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Here's Everything Wrong with the 'We Are Your Friends' Trailer

A film about current dance music named after a song that came out seven years ago.

After months of staring in disbelief at the IMDB page for We Are Your Friends, we've finally been granted a first proper look at the Zac Efron does EDM vehicle. And, guess what, yep, it's as mindnumbingly awful as you'd imagine a film, directed by the bloke who isn't the main guy from Catfish, about Zac Efron becoming an EDM superstar would be.

Efron plays Cole Carter, an aspiring DJ looking to make it in the LA electronic music scene. He does this by playing approximately two sets before suddenly hopping from frat party obscurity to main stage mayhem. Which is a story we can all associate with. Here's everything wrong with a film about current dance music named after a song that came out seven years ago.


"Study halls, SATs, liberal arts, student loans, lay offs, bail outs, broken dreams, this is not our future."

Off to a bad start here. What's meant to be a Kaskade-y call to arms is in fact a grim hammering home of the fact that life is pretty fucking shit. That is our future lads and it doesn't matter how many top sets you score or how many bangers you get to bang out while banging someone who wouldn't have wanted to bang you if you hadn't worked out how best to deploy bangers in the first place, everything is still going to be shit.

"Things are different for us. You can invent an app, start a blog, sell things online. My friends and I? We promote parties."

Right, let's get this clear: not everyone can invent an app just like that, most blogs are fucking rubbish, listing old magazines on eBay isn't ever going to get you anywhere, and Zac, mate, did you not read our piece on how difficult it is to run student club nights? Just succumb to the same resigned sadness I have. Why bother with anything else?

"If you're a DJ all you need is a laptop, some talent, and one track."

I tried to play one track over and over at a set once and guess what? I got kicked out of the club and laughed at by my peers and my life was ruined forever and know I'm branded as the bloke who thought it'd be a good idea to play "No Love Lost" by Ce Ce Rogers ten times and the bank won't give me a loan. So they've got that wrong.


It peddles the myth that living in the San Fernando Valley is a hellish experience.

In a moment that's presumably meant to get the audience on side and get us fist pumping in support of our baseball capped potential superstars, they have the realization that because the creator of Instagram sold it for $400m at the age of 26 they've got to get out of their rancid, crushing, debilitating environment. One look at that photo above and I'm sure you, as you're sat in Scunthorpe or Solihull or Sunderland, will agree. Get out of the valley lads!

"128 beats per minute…that's the magic number."

Halfway through the trailer we find Efron spinning a no doubt effervescent set at the kind of pool party that has those of us living on a shitty grey island in the North Sea clasping their aching hearts, experiencing the kind of remorse tinged yearning that makes the rest of the day about as appealing as tucking into a four day old shepperds pie. There's sun, tanned bodies, modestly sized glasses of rose, Avicii mashups, the works. He tells us that he likes to keep things "chill" by starting at a stately 125BPM before rocketing up the numbers and hitting the sweet spot.

This is absolute bullshit of the highest order. Everyone knows 120, 121, 122 max is the best BPM. 128 is too much. Where's the proof, Zac? What studies have you read, can you cite your sources, how the hell do you know that a record played at 128 does this to a predictably attractive woman's heart?


"Whenever you guys are ready to start making some real loot, you gotta holla at me."

I DJ'd at a pool party earlier this year. It was good fun. I got a free can of beer after. I did not get whisked to a badly decorated office to meet a shadow record executive who'll pretend to have my best interests at heart before fucking me over towards the end of the second act, giving me just enough time to overcome the odds and become the big time DJ I deserve to be. Sadly.

"Sounds have soul. Find new ones. Build them from scratch."

Obviously I've not seen the whole film yet, so this bit where Efron samples his mate stapling a roof might be the basis of a sick record, but I'll eat Paddy Ashdown's marizpan boater and my out-of-season Palace hat if that happens. Sounds don't have souls. And neither do Hollywood execs! Take that, money men! I'm off to watch an arthouse film released by Artificial Eye where not much happens but I do come out of the experience 23% smugger.

"We're not gonna be millionaires. That's not gonna happen!"

That bit's right at least.