Tim played The Switch. Frowley took a moment to explain that the band had chosen to switch instruments for this particular piece.
"Really?" Remington asked, looking like he was going to vomit. "How could you tell?"
They went through the rest, one by one, with His Honor listening for an average of ninety seconds each time before making a sarcastic comment and ordering up the next. When the demo tape was finally over he looked at Jake, his eyes probing.
"That was grotesque," he said. "Absolutely and completely grotesque. You really consider this abortion of pseudo-musical composition, this symphony of all that is horrible and loathsome, to be your best musical effort?"
"Yes, Your Honor, we do," Jake replied.
Remington shook his head in disgust. "That noise is not fit to play to pigs during mating season."
Jake wasn't sure how to reply. Eventually he simply said, "I disagree, Your Honor."
"Uh huh," Remington said. "Let's hear your previous works now. Tim, get the cassettes please."
Tim got them. Jake saw, without surprise, that they were pristine copies of Descent Into Nothing and The Thrill Of Doing Business, both still in their factory wrappers.
"Does it matter which one goes first?" Remington asked.
"No, Your Honor," Frowley replied. "I think you'll find any song on either of these cassettes to be a stark contrast to the atrocities you just heard."
"Uh huh," Remington said. "Let's do the first album first. Tim, go ahead and play it."
Tim put Descent Into Nothing in and pushed play. The rich, melodic sound of Intemperance's first hit poured out into the courtroom in all its glory. Remington listened to it all the way through and then listened to the next song. He cut that one off thirty seconds in and then listened to Who Needs Love? all the way through. He then motioned Tim to stop the tape.
"Put in the next album," Remington told him.
The Thrill Of Doing Business was soon blaring through the speakers. Remington listened to about three quarters of the title cut and then ordered a halt.
"Who wrote that one?" he demanded.
"I did, dude... uh... I mean, Your Honor," Matt said. "Something wrong with it?"
Remington's glare was almost murderous this time. "And you are?"
"Matthew Tisdale. Lead guitarist for Intemperance."
"I see," Remington said. "And was that song about buying illegal drugs and consorting with prostitutes?"
"Yes, Your Honor," Matt said proudly. "It was."
"And you consider that an acceptable topic in which to compose musical lyrics about and distribute in a mass media format?"
"Yes, Your Honor," Matt responded. He shrugged. "I mean, we all do those things, don't we? I mean, we might not talk about them, but, you know, it's a part of everyday life in America."
Remington actually turned red in the face this time. "I am a married man, Mr. Tisdale and a Christian man as well. If you make any more suggestions in this courtroom that I engage in a lack of fidelity or illicit drug use you'll find yourself rotting in a jail cell for the next two months. Is that clear?"
"Uh... sure," Matt said.
"Uh... sure what?" Remington spat.
"Uh... sure, Your Honor?" Matt squeaked.
Remington's eyes continued to drill into Matt's for a few more seconds. Finally he turned back to the plaintiff's table. "Mr. Frowley," he said, "is it true that these two albums we have just listened to have sold over two million copies apiece?"
"Yes, Your Honor," Frowley said. "Descent Into Nothing is actually approaching three million now."
Remington shook his head. "That's the best argument for censorship I've ever heard in my life. I hear no appreciable difference between this demo tape the so-called band has submitted and the previously released selections. They are all appalling garbage and when this great country of ours finally collapses to rubble like the Roman Empire, every one of you standing before me today will be partially responsible. Music? This is garbage! All of it! I find no evidence the band Intemperance has failed to make a good faith effort to produce new material. Plaintiff's motion for a court order demanding re-submission is denied. If you don't like what they're giving you, you'll just have to wait until trial to resolve it."
Frowley let his game face slip a little. He frowned, his face turning red. "Your Honor, I must respectfully disagree."
"That's what makes our country great, counselor," Remington said. "You have the right to disagree with me. It doesn't change my decision, but you have the right. Now, is there anything else?"
"Yes, Your Honor," Pauline said. "There is one other thing."
Remington sighed. "Will I have to listen to any more of that noise?"
"No, Your Honor," she said. "It has to do with provisions of the contract that National Records is not abiding by."
"What provisions are those?"
"You'll note in section six, subsection eight through twelve, that National is required to provide necessary food, clothing, housing, and transportation to each member of Intemperance if they are not receiving sufficient funding from royalty payments to make such acquisitions themselves."
Remington flipped to that section in his copy of the contract and read it over for a few moments. "Yes," he finally said. "It says National will provide housing analogous with public perception, all necessary food, all necessary clothing, and all necessary transportation costs in a manner befitting successful musicians. Are they not doing this?"
"They are not, Your Honor. National Records has cut off the band members from their groceries, clothing allowances, and limousine service since this dispute began. This is a blatant violation of the contract and I would ask at this time that you order National Records to immediately reinstate these allowances in the manner in which they were previously distributed."
"Objection, Your Honor," Frowley nearly shouted. "This was a hearing to determine good-faith effort, not food and clothing allotments."
"Overruled," Remington said. "This is a hearing to determine whether or not there is sufficient evidence of a contract breach and whether or not a court order should be issued to help resolve such a breach. If I don't rule on this now, Ms. Kingsley will be right back in here tomorrow filing for another emergency hearing and I'll have to waste more valuable time of the court system and myself scheduling for it and listening to it. Let's just get it over with now."
"But, Your Honor..." Frowley started.
"There are no 'buts' in my courtroom, counselor. My word is final. It's one of the perks of this job, you see. Now tell me, did National Records cut off the food, clothing, and transportation allowances they are contractually required to provide to the members of Intemperance?"
"Your Honor," Frowley said, "the members of Intemperance are in breach of contract. Under the circumstances..."
"Whether the members of Intemperance are in breach or not is for a jury to decide," Remington cut in. "I believe I have already ruled on that. Now I will ask you one more time, counselor, and if you do not give me a simple yes or no answer I will charge you with contempt of court. Did National Records cut off the contractually required food, clothing and transportation allowances for the members of Intemperance?"
Frowley sighed. "Yes, Your Honor. They did."
"That wasn't so hard now, was it?" Remington asked. "I'm ordering National Records to reinstate these allowances immediately, by the end of business hours today, at the levels they were previously set at." He glared at Frowley. "And don't try to play games with me on this. Games do not amuse me. Not in the least."
"It will be done, Your Honor," Frowley said through gritted teeth.