Page 32 of Shame Me
“How many times have we heard that?”
“Yeah…but not from an actual A&R rep. This guy’s the real deal. It’s not a huge label, but they’re legit. And the label’s not what matters. It’s who distributes the music—and labels usually partner with one of the big three. So,” he said closing the van doors, “I think we just got our big fuckin’ break!”
As we drove home, I felt something inside me blossoming, like a delicate flower afraid to open its petals but doing it anyway. I didn’t realize until my head hit the pillow that that flower was hope.
The next night,Zack took us out to a local pizza place to celebrate—but after we were done eating, he said, “I want you guys to know this isn’t a done deal. We don’t sign any papers unless we all agree this is a good move.”
Cy tossed his napkin on the empty plate in front of him. “I think we all trust your judgment.” Braden and I both nodded our assent as he continued. “You said this guy’s legit, so is there something else we should think about?”
“I’m glad you asked. I’ve been hesitating a little, because there are tons of other labels out there. This might not be our best offer.”
“It’s ouronlyoffer. The guys from Fully Automatic didn’t follow through—and how many chances will we have like that? I don’t expect to have a lot of people who’ve already made it attending our shows.”
“These are all the things I’m thinking in my head, Cy. The prosandthe cons. I just don’t want to screw us over.”
I finally jumped in. “This is what we’ve been working for, right? The chance to have our music heard across the world? They might not be a big label but they were big enough to send a rep—not once but twice—to watch us and listen to our music. Maybe there are other labels who’d take us, but they have to hear us first, and we might not ever get that chance again.”
Zack nodded. “Bray?”
“I agree with Dani and Cy. I say we go for it.”
“Then it’s a deal—but don’t sign shit until I say.”
Cy said, “We all have to sign together, don’t we?”
“Probably. But with all my research, I know that’s where they get you. We need to be careful and go through that shit with a fine-tooth comb.”
“I have an idea,” I said, inspired. Grabbing the pitcher, I poured more Dr. Pepper into my cup as I spoke. “You’ve saved up a ton of money for recording. Since we don’t have to do that now, why couldn’t we use that to hire a lawyer to read over our contract to make sure they’re not pulling anything?”
Zack’s green eyes searched mine before they lit up. “That’s a damn good idea. Everybody okay with that?”
We all clinked the plastic cups together in agreement, ready for the next chapter of our lives. Despite how hard it had all been, I was amazed that we had only been living and performing in Denver for less than two years when we signed the paperwork.
Although the labeldidn’t pull any shenanigans, Zack used the lawyer’s advice to get us a better deal anyway. Unfortunately, we couldn’t afford the best lawyer out there, but he had the credentials. Still, it wasn’t enough to save us from all the hidden expenses—and all the things the label did that seemed to help us would hurt us in the long run.
I hadn’t thought much about how it would all work, but we found out that, even though Crushed Velvet would be paying up front for the recording sessions, the cost would come out of our royalties before we would see a dime. They also wanted us to record at some huge expensive studio in L.A., but Zack had already researched studios in the Denver area and had one he’d wanted to work with. It had been a bit of a sticking point, but Zack finally said, “Look—until we start making serious money from our music, we have to keep playing the gigs we’ve already scheduled and working our day jobs—so we’ll be recording in Denver. You just need to give us a budget and deadline, and we’ll get it done.”
One of the execs at the table said, “Fine. We’ll give you that—but you’ll still be working with Jeff.”
Jeff Craven was the producer they’d chosen for our first album. Although we’d never met him, at least Zack had heard of him. The execs said he’d be a perfect match for us, because he’d be able to polish our sound, making it “radio ready.”
Thathadn’t set well with Zack…but he merely smiled.
The worst part was that Jeff’s travel and expenses (like meals and hotel rooms) would come out of our recording budget—so the label then told us that we needed to get it all done in a month or less—pre-production, recording, and mixing. At the time, I didn’t think much of it. Only when we were in the thick of things did I discover we’d jumped into a pressure cooker.
We hadtwo weeks before Jeff arrived. Because he was working with another band, he had to wrap that up first. So Zack decided that we’d practice even more to make sure recording went smoothly and we could spend less time—and money—in the studio.
It was a bit tiring. We’d all work our day jobs, then come home and practice for two solid hours when we weren’t playing a show. Afterward, Zack would disappear.
One night at the end of a particularly rough practice session, Zack said, “We’re getting close.”
“We might get perfect,” Cy said, “but I don’t know if I’m gonna want to fucking work with you after this.”
Braden and I stayed silent.
Zack, however, looked up from his guitar case, and the way he was crouching reminded me of the videos I’d seen of jungle cats ready to pounce. Cy didn’t look much different, like the two of them were dying to beat the shit out of each other. “You think you can run this band better?”
Cy slowly shook his head. “That’s not what I said.”
