Unlike the trendy and fashionable music company that Alex had imagined, Old Joe Music was completely protected by a narrow and thick iron gate. It seemed that there was no doorbell. AK stepped forward and pounded on the iron gate, which made a dull banging sound.
"Go buy some pizza."
Pablo pulled a wad of cash from his pocket, took out a few bills, and handed them to Silencer.' "And bring some drinks too." He pointed to an intersection. "It'll be there after two traffic lights."
Silencer' silently took the money and went to drive. At that moment, the peephole on the iron gate flashed, and then a black thug with tattoos all over his face lazily pushed the door open.
"Hurry up, Carl."
Pablo grumbled, and behind the door was an equally narrow staircase; he took the first step.
Carl bumped fists with each person who entered. "This is my brother, Alex, you can also call him Aplus," Tony introduced Alex to him. Carl nodded, and the two bumped fists again to mark their acquaintance.
"Looks like it's a stuffy container, just like the silencer'."
Alex muttered to himself, his attention quickly drawn to the photographs on either side of the staircase. The frames were exquisite, and the various portraits, whether black and white or color, mostly displayed a distinct style of clothing and photography from the 1950s, 60s, or even earlier. Of course, they were all Black, with Old Joe appearing most frequently, in both his youth and middle age; it seemed he used to be a moderately famous singer.
"This is me."
Old Morgan proudly pointed to one of the photos, "Look, what a handsome young man!"
The young man in the photo is indeed in his prime, clutching his golden saxophone to his chest and smiling brightly, revealing a set of white teeth.
"It's a pity that the era of old jazz is over..." Old Morgan hugged his saxophone case tighter, but the faint sadness only lasted for a moment. "Damn rock, damn disco, damn rhythm and blues..." The gray-haired old man suddenly turned into an angry boy and cursed wildly, blaming his personal failure on the course of history. "Damn Kelley King!" In the end, he didn't even spare his peers.
The second floor was much more spacious. In the foyer hung two posters taller than a person. One was of Old Joe, whom Alex remembered vividly. He stood in the middle, arms outstretched, with four Black women, two on each side of him, all with the same barrel-shaped figures as Aunt Susie—Alex didn't recognize any of them. The other poster featured Little Lowry and Al. Little Lowry, in the center of the frame, slung a guitar over his shoulder, holding a microphone stand in both hands, looking directly at the camera with a cool, rock-star vibe. Al, beside him, could only bend over, holding a microphone in one hand and making hip-hop gestures with the other.
"It seems that little Lowry is the top star of this company."
Alex had a clear assessment of 'Old Joe Music's' capabilities; perhaps it had its glory days, but it was definitely no longer up to par.
"Call El and tell him to come over."
Pablo snapped his fingers again and pointed to the landline at the front desk. "As fast as possible."
AK reached out and grabbed the phone from the empty front desk to dial.
Pablo continued forward and stopped in front of a door with a sign that read "Recording in Progress." He pressed his ear to the door for a few seconds, then turned the handle and pushed it open forcefully.
A woman's scream immediately came from inside.
"Pull up your pants and get out!" Pablo didn't care and went straight in to kick them out.
There was a rustling sound in the dark room, and then a shirtless young black man wrapped his coat around his female companion's upper body and slipped out with his head down.
Tony was laughing and shouting outside, and he didn't forget to introduce Alex to the others, "This is my brother, Alex, you can also call him Aplus. Alex, this is Eric, our sound engineer."
"F*** you, Tony," Eric muttered, while his female companion gave Tony the middle finger.
"Come in! Come in, all of you!"
This is a standard recording studio; the outer room is the control room.
There are mixing consoles, chairs, sofas, and some miscellaneous equipment. The small room inside is the recording studio, and you can see each other through thick glass on both sides.
Pablo turned on all the lights. "Get to work! Hurry up!" He then pushed open the recording studio door, letting old Morgan and young Lowry in. "Sheet music!" He snapped his fingers at Alex.
Alex took the sheet music out of his bag and went into the recording studio, placing it on the music stands in front of Old Morgan and Little Lowry respectively.
Little Lori was still sulking, remaining aloof and not saying a word, not even exchanging glances with Alex.
Old Morgan took out his reading glasses, put them on, and began slowly opening his saxophone case.
"Come out here and say it here," Pablo commanded through the loudspeaker.
Alex quickly came out and closed the recording studio door.
"If you have any opinions, press this button, but don't interrupt them easily."
Pablo pointed to the call button as a demonstration. "Ready to go?" he said into the microphone.
"Don't rush me, don't rush me, I'm old, unlike you young people..." Old Morgan's grumbling came through the monitor.
"Where's Eric?" Pablo looked back.
"Didn't you tell him to get lost?" Tony asked, puzzled.
"Go and bring him back; we can't do without him here." Pablo made all the arrangements before hurriedly leaving.
Only Alex remained in the control room. He sat down at the mixing console and briefly surveyed the room. Besides the console, there were many other pieces of equipment he couldn't name. The walls were covered with sound-absorbing material, giving it a very professional look. Of course, aside from the long sofa behind him, which was in a mess and still smelled of sweat, it was clear that the battle had just taken place.
The saxophone accompaniment for the song "thrift Shop" was mostly mechanical repetition. Old Morgan tried a few sections following the sheet music, but then he put down his saxophone and cursed, "WTH..." He exclaimed, "Which idiot wrote this garbage?"
"It's me." Alex was embarrassed and answered honestly, then remembered that he had forgotten to press the call button, "Uh...it's me." He had to repeat himself.
"I really don't understand how kids these days make music. Do you think this stuff will ever be popular?" Old Morgan continued to complain, then asked young Lowry beside him, "Do you think it'll be a hit? Singing this stuff, huh?"
This amused little Lori. "I don't know," he replied.
"Sigh, kids these days... I just can't understand them anymore... You know what? When I was your age..."
Old Morgan kept nagging, and young Lowry seemed happy to slack off. Alex knew he couldn't command them and didn't want to offend anyone. Fortunately, it didn't take long before Pablo accompanied Old Joe into the room.
Old Joe was still wearing that pink suit from that day. "Morgan!" he yelled, pressing the call button. "You think I won't come in, tear your old mouth apart, and throw it into Lake Michigan to feed the fish?!"
He still had that powerful bass voice, and even his appearance was not much different from that old man in the pink suit in the thrift shop MV of "flash back Cheat". Alex wanted to laugh as soon as he saw him.
"APLUS, right?" Old Joe had silenced Morgan, then turned around and extended his hand. "Let's get acquainted. I'm the owner of this company, Joe. You can call me Old Joe, but I prefer to be called BOSS."
"Hello, BOSS." After shaking hands with him, music started playing inside, so he stepped aside to the back.
Morgan played the saxophone, while Lori sang and played the African drums. The two of them went through the song properly, and the effect was much better than when Alex and Lori collaborated.
"Um..."
Old Joe pursed his lips, remaining noncommittal. "Let's do it again." He pressed the call button.
While Old Joe and Pablo listened to the lyrics for the second time, Alex's mind raced. Tony wanted him to flatter Pablo, but based on their conversation in the car, their interests clashed. Pablo was Lowry's manager and intended for him to "give" the lyrics to Lowry. Flattery alone probably wouldn't change his mind. Even if Pablo became his manager in the future, how he would choose between him and Lowry was uncertain.
Perhaps hiring Pablo as your agent is not a good idea.
But the old Joe in front of him was completely different from Pablo. As long as the records sold well, the old Joe, as the owner of the music company, would definitely have his interests aligned with Pablo's...
Once you've figured it out, take action. After the second take, "Uh, boss," Alex drew Old Joe's attention, "It's like this, the inspiration for this song came from the day we filmed Little Lowry's music video..."
"Yeah, I've heard about it, it's a sthrift store," Old Joe replied casually.
"Not only that, part of the inspiration came from you, boss," Alex continued. "The chorus was written for you; I really love your low notes."
"Me?" Old Joe was surprised.
"Yes, why don't you give it a try?" Alex gestured to the recording studio.
"Give it a try?" Old Joe and Pablo exchanged a glance.
Pablo nodded, pursing his lips.
"Let's give it a try." Old Joe pushed open the door of the recording studio and went inside.
After briefly contemplating the score, he began his third attempt.
I'm gonna pop some tags, only got twenty in my pocket
I'm, I'm, I'm hunting, looking for a come up
This is FXXXing awesome!
As soon as he sang a few lines of lyrics, Alex noticed that Pablo leaned forward and his eyes lit up.