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( silence )

(grunting)

(shrieking)

(screams)

(upbeat jazz music)

(jazzy guitar music)

(bluesy country music)

* I left my home down on the
rural route *

* I told my pa I'm going
stepping out *

* And get the honky-tonk blues

* Yeah, the honky-tonk blues

* Oh, Lord, I got 'em

* I got the honky-tonk blues

* Well, I went to a dance
and wore out my shoes *

* I woke up this morning
wishing I could lose *

* Them jumping honky-tonk blues
*

- Well, Goldie Hill's about
done.

I'm going to go out there
and introduce you next.

You just come on out and tell
the boys

what you're going to play.

We'll take it from there, okay?

* I got the honky-tonk blues

- You nervous?

Good.

- Go on, hoss.

- You got one shot at the big
time.

You mess this up, you're
going to be back home

pissing in a bucket the rest of
your life.

But if you play good,

boy, it's a whole new world.

* Oh, Lord, I got 'em

* I got the honky-tonk blues

(audience applauding)

- You still nervous?

- Hey, cutie.

- Goldie Hill, ladies and
gentlemen.

Isn't she a peach?

Well, now I would like to
introduce you

to some fine guitar playing.

- First time out there, boy?

- Yes.

Yes, sir, Mr. Williams.

- What's your name, son?

- Hank.

- Worked for me.

- Terrible waste of
talent to leave him there.

So we combed his hair...

- Well, listen, Hank, you go out
there,

and you let 'er rip,

because the crowd's a
sucker for a fast song.

- Yes.

Yes, sir.

- So let's give a big
Grand Ole Opry welcome

to the youngest cotton
picker, Mr. Hank Garland.

Hank, come on out here, son.

Let the folks have a look at
you.

(audience applauding)

(tuning strings)

Well?

What's it going to be?

- It's a boogie.

Key of E.

- Boogie.

Key of E.

- I might go a little fast.

- Oh, he might go a little fast.

(fast-paced guitar picking)

(lively rockabilly music)

(audience applauding)

- [Man] Play it, Hank!

Give it up for Hank!

(audience applauding)
(audience cheering)

(audience applauding)

(people speaking indistinctly)

- Ugh!

Ugh!

(laughing)

- Hey, sweetie.

- You still interested in
knowing my name?

- I'm interested in knowing

everything there is to know
about you.

(laughs)

- [Hank] Susie.

- Nope.

- Nancy.

- Uh-uh.

- Rita.

- Uh-uh.

- Marianne.

- Mm-mm.

- Susie.

- You said that one already.

(laughs)

- Well, you know, sweetie,

my sensory perceptions
usually work a lot better

after, you know, a kiss.

Gives me insight.

- Maybe later.

- Well, I hope not too much
later.

There's a lot of other girls'
names I could be guessing.

(giggling)

- [Woman] Hank.

- What?

- If I told you I never do this,

would you believe me?

- What sort of thing is it you
don't do?

'Cause you seemed to be
doing it all last night.

- Shut up.

(laughing)

Gol, you're so damn cute.

(chuckles)

What I meant was, I don't
go backstage at the Opry

looking to screw some star.

- Star?

You must have me confused
with somebody else.

I ain't no star.

I'm just a session player,
sideman of the stars.

- Mm-mm.

You're becoming a bona
fide celebrity around here.

They say you're the best
guitar player in Nashville.

- Well, I think you've got me
confused with someone else.

I'm Hank Garland; I'm the
best player in the world.

And parts of Nashville.

(laughs)

(car horn honks)

- Jesus, Copas.

You need to get a quieter horn.

- Maybe you need to start
drinking

a better brand of whiskey.

(horn blares)

- Don't you rob me blind
now when you lie down.

(laughing)

- Is that what the last girl
did?

Did you at least know her name?

- I know your name, sweetie.

I'll get it right next time; I
promise.

Bye.

- Bye.

(upbeat jazz music)

- Best move over, Copas.

- [Copas] Kiss my ass, Hank.

You ain't driving this car.

- You drive like an old woman.

We'll never get to the studio on
time.

- [Copas] It's a new car, Hank.

- Open the door.

Let me drive.

- Hank!

- Watch out for those people.

- Hank, don't you do it.

(tires squeal)

- [Man] I think you
might want to pull over.

- [Copas] Be careful.

* And I've tried, and I've tried
*

* But I haven't yet

* You walk by

* And I fall to pieces

(melancholy country music)

* I fall to pieces

* Each time someone speaks your
name *

- [Jerry] No, Hank.

- Come on, now.

Listen to it.

- Will you, will you leave it
alone?

- Look, if Tommy comes
in before the bridge...

- It's what?

- [Hank] It's going to sound
like shit.

How can you not hear that?

You got the bass stepping
all over everything.

- What are you...

No, okay?

It sounds fine.

- It doesn't sound fine.

Listen to it.

- What do you want, Hank?

We just get rid of everything
else

so all we hear is you?

- No, but you got Roy Orbison,

the sweetest voice in the whole
world,

singing your song, and you can't
hear it

because this guy over here's
going...

(imitates bubbly bass line)

- All right.

Show's over.

Take it back to you, Tommy,

and we'll just pick it up at
the top of that second verse.

- Fuck you, Jerry.

If I thought it'd make any
difference,

I'd come in there and shove this
guitar

up your tone-deaf ass.

- Now, Hank, let's just
finish what we're doing.

- I mean, seriously.

Whose dick did you suck to get
this job?

- Son of a...

(cymbals crashing)

- Get the hell off me!

- [Man] Hey, come on, guys.

- [Jerry] I'll show you who's
sucking one around here.

- [Hank] Come on, Jerry.

Get off.

- [Jerry] Come at me, boy!

Come on!

- Hey!

Somebody want to tell me

what the holy hell's going on
around here?

Well, I guess that's what

they call creative differences,
huh?

Look,

I'm paying Jerry a whole mess of
money,

not only to make sure
this record sounds good

but to get it done on time.

Now, he can't do that if you two

are going to be wrestling in the
studio.

- And all I'm trying to do is
make sure it gets done right.

- Well, all I'm trying to tell
you is that ain't your job.

You're a hired gun, Hank.

Just play your part and shut
your mouth.

- If I lay something down
in there that ain't 100%,

I look bad.

I've got a reputation, Ryan.

- Huh.

Well, Hank,

I got a reputation too,

and I'll be damned if I'm going
to let

some hick guitar job...

- Hey!

- [Roy] Uh, Hank?

Could you excuse us?

- Sure.

- Hey, Roy.

I'm sorry about that.

- I'm not taking sides on this,

but the contract that you and I
signed

says I can pick the musicians I
want.

- That's right.

- And I want Hank.

If it comes down to a choice
between him and Jerry,

well, Hank is going to stay.

- That's your call, Roy.

- Mm-hmm.

- That's your call.

I'll take care of it.

- Hey, Roy, I didn't mean to...

- Don't ever put me in that
kind of spot again, Hank.

- You got it.

- Hank, Hank, you can't go

pissing in the wind with the
labels.

Now, you make a decent
living doing what you love.

Be goddamned grateful, will you?

- Well, it's either that, or
you ain't got a career, Hank.

They'll lock you out.

Never work in this town again.

I've seen it happen.

- They're not going to shut me
out.

They need me.

Even that shithead Bradford
needs me.

- Yeah, well,

(sighs)

whatever you think the worst is,

it's really 10 times that.

These redneck studio
boys have muscle, Hank.

On the house, fellas.

- Thanks, Jimmy.

What's the occasion?

- A little bon voyage.

I'm going back to Chicago,
taking the family.

I'm going to visit the old
neighborhood,

get away from the cowboy
faggots for a while.

(laughing)

- Here's what we need.

Let's go on tour for a few
weeks,

give Hank a chance to cool
his heels out of town.

- Hell, Hank can get in
as much trouble in Biloxi

as he can here.

- Well, look, if we go
back out on the road,

we got to see some new places.

I've seen Macon,
Montgomery too many times.

Maybe we could hit Chicago.

New York.

Hey, Jimmy, they got honky-tonk
music

where you're from, don't they?

- Sure, they got places you
can play your giddyup shit.

But they got real music too.

Southside blues would melt in
your mouth.

Some hot jazz.

* Zippity dippy zi

* Dit dooby dooby dooby doo

Ah, you'll love it, Hank.

- Well, all right, then.

Let's go on the road.

(jazzy piano music)

(serene piano music)

- Hank.

Hank.

You plan on checking in tonight?

Uh, Hank, we're going to
head over to the hotel bar.

You coming?

- Ah, I think I'm going to do
a little exploring of my own.

- Okay.

Well, if you get lost, just head
north.

If you fall into Lake
Michigan, you've gone too far.

(lively jazz music)

(relaxed jazz music)

- [Man] Check it out.

- Hey.

Look at country.

- You need something?

- A beer.

Whatever's cold.

- If you don't mind my saying,

you look a little lost, man.

- I may be a little lost.

They don't have many clubs
like this where I'm from.

- Oh, they probably got 'em.

You just ain't never seen 'em.

- No, not with players like
that.

- Oh, yeah.

I don't care where you come
from,

you won't find no one who
can grind the ax like Wes.

- Wes?

- Wes Montgomery, man.

You picked a damn good
night to come in, cowboy.

(soft bluesy music)

(phone rings)

- Yeah.

Yes, sir.

Yes, sir, I'll be right down.

- I just need another key.

I want to go to my room.

- What's your name, sir?

- It's Byrd.

He's seen me here.

I know he has.

What is, this is bullshit.

- Well, sir, there's no need to
get upset.

- Hank, tell these
cocksuckers I'm staying here.

- Mr. Garland, do you know this
man?

- That's Billy Byrd.

He's staying down the hall.

- Well, he's been creating a
disturbance

throughout this hotel,
using language that...

- Language?

I'm speaking English, you dumb
cocksucker.

- Sir, that is the last
time you call me cocksucker.

- Let go of me, Hank.

Let me kick his ass.

Ow.

Ow.

Ow.

(laughs)

- What is he talking about?

- Maybe we should get you to
bed.

He's not usually like this.

He's out of town, you know?

Things are going kind of...

- You, bring that bell back.

- [Billy] Come on, Hank!

(lively rockabilly music)

- Not bad.

- Yeah.

(crowd cheering)
(audience applauding)

- You need help, seat kicker?

(chuckles)

- No, uh-uh.

(bluesy acoustic music)

* Sweet dream baby

* Sweet dream

- You're such a smooth guitar
player;

you aren't much of a
conversationalist.

* Sweet dream baby

- Yeah, I can usually
talk a pretty mean game,

but that was a tough crowd.

- That's a neat trick you've
got.

I bet that works all the time.

Those sweet little hillbilly
girls

with their perky tits,

come backstage wanting to
spread their legs for you,

because you're the only man
for miles who's bait that night

and has on an

almost clean shirt.

I know how things work down
there.

You're not going to try out
some of your backstage lines

on little old me, are you?

- No, ma'am.

Besides, I don't think they'd
work.

You like look you've got
plenty of your own lines.

- Try me.

What do you do?

Do you tell them

that they're the prettiest
girl in the county?

Let them touch your guitar?

- Sometimes.

Lately, though, I've been
trying to guess their names.

That's always fun.

(chuckling)

- Oh, so guess my name.

- All right.

Well, um,

(giggles)

(sighs)

- Your name's Evelyn.

- How did,

who told you?

- [Hank] I just guessed.

- Oh.

(laughs)

- Wow.

You know, I didn't even really
think you liked me at first.

- Who says that I like you?

(laughs)

I said, "A man that looked that
good

"and played the guitar like
that must be great in bed."

(laughs)

* Dream baby, got me
dreaming sweet dreams *

* Nighttime too

* I love you, and I'm dreaming
of you *

* That won't do

* Dream baby, make me stop my
dreaming *

* You can make my dreams come
true *

* Sweet dream baby

* Sweet dream baby

* Sweet dream baby

* How long must I dream

* Dream baby, got me
dreaming sweet dreams *

* The whole day through

(romantic acoustic guitar music)

- That's so pretty.

- Baby, everything I play is
pretty.

It's just with you in the
room, it doesn't seem like it.

- Put down the guitar, Hank.

- Hang on.

Just a minute.

- You like that thing
more than me, don't you?

- No, I've just known her
longer.

- Are you going to miss me in
New York?

- Baby, I'm gonna miss you so
bad,

they're going to have to
lock me up in the loony bin

and throw away the key.

- I'm being serious.

- Well, I'm being serious too,
babe.

Yeah, I'm going to miss you.

- I looked on a map.

I mean, Nashville doesn't look
that far.

- Oh, yeah?

You coming to Nashville?

- Only if I'm invited.

- Baby, you come to Nashville,

and you'll own that town.

They're gonna write a million
songs about you, Evelyn.

(horn blares)

(light jazz music)

Damn, Copas.

Ain't that the queerest looking
sailor

you ever seen in your life?

You can practically hear
him swishing from here.

- What'd you say, hopalong?

- I said you come down the wrong
alley.

The one where you get the cheap
hand jobs

from the college boys is two
down.

- Well, I heard you give 'em for
free.

- Hank, we don't want any
trouble, huh?

(growls)

(laughing)

- We got three days' leave

so we came to see you
play that hillbilly music.

- L, this is my brother Billy.

- Oh, you son...

- Wait.

This is Billy?

- So we're out in the
middle of the Yellow Sea.

- The Yellow Sea?

- Yeah, it's not really yellow,
honey.

It's just over there in Korea,

except they call it the
Huanghai.

- How's the food?

- The food,

the food is delicious over in
Korea.

You like dog or monkey?

- Young un, can I talk
to you for a minute?

I'll have him right back, I
promise.

Look, I got you the best room in
the house

in case you need some, you know,
privacy.

- Well, I sure do appreciate
that, big brother.

- Good night.

- So will she.

- Uh-huh.

Good night.

- Ah.

So where were we?

- They said this was your room.

- They got it right for once.

- I was wondering if you might
want,

you know, some company.

I really like your playing.

So I really like you.

- Mm.

Wow.

See, there's this girl
back in Chicago, and I...

- Oh.

You can think about her
while you're with me.

I don't mind.

- Well, now, that is a hell of
an idea.

I don't know why I didn't think
of that.

I tell you what, fair is fair,
so,

if there's anybody that
you want to think about

while you're with me,

well, then I guess that's all
right too.

* There's a moon out tonight

* Let's go strolling

* There's a girl in my heart

- See, Nashville's a tough
place.

You got your studios, you
got your record companies,

and you got your musicians'
union.

They're all tight; they all work
together.

Call them the Dixie Mafia.

You play ball their way,
or you don't play at all.

- You having trouble?

- No.

It's nothing I can't handle.

But I want to do more, man.

I want to do the big stuff.

I want to own my own music.

I don't know if you know
this about me, though,

but I tend to rub people
the wrong way sometimes.

- You don't say?

- But you, Billy,

beautiful little baby brother,

you could sell turkey
feathers to a peacock.

They love you.

Everybody does.

- What are you getting at, Hank?

My food's getting cold.

- When you get out of the Navy,

why don't you come to
Nashville, help me out?

We go into business together.

We can own the music.

- Be like, be your manager?

- No, man.

Be my eyes.

I got the hands.

We can take care of each other,
Billy.

You're the only person I trust.

I need you to be my eyes.

(lively country music)

Hey, Neal.

- Hey, Hank.

Come on in.

How many hit records today?

- Oh, five sessions.

Probably four hit records.

- What happened on the fifth
one?

- It was just after the lunch.

The drummer was a little groggy.

- Hank, you know Ryan Bradford,
don't you?

Dunbar Records?

- Sure.

- Ryan was just telling me
how he's looking to find

some studio time for Elvis.

- He wants you to play on the
session.

The Colonel told me Elvis said

you were the finest guitar
player he ever heard.

- Here, these are for today.

- Standard release form, Hank.

Just sign on the bottom.

- You know, that last
piece for Tailor Records,

I did most of the arranging on
it.

- Well, that explains

the extra hour you took in that
session.

- What I'm saying is, I
did more writing on it

than whoever's going to get
credit for it.

- How many times we got
to do this dance, Hank?

I mean, you get paid as a
writer,

or you get paid as player.

Now, you can't have it both
ways.

- Well, why not?

- 'Cause it's always been that
way.

It was that way when
you asked me last month.

It was that way

when you asked me about it two
years ago.

And it's going to be that way

when you bring it up next week.

- What I'm saying is,
when you take what I make

and you take what a writer
makes,

it doesn't add up.

Somebody's getting rich off my
work.

- Well, if it's such a big deal,
Hank,

don't sign the release.

- What happens if I don't sign?

- You don't get paid.

- Yeah, I've been missing you
too.

- [Evelyn] I know how we
can take care of that.

- Yeah, that sounds like a good
idea.

- [Evelyn] It would be nice
to see you again, Hank.

- All right, you too.

(playful folk music)

(laughs)

(moans)

Hi.

- Hi.

- Welcome to Nashville.

- Thank you.

Two whole weeks.

What are we going to do?

- I don't know.

I'm sure we'll find something.

(laughing)

* I can't stop loving you

* I made up my mind

* To live in memories

- Well?

You did it.

You don't deserve her.

- I swear, Billy, sometimes
it's like I can't even breathe

without her around.

* So I'll just live my life

* In dreams of yesterday

* Those happy hours

* That we once knew

- Well, congratulations, you
little shit.

- Thanks, Pa.

- Kitty's singing real
pretty for you, Hank.

- You know that amp you owe me?

- Yeah?

- Let's say we have your wife
work it off and call it even.

- Jesus.

Get out of here.

(laughing)

- I ought to congratulate you
too, cousin,

but I'm way too jealous.

- Thanks, Byrd.

That's real sweet.

- No, Hank, I'm jealous of her.

I love you, Hank.

Come on, give me a kiss.

Just a little one.

Evelyn don't even need to know
about it.

- Hey, cut him off!

* Live my life

* In dreams of yesterday

(audience applauding)

(romantic country music)

- Hey, hold that for me.

- Go on.

* I was waltzing with my darling
*

* To the Tennessee waltz

- Fold into me, babe.

May not be like this forever.

- I want it to be.

I really do.

* My friend stole my sweetheart
from me *

- It's a whole new life.

* Oh, I remember the night

* And the Tennessee waltz

* Only you know

- Well, shit.

I mean, I ain't surprised.

You're a great player, Hank.

That is the biggest name in the
biz.

You'll like playing for him.

(chuckling)

Christ, now I got to find
another guitar, hmph.

- Well, Byrd's not out with Tub
right now.

You could hire him.

- That lush?

I like to hire guys

I know won't pass out or piss
themselves

in the middle of a set.

Sure you won't stick around
for a couple weeks, Hank?

- No, no.

He's going on the road
with Eddy in four days,

and then he's in the studio.

He's got Eddy's TV show, so...

- Ain't wasting no time.

I mean, he can probably
pay you more than I can.

- It ain't about that.

I just don't want to feel
like I'm sitting still.

- Is that what we were doing?

Hell, I thought we were doing
pretty good.

But it was good playing with
you, Hank.

- You too, Lloyd.

- Well, hello and good
day to all you folks

listening to WACN in the a.m.

It's a beautiful Tuesday
morning,

and sitting across from me

is the equally beautiful and
charming Ms. Evelyn Garland.

Say hello, Evelyn.

- Hello, Nashville.

- Evelyn is the wife of
our very own Hank Garland,

who many of you know

is one of the best
guitar slingers anywhere,

and Evelyn was nice enough
to stop by to introduce

one of the records her husband
played on.

So, Evelyn, if you'd be so kind.

- This is one of my favorites,

and I hope it will be one of
yours.

It's with Elvis, and it's
called "Such A Night."

And, Hank, wherever you are,

I love you, baby.

(upbeat jazz music)

* It was a night

* Ooh, what a night it was

* It really was such a night

* The moon was bright

* Oh, how bright it was

* It really was such a night

* The night was alive with stars
above *

* Ooh, when she kissed me

(clapping)

- Honey.

Hey, I thought you were
going to listen to me.

- I did listen to you.

It sounded so damn cute,
I almost kissed the radio.

- What radio?

- The one in the car.

- You don't have a radio in your
car.

- I know.

But you got a radio in your car.

* I reminisce

* And I'm filled with desire

- Oh, my God.

How?

- Baby, I signed with Eddy
Arnold.

Just about afford anything you
want.

(laughing)

- Really?

- Come on.

- Ah!

(laughs)

Oh.

(gasps)

Oh, baby.

* I go out walking after
midnight *

* Out in the moonlight

* Just like we used to do

* I'm always walking after
midnight *

* Searching for you

* I walk for miles along the
highway *

* Well, that's just my
way of saying I love you *

* I'm always walking after
midnight *

* Searching for you

* I stop to see a weeping willow
*

* Crying on his pillow

* And maybe he's crying

- [Hank] It's probably two
weeks, three at the most.

- [Evelyn] I'll be fine.

- I know, baby.

Hey.

I've never left anything
or anyone at home before

when I went on the road.

Just doesn't feel good
saying good-bye like this.

- Then don't go.

I mean, just stay here with me.

(laughing)

Don't leave me.

Don't go.

- Ev, I have to.

- I know.

- It's my first...

- I know.

As long as I know you're
coming home to me,

everything is going to be all
right.

- Well, you never have
to worry about that.

- [Evelyn] Okay.

- Because I will never leave
you.

I will always come home to you,
Ev.

(melancholy jazz music)

(groans)

(sighs)

(phone rings)

- What?

- Are you fucking other women?

- What?

No, I'm not fucking other women.

- You're lying, Hank.

I know that you are.

I have proof.

- What kind of proof do you
have, Evelyn?

- I have friends out there,
and they've seen you.

- Look, I want you to
listen to me right now.

I'm in love with you, Ev.

I just married you.

I'm not seeing other women.

- I'm warning you.

Don't embarrass me.

- Oh, look it's the middle of
the night.

What the hell's gotten into you?

- I'm sorry.

I'm just so lonely.

(dramatic orchestral music)

When are you coming home?

- I'll be home in a couple days,
okay?

- Okay.

- M'kay.

- Baby.

I missed you.

So much.

- I missed you too.

You're a sight.

- Well, let's go inside
and make up for lost time.

- You're going to have
to wait on that, babe.

Kid's in town.

I got to go to the studio.

- But you just got home.

- But Elvis is the king, baby.

(bluesy piano music)

* Amazing grace

* How sweet the sound

* That saved a wretch like me

* I once was lost

* But now I'm found

* Was blind

* But now I see

I see Hank Garland sneaking in
the door.

How are you, Hank?

Good to see you.

(spry guitar music)

What's that you're playing,
hoss?

- Oh, it's just a little
something I warm up with.

Gotta stay loose, Elvis.

- Loose, man.

You're loose.

Sounds like a hit record.

You ought to record that thing.

- Thank you.

And now, folks, it's
time for what's become

one of the most popular
segments of our show.

This is where we highlight

one of the best guitar players
anywhere,

our own, Hank Garland.

Come on out here, Hank.

Show us what you got.

- Thank you, Eddy.

I've got something for you
tonight

that I'm sure you're all going
to enjoy.

It's a song I wrote called
"The Sugarfoot Rag."

(lively guitar music)

(sighs)

- Here's to having a hit record.

- [All] Yes.

- Amen.

- Cheers.

- And here's to the pricks
who paid for the champagne

but wouldn't even talk to me
last month.

- Here's to you, miserable
pricks.

(laughing)

- Must you talk like a truck
driver?

- No.

I must talk like

the man who's got the number
five record

on the Cashbox charts.

- That's right, and it's
going to stay that way

from now on, Hank.

We got three different
record companies lining up.

- I'm not sure what the big deal
is.

The song's just Hank's
old finger exercises

strewn together with Red here
singing over the top of 'em.

I coulda done that.

- Byrd, maybe you shoulda done
it.

(laughs)

- No, it's not that simple,
Byrd.

There's magic in those fingers.

- Evening, folks.

Sorry to interrupt.

Just want to offer my
congratulations.

"Sugarfoot Rag."

Whoo.

How about that?

Hank?

- Ryan.

- We sure do appreciate it,
Ryan.

- Anytime, Billy.

- Yes, it's awfully nice of you.

- You must be the famous Mrs.
Garland.

- Please, call me Evelyn.

- Evelyn.

You know, you're even more
beautiful than what people say.

- Thank you.

- Hank, you're one
fortunate son of a buck.

How you get so lucky?

Talent, hit record, beautiful
wife,

did you make a deal with the
devil?

- Well, I will not lie.

It was discussed.

I wouldn't sign the release
forms.

(laughing)

- All right, I'm keeping
you all from your dinner.

Hank, we got to work together
again.

Put our differences behind us.

- Real good, Ryan.

- All right.

Glad to hear it.

Red, you're still the man.

Evelyn.

- Well, that was interesting.

(sighs)

- You look so beautiful.

(laughs)

Sometimes I can't take my eyes
off you.

I don't want you to talk to him
again.

- Talking to who?

- You know who I'm talking
about.

- Hank, you're being...

- I don't want you to.

(dramatic orchestral music)

(gulps)

Not ever.

You understand me?

You understand?

- I understand.

- That's my girl.

Come on out whenever you're
ready, okay?

(bouncy jazzy music)

- That's not Spanish, Billy.

- It don't sound like it, but
believe me, that's Spanish.

- Uh, excuse me, Billy.

Can I talk to you for a second?

Excuse us, Gail.

- Don't go nowhere.

- [Man] Listen, I've been
hearing things.

- Oh, really?

I've been hearing things too.

What kind of things you been
hearing?

- The bad kind.

Your brother's pissing some
people off,

people who normally don't
have a lot of patience

when someone's pissing 'em off.

- Yeah, he does that, Jimmy.

- Yeah, but it's getting bad,
Billy.

He's playing with these colored
guys

at Printers Alley twice a week,

and that ain't going over so
well.

- Christ.

No one cares.

It's just another excuse for...

- These guys don't need an
excuse,

especially with a hothead like
Hank.

Look, I'm just telling you what
I hear.

You keep an eye on him, huh?

And if you need any help,
you'll let me know, huh?

- All right.

Thanks.

- So my mom called.

She asked if I wanted to go

and stay up north with her for a
while.

- Yeah?

That might not be a bad idea.

- Hank.

I feel alone in this.

It's not fair.

We're supposed to be a family.

- And we will be.

- You're never here.

You're not with me and when you
are,

you're in your study with the
guitars

and that electronic shit,

or you're playing in that
dirty club all night.

- Look, I can't do this right
now, Ev.

I mean, the fellas are
gonna be here any minute.

- I know.

I know.

There's always something
else that you have to do

when we need to talk.

- How about if I bring
something real nice back for you

from the road?

(scoffs)

(elegant jazz music)

- [Man] Sweet!

Yeah, Joe.

(audience applauding)

- Stick around.

Hank, come on up.

I want to introduce you to
fellas.

Paul Desmond, Dave Brubeck,

Joe Morello, and Joe Benjamin.

(knocking on door)

- Hey, Evelyn.

- Byrd.

- Is, uh...

- Hank's not here.

They're still on the road.

- Oh, I thought, I thought
he'd be back by now.

- They extended.

East Coast.

- Well, good on, good on him.

That's great.

How you doing?

You, uh, is it gonna be a boy?

You going to have a little
guitar player?

(laughs)

- I don't know.

- Hey, you think it'd be okay
if I came in for a minute?

I could really use a
cup of coffee, you know?

(dramatic orchestral music)

- I don't think that's a good
idea.

- Yeah.

Yeah, I'll, I'll just, I'll
come,

come back by when he's home, I
guess.

- Actually, Byrd,

I'd appreciate it if you didn't.

- I understand.

Uh, yeah.

(dog barking)

- Good-bye.

(jazzy piano music)

(crowd applauding)

(glass shatters)

(crowd cheering)
(crowd applauding)

- [Man] Yeah.

That's it.

(birds chirping)

- She's so little.

Hey.

* The right time to rock the
night away *

* Jingle bell time is a swell
time *

* To go gliding in a one-horse
sleigh *

* Giddyup, jingle horse

* Pick up your feet

* Jingle around the clock

* Mix and a-mingle in the
jingling feet *

* That's the jingle bell

* That's the jingle bell

* That's the jingle bell rock

- Cut it!

Goddamn, that's the real shit!

If that's not a certified hit,

I'll kiss every ass in this
room.

That's a great song you two
wrote.

- Well, if you say so, Jerry.

To tell you the truth, it
feels kind of silly to me.

- Silly?

You watch what old Jerry
does with this baby.

Let me tell you something, Bobby
Helms,

it's going to go gold before
you even leave the room.

That silly song is going to
pay for Hank's little girl

to go to Vanderbilt someday.

* What a fine time

* It's the right time

* To get rich every day

- You looking for a
fare in my drive, Byrd?

- I was just in the
neighborhood.

- It's good to see you.

You don't come around much
anymore.

How you been?

- You know, I'd like to come
around, but,

how's your family?

The little girl?

- Cheryl?

She's beautiful.

(light orchestral music)

- Cheryl.

That's real pretty.

I want you to take this, Hank.

- Well, I got one just like it,
Byrd.

Remember, we designed it
together.

The Byrdland.

You losing your wits?

- This Byrdland's the most
beautiful thing I got left.

I want you to take it for me,
Hank,

until I can play again.

If I can get my hands on it, I,

I'm just going to sell it.

I really don't want to sell it,
Hank.

I used to be a pretty good
picker.

I could play darn near
anything they asked me to.

And then you come along...

- Byrd, you just need a break,
man, to

maybe we can get you some
session work or something.

- Yeah, thanks, Hank, but, um,

I got a few more rounds
tonight, so I should probably,

probably just get going.

- Hey, it's a simple fucking
question.

Are we getting paid or not?

- It's not that simple.

- Look, "Jingle Bell Rock" made
millions.

Me and Bobby wrote it.

We should get paid.

That's pretty simple.

- Hank.

You and Bobby were both signed
as artists, not writers.

You've been paid.

- Well, then who wrote the song?

Who fucking wrote the song?

Billy, come on.

- Hold on.

Jerry, you said on that day
that Hank and Bobby wrote it.

- It's not up to me, Billy.

I don't own the label.

I just produce this stuff as
best I can

and hope somebody will give
me the chance to do it again.

- Who do we go talk to then?

- Jesus, not me.

I just run a recording studio.

I don't know shit.

- You got to go down to Music
Row

and deal with the company.

- Oh, be sure to let Mr. Brad...

Mr. Garland, you can't...

- Hank, hey.

- You motherfucker.

- What the...

(glass shattering)

What...

- You steal from me, you son of
a bitch!

- Hank!

Get off of him.

- [Hank] Get your goddamn hands
off him.

- You are done!

You are done in this town.

We are sick of your shit.

I want him out of here!

I want them out of here now!

(grunting)

Hey!

Brenda!

(upbeat rockabilly music)

- Well, that was a hell of a
plan.

- Oh, fuck him, Billy.

Let's go make that record.

Let's do it right.

- Okay, but we got to act before
Columbia

changes their mind

or Ryan Bradford runs you out of
town.

Or worse.

- All right, here we go.

Columbia recording of "Jazz
Winds."

Artists, Hank Garland, Gary
Burton,

Joe Morello, Joe Benjamin.

Take one.

Whenever you're ready, Hank.

- Okay, Gary.

Let's kick it.

(lively jazz music)

- It's embarrassing.

(plucks bass)

- No, man.

It's the South.

When you crackers going to
move north of the Mason-Dixon?

Join civilization?

- Hey, I know a place you can
stay, Joe.

I guarantee nobody will bother
you there.

- Cool.

- Coming, sweetie.

Come here, baby.

(dramatic orchestral music)

- The hotels wouldn't take him.

What was I supposed to do?

- So you just invite any
colored with no place to stay

to sleep on my couch?

- No, I invite my bass
player to sleep on our couch.

- I am trying to make a
respectable home here.

- A respectable home that I paid
for

so I can invite whoever the hell
I want.

- You're going too far, Hank.

Don't push me like this.

- What are you doing?

- We were supposed to be
starting a new life here.

- Yeah?

- A real family.

- What was wrong with the old
life, Ev?

You never filled me in on that.

In the old days,

I bet you never cared who
woke up on your couch.

- Hmm.

(somber pedal steel music)

(smooth piano music)

- What can I get for you,
darling?

- Whatever he's having.

- So let me try to understand
this.

A beautiful woman walks into the
bar

and asks me to buy her a drink?

(laughs)

I mean, I can't even dream women

as good-looking as you are.

- Well, maybe you're
not trying hard enough.

You should try harder.

- I will.

(glasses clinking)

(chuckles)

I'm serious.

I think we should just skip over

those first few months
of getting acquainted,

just get engaged,

as soon as you finish your
drink.

- I think it's going to
take a few more of those

before I'm in that state.

- All right then.

Line 'em up.

(laughs)

- Well, Evelyn.

- Ryan.

- Why don't you come sit down,

have a drink with us?

- I'm having a drink
with my new friend here.

- He won't mind.

(band warming up)

- [Man] One, two, three, four.

(spirited jazz music)

- Wow.

Fabulous.

(giggles)

(breathing heavily)

- Hey, Sugarfoot.

Haven't seen you in a while,
brother.

- Hey, Doug.

It's a shame.

- Of course I don't frequent
clubs that serve certain types.

No offense.

- Joe, this asshole is Doug
Johnson.

He runs the musicians' union.

This is Joe Benjamin, my bass
player.

- Cool.

- Yeah, cool.

Listen, Hank.

I've been getting a lot of phone
calls.

- Yeah?

What about?

- About all these sessions
you've been booking.

Boys aren't too happy
you keep bringing cats in

from out of town.

- That right?

- That's right.

Yeah, they're starting to think

that you're just too fucking
good

for us poor country assholes.

- Fuck you, Doug.

- No, fuck you.

Keep bringing these niggers in
here,

there's going to be problems.

- Oh, yeah?

What kind of problems, Doug?

What you going to do?

- You asking for trouble,
cousin.

Maybe I'll see you around.

It's always easy to find you.

You remember that.

- Thanks for the advice,
shithead.

- Do you know, I play a little
bass too.

- Doug, he plays better
bass than you with his dick.

- Yeah, he probably can.

* Earth angel, Earth angel

* The one I adore

- Where you heading?

- [Man] 3rd and Grand.

(thudding)
(grunting)

You need to talk to your friend
Garland.

You hear me?

- [Billy] Yeah.

- [Man] No more city
niggers playing our gigs.

You send 'em home.

You hear me?

- [Billy] Yeah.

Yeah.

* And I knew the vision
of your love loveliness *

(upbeat jazz music)

- Man, how can you play
this thing your whole life

and not know how to tune it?

You're a professional musician,
ain't you?

(laughing)

- Yeah, yeah, I'm a
professional, brother.

Besides, you're like an old dog,
man.

You hear notes no
human's supposed to hear.

(laughing)

Who invited this cat?

- Oh, I'm kidding.

You know I love you.

(knocking on door)

- Hey, Sugarfoot.

This just came for you.

- Hold that for me.

(dramatic orchestral music)

(coughs)

(coughs)

- Hank?

Hank, what the hell you doing?

(coughing)

(gasping)

Give him room.

Give him room, folks.

He's all right.

(door rattles)

- [Evelyn] Do you still love me?

(dramatic piano music)

- [Man] Afternoon.

Help you, sir?

Sir?

- If I ever hear you come
near her again, I'll kill you.

So help me God, I won't
even think twice about it.

I'll just,

I'll just kill you.

(sighs)

(rapid guitar music)

(phone rings)

- I'm playing.

(phone rings)

(clears throat)

Hello.

- [Evelyn] Hank.

Hank, it's me.

- I figured as much.

- [Evelyn] We need to talk,
Hank.

I, Cheryl misses you.

I can't stand staying at my
mother's for another day.

I need you to come up here and
get us.

- All right, I'll be there.

(spry jazz music)

(car crashing)

(glass shatters)

(tires squealing)

(car crashing)

(car crashing)

(somber piano music)

- Hello, Hank.

(sighs)

- Where's Cheryl?

- [Evelyn] I left her at Mom's
for a while

until things settle down a bit.

- Probably a good idea.

(moans)

- How do you feel?

- I don't know.

They're giving me lots of shit.

All I can think about is that
night.

- The night of the accident?

- I know.

I know.

It wasn't an accident.

It's not your fault.

(dramatic orchestral music)

Things just got messed up.

Things got so messed up.

- Hank.

- I just want to come home.

- You do?

- I want to come home with you
and Cheryl.

- That sounds good, Hank.

- I'll never leave you, Ev.

Remember?

- I remember.

(bouncy acoustic guitar music)

Hank!

Just take a break.

You'll drive us both crazy.

- I don't know why this is so
hard for me.

- You heard what the doctor
said.

It's going to take a while.

- It's not going to take a
while.

- Hank...

Told Mom we'd drive up on
Saturday and pick up Cheryl.

Gosh, she's talking so much.

She can't wait to see you, Hank.

Hank.

Are you listening to me?

(sighs)

(dramatic piano music)

You asked me what was
wrong with my old life.

There was nothing wrong.

I could have anything that I
wanted.

But nothing ever seemed real.

Nothing ever felt like it could
last.

Feeling like everything in your
life

can be taken away from you.

Always being so alone.

You could never understand
that, could you, Hank?

You always knew what you had.

You had this light around you.

It was so warm,

and I wanted that.

I dreamt that I would bathe
in that warm, safe light

with you forever.

I didn't understand that
you couldn't share it.

I didn't understand

that that was between you and
the music.

That light only comes when you
play, Hank.

And now you can't even play.

So it's the same old empty life
for me.

(dramatic orchestral music)

- I should have killed him.

I should have killed Bradford
when I had the chance.

I should have killed the son of
a bitch.

I should have killed him
before he got to you,

before he got to me.

I should've just killed him.

I should've just killed him.

- What are you doing?

- I'm crazy.

I guess I am crazy.

- Put that thing down.

Put, honey, put that thing...

(gun firing)

(screaming)

Baby.

Baby.

Put it down.

Okay.

Okay.

I'm going to call Dr. Taylor,
okay?

He's going to help you.

I want to get you help.

(dramatic orchestral music)

- No.

No.

No, no!

(screaming)

(grunting)

(tires squealing)

- Hank.

(sobs)

I'm supposed to be your eyes.

Oh, God.

Hank.

(upbeat jazz music)

- Can I get you anything else,
Hank?

- No, thanks.

- It's beautiful outside today.

Not so muggy.

Let's take a walk.

It'd be good to get your legs
working.

- Maybe later.

- Okay.

(clock ticking)

- Hank.

There's something I got to tell
you.

We just got word that, uh,

Evelyn was in a car
accident up in Wisconsin.

(dramatic orchestral music)

- Cheryl?

- Cheryl's fine.

(sniffles)

Evelyn's dead, Hank.

They said there's going
to be a small funeral,

but I said I doubt you'd make
it.

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry.

(slow country music)

* I was waltzing with my darling
*

* To the Tennessee waltz

* When an old friend

* I happened to see

* I introduced her to my darling
*

* And while they were dancing

* My friend stole my sweetheart
from me *

- I was asked to
introduce this next artist

because he's someone I
brought to this stage

for the very first time some 30
years ago.

There's been a lot of great
guitar players

to come down the pike.

There's only one Hank Garland.

He has no equal.

It is my great privilege
to welcome back home

artist, arranger, writer,
inventor,

and one of the best goddamn
guitar slingers ever,

Mr. Hank "Sugarfoot" Garland.

(crowd cheering)
(crowd applauding)

(upbeat country music)

* Crazy

* I'm crazy for feeling so
lonely *

* I'm crazy

* Crazy for feeling so blue

* I knew

* You'd love me as long as you
wanted *

* And then someday

* You'd leave me for somebody
new *

* Worry

* Why do I let myself worry

* Wondering

* What in the world did I do

* Crazy

* For thinking that my
love could hold you *

* I'm crazy for trying

* Crazy for crying

* And I'm crazy for loving you

* Crazy

* For thinking that my
love could hold you *

* I'm crazy for trying

* Crazy for crying

* And I'm crazy for loving you

(lively guitar music)

(audience applauding)

(lively country guitar music)

(light jazz music)