Taking advantage of the pizza-eating opportunity, Alex carefully examined the honors corner in the office. As a singer, Old Joe only had a dubiously obtained trophy for selling 10,000 records, won in the 1960s. This meant that this song, "thrift Shop," could very well propel Old Joe to a new peak in his singing career, many years after his retirement…
No wonder he told Pablo not to complicate things too much; he's probably even more excited about the song's release than Alex is now.
Pablo is certainly assertive, but Old Joe is the undisputed boss of this music company. The owner's current behavior can only be described as incredibly enthusiastic; after finishing his pizza, he immediately threw himself into rehearsals, showing far more enthusiasm than Little Lowry and Old Morgan. During his free time, he was constantly on the phone, trying to book drummers, keyboardists, and other accompaniment players, as well as making reservations with major companies for professional mixing studios. His schedule was incredibly tight, and Alex overheard him talking about money most of the time on the phone.
Old Joe's willingness to invest so heavily is certainly a good thing for Alex, as their interests largely align.
But Pablo was different. He didn't conflict with Alex on the overall direction of Lowry's new album, but the old problem persisted: lyrics copyright. After storming out of Old Joe's office, he immediately went to Lowry and made him try to revise the lyrics without Alex's consent.
"Hey, kid."
In the office, Old Joe pulled Alex, who had come to complain, to the window. "Look at them, look at those girls..."
As dusk approached, a large number of men and women gathered in the open space in front of the underground nightclub across the street. They spontaneously formed several circles, and from time to time, someone would stand in the middle of the circle to engage in various 'battles'. Whether it was rapping with constant hand gestures or dancing that seemed to involve the whole body convulsing, it would always elicit gasps and cheers from the crowd, creating a very lively atmosphere.
"I can't see her face clearly..." Alex squinted, trying her best to make out the details.
"I didn't ask you to recognize people, you idiot."
Old Joe pointed over there and said, "Let me put it this way, our Eric, that short and scrawny sound engineer, if he just goes down there now, opens the door, picks any girl in there, and says to her, 'Hey, you sing really well, I'm a big fan of yours, how about we go up to the building across the street and record a song together...' and something like that, guess what would happen?"
"Get beaten up?"
"NO! I bet you that 70%, no, 80% of the girls there, even if they were snuggling in their boyfriend's arms one second, would follow Eric without hesitation the next, and then be stripped naked by him in the recording studio with just a few words, and forced onto the sofa to have sex in all sorts of positions!"
"Well..."
"What are those girls after? Hmm? What are they after?"
"A dream of becoming a singer?"
"Singer's dream, star's dream, dream of being noticed, dream of being talked about, dream of being admired, dream of being cared for, dream of luxury goods, dream of a refined life—don't women love these things!" Old Joe used a whole bunch of parallelisms. "Especially the women there. Before the underground nightclubs even open, they come early to sing and dance, making friends and building connections everywhere. Is it just for fun?"
"..."
Old Joe looked helpless. "You were just as shrewd as a Jew in front of Pablo, and now you've become so stupid! They want to get in! They want to get in! If they could get in just by sleeping, they would know exactly what to choose, you understand?"
Alex understood, of course, that Old Joe was using this example to expedite the deal between him and Pablo. Indeed, he hadn't even entered the industry yet, and getting too caught up in financial matters might backfire. "I respect you, boss, but Pablo's insistence on taking my lyrics is... unacceptable."
"If you both compromise and split it in half, would you agree?" Old Joe proposed a new condition.
Alex considered for a moment, then nodded. He didn't particularly like Pablo, but he was satisfied with Old Joe's attitude.
"Okay, I'll talk to Pablo."
Call your lawyer now, and we'll get everything sorted out as quickly as possible!
Old Joe pointed to the phone on his boss's desk. "I also have to remind you, if this weren't beneficial to everyone, Pablo would never have played this game. He could have just gone along with you first, tricked you into signing a management contract with him, and then used underhanded tactics! He's already been very restrained. He has gang connections, Little Lowry has gang connections, and so do I. My music company also has gang shares. In a predominantly Black neighborhood, you can't rely on lawyers like you can't rely on police officers. You grew up here too, you should know that..." He clenched his fist and gestured. "Take it easy. Everyone still considers you one of their own. Try to avoid those white people's tricks."
"I understand."
Alex readily agreed. Watching Old Joe leave the office, he closed the door, took out the phone number from Goodman's business card from his pocket, and dialed it.
"Hello, this is Goodman Sachs. We are now closing time. Please leave a message if you need anything..." The call was transferred to an answering machine.
"Uh… Mr. Goldman, this is Alexander Slade, whom I met last time. I have an urgent matter to discuss. If you answer the phone now, I'm willing to pay fifty dollars per hour…"
A click came from the receiver. "Hi, Alex, this is Goodman. How are you planning to pay? I don't offer credit here."
"Hello, Mr. Goodman, I will pay you in cash or by check as soon as possible, I promise," Alex replied.
"Chuck."
"What?"
"Chuck Goodman, just call me Chuck. If you need anything, just say so. I'm starting the timer now."
"Okay." Alex told the other party about his situation in detail.
"First of all, I don't have artist management qualifications and I don't know much about the industry. The industry you're in is very complex. There are albums, singles, compilations, best-of albums, compilations... for all of these, the songwriters and composers each get a different share. You can easily get taken advantage of if you're not careful. So I still suggest you find a professional to help you."
"Secondly, I don't know any professionals in your industry, especially those who can operate in the South City. But since you said you don't have many people you can trust, why not trust the biggest ones? Their influence, professionalism, and manpower in Chicago are definitely not a problem. You can rest assured, and it will save you trouble. Of course, big companies will inevitably take advantage of their customers. For a newcomer like you, they will probably charge the highest commission of 10%."
"Third, don't be afraid to sign a management contract. Generally, management contracts are for a maximum of three years. For a newcomer like you, the law only allows for a one-year contract for your first management contract. If you encounter a bad manager, you can simply fire them when the contract expires. Besides, you are a minor, so the law will be more inclined to protect you if any problems arise. Don't be afraid that they will ignore you. According to your statement, the contract is about to be signed, and the management company can get 10% commission for free by sending someone over. They have no reason not to do it. Is there anyone in this world who thinks the money is too little? Many managers have dozens of artists under them, so one more won't make a difference."
"In the end, I'll say it again: once you're in the industry, you can try to become a member of the Composers' Association; there will be even more benefits then."
During both consultations, Goodman mentioned entering the industry, and Old Joe had also emphasized it earlier. They both preferred to enter the industry first, no matter what. Alex glanced at the men and women singing and dancing in the open space outside the window, braving the cold wind, and finally made up his mind. He dialed the number provided by Goodman and called WMA (William Morris Agency), one of the largest artist management companies in the United States.
The communication with WMA went much more smoothly than expected. Alex breathed a sigh of relief, pushed open the door, and walked out of Old Joe's office.
"How about it?"
Old Joe and Pablo were chatting outside the recording studio; it seemed they had reached an agreement.
"Mr. Pablo…" Alex smiled apologetically at Pablo, "My agent has promised to come tomorrow."
"That settles it! Let's all work together to release the new album as soon as possible!" Old Joe patted the two on the shoulders.
Pablo had a stern face, but after half a minute he smiled and raised his fist. Alex quickly bumped fists with him