Record Deal

Stan was the first adult who didn’t disappoint me when it mattered.

Two days after I sent him the masters to the album he booked a flight to Boston to meet with us with a record deal in hand. My father had already signed off—Stan made sure of it. There was no chance I wasn’t signing.”

The meeting would take place in the Parris’ kitchen. Stan knew how to schmooze. Only my parents needed to sign—Jim would be eighteen by the time touring began, so he didn’t need a guardian signature—but the Comeaus brought their lawyer anyway.

Of course, the Parrises also had their lawyer present to review the contract to ensure Scott understood what he was signing.

“It’s a pleasure to meet each of you. I always love to see where our artists came from…and the parents who shaped them,” Stan said, lying through his teeth.

“The pleasure is all ours Mr. McSorley,” Mr. Parris said.

“Oh, please call me Stan… I’ve known Wes for years, he’s like a son to me—it would be weird to be so formal about all of this.”

Yup, Stan was the same sleazy bastard no matter where he was.

“Oh, how do you know Wes?” Jim’s dad asked.

“The last couple of years at the Heavy Tulsa festival he’s been my personal assistant… he’s a real life saver,” Stan laughed.

“Does that mean you know Caleb too?” Jim’s mom asked.

“Yeah, but that relationship is…different,” he paused. “I talk to Caleb every couple of weeks. In this business, having a performer like him available at all times is Godsend.”

Yeah, that’s for sure. As all of the old addicts pop in and out of rehab, having a sober nineteen year-old to fill in makes sure the show goes on.

The Comeau family seemed satisfied with Stan’s answers.

“So, I’m going to shoot straight with all of you about this contract—it’s untraditional. Embers of Twilight’s first album is fantastic, but there’s a lot of risk with how this business operates. Especially considering how little experience they have.”

“This contract outlines our intended release and touring schedule for the next three years. Despite Mr. Rondeau already signing his son over to us, we’ve decided we would like him to finish school before living on the road—It’s about optics.”

“There’s no traditional advance—too risky. We’ll cover the first merch run. Once that’s recouped, the band gets their royalty split. Half goes to you, half to the label—for tour costs, distribution, and keeping this machine running.”

“Embers of Twilight will play on every show one of our bands plays in either Boston or Manchester outside of the summer…with weekend shows in New York and Philly.”

“This means that they will be playing five to seven nights a week, helping them gain the experience and stamina required to take the next steps in their career…does anyone have questions about this?”

The room was quiet.

“You’re saying you expect them to work as full time performers while attending school?” Mr. Comeau asked with skepticism.

“Back in the day, kids dropped out of school altogether to pursue this dream…we felt like this was a rational compromise for a band with so much promise.”

“Do you really think that our boys have the chance to make a career out of this?” Mr. Parris asked.

Stan took a sip of water and smiled, “They’ve got a better chance than most… Do you know what it usually costs to get me to listen to an album from an unsigned band?”

He wasn’t looking for an answer to this question.

“To have the President of R&R Records in your kitchen on a Monday evening is the only answer you need.”

The room—and the lawyers nodded along with him. The Parris’ lawyer seemed distraught that Stan was openly talking about the worst parts of the deal.

“I’d like them to come out to New York at the end of August to make their major debut opening for Def Leppard at MSG. We’ll release ‘Darker Days’ as their major label debut to coincide…’Little Lies’ will be their second single at the start of 2012. The eponymous album will be released in May. They’ll be the side stage band closing out the Heavy Tulsa festival on Memorial Day weekend, and then they’ll be on tour until Labor day.”

I wasn’t surprised Stan had a plan. But this? It felt like he’d been dreaming it up for years. Maybe he had. We weren’t a band—we were a product.

Based on the royalty split, if we caught on, we’d be a cash cow for him for the full five-year term of the contract.

Everyone in the band was ready to sign the contract. Scott, Kenny, and I were ready to spend the rest of our lives as a cog in this machine. We knew that it wasn’t going to be fun or easy, but the chance to live life and become a part of the rock and roll zeitgeist was our dream. For the first time, Jim looked certain—that he would regret not doing this for the rest of his life.

As ink met paper, we got to make eye contact with the devil himself, and he was a friend of mine.

“Something that’s in there that I didn’t mention is that you guys do have a guest list for all of your local shows… so, parents, if you have someone you trust that you want supervising, I left that in there for you,” Stan said laughing.

“Courtney,” Mrs. Parris said. “I’d like her to be at most shows… I feel like she’ll keep the boys in check without you all feeling suffocated.”

Courtney, who had sat in the corner of the room perked up, surprised at being volunteered for this.

“It doesn’t have to be every show, and I know you have your own life, but I’d feel better if you were watching over them,” her mother continued.

This was a surprisingly good idea. Scott was cautious about his drug use around her, and this might help slow his descent into full blown addiction.

“Yeah… I assume they’ll have a tour manager even at their locals?” she asked Stan.

“Yes!” he exclaimed. “You’re sharp—Courtney, I forgot to mention that my good friend Doug White will be their tour manager moving forward… so, you’ll also be safe with his oversight.”

Yeah, Stan was smart to throw that in. The Parrises were throwing their sixteen year old daughter to the wolves.

We wrapped the meeting with handshakes and affirmations. It was the first step toward the dream—and the beginning of the end. We just didn’t know it yet. None of us understood the grind, the contracts, or the compromises waiting on the other side of that handsha