Sweet Little Thing(27)

Mia had a hefty collection of notes that I had left her; she kept them in a jar on the counter. I told her I didn’t want to be one of those couples who texted each other from the other room. Each morning that I got up before her, which was many once she became pregnant, I would leave her a sticky note. I tried to keep it original. Sometimes the note would just say HI or MAY THE FORCE BE WITH YOU or I LOVE YOUR BUNS. WINK. She always found a creative way to thank me.

When I got to the studio, I opened the conference room and put some coffee on. Frank, Michael, and Chad arrived shortly after. We greeted each other and took our seats. When Chad smiled at me, I noticed that he looked older, more mature. There was something tired about his expression; he almost looked defeated.

“All right, what’s up, guys?”

Michael came right out and said it. “They’re not happy with the album in its current state and they want to postpone the release.”

“Are you guys happy with the album?” I asked.

Before they could answer, Frank interjected. “Wait a minute. What aspect of the album are they not happy with?”

“They said they want a ballad, a love song, and a hit with a hook. Apparently you guys haven’t delivered on that.”

“‘Lost N Found’ is your ballad and ‘Soldier’ is your hit,” I said.

“It’s not commercial enough, that’s what they’re saying. You know this Bieber kid is writing songs directly to the audience. He’s a superstar and that’s what they want for Chad,” Michael said.

I could feel the anger boiling behind my eyes. “First of all, Chad is not thirteen years old. I was trying to produce an album that would get him some attention as a singer, not as a teen heartthrob.” I turned to address Chad directly. “I mean, is this what you want, man?” When he just shrugged, I said, “Well, you better polish your dance moves because that’s what you’ll be doing on stage, dancing and lip-syncing.”

Frank sat quietly until finally he reminded me of why I had hired him back in the days when I was starting out. “Let me talk to you all for a second.” He took off his fedora and set it on the table, clasped his hands together, and leaned in. “I’ve been at this game for a while. We’re witnessing a huge shift occur in the music industry. The record labels are dying because the record is dying. When someone likes a song, they can download it for a dollar or steal a bootlegged copy for free online. You don’t even have to buy the rest of the album—that’s why there is so much pressure for an artist to have multiple hits on one album. Look around; record stores are closing because it’s all going digital. Think of it like this: when was last time you bought a roll of film? See any photo labs around? It’s happening very quickly with music and books too. No more record stores and no more bookstores means what? It means no more labels and no more publishers. Do you think those companies will let that happen without putting up a fight? No, they’ll find a way to tap into this digital market. They’ve given you a nice advance, but you’ll never see any royalties, trust me. Ninety-nine percent of your sales will be digital, but they’ll still charge you twelve pennies on every dollar for packaging. What packaging? They’ll find a way to keep you under their thumb, kid. You could sell five million albums, pay your three-hundred-thousand-dollar advance back, and you still won’t see another dollar. They will nickel-and-dime you on everything, including this studio time. They’re sending you back to us and saying they’re unhappy? That means they can take out twice as much money in studio costs. They’re going to spend an inordinate amount of money to make you sound like the male version of Katy Perry. Your pride will be nonexistent. You’ll owe them after everything is said and done, and then you’ll get finagled into another deal. They’ll probably even insist that you get veneers for that crooked tooth, and then they’ll make you pay for it.”

He chuckled, but the room was completely silent. His laugh echoed off the walls in a terrifying way before he took a deep breath and continued. “In the beginning, they wanted you to feel like your talent was real so you’d agree to sign your life away for the prestige of being signed with a major label. Now that they have you, they’ll try to make you feel like crap until you give them what they want. These days, people need to see the musician on TV. No one listens to the radio anymore, and the people that do will buy albums from independents and small labels. So they need the whole package, and they only make money on the artists who reach celebrity status. I think they agreed to let you come to Will, knowing he wouldn’t produce the crap they want, that way they could put the responsibility back on you. They didn’t know who you were as an artist. They just knew you were good-looking with a good voice.”

“I can’t get out of my contract.” Chad finally spoke. His voice was shaky.

“There are other things we can do.” Frank turned to me. “Remember the time you said you wanted people to be in awe while you performed, not because of the pyrotechnics going off on stage but because they connected to the music?” When I nodded, he said, “I have a suggestion.”

I was getting worried about where the conversation was going.

“This is totally off the record.” Frank leaned in farther. “Your auntie did a few good things for you, kid.” Chad’s face lightened and Frank said, “There is nothing in this contract that says you can’t start performing these songs. That’s the first good thing she did, the second was that she insisted you stick with Will.” He turned to me. “How much does this mean to you?”