Queen of the Freebies - page 2
Of course, this wasn’t as simple as it seems. While working on the latest offerings for a certain record company’s artists, my accomplice would invite me along to the studio to ‘hang out’. Sometimes, the boss would be there. I would make myself scarce until around dinner time (who am I to refuse a free meal?), and then politely nod and smile, and sympathize with the woes of running a major record label, until it was time for my unknowing benefactor to retire to his SUV and make a trip to see the latest buzz band that would rob a label of a few million dollars never to be seen again, or the nearest lap dancing club. Sometimes, he would discuss how he planned to revive the fortunes of an act languishing in un-recoupment row. One week it was a trip to The Matrix (who by the time you read this will be doing work for free, but at the time were the hottest songwriting and production outfit on the planet), the next, a cover of ‘Tainted Love’. Somehow, a middle aged man with no kids of his own had a remarkable insight into the psyche of a fourteen-year-old girl in Kentucky, and it involved a pedophile’s pre-pubescent dream making a record of a song that was a hit before her mother was born, produced by a bunch of old geezers who all failed at being successful artists themselves. This endeavour would probably cost somewhere in the region of $250,000. The video would cost double. The person who co-ordinates the entire project will struggle to pay his mortgage this month, but not dare ask for a raise, because he knows he would only be told ‘it’s a difficult time right now,’ and that there is a brand new Ivy league college grad willing to work for free waiting in reception.
We must, however, pay the boss respect for his attention to the job, as just as he would make to leave, one more fantastic idea for some chug guitar or Eagles like harmony would spring to mind, and he would annoyingly delay work on my album by another hour or so. Once safely ensconced in his automobile, I would stand lookout near the entrance of the studio, give it ten minutes, just to make sure he wasn’t coming back with another idea to save the music business, and then dive into the vocal booth. (If I seem a little distracted on one or two tracks on my album, it was probably because I thought he was about to walk back into the studio at any moment. One could say it brings a certain urgency to the song. I like to think so.) This went on, on and off, for some months. I should feel guilty, I suppose, but I don’t. In fact, this could be a new money saving business model that labels might want to adopt – why not studio share with artists? Two for the price of one? While you’re pro-tooling one miserably out of tune Ashlee Simpson ‘live’ vocal, why not do Jessica’s at the same time? You know it makes sense.
If at times I felt like I was taking advantage of other recording artists, I justified it by observing that these artists couldn’t even be bothered to stick around the studio once they had done their vocal takes. If they were quite happy to let other people do the boring bits, to leave it to the computer to sing the fucking song in tune but take the credit for it, then sod it, there’s no feeling sorry for them. I’m of the school of thought that there is little use in just banging on about how crap these people are, do something about it. So I did. I made some of my album on their studio time, and their un-recouped balance. It’s a revolution, fellow unsigned, and I dare you to join in. See if you can hijack the next Hilary Duff album. While the world has to suffer yet more boy band dross, foist upon it your Captain Beefheart concept record. I totally get the ‘you need commercial stuff to pay for art’ argument, and here’s my solution.(Of course, it’s not as if I make particularly arty records, writing a song in 6/8 and a minor key is about as far as I go, maybe I throw in some weird keyboards too - leave the art to Radiohead and Daniel Bedingfield, I say – but you get the gist.)
Look, by now you have probably figured out that I am the arch opportunist, but I don’t want you to think I am ungrateful or lacking in a values system. It’s quite straightforward - had my nice silent Patron sent me a business class ticket I would have asked his permission, and had it been one in First Class, I would have given him some kind of royalty as well. The moral of the story is to be generous, at all times, and especially to me. So, when I am writing the thank yous for my album credits, there will be a few names I would like to thank from the bottom of my heart, but alas, cannot. If by some miracle I both recoup and have some to spare, I am making a promise right now to find out the name of their favourite charities and make donations. Or I could just send them some of my free Prada.
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