Alex played the trumpet, and Little Lori played the African drum and sang. The two of them went through the whole song roughly once.
After hearing this, the agent tilted his head and looked at Alex, "Are you really the star trumpet player at your school?"
"Uh, yes, I used to be." Alex quickly produced his prepared explanation, "Because I suddenly lost interest in music a while ago and neglected to practice, so I regressed a lot, and I... I was very nervous just now."
"Hey, he got distracted. He stupidly tried to focus on his studies and stuff. He got an A+ in math, so we all call him Aplus, hahaha…" Tony explained.
"This doesn't make sense, does it? The song is so well-made, you could be…" The manager stopped abruptly, took out a cigarette holder, and stuffed a mouthless camel cigarette into it. "Forget it, let's not dwell on these little things now. I'll just assume you're a genius."
"Hey, Alex, did you hear what he said? You're a genius, you really are a fucking genius..."
"Shut up, Tony."
The agent silenced Tony, lit a cigarette, and took a puff. "You've already filed the lyrics and music, right?"
"Yes, the lyrics, the music, and this demo." Alex could sense that the other party was hesitant. Little Lowry had already hinted to AK to refuse the cooperation. If this agent also expressed a negative attitude, then this path would be completely cut off.
On the other hand, Alex wasn't too worried. After all, he was the one with the good songs, while the other party was the one desperately trying to grab a last straw. As long as he protected the copyright, making money in the capitalist society of the United States was just a matter of sooner or later, and how much. If the other party was perceptive enough, it wouldn't be hard for them to see the opportunity.
Little Lori was completely lost in thought, her gaze wandering across the ceiling, her legs swinging idly, looking like he didn't care what anyone did.
"I've come to save you, little Lori!"
Alex thought to himself, he was now quite certain that Little Lowry was still being kept in the dark by his manager and the music company boss.
"Let's go to the company first."
The agent stubbed out his cigarette with his thumb and forefinger. "AK, go get my car." He kicked Lowry's leg and yelled, "Get moving, everyone get moving! Let's go!"
'Silencer' patted Alex on the shoulder, "Cool!"
Tony was as happy as a child, jumping up and high-fiving Little Lowry and AK, then putting his arm around Alex and going downstairs. "I knew you could do it!" he shouted.
Once downstairs, he pulled Alex a little further away and whispered in his ear, "Did I talk too much upstairs and end up making things worse?"
This older brother is indeed a shrewd person despite his rough exterior, and he knows how to take advantage of that. For example, regarding the incident at the basketball court where he brandished a gun, he later said that the kids playing basketball at that court were usually from nearby families with decent financial situations and education, which is why he dared to do it. If the conflict had taken place in a slum, he would never have been so foolish as to fight with someone.
However, he is indeed a bit loose with his words.
"No..." Alex smiled wryly, "Isn't it all thanks to your relationship with Little Lori?"
"Yeah!" Tony was really into it. "You're all my brothers, and brothers should help each other like this..."
Lowry and her agent were the last to come downstairs. It was clear that the two had just had an argument. Lowry angrily opened the door of the Toyota with the 'muffler' on and got in.
"you!"
The agent ignored him, instead snapping his fingers at Alex and then pointing to the Volvo 760 that AK had just driven out.
"Suck up to him," Tony suggested.
"Don't worry." Alex separated from him and got into the front seat of the Volvo.
"The feeling of driving a luxury car is just different."
Alex rubbed his bottom against the comfortable leather seat, thinking, "When I'm rich, I'll get a Volvo to drive, and I can support domestic products too. Hmm? Something seems off..."
"Do you have an agent?" the agent in the back seat asked bluntly.
"No. Uh... I have no experience in this area," Alex replied truthfully.
"Really?"
The agent was a little skeptical, "Who taught you about things like filing a record?"
"I consulted a lawyer, and this is his advice." From Alex's observation, Little Lowry's agent was about fifty years old, with a Mexican appearance. He was concise and decisive, had a certain air about him, and seemed to be financially well-off. However, he was also bossy and had a strong desire to control people.
However, as long as the agent can help with my income and career, that's enough. Personality and such are minor details. Besides, he's Little Lori's agent, and apparently also Al's; I know him well, so he's not some random outsider. If I don't have an agent and no connections, then I might as well...
"Uh…you…" Alex spoke decisively after thinking through the pros and cons.
"Pablo".
"Okay, Mr. Pablo, can you be my agent?" he asked.
The two exchanged a glance in the rearview mirror.
"In principle, there's no problem. But before I become your agent, there's one thing I need to make clear to you about copyright," Pablo said. "The music is yours, no problem, but the lyrics should ideally be given to little Lowry."
"Why?" Alex was greatly surprised.
"The lawyer you hired doesn't understand the rap scene. Whether it's the old-fashioned style or the later political and gangster themes, rappers are either expressing themselves or expressing their opinions on various issues. Early rappers mostly came from the lower classes and didn't have the financial means to produce good backing tracks. Many just put together something haphazardly or simply sampled other people's music. So, it's fine if you own the music. But think about it, if a rapper's content isn't their own, then it doesn't matter who sings it, right? Anyway, this industry doesn't require hitting high notes or having great vocal techniques. To be honest, the barrier to entry isn't high. If you don't say what you want to say and sing what you want to sing, what's the difference between you and those idol singers heavily promoted by big record companies? These kinds of rappers can't hold their heads up and will be ostracized and ridiculed by the entire industry."
Pablo went on and on, "Besides, the lyrics to your song actually need to be changed."
"Uh...uh..."
Alex touched his upper lip to his lower lip, hesitating several times as if he wanted to speak but then stopped. He had never thought of this kind of problem before, but he knew very well that if the copyright of the lyrics was lost, he would definitely lose the rights he was entitled to in the future.
"Think it over carefully."
Pablo didn't press further. He picked up his Motorola brick and started making a phone call. "Hey, old man! I need your saxophone... right now... it should be a big deal... okay, it's settled?... Okay, I'll be at your building in ten minutes."
"Go to old Morgan's house," he said to AK after hanging up the phone.
Ten minutes later, they were met by an elderly Black man carrying a musical instrument case and dressed in formal attire reminiscent of the 1960s and 70s.
"Wow, wow, wow, dressed like that, old man, where are you going?" Pablo teasingly tugged at the bright pocket square on the other man's chest.
"No...didn't you say there was a big business deal?" The old man's eyes widened. "Don't mess with me, kid! If it weren't for you, I wouldn't be going out this late."
"You're going to Old Joe's place. What do you think I'd arrange for you? Musical accompaniment at a restaurant? Can an old man like you handle that?"
"I have plenty of performance opportunities! Every venue is hiring someone who can play the saxophone."
"I know, I know, you all have to thank Kelly King. Look, even young kids these days compose music with lots of saxophone accompaniment."
"Screw Kelley King, I don't thank him at all, my skills are a million times better than his."
"Really? I've seen you play his piece before. I felt like you were about to die. I was really afraid you would collapse on the spot."
"Fuck you, I'm talking about technique!"
Pablo and Morgan exchanged a few insults; he was a completely different person in front of his old friend.
They arrived at their destination quickly. AK parked the car, and Alex got out. Looking up, he saw a tall sign that read "Old Joe Music Company." The neon lights were dim, and some of the letters were no longer lit.