucking record, Grohl?

It's all up here.

-Is it? -Yeah, it's all up here.

and in there,

and in there.

Not so much here.

But I got it, man. It's all in here.

I think, personally, that doesn't amount to a bucket of frozen shit.

-Okay. -I don't know where you'd get one.

But that's what it's about.

When you tell me you've got a record, all I got is a bucket of frozen shit.

I'm up to my eyeballs in debt.

And I gotta pay some crazy,

piece-of-shit motherfuckers,

who I owe so much money to.

And I just found out they may be the ones

who fucking sliced up that journalist in Turkey.

I just wanna give you the album that you want,

so you can pay off those people before they turn your nutsack into a coin purse.

-Relax. -Did you just say relax?

Yeah, so here's the thing.

We were thinking...

It's our tenth album, okay? We can't do the same old shit.

We gotta break the mold on this one.

Yeah, Shill, this record,

it's gotta blow your fucking dick right into your fucking mouth.

Blow your own dick into your mouth?

Yeah, right back up into your mouth, man.

Right back up into your mouth?

-Yeah. -Like it's been there before?

What kind of goal is that?

I don't want that album unless it makes me a lot of money.

Lot of money? Blow all the dicks you want.

Look, I can get you a studio anywhere you want in town tomorrow.

We've used all those studios. They all sound exactly the same.

Let's think outside the box, go somewhere we've never been.

Let's go to a cool-- Like Zeppelin. When Zeppelin went to the castle.

And there was the devil, and wizards, and dragons, and shit.

You want me to find you some wizards and dragons?

Yes, that's what we should be doing.

You want that? You want that?

Watch as I make this happen.

Holy shit. You fuckers are not gonna believe it.

I got it. You gotta trust me, let me do this.

Chilly Shills. What can I do for you, sunshine?

Hey, Barb, I'm here in my office with the Foo Fighters.

And they're looking for a place to record a new album.

You thinking what I'm thinking?

Oh, I do know what you're thinking,

and I have the perfect place.

Foo Fighters, oh, I thought this time would never come.

I gotta jump. I'll shoot you the address in the a.m.

This place is to die for.

Pearl Jam high five. Up top.

Jeremy has fucking spoken.

Hi, Dave Grohl. I'm Barb Weems.

-I'm such a fan. -Hi, Barb. How are you?

-Thank you. -I'd love a selfie later, if that's okay.

-Okay. -Hello, Foos.

How are you? So nice to meet you. Barb Weems.

This is the house. It is incredible. I can't wait to show you.

This place-- I know what you're thinking. It needs a little sprucey goosey.

And I agree. But here's the thing.

This place has serious rock 'n' roll pedigree.

I mean, it rolls deep.

A huge music manager owned this place in the '70s and '80s

and threw some wild parties.

Come, come.

How sexy is this stone-finish pool?

I can already see the girls in their bikinis.

It'll be fun. You can invite me to your parties.

Look at this state-of-the-art kitchen.

Do we have any chefs in the group?

I'm pretty handy on the grill.

Yeah. Right, guys?

Yeah, if you like your meat charred and dry.

Am I right?

Take a look at the other room.

Fuck you.

This is my favorite room in the house. These are original Babette Fosters.

They stopped production on those in the '80s.

I do love a good sconce.

But I don't know. It definitely has a weird energy.

Do you guys feel that?

Do you guys get this overwhelming sense of death and doom, or is that just me?

Yeah, like someone's gonna jump through the window

and start stabbing us in the eyes.

I'm gonna be straight with you guys.

There was another band, and they lived here in the '90s.

They thought the sound was incredible.

But they never finished their album.

Creative differences.

I don't know.

Doesn't really seem like the right fit.

Whoa, do you hear that?

That's fucking rad.

You hear that?

Okay, so if we put the drums right here,

facing this way...

We could put the guitar stuff here.

And we can do keyboards, like, over there.

We put the mixing desk in the bedroom up there.

You know.

We'll take it.

Well, that is music to my ears, baby. I'll go draw up the paperwork right now.

Yay, I knew you would love it.

Okay, guys, check it out.

The sound of this house is the sound of album 10.

No songs yet.

But we've got the sound.

All right, you know the drill. All gear in the house.

Amps, living room.

Snare drum-- Shitty job. --living room.

Expensive shit.

Guitars by the amp line in the living room.

Just fucking hate this shit.

Just like a quarter of an inch that way.

Just a little...

Like a hair more. Just like a tiny...

No, it's too far. Gotta bring it back.

Did you hear that?

-I did. -Sweet, huh?

Whatever, Dave.

Who cares about a creepy death vibe, drum sounds this good?

All right, here's the deal.

Shill's a dick.

We know this, right?

But this is our tenth record. It's gotta be good.

But we gotta make it fast.

We gotta eat, sleep, and drink this motherfucker.

So I'm thinking...

we move in to record.

-What? -No, no, no. Hear me out.

Hear me out. Hear me out.

Two weeks, tops.

Maybe a month.

A month in this shithole?

Then we go on with our normal lives.

Tell my wife. I'm not telling her.

I'll tell your wife if you tell my wife.

I'll tell my wife, but someone's gotta talk to my kids.

What am I gonna tell my grandma?

Oh, I can call your grandma.

She loves me. You remember the Hanukkah party.

Oh, yeah. Come here, Grandma.

Sit down.

Come on, Bubbe, just touch it. Touch it. Yeah, Rami's not gonna know.

Stay away from my bubbe.

Well, I guess that's settled.

I got master bedroom.

-I get the guest house. -Upstairs bedroom.

No.

No, no, no.

Excuse me.

Excuse me.

Hello.

Hi. Excuse me.

Hey, hey, hey.

Yo, excuse me.

That's weird.

How we looking, man? We all good?

Yeah, we're all good on our end.

Just need some juice. Then we can mic up the room.

Goddamn it.

Dude, who wired this house, a bunch of fucking mental patients?

Fuck. Jesus Christ.

No, no. Don't touch him. He's still hot.

-Oh, what the fuck? -Holy shit.

He's totally fried.

He's fucking dead.

Oh, man.

Krug.

Krug, Jägermeister. Krug.

Krug.

Guess we should pack up.

That was a short-lived experiment.

-Get out of here. -All right, Rami...

You know, it's funny. Hold up, guys. One second. Check it out.

Krug was really into this place, the way the drums sounded.

Dave, seriously, the guy just got turned into a fucking bratwurst.

Exactly why we should stay here and make the record, okay?

It'll give his life meaning.

You know? We could dedicate it to Krug.

I don't know.

Guess we can do a couple drum tracks here in his honor.

Exactly. That's what I'm talking about right there.

We'll have some fun with it.

You know? For Krug.

People think I look a lot like Willie Nelson.

I forgot to tell you.

Earlier today, before Krug got zapped,

there was this weird dude in the yard creeping around.

What kind of dude?

Some weird guy. He was trimming the hedges and stuff.

-The killer gardener of Encino. -Wouldn't be surprised in this house.

-Dave. -Oh, my God.

-What the...? -Shit.

-Dude. -You all right, Dave?

The meat.

It's Krug.

Usually I have a clear idea of what we're gonna do,

but ever since we moved into this house, my mind is flooded.

It's like sometimes it's like Prince, and then it's like Slayer.

And then it's like fucking Lawrence Welk.

What is it?

You guys hear that?

Probably raccoons. I heard them eating the trash last night.

Probably that creeper dude.

He better not be filming this.

Hey, neighbor.

-God. -You should've seen your face.

Or should I say, "feces"?

-It looked like you crapped your pants. -Yeah.

I'm Samantha. I live right next door.

I just wanted to introduce myself, in case you boys needed anything.

A cup of sugar, back-up singer.

I got another confession to make

I'm your fool

Were you born to resist

Or be abused

Help me.

Is someone getting the best

The best, the best, the best of you?

Oh, thank you.

-We'll let you know about that one. -Okay. I'm around.

Let me apologize in advance for all the rock we're about to make.

Oh, I can't hear anything over my Portuguese singing bowls.

Oh, those vibrations elevate the frequency of the psyche.

Play your cards right, maybe you will get a sound bath later.

Okay, Rami-o. Let's keep it moving.

Bye.

Namaste.

Hey, is there some sort of gardener dude that takes care of the property,

trimming hedges and stuff?

No, Dave. Nobody lives here.

This house has been empty for years.

Got a couple new riff ideas I've been working on.

I'm gonna lay them on you. Riff number one. Sounds like this.

So "All My Life"?

Shit.

Okay, hold on. I got one more.

Dude, wait, wait, wait. That's a great fucking song.

It's called "Everlong." You wrote it 20 years ago.

Fuck, the well's run dry.

I've written all my songs already.

All I have are these random snippets

of fossilized MTV bullshit in my head.

Dude, dude.

Look here.

Have you ever tried meditating?

Fuck meditating in the ass, Rami.

I'm gonna step out for a minute, guys.

Why don't we give Dave a little space here?

Something will come.

Son of a fucking bitch.

Been alone with you inside my mind

In my dreams I've kissed your lips A thousand times

I sometimes see you Pass outside my door

Hello--

Hello, Dave.

Lionel.

We all have writer's block, you know?

But that's my fucking song.

That's my fucking song. You understand what I'm saying?

I like that song. No, no, no. I love that song.

That's one of my favorite songs. I love singing that song.

Love that song.

Get your own song, nerd.

Taylor, sleep in your own bed.

Taylor?

You...

are not...

the first.

Krug. Oh, my God, I'm so sorry.

They are watching.

No, Krug.

What the fuck?

What the fuck?

Oh, my God.

Fuck this. I'm starving.

I got, like, three or four chicken parms here.

You're Dave Grohl. What?

Yeah, I get that all the time.

Right. Yeah. I heard about this. You're, like, incognito, right?

No, see, I'm not Dave Grohl.

Dave Grohl can actually write music.

I'm seriously a huge fan.

You're my second-favorite band, after Coldplay.

You know, I asked for extra ranch.

Oh, yeah, and I'll go run back, get some for you.

Yeah, it'll only take a few minutes.

You know, I'm in a band. Yeah.

I'll run back and get some ranch,

and drop it off with my demo, if that's cool.

I'll just use the marinara.

Hey, what's up? This is Bob from PlayThisRiff.com.

And you've come here today because you have songwriting constipation.

So when I have songwriting constipation,

and I want a violent, greasy dose of the hits,

I turn to classic riff structure. Like this. Check it out.

Part A.

Part B.

Part A again.

Part C.

Am I the only one who cares about the drought around here?

What the fuck?

Who kills a fucking raccoon?

Oh, my God.

He's real.

Dave.

"Dream Widow." No way.

This is fucking incredible.

Fuck, yeah.

This is the sound, man. This is the fucking sound.

Yes.

Fuck, yes.

Fuck.

It's fucking incredible.

No, no, no. Don't stop.

There's gotta be more.

Fuck, there's gotta be more. Please, God.

Please, please, please. No.

No.

Fuck.

No.

Shit. Goddamn it.

God, it was perfect.

You pitiful, miserable, disposable...

Finish it, and it begins.

Finish it, and it begins.

Fuck.

Finish it.

What are you doing?

There's a dead raccoon in there.

Dick.

Wow, fuck.

-Awesome, man. -Yeah, man.

Fuck, it's like you were musically constipated

and you just took the biggest musical shit on us.

-Fucking awesome. -Right? I'm still working on it.

There's like a hundred ideas in my head, just fighting to get out.

Could be a double,

maybe a triple album.

-I don't know. -Let's get to work.

Fuck you, Nate. Don't tell me what to do.

Told you it'd come, man.

Yeah, you did, didn't you?

What key is this in?

L-sharp.

You found a new musical note?

Hell motherfucking yes, I did.

Came to me last night. Just dropped in my head, like boom.

You're welcome, music.

So the L-sharp,

that's basically an E-flat, but like an octave up?

It's not an E.

It's an L.

If you guys could just open up your hearts and minds,

maybe you'd be able to hear it.

So, what happened to H, I, J, K?

G, H, I don't give a fuck

It's L-sharp, okay, you guys? That's the root note of the song.

Yes, yes. You're getting warmer. Yes.

Pat, you're cold.

Like North Pole, Antarctica.

Not even close.

I think I'm feeling something.

Oh, God, who the fuck?

Hello?

Any hungry rock stars in there want some num-nummy treats?

Oh, God, I detest that woman.

Lemon bar?

Go away.

Dude, lighten up. She's hot.

-Hello, beautiful. What's up? -Hey.

Some fresh-baked lemon bars for my favorite band.

It's my grandma's recipe, but I added my own little twist to it.

Is that cocaine?

Not a good time right now, because we're working on music.

How you feeling?

Everything okay?

Never better.

I'll get rid of her.

Get her the fuck out of here.

Hey, sorry, he gets really intense when we're recording.

I need to talk to you, alone.

I'd like to get you alone too--

No, it's about this house. There's something evil...

I should go.

Dave seems stressed.

Hey, how about that sound bath later?

-What the fuck, cock-blocker? -Fuck you, Rami.

Wait, wait, wait. Hold on, hold on, hold on.

Taylor, take it from the... part.

There's 8000 "boom-paps."

-Which one? -You know which one.

-We're at 23 minutes and counting. -So what?

So maybe we have a song that has no end.

So we're not close.

To me it just feels like there's something missing.

Let's just run through what we've got. I'm sure you'll get it.

Thanks, Chris, you fucking asshole.

Go.

One, two, three, four.

-Nate. -What?

I got an idea, okay? Downstairs. Now. Let's go.

-Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck. -Fuck, yeah.

Taylor.

Yo, what up, D?

I got an idea. Come downstairs.

Oh, fuck.

-Are those mine? -Oh, yeah. I borrowed them.

Have you seen Pat?

No idea.

Hey, Pat.

In here.

What are you doing in here?

This is the most comfortable place I could find.

And there's snacks.

Voilà.

You made this?

Yeah. It's the only thing that'll get this song out of my head.

And that's the song?

Exactly.

So each one of these little nails is one of us.

The yarn represents the vibrations of sound

that our music makes,

connecting all of us in an unending form.

It's like the universe. There's no beginning, there's no end.

Great, Dave. Can we pick this up in the morning?

I had these new ideas.

I was hoping we'd put them down tonight, so I don't forget them.

No, man, I gotta go to sleep.

I'm tired.

What did you just say?

Come on, I don't even have a bedroom.

I never get any sleep.

Let's do this tomorrow.

Before that.

Small word.

Begins with an N, ends with an O.

Nothing in between.

"No."

I said, no.

No?

Did you just say no to Dave Grohl?

I'm a fucking rock star.

Okay? I get whatever I want, whenever I want.

The best parking wherever I go for eternity.

Them's the rules.

Come on, come on.

Talk to Jimmy Page if you don't like it.

Dude, what the fuck?

I'll do it if you stop being such a fucking dick.

Thank you. Can we just do this, please?

One, two, three--

No, no. Hey, hey, hey.

Is there any way you could count it like, "Five, six, seven, eight"?

Like a fucking dancer counting in a dance?

That's fine. Cool.

Five, six, seven, eight.

Dude has gone fucking crazy.

Like, ass-flapping, dick-slapping, One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest crazy.

Listen, come on, guys, let's just buckle down,

give him what he wants, and we can get the fuck out of here.

What does he want?

Hey, guys.

-Ix-nay on the Ave-day. -Shit.

-Hey. -What's up, bro?

-Hey. -What's happening?

-What's up? -Hey.

I just wanted to say...

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry for being such a giant, red,

puckered orangutan's asshole last night.

This album means the world to me, okay?

And I think I just let it take over.

And I treated you like shit,

and I'm really sorry.

Which one of you gave Dave a hummer?

Rami.

Rami.

Listen, we're so close, okay?

If we could just finish this song tonight, we'll be out by Sunday.

Promise.

Stick with me. We can do this.

-Song is pretty epic. -Right?

I do think it should have an ending.

Thank God.

Okay.

So I have this idea, right?

Starts with Nate.

The root,

the foundation,

the bass.

Nate goes:

Chris, Rami, you come in like warships, banging off each other.

Then, Rami, you're all:

Pat, Taylor, you come in like riders of the Apocalypse:

Like that.

-Know what I'm saying? -Okay.

We got this.

-Right? -Cool.

-Yeah. -We can do that.

Pearl Jam high five.

Pearl Jam high five.

Break. We're still alive.

-Let's go. -Come on, let's go.

You sure you want us to leave?

I think we're all good.

Well, if you track anything this weekend,

just pop it onto a drive and we'll mix it on Monday.

Let's get out of here.

How's it going, bro? How's it sounding?

It's good. I'm just cleaning up some tracks.

Cool. I haven't seen you eat anything all day.

You hungry? How about some grill action, dude?

No.

I ordered a shit-ton of steaks earlier. Guy should be here any minute.

Cool, man. I'll let you know when he's here.

All right.

Oh, Dave, I forgot you were staying here.

Well, here's your food.

And, yeah, I brought you that CD I was talking about.

He's not gonna buy that.

Come on.

You are a worthy and talented musician.

Hey, Dave. Brought you a bunch of extra ranch this time, yeah.

Oh, this? It's my demo that I told you about. Yeah.

Dave?

Hello?

Dave?

Hey, sorry it took so long.

I wanted to make sure they got your order right.

It's all back here. I got...

Dave.

What the hell?

Hey, did that delivery guy ever show up?

Yeah, I don't know. I'll take a look.

Looks like he just dropped the bags and left.

I think I kind of freaked him out.

He wanted to drop a demo on me.

I wasn't really in the mood.

What is it? Think he's still out there?

You can never have enough ranch.

Okay, so, what's left?

So...

drum tracks tomorrow.

Then we just gotta figure out how to end this thing.

We're not actually making a 38-minute-long song, right?

No.

-Okay, cool. -Of course not.

-Thank God. -It's gonna be fucking longer than that.

-What? -What?

Gonna be epic, man.

It's gonna be like 2112 times 2112.

What?

Why don't you let me take the grill tomorrow night?

Seems like you got a lot on your mind.

Okay.

Should leave mine raw, dude.

It's so fucking juicy.

Hey, guys, it's Barb.

I'm just checking in to see how everything is going.

Oh, my God. They are barbarians.

Oh, my goodness, it's on the ceiling.

Okay, how do they even do that?

Oh, my God.

What did you do?

Hey, Barb.

Pat.

I thought you were dead.

How is everything going?

Is Dave done with his big concept album?

-He told you about that? -Oh, yeah.

I guess he's been talking to Shill. They seem pretty excited.

Where is everyone?

Upstairs, sleeping.

I usually sleep here, but not with all this crap on it.

Lemon bar?

No, thank you. I don't eat sugar or gluten.

Or any citrus fruits, or dairy, or corn.

It's terrible for your gut.

They look homemade. Is there a baker in the band?

Lady next door.

Samantha?

That woman is a train wreck. I've known her for years.

"Sacrifice"?

What did you say?

I did-- Me--

I don't know. Nothing.

Hey, Barb.

What's up? You made it.

David, how goes it? Is the album almost done?

Yeah, it's so good.

Yeah, it's killer.

We're actually wrapping up tonight.

Great, so I should make arrangements accordingly.

I'm gonna go freshen up.

Interesting guy.

He's the best.

All right, wait.

Stop, stop, stop. Hold on.

Something's not right.

It's the ending. You know, there has to be more.

You know,

if we just stopped recording,

it would be over.

Yup, a tight 44 fucking minutes.

Yeah, dude, how about a nice slow fade, '70s style?

Because I have blisters on my fucking blisters.

My hands are killing me, dude.

We've been looking for this mythical fucking ending all day.

You know what? I'm fucking out of here.

Frigging dick sandwich.

Fuck you, Shifty.

What the fuck? Forty-minute fucking song.

"Look at me. I'm Dave Grohl, the big fucking genius.

I don't have any fucking rules.

I write songs with no fucking endings.

Forty minutes long."

Fucking can't even cook a piece of meat to save his life.

Hey, Shifty, need a beer or anything?

Yeah, to shove up Dave's fucking ass.

Fucking blisters.

I should start wearing those stupid fucking gloves.

Fuck this. I'm out of here.

Just hang out. Chris just had to blow off some steam.

We should get Dave one of those magnet bracelets.

His energy's way off.

What the fuck is that?

No, no, no.

See? Fucking horrific, isn't it?

Who the fuck is that? Where the fuck is his head?

It's the delivery guy. Look at all this ranch.

Holy shit.

Holy shit.

That's the guy that delivered all the food earlier.

-Don't touch that. No, no, no. -Dave, Dave, don't...

"Bone Structure."

He wanted me to hear this.

How long has this guy been here?

I'm picking up some energy beacons.

He transitioned around 28 hours ago.

-Where the fuck did you learn that? -Pasadena.

First Krug gets electrocuted, and now this?

Fuck this shit. I'm calling the cops.

No, no, no. No cops.

Fuck this shit.

No fucking cops.

What the fuck?

Maybe Dave's right. We should call Shill. If this gets out, it'll be bad.

Listen, no cops, no Shill.

We cannot afford that intrusion right now.

Guy looks like a fucking salami sandwich. What the fuck?

I understand.

This is bad.

And this is sad.

But if we call the cops, they'll turn this place into a crime scene

and you can kiss that awesome drum sound goodbye forever.

So we just keep on going?

Yes, one more day. We finish this thing out.

Okay, and then we can call everybody.

We can call the FBI, CSI, NCIS.

We'll call them all.

And then we'll give...

Darren Sandelbaum, from Bone Structure, a proper burial.

Caskets, flowers, the whole nine.

We could even tweet a link to the Bone Structure on our Insta-thing.

You know what I mean?

This is what Darren would've wanted.

He might've wanted to keep his fucking head.

He didn't want to fuck up our record.

He loved this band.

He died for our band.

Let's do this, you guys, okay?

Do it for Darren Sandelbaum.

You guys in?

No.

You in?

-No. -Are you guys in?

Come on, let's get to work.

By the way, I'm gonna need everybody's cell phones and the keys to the van.

No one's going anywhere until we finish this song.

Thank you.

-Thank you. -The keys.

Thank you.

-I don't have a phone anymore. -Thank you.

It all comes back to the L-sharp.

Got it?

Yeah, we got it. Totally got it.

Let's just track the song so we can go home.

I'm tired. Kids think I'm dead.

And where's Shifty?

He should be here.

He was out by the grill.

He's gone.

Okay, let's just do this one more time. Count us in.

Five, six, seven, eight--

Actually, no. You know what? This time...

Odd numbers only in this section.

One, three, five, seven. Hit it.

Okay.

One, three, five, seven.

He's still eating. Let's go.

He came out of here.

-I was back here eating chips. -Big surprise.

Then I found this.

The neighbor lady that left the lemon bars left this.

It's a code. She's been trying to warn us.

-You just want to bang her. -Yes, I want to bang her.

But I also want to not get decapitated.

Let's ask her. She's always by the fence. Let's go.

That's you?

I thought we had an infestation of yellow warblers.

That was the wood thrush, genius.

Not here, little thrush. Come to the pool. We don't have much time.

Guys, hey.

Come here.

Now.

-How'd you get over there so fast? -Now.

I need you boys to open your minds for a moment,

and fucking listen.

This house...

This is not just a creepy rock 'n' roll house.

We are standing on a nexus

that allows spiritual entities to cross into our world.

Can it, drummer boy.

You ever hear of Dream Widow?

Of course. They were supposed to be the next Jane's Addiction.

Greg Null was a fucking genius.

Yeah, till he went batshit crazy, and killed his whole fucking band.

Right here in this house.

That's just rock 'n' roll folklore.

I was there.

Greg Null and I were close.

Very close.

I was his number one groupie and muse.

Now we're taking advice from groupies?

Hey, watch the labels. Groupies are people too.

You gotta understand, this was the roaring '90s.

No one gave a fuck about shit.

But Greg...

He was a visionary, an artist of the dark.

We were all into some experimental life choices back then.

The occult sex, energy transfers, and spectrophilia.

He possessed this living book,

made from human flesh.

The book was rumored to hold the secret incantations

of Aleister Crowley.

As time went on,

something truly sinister took ahold of Greg.

He was obsessed with this song from the book...

"Lacrimis de Ebrius."

"The Tears of God."

Every day he made his band try to complete this song.

He believed that perfecting it would open an eternal portal

and the spirit inside him would become a demonic passage

into our world.

You guys were ghost fuckers?

Somehow the good won out in Greg,

and he stopped it,

the only way he could.

Greg killed himself to stop the completion of the song.

But now the spirit that possessed him has found a new instrument.

-Fuck. Go, go, go. Faster. -You guys...

Shut up. Go. Hurry.

Go, go. Shit, shit, shit.

Oh, shit.

-Fucker. -Fucking dolls.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Goddamn it, I haven't spent the last 20 years teaching Pilates in Encino

so that thing can have its way.

You moved next door on purpose?

Someone had to guard the portal.

He's already been possessed. What are we gonna do now?

Okay, bring him down here.

Maybe I can just suck it out the old-fashioned way.

Hell, no. Bad idea.

Oh, sorry. Old habits.

There's got to be a better way.

Just call the cops.

God, that's such a good idea.

"Hi. Dave Grohl's been possessed by the spirit of Greg Null.

Now he's on a murderous rampage."

Best idea I've heard since, "Hey, let's move into this house."

-Okay. What the fuck should we do? -Come on.

The book.

It uses blood to stay alive.

He uses raccoons.

The basement.

He said something about raccoons when he came up from the basement.

Okay.

Find the book.

Turn to a passage called "Van Houten's Protocol."

That will close the portal and send this fucking spirit back to hell.

What about you?

You're gonna be in danger now that you've told us all this.

You wanna stay back and make sure I'm safe?

She's right.

Nate, Pat, you guys go find the book.

Taylor, go keep Dave occupied.

Drum tracks.

You haven't done your drum track yet.

I ain't going near that psycho. Fuck that.

Go up there and fuck up the drums, so he can't finish the song.

Shouldn't be too hard for you.

Eat a bag of dicks, Smear.

Be careful.

This is far from a simple possession.

That caretaker is more than just Greg Null.

There is an evil spirit inside him.

-Let's go. -No, I said, I'm not doing it.

-I'm not going near that motherfucker. -Come on.

-Fuck you. -Come on.

Fuck you, motherfuckers.

Yes.

-He took the fucking SIM card. -Quick, Pat.

-I'll keep you so fucking safe. -I bet you will.

Take this off. Take this off.

Can't get it off.

Wait, wait. Put some music on so Dave doesn't hear us.

Good idea.

Okay, let's go.

Maybe I should wait up here, be a lookout?

No fucking way, dude.

Come on.

I'm a lumberjack baby

And I'm gonna cut you down to size

My latest guilty pleasure.

This is my shit.

And when you hear my motor running

You know I surely I surely be coppin' a rise

So I'm gonna crank it up And cut it down

This is my favorite part. This is my favorite part.

You're nasty. I like that.

I ain't jacked my lumber baby

Jesus.

Somebody lived down here.

Greg Null.

Or whatever he is now.

Fuck, dude. Look.

"The sacrifice feeds the book."

Poor little guy.

Pat, find me something to pry this open with.

Oh, fuck!

Come on. Go, go.

Come on.

Hey, buddy. How you doing, man?

The ending.

I can hear it.

All we need to do is lay down the drums.

The drums? Why don't you and Shifty do some more guitars?

Shifty's done.

Warm up.

You're next.

-Fucking hell. Fuck, fuck. -Were they fucking demons?

Those were real fucking demons, Nate.

Okay, man, look at this.

Demonic incantations.

Here we go, exorcisms.

No, no, no. That's not it. That's not it.

You're doing this on purpose.

I'm trying to get this ending right.

Okay, it's fucking simple.

It just goes:

I'm pretty sure that's what I was doing.

Pretty sure it's not.

Why don't we wait for Nate and Pat to get here?

Nate and Pat?

Fuck them. What do they know about fucking drums?

You and me, right? We're drummers.

We speak the same language. Let's finish the fucking track.

Can't we just wait?

Let's just finish the fucking track, and get out of here.

It's not Dave. You're not Dave.

What did you just say?

I didn't say anything.

Just play the fucking drums.

Yeah. That's it.

Yeah.

That's it.

There you go, man. I finished the fucking song.

You did.

Thank you.

"The Van Houten Protocol for Demonic Cleansing.

It's imperative to confirm the possessing entity is of demonic origin

before employing these techniques.

Look for these signs. One, digestive system shutdown."

No more oatmeal beer bongs for Davey.

"Ability to levitate objects, or defy gravity."

Just play nice with this L-sharp bullshit.

Play E-flat and get through it.

It's an L.

L.

"Incessant masturbation."

Dave, what are you doing in there?

Sounds like you're playing patty-cake with a soft chicken dumpling.

-Didn't he do that already? -Does that disqualify him?

This demonic shit is complicated.

"Insatiable hunger for raw meat, human flesh in particular."

Fuck, I think he ate Chris.

Fuck, he's definitely possessed.

Okay. So, what do we do?

We go save his ass.

That's not good.

What's he doing?

-Oh, my God. -Shit.

I think we're too late.

That's Taylor. Look.

Read the book. We gotta stop this.

Here we go.

-"To begin the Van Houten Protocol--" -Quiet.

Shit. Fuck.

What the fuck?

Jesus. Jesus. Fuck.

Close the door.

Shit. Fuck. Okay.

All right. "The vessel must be purified to release the infecting spirit.

Copious amounts of Holy Water--"

The pool.

"Under the designations of these sacred passages,

I anoint this body of water as a conduit of purity."

That won't work.

You don't know what you're doing.

Hurry up and read.

"Heavenly Father, Holy Spirit,

rebel son Jesus, bestow your divine power into this water

that we may wash Dave clean from this foul demon."

Something's happening.

Yes.

Your death is being delayed.

The fucking demons.

Give me that fucking book, or I'll rip it out of your dead hands.

"Hear us, Lord, cleanse the soul of this infernal beast

that hath taken Dave and turned him into a satanic vessel from hell."

Stop reading that fucking book.

Fuck you. We want Dave back.

Dave?

Dave's been gone for decades.

He's a slave to music.

What about our band?

The band?

What about them?

Rami got what he wanted.

Taylor finished the song.

And Chris...

Chris was right.

He does make a killer barbecue.

"Demon of the 12th Realm, defiler of souls,

sitting at the left hand of Lucifer--"

You're weak.

You're nothing.

I'll crush your pathetic souls.

"I command you, be gone from this human vessel.

Take leave of this innocent body.

Return to your kingdom of blasphemy and filth."

Come on, demon.

Let Dave fucking go.

Do you see him? Where'd he go?

Where is he?

I don't know.

Oh, my God.

You guys.

Oh, God.

Last thing I remember is...

that fucking raccoon, man,

and then poof.

Dude, we got some bad news.

Oh, my God, the song. We cannot finish the song, okay?

Whatever's in that basement, we can't let it out.

No, it's about the guys.

I think I swallowed some pool water.

I fucking love you guys, man.

I fucking love you.

You totally saved my--

Oh, gross.

Is that Shifty?

That tastes like shit.

-It's all right, buddy. You're okay now. -Oh, God.

No.

No, no.

Now I'll kill you,

like the rest of your pathetic little band.

Fuck you.

Fuck...

you.

Killed us.

Crushed our dreams.

You were weak.

Your curse is lifted.

Now you will suffer.

Suffer. Suffer. Suffer...

The sacrifice feeds the book.

Thank you.

Okay.

Get me the fuck out of here, man.

Get the fucking van.

-We'll go grab the van. Wait here. -Okay.

Fuck.

We gave shitty Dave the keys.

Just get in.

What are you doing?

I'll do it the old-fashioned way.

Hit the gas when the wire makes contact.

What?

You need to hit the gas when I spark it.

What are you doing here?

See if there's any others left.

Oh, my God. Shill, thank God you're here.

This house is a fucking shit show, man.

You have no idea what we just went through.

The devil rules all of rock 'n' roll.

What? No, no, no. Listen.

This place is a disaster, okay?

It's been a nightmare recording here. Why did you send us to this house?

Don't give me your sob story, Dave. I know exactly what's going on.

You do?

Oh, yeah.

You know, rock 'n' roll...

it hasn't been relevant for a long time.

It needs an infusion.

Okay, I don't know what kind of weird shit you're into--

The devil will make rock 'n' roll relevant again.

The devil will make it dangerous.

You finished the song, didn't you, Dave?

No, not yet.

It's complicated.

We're close.

It's just the arrangement and the composition is--

I've been waiting 20 years to finish that song.

I just needed the right vehicle.

Someone who could handle all that evil.

I needed you.

First of all, Obi-Wan Kenobi,

nice fucking cape.

Second of all, you're so fucking lame. Who do you think you are?

Sending us to this shithole to make a record?

You're just a manager.

You don't know the first thing about music.

You just wanna make your money.

I made you.

Pat, there's something back there. Come on.

Oh, shit.

Pat, move, move, move.

What do you think I'm doing? Hold on a minute.

Oh, mother...

Dude, time is fucking nigh. Start the car.

Give me a minute. I almost got it.

Come on, move. It's getting closer.

It's almost here. What are you doing down there?

Shit. Pat, now, now, now.

Yeah, I know, I know, I know. Hold on.

Hi, guys.

Stop fighting me, Dave.

Stop fighting me.

I'm trying to help you.

The real you.

Here it comes. Spark it.

Oh, fuck.

Pat. Fuck.

Pat. Sorry, Pat. I'm sorry.

Barb?

Help? I killed my band because of your help.

Die, you cocksucker.

Die.

You finished it.

You finished the song, didn't you?

You finished it.

You finished it.

You did.

Didn't you?

Look at the rage in your eyes.

You're not Dave Grohl.

It's time for your solo career.

We're ready for you, brother. That is a full house out there.

You all good, Dave?

Never better.

Okay.

Love dies young

And there's no resuscitation

Once it's done

No regeneration

It's a losing game That'll make you play

Your hand against your chest

Love dies young

Love dies young

And there's no reanimation

Once it's gone

No regeneration

It's a bitter kiss That'll make you wish

You never had a taste

Love dies young, oh

Please don't take my breath

Don't take my breath away

Love dies young

Love's so dumb

So, what's the fascination?

Leaves you numb

With a nasty reputation

When you lose your head And lights go out

You'll never be the same

Love dies young, oh

Please don't take my breath

Don't take my breath away

Love dies young

Never-ending cemeteries

Funeral parades

All your dreams Are buried in their place

Love dies young, oh

Please don't take my breath

Don't take my breath away

Love dies young

Love dies young, oh

Please don't take my breath

Don't take my breath away

Love dies young

Love dies young

Love dies young

Love dies young

Love dies young