A&R - Couverture souple

Flanagan, Bill

Couverture souple

ISBN 10 : 0375758305 ISBN 13 : 9780375758300

Editeur : Random House Inc, 2001

A propos du livre

Extrait

Chapter 1

As Cantone got in the car and closed the door, Booth went into his pitch: "Jimmy, I want you on my team. I appreciate your loyalty to Barney. He's been good to you. But let's be honest. You have been very, very good to him. You found Metric Sect, you found Planet Fish. I won't embarrass you by asking if Barney even heard those albums before they went platinum. But it's his picture in Vanity Fair with his arms draped around them at the Grammys and a headline, 'The Man With The Golden Ear.' I saw that and I said to Lois, 'Barney's got a golden ear, alright-but it's attached to Jimmy Cantone's head!' Don't misunderstand me. I love Barney The guy's 54 years old, claims he's 52, and is still crawling around the carpet on all fours hovering up the last bits of Bolivia. No one's told him it's not the 1900s anymore. You're up all night pulling hits out of whining hopheads and Barney's taking the Concord to Paris to sample some new pastry and try to hump the busboy. How many times have you had to break the news to one of his lambchops that there will not be a record deal in his future? Never mind. I won't put you on the spot. I can imagine.

"Someday you'll look back on that and it will all seem funny. Bottom line, Jimmy, you've gone as far as you can go with Barney. You've outgrown that situation. I can offer you an opportunity to play at the top of the game. At WorldWide you'll have the authority to oversee your projects from beginning to end. You'll have a say in how your acts are marketed, promoted, the video budget, where the ads are placed-every aspect from development to reissues. Bill DeGaul is a very big fan of yours. I told him I was going to make you an offer and he said, 'That guy's got it. He belongs here.' I think all three of us know that. The only thing we have to discuss is, how much it will take to make you feel at home."

Jim was listening to Booth like a radio. He was startled he had to talk back. When he did, he said more than he should have. "I'm making 150 now, which with bonus and profit sharing ends up at about 200, 225."

Booth smiled too quickly-Jim felt like a sap.

"We can do better than that. I want you to come in as a vice president. You start out at 250 plus a minimum stip of 30 per cent. Within two years, you'll be at 300 and 40 per cent. That's the base. You're going to earn your real money on points on all the albums you're going to make for us. That's where you're going to get rich, Jimmy. You have kids, right?"

"Two boys."

"How old?"

"Almost three. They're twins."

"Imagine what it's going to cost to send two kids to Harvard at the same time in another fifteen years! You better take this job, Jimmy."

Booth laughed and the driver, who Jim had not noticed listening, joined in.

"It's real tempting, J.B.," Jim said. He wanted to regain a little leverage. "But you know, I've had a lot of offers. I like working with Barney. He is a nut, but he's a nut who lives for music. And it's home to me. I really like what you folks are doing. My wife sure wants me to make a move. I just need a few days to look at all the possibilities." He tapped the driver's shoulder. "I get out just up there on the right, behind the police car."

Jim thanked Booth for the lift and said goodbye. As the car pulled away Booth lowered his window and called back, "Jim-listen to your wife!"

Jim walked through a crowd of punks and college kids, into the Mercury Lounge. He was thirty now, but he believed he still looked like one of the fans. He had shoulder length hair, no longer as red as it used to be, and he was very thin. His skinniness exaggerated all his other features-his roman nose, his heavy brow, his big hands, and made him look taller than his six feet.

Jim leaned down to tell the rat-faced kid on the door that his name was on the guest list but before he opened his mouth the kid said, "Go ahead, sir," and waved him in.

A Rolling Stone writer Jim knew was leaning on the bar, smiling at this display of deference.

"I guess he could tell I'm important," Jim said.

"No," the writer said. "He took one look at you and thought, 'This guy's too old to be here for fun.'"

The band Jim had come to see was called Jerusalem. He had been watching them for more than a year, giving them advice on songwriting and how to carry themselves on stage. He had seen them through three drummers, the bassist's suspended jail sentence, the keyboard player's marriage and the guitarist's divorce. He had helped them get publishing money so they could afford decent equipment and a van. He watched them grow from a promising local group to a confident band ready to record. Along the way other labels began sniffing around. Jim did not want to lose Jerusalem, but Barney held back from letting him sign them. They had an ambitious lawyer who wanted big money and Barney said let them sweat.

Jim ordered an orange juice to take into the back room where the band was playing. When he paid he looked down the bar and saw Zoey Pavlov, a talent scout for WorldWide Music. That spooked him. Did Booth know that one of his A&R people was here when he dropped Jim outside? Maybe not. Zoey was out in some bar somewhere seeing some band every night. There was no reason to be paranoid.

Zoey picked up two drinks and carried them to a table in the main room, near the stage. She sat them down in front of William "Wild Bill" DeGaul, the CEO of WorldWide Music, Booth's boss and maybe soon Jim's own. There was reason to be paranoid.

Jim banged through the ugly possibilities. First: Booth was only pretending to court him to get Jerusalem for WorldWide. That made no sense. Big shots like Booth and DeGaul don't need to stoop to conquer small label A&R men. They step on them without wiping off their shoes.

Second: DeGaul had arranged to be here to bump into Jim. Booth set him up with the flattering car ride and now the big boss was waiting at the other end to close the deal. Well, it would be sweet to believe it. Jim's ego was not grand enough to seriously consider that these giants of industry designed their movements to seduce him into taking a job he would be nuts to turn down anyway.

Third: Zoey Pavlov got wind Jim might be coming into her department and was trying to (a.) make friends with him, (b.) scrutinize him, or (c.) steal his next signing out from under him. Maybe Zoey heard Jim was close to signing Jerusalem and she convinced the boss to come see them, pretending they were her discovery. It would be a way of saying to DeGaul, "My ears are as good as this guy's. What do you need him for?"

Fourth: Zoey and DeGaul are just here because they like music. Right.

Zoey spotted Jim staring at them and vaguely waved hello. She leaned over and said something to DeGaul who turned and smiled and motioned for Jim to come sit down. There were no free seats, but by the time Jim got to the table a lackey had vacated his chair and disappeared.

"Hello, Zoey," Jim said. She mouthed hi and returned to looking bored and breathing through her mouth. Jim turned his head to DeGaul. "Bill, who's watching the empire?"

"I got people to do that for me!" DeGaul announced. "Siddown, Mister Cantone! I want to get your read on this next band!"

Jim sat. Wild Bill DeGaul always spoke a notch louder than he had to. Slight hearing loss, Jim figured, common liability in this business. DeGaul was in his middle fifties but looked right at home in the rock club. His hair was thick and had turned white so evenly that you could figure him for a blonde. His skin was tanned, his white collar and cuffs were starched, his khaki suit jacket was perfectly draped over his broad shoulders. He looked like a man who had arrived at his fifties feeling right at home. The world was designed for people like DeGaul. He was happy holding the lease.

"I just got back from Africa!" DeGaul said in Jim's ear.

"Dakar! What a place! You been? You gotta go. We hired camels! I drank some bad moonshine and woke up with a swollen colon and a shrunken head! The music is incredible there! Rai! I brought back some CDs, you gotta hear it."

DeGaul fished in a leather satchel under the table, pushed aside a couple of stacks of what looked like fifty dollar bills wrapped in rubber bands and hauled out several compact discs with Xeroxed paper covers and French titles. He handed one to Jim. "Take this home and tell me what you think of it! It's great!"

Well, Jim figured, DeGaul is a cowboy alright. The only way you'd ever get Jim's boss Barney up on a camel would be if he ran over it in his Bentley on the way to pick up a cheesecake.

An MTV executive came up behind DeGaul and squeezed his shoulders. DeGaul turned and sailed into a conversation about whether one of WorldWide's big acts would headline the next Video Music Awards. Jim was relieved to be off the hook for a minute. He wasn't sure if he should mention the job offer. He wasn't sure if DeGaul's outgoing manner was part of the mating dance. He looked at Zoey Pavlov who regarded him as if he were standing on her foot.

DeGaul made some halfhearted wisecrack and the MTV exec fell over laughing. Gosh, Jim thought, what must it do to a man's ass to be constantly kissed?

DeGaul's legend was the stuff of Billboard Spotlights. His father was a naval officer and Wild Bill grew up at different bases around Latin America and the Caribbean. He was, famously, kicked out of military school for knocking out the commandant after being caught drunk. Shamed, he packed his kit and spent the next two years roaming Brazil. When he came out of the jungle he set up a small export business for bossa nova and mambo albums. He made money at it, and in the mid-sixties opened a record store in New Orleans. He ran...

Revue de presse

"Is there a better, funnier, truer novel about the contemporary music business? I don't think so. A&R is that extremely rare, satisfying thing-ferocious satire with a moral compass."
-- Kurt Andersen, author of Turn of the Century

"Bill Flanagan, a senior vice president of VH1 who has written extensively about the music industry, takes to fiction like an old hand. Fast-paced, funny, poignant, and, of course, sharply observed, this is first and foremost an entertainment. But Flanagan's music industry is additionally a legitimate and unsettling metaphor for the way we live now."
-- Kirkus Reviews

"This is a wonderfully written tale, with humour and heart. For record industry readers it's a trip to the funhouse hall of mirrors. If you secretly fear that you look like this, then you probably do. Flatter yourself at your peril. For civilians and other innocent bystanders it's a great day at the Roman Games."
-- Elvis Costello

"You begin with the things you love. You end up with the things you'll do. And one day you find yourself staring at a line on the ground, knowing that if you cross that line you'll never be the same again. A&R is the story of a music junkie's journey to that line, and Bill Flanagan tells it with all the color and authenticity that could only come from years spent on the musical midway. From the musicians, all their dreams and disappointments and the strings from which they dangle, to the men and women who jerk those strings, A&R is a straight-up, high fidelity ride."
-- Adam F. Duritz, Counting Crows
        
"A beautiful chronicle of what went wrong with rock and pop in recent decades. Flanagan hit me over the head with some profound truths about art and the people who sell it. But most important he enlightens us with a great sense of humor and a thoroughly entertaining read. The perfectly sad story of the folks who picked all the golden apples and never bothered to water the tree."
-- Tom Petty

"Laugh-out-loud funny -- a true hoot."
-- Lou Reed

Détails de l'édition

• Éditeur: Random House Inc
• Date d'édition: 2001
• Langue: anglais
• ISBN 10: 0375758305
• ISBN 13: 9780375758300
• Reliure: Broché
• Coordonnées du fabricant: non disponible
• Personne responsable: non disponible