California Schemin': The true story of the Scottish rappers who fooled the industry

The tale of Silibil'n'Brains is the true story of a great lie.

Cast your mind back to the early noughties: Eminem is one of the biggest artists in the world, reality stunt show Jackass dominates MTV - and two young skate-punk rappers from America are potentially on the verge of becoming hip-hop's next big thing.

Silibil'n'Brains, aka Billy Boyd and Gavin Bain, had the tunes, the talent and the chutzpah. There was just one problem - they were not actually from Los Angeles, California, as they had told label bosses in the UK, but rather from Dundee, Scotland.

After attempts to make it authentic were dismissed by industry bigwigs in London who made fun of their accents, they reinvented themselves as up-and-coming hip-hop stars from the West Coast - associates of the Eminem-fronted Detroit hip-hop group D12, no less.

Boyd and Bain wanted to stick it to the man. But what started out as a joke turned into an audacious deception so convincing, they ended up with a record deal, TV appearances, and a support slot with... D12.

Their story is now being told on the big screen in California Schemin', the directorial debut of X-Men, Filth and Atonement star James McAvoy.

"I always thought it would be a cool story to tell the grandkids when I'm older," says Boyd. "Like, you're never gonna believe what I did when I was young. But that's as far as I thought it went."

'We were out of our depth'

As Silibil'n'Brains, the pair really had to commit, re-recording the songs they already had with American accents, and remaining in character throughout their time in London.

But as the lies snowballed and the money kept rolling in, the pressure mounted and eventually it became too much.

Now, the pair are being played by Samuel Bottomley (Boyd) and Seamus McLean Ross (Bain) in California Schemin', with McAvoy starring as the record label executive who signs them.

The film is based on Bain's memoir, written a few years after they left their American alter-egos behind. "When the book came out, people were reaching out to me and telling me their own stories," he says. People who had been bullied, "been the underdog... something was hitting home".

Both men, speaking to Sky News on separate Zoom calls, say looking back, and seeing their lives played out on screen, has been surreal.

"We were these young, wild skateboarders, musicians, just living a rock and roll lifestyle that we were so not used to," says Boyd. "We were completely out of our depth."

Bain says they were running scared a lot of the time. "I think you see that in the way Sam and Seamus act it," he says. "But it's about not letting your fear hold you back - it's using it as a kind of booster cannon…

"In some parts in the film, I just go, whoa... my adult brain is like, don't do that. But back then, we didn't really know the depth of it. But you look back and think, actually all of this was kind of perfect because if they didn't make fun of us the way they did, it probably wouldn't have lit a fire under us."

After making the long journey from Dundee to London for an audition, the pair were mocked. "It was traumatic and embarrassing," recalls Bain. "It was a lot of tears on the way home that day. But once that was out the way it was like, they did light a fire."

Supporting D12

Boyd says the American accents started as a prank. "It was almost to entertain ourselves a little bit because we were getting so many rejections, just for having Scottish accents."

When they got their first show as US rappers, the idea was to walk off stage and reveal their true identity, he says. "But we got approached… I think fuelled with adrenaline from the show, it was like, 'we're from California'. It was kind of like, we're at a crossroads now."

Tell the truth or continue the lie. "We went with the latter - and here we are, all these years later, with this crazy story."

One memorable scene in the film comes when the pair arrive at their gig supporting Eminem's group D12, after previously saying they knew the rappers.

"It was the ultimate high to the ultimate low," says Boyd, of being offered the shows. "Like, 'Oh my God, we're going to support D12!' And then, 'Oh my God… it's going to be so awkward'. It was bizarre but we got lucky, we got away with it."

In the film, we see Bain pushing harder to keep up the pretence as Boyd's enthusiasm wanes.

Bain says when he wrote his own book he had the "therapy of writing and seeing what I did wrong" at the time.

"I can actually see in Seamus's performance... I felt angry a lot of the time, angry with the situation. I think a lot of it captures a kind of truth that's almost hard to write."

There is good and bad in both characters in the film, he says, and it's not about blame.

"It's more a case of showing that you can be best friends, but when you're in a situation where you're living as other people, you're gonna get the lines blurred... It was the pressure that drove us against each other."

'We weren't fake rappers'

Something they both say they hated, after their deceit was exposed, was being dubbed "fake rappers".

"That was the biggest issue I had with it all over the years," says Boyd. "We weren't fake rappers. We love hip-hop, we love the culture, and perfecting the craft, we put in hours and hours and hours of dedication.

"We got to the point where we got signed, we got in the door by being these fake Americans, but we got signed because I guess we had the talent."

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The California lie was no desperate attempt to get famous, he adds. "It was us trying to open doors and prove a point that it shouldn't matter where you're from."

He sees their tale as an underdog story. "It shouldn't matter what you look like, what you sound like. If you have the talent, you should be given the opportunities other people have."

Comparisons were made to Milli Vanilli, the 1980s pop duo who didn't sing on their records, says Bain. "But nothing was fake about our talent."

Silibil'n'Brains landed right at the beginning of the digital era. For anyone wanting to try the same trick now, social media would no doubt expose the cracks in the lie. But it might also have led to more authentic opportunities in the first place.

A few years after their hip-hop hoax, MySpace launched artists including Lily Allen and Arctic Monkeys and paved the way for the removal of industry gatekeepers. Traditional geographical constraints have since been dismantled by streaming and the grip on the charts held by English language music has loosened dramatically, as proven by the rise of artists from BTS and Bad Bunny to Rosalia and Kneecap.

Bain isn't convinced things have changed that much.

"Us and [Irish-language rappers] Kneecap have had to have a movie break us to the world," he says. "Where are all the others? Why isn't there a Scots kid really being propelled to the world as a rapper? Because there's a lot of Scottish rappers."

He says he hopes the film will shine more of a spotlight on the talent in Scotland.

"Hip-hop and Scottish to labels, it didn't go together. And I still think there's that prejudice, you know, until someone comes through and has a big record and then it kind of breaks the thinking around it."

But Boyd is more hopeful that things can be different now. "You don't have to be from a certain place anymore, you don't have to fit into this mould that you had to back then."

California Schemin is out in cinemas now

(c) Sky News 2026: California Schemin': The true story of the Scottish rappers who fooled the industry