446-450

### Chapter 446: Full of Sincerity

Dustin-Thorne was adjusting his tie, still not accustomed to this kind of attire. He hardly ever wore a tie throughout the year, and if it weren't for Mike-Donovan insisting that this was a basic form of etiquette...

Even so, Dustin still glanced at Mike with a face full of reluctance.

Mike-Donovan, the Vice President of the West Coast Artist Division at Warner Records, noticed the resentful look from his left and felt a bit helpless, but ultimately chose to ignore it without saying much.

"Hey, Dustin, this was your idea. No one forced you to come."

"So, if we want to show enough sincerity, we at least need to look a bit more formal and not like some random vagrants off the street."

Dustin rolled his eyes. "Vagrants might not even be this embarrassing."

Suit? Shirt? Tie? Dress shoes?

How is this different from a Wall Street guy? Not a shred of a musician's spirit!

Mike didn't mind. "Then go roll around on the sidewalk a couple of times; that'll bring out the artist vibe right away."

Dustin could tell he was being mocked, but he didn't care at all. He actually looked around seriously, considering the possibility.

Mike: ...

How was he supposed to stop Dustin?

Maybe the best way to stop Dustin was for Anson to show up?

So, Mike didn't say anything and instead turned to look at the door in front of him, hesitating about whether he should press the doorbell again. Dustin had insisted that talking in a meeting room wouldn't convince such a unique band, which is why they decided to come in person, but they never expected that they might not even get through the door.

Had he known, he would have contacted Anson and the band members through their manager.

Just then—

Creak.

The door opened.

Mike was delighted, and Dustin turned his head, both of them looking forward.

Anson, with his messy hair resembling a mad scientist from the movies, appeared sleepy and was simply dressed in a T-shirt and shorts, clearly just woken up.

This kind of meeting was something neither Mike nor Dustin had anticipated.

Mike was starting to regret this.

In Hollywood movies, managers, record company reps, or sports coaches often personally visit someone to show their sincerity and persuade their target, but in real life, this almost never happens.

Look at the awkward situation they're facing now—it's the best proof of that.

So, contacting through the company, sitting down in a meeting room in formal attire, preferably with lawyers present, and following all the professional protocols would have been the best choice, avoiding many unnecessary issues. Movies are fictional and often glorified, and believing in movies or novels is the most foolish thing to do.

However, Anson is a bit different from the norm, which is why Mike agreed to come with Dustin in person.

In any case—

What should they do now?

Just as Mike was hesitating for a moment, he missed the opportunity.

"Sorry, I'm a Buddhist," Anson said.

Mike: Wait, what?

Dustin: Huh?

Both of them couldn't keep up with Anson's pace and were momentarily stunned.

Then, Anson smiled and started closing the door.

Dustin finally reacted, but instead of stopping Anson, he turned to Mike and burst out laughing. "See, I told you, haha, hahaha."

Mike: Completely exasperated.

He glared at Dustin, but there was no time to argue. Seeing that Anson was about to close the door, Mike quickly raised his hand to block it.

"No, we're not here to convert you to Christianity."

Next to him, Dustin was laughing uncontrollably. "Haha, haha, that’s so accurate. We do look like missionaries."

Mike was fed up. "Dustin, if you're not going to help, at least don’t make things worse. Signing this band was your idea. I’m not responsible for this."

Signing the band?

Anson caught a key phrase but still remained cautious, leaning lazily against the doorframe while sizing up the two men in front of him.

By this time, Dustin had calmed down a bit, though a smile still lingered at the corners of his mouth. "Anson, we're from Warner Records. We're here to discuss signing a record deal with you."

Straight to the point.

Anson didn’t easily believe them. "You can discuss that with my manager."

Dustin was beginning to get a little anxious. "But your manager doesn’t handle record deals; even if he’s filling in, he’s only your manager, not the band’s."

"Look, here's the deal. We want to sign the entire band, not just you."

It seemed like these two had done their homework and didn’t look like scammers.

Anson didn’t say anything, still maintaining his guard.

Dustin quickly nudged Mike. "Business card, now’s the time to hand over a business card. We need to prove we're not scammers."

He actually... said it out loud like that. Dustin was quite the character.

Mike realized too, fumbling to pull a business card out of his pocket. "In fact, we already called Edgar Cook to inform him. He should have left you a voicemail; of course, I also left you a voicemail explaining the situation, though I’m not sure if you checked it."

He explained as he handed over the card.

Anson took the card and glanced at it. "I’m not in a convenient situation today. How about this: You guys contact Edgar and set up another time to meet. We can arrange for the whole band to be present. I’ll give Edgar a heads-up."

Dustin was a bit surprised. "I thought you didn’t like formalities."

Mike stopped Dustin, making exaggerated winks to signal him to stop talking, then looked at Anson. "Of course, no problem. Let's do that."

"We’ll contact Edgar, and we’ll meet in a formal setting."

Without waiting for Dustin to object, Mike pulled him away.

Dustin looked frustrated as he glanced back at Anson, shaking his head in disbelief. It seemed like he didn’t expect Anson to be so by-the-book, muttering to himself about how “you couldn’t tell from his music,” while loosening his tie and unbuttoning his shirt as if he couldn’t stand it any longer.

Mike was resigned. "I told you we should be more formal. We’re not some no-name indie company. This kind of off-the-cuff approach doesn’t work in real life."

Blah blah blah.

The two of them bickered like a comedy duo as they walked away, the scene resembling something straight out of Pulp Fiction.

Anson, now fully awake, spoke into the phone. "Luca, some people came over to sign a record deal with me. I might need to talk to them."

Lucas, who had been listening in, replied, "Are you sure they're not scammers?"

"Haha, if they are, their acting is way too natural. I’d suggest they switch careers to acting; they might have a bright future." Anson joked. "I’ll call Edgar to confirm."

Then Anson hung up and called out to the two retreating figures.

"That title, are you serious? Even if you're scamming, you should pick a more believable title, right?"

*Chapter 447: The Record Deal Invitation*

"Just ahead, around the corner."

Anson signaled as he sped off on his skateboard, leading the way. The sunlight, breeze, and palm trees seemed to stretch out like waves on either side, making the whole world spin rapidly around his figure.

Dustin nodded slightly, "This is the image that comes to mind from the melody."

Free, unrestrained, wild, and carefree.

Whether it's "Wake Me Up" or "Hero," the notes cautiously hide scars and bitterness, but the music itself exudes a carefree and grand atmosphere, silently merging with the figure ahead.

Just a moment ago, Anson had called out to Dustin and Mike but didn’t invite them into his home. Instead, he asked them to wait at the door for a moment.

In less than five minutes, Anson had quickly freshened up, changed his clothes, and tamed his wild hair with a cap. Reappearing on his skateboard, he led them to a coffee shop around the corner.

Everything was simple and efficient, with a sense of unrestrained freedom.

Yet, it was Mike who couldn’t keep up with the pace. They had come to Anson first, but somehow, the control had quietly slipped into Anson's hands—no wonder Anson could catch Jay Leno off guard.

To be honest, compared to the recent overwhelming and explosive popularity, Anson's real-life appearance was a little underwhelming:

Two eyes, a nose, a mouth.

Anson didn’t look much different from other young people, perhaps just a bit more handsome.

But when you calm down and think about it seriously, expecting Anson to have three heads and six arms, something entirely unique, is what's truly absurd. After all, Anson isn't an alien.

Slowly, little by little, as you feel Anson's aura, you begin to realize his uniqueness before you even notice it.

A certain charm—

A light gray long-sleeved hoodie paired with light blue denim shorts, topped off with a red San Francisco 49ers baseball cap, and on a skateboard.

That outfit.

Long sleeves with shorts? A hoodie with a baseball cap?

Everything seems mismatched, yet on Anson, it all looks naturally eye-catching. In the short distance to the coffee shop, just two blocks, you could see eyes quietly gathering on him, with passersby taking note.

And so, Dustin made his remark.

Mike, puzzled, asked, "So, what image does the music convey?"

Dustin shrugged lightly, "Like Anson."

Mike: Rolls eyes.

Dustin didn’t mind, "Everyone has their own feelings and opinions. There's no right answer, and it might even be impossible to express in words. But truly special musicians often infuse their work with color."

"In my view, those songs have Anson's color. If another singer or band performed them, it would be something entirely different."

Mike seemed half-understanding—

After all, their specialties were different.

Dustin was a producer, focused on the musical aspect; Mike was in marketing, focused on the commercial appeal of the artist, so their perspectives naturally differed.

Just like now.

Mike couldn't explain everything he saw. It was simply different, and that made him sure he could see the band's market potential.

To put it simply, Mike believed the band's music could sell, whether it was Anson or the music that made money; he didn’t care.

Dustin looked at Mike, "I think we should be straightforward."

Mike, "What do you mean?"

Dustin, "I just mean there’s no need to lie, no need to beat around the bush. I believe Anson can see through it, so why not just be honest and show sincerity?"

Mike, "I, I wasn't planning to lie."

Dustin, however, ignored him, casually walking past Mike and pushing open the coffee shop door. Mike sighed helplessly and followed.

The coffee shop was nothing special—clean, simple, with modern decor that wasn’t particularly fancy. It looked like any independent coffee shop you could find in Los Angeles. But Anson seemed especially comfortable and at ease, clearly a regular.

They ordered, then sat down.

Mike looked at Dustin, then at Anson, and realized that no one was planning to speak. Finally, he broke the silence and started the conversation.

"Warner Records hopes to sign a contract with the band to produce a record. By 'band,' I mean you, Lily, Connor, and Miles. We want you all to form a band and perform together."

Straightforward, clear.

Anson nodded slightly, the corners of his mouth lifting, "That's good news." But the smile didn’t reach his eyes as he calmly looked at Mike, "So, what are the specific terms? What do we have to give, and what do we get in return?"

Mike: Wait, what...?

Are all artists this blunt nowadays? Jumping straight into contract terms?

Mike glanced at Dustin, who was watching the situation with an amused expression.

Mike pulled himself together quickly. Although this wasn’t his specialty, he wasn’t unfamiliar with it either—this was a necessary part of dealing with artists.

"We can sit down and discuss the details."

"I believe several companies have approached the band recently, but Warner Records is sincere. We're willing to offer the band the most creative freedom and the best contract terms."

"The reason Dustin and I came to meet you in person today is, on one hand, to show our sincerity. We want to sit down and talk face-to-face, not just exchange cold opinions over the phone or by email."

"On the other hand, we respect the soul of the band. We want to preserve this unique quality. Dustin will serve as the record producer, working with you to create an album that captures the band’s essence."

Mike turned to Dustin.

Although Dustin had been watching with a playful attitude, hearing his name brought out his professional side. He nodded repeatedly to show his agreement.

Dustin added, "Look, there’s nothing like this in the current market."

"A cello in a rock band? Bass and cello resonating together? No official drummer in the band? The music doesn’t emphasize the lead singer but is centered around the instruments?"

"All these things are brand new, even a whole new challenge. We must capture these qualities to explore rock music in a fresh way, maybe even redefine the band and what it means to be a band."

"I love your creative approach, the sense of unbound freedom, and I hope to capture that wildness and swagger on the record."

Despite Dustin's earlier casual attitude, when he got into his professional mode, he showed his talent. His eyes and tone were entirely different.

Mike nodded in agreement.

After a pause, Dustin added, "It’s like our recent encounter, ‘I believe in Buddha.’ God, that’s pure genius. I mean, Amitabha, that’s genius."

Mike: Facepalm, why did he bring that up!

"Ahem," Mike cleared his throat to cut in, "What Dustin means is, we love your style and want to keep it in the music. Warner Records always puts the artist’s uniqueness first."

*Chapter 448: A Long Road Ahead*

Bla bla bla, they sang in harmony, moving effortlessly, seamlessly, and with perfect coordination.

Mike was very pleased with the presentation. He believed they could impress Anson. Warner Records' brand, combined with the sincerity of a personal visit, carried significant weight.

However, Dustin noticed Anson's "silence." Listening carefully was good as it allowed them to fully express their intentions according to plan, but Anson’s complete silence and lack of interruption throughout the entire process felt unsettling—especially since it was Anson.

Dustin, a producer, always believed that music carried a person’s essence, whether they were a creator or performer, giving music a unique texture—a color of the soul, in a sense.

Of course, this excludes formulaic pop songs.

Dustin admired Anson mainly because of the freedom and rebellious spirit conveyed through his melodies and performances, which reminded him of Kurt Cobain.

The most fascinating aspect was that, unlike Kurt Cobain, whose rebellious, dark, and broken nature hid a destructive instinct, Anson’s music had a golden transparency and lightness, a clarity and wisdom.

Of course, it might just be Dustin’s imagination; illusions are free. But Dustin trusted his judgment, which is why he insisted they should sign the band.

If Dustin's judgment was correct, then Anson's reaction was abnormal.

But Dustin didn’t rush to speak; he wanted to observe Anson's response and verify his judgment.

Then—

Anson spoke.

He had maintained patience and focus all along. Only after Dustin and Mike finished their presentation, ensuring both representatives had fully expressed themselves, did Anson slightly raise his chin and seriously look at them.

"So, let me summarize the situation."

"Warner Records believes our band's performance indeed brings something new, different from the mainstream music in the current market, which is very interesting."

"But at the same time, this also means independent music might struggle to enter the mainstream market, with a bleak sales outlook."

"Of course, the buzz from 'The Tonight Show' is a positive factor, but how much that traffic will convert into sales and how long it will last are all unknowns."

"You think it's worth trying. Warner Records didn’t outright reject the idea but expressed significant concerns and limited interest, giving you some authority to personally visit and test the waters."

"So, after meeting, you refuse to discuss numbers and instead try to move me emotionally, hoping I, like other struggling artists, would be overjoyed and accept Warner Records' appreciation and respect without hesitation."

"But once the album production begins, we wouldn’t have the final say because you can't guarantee our creative control in black and white. It's likely Warner Records would take the lion's share of the royalties, leaving us as guinea pigs for the record company. Our music's essence could be lost, and we might still end up broke, going in circles only to return to square one."

"Possibly even worse."

"As for your careers, they probably wouldn’t suffer much. You’d move on to find the next singer, discover the next genius. After all, the entertainment industry is never short of dreamers, right?"

"Isn’t that why you personally came to see me?"

Warner Records was interested, but the interest was limited, with concerns and objections outweighing enthusiasm—

A cello and rock? An instrument-centered band? An actor moonlighting in a band? A musician rising from a talk show?

All of this seemed gimmicky on the surface, but at the turn of the millennium, it was filled with uncertainties, with the current music market showing a slow decline, and record sales dropping across the board.

Early last year, Virgin Records, a subsidiary of EMI, one of the world’s five major record companies, ended its contract with Mariah Carey after just one year, paying a $28 million settlement, reflecting the sluggishness of the entire music market.

Even giants like Warner Records had to be more cautious.

Perhaps Dustin and Mike were genuinely interested, which is why they broke protocol and visited personally. This unusual move clearly indicated more underlying concerns.

And Anson had just made a small, speculative deduction.

Mike: Jaw dropped.

Although Mike tried to refute, argue, and interrupt Anson, the words were too accurate, directly hitting the soft spot. Several times he prepared to speak, but the words invariably got stuck on his tongue—

A dry mouth and parched tongue.

It seemed Mike was an honest person. He likely hadn’t reached his current position through scheming but purely by personal competence, or maybe he was the department’s scapegoat, always cleaning up others’ messes, with his only interest being the music itself.

Finally, Mike found his voice, ready to defend himself.

This time, Dustin interrupted him, "Haha, hahaha."

Laughter!

Dustin gave Mike no face, holding his stomach and laughing, "Caught red-handed, no underwear left, haha, you should really see your face."

Mike: …

Dustin said, "What did I just tell you? We shouldn't play tricks; we should tell the truth. That's the only way to build trust."

"Besides, we’ve already broken protocol to visit personally, so why worry about saving face? Being sincere, with fewer tricks, isn’t that better?"

Rapid-fire words, like a storm.

Dustin completely exposed Mike’s hand, leaving Mike utterly defeated.

The frustration was suffocating, but in the end, Mike let out a long breath. He and Dustin had been old friends, knowing each other for a long time. Having chosen to come along with Dustin for this business negotiation, he should have been mentally prepared for this.

Now, it was fine.

Mike quickly adjusted his mindset and looked at Anson, but couldn’t help his curiosity, "…God, how did you figure it out?"

"I mean, our acting wasn’t that clumsy, right?"

"I really should reassess my negotiation skills."

Sincerity makes one endearing.

Anson chuckled silently. The mere act of Warner Records visiting in person was unusual. He didn’t believe a record company needed to make a personal visit—

Connor and the others would have rushed to Los Angeles as soon as they got a call from "The Tonight Show." So, imagine Warner Records needing only one phone call, and they would have eagerly flown in.

Even if Warner Records was sincere, it wasn’t necessary. It really wasn’t.

But seeing through it without exposing it keeps the friendship afloat.

Anson smiled and gave an honest and reasonable answer, "You’re not the first record company to call. Clearly, we’ve already gained a basic understanding of our situation."

So that’s how it was!

*Chapter 449: Neither Good Nor Bad*

This is all the truth—

After "The Tonight Show" aired, the band's performance caused a sensation across North America. Although Anson's topic later took the lead and surged ahead, there's no doubt that the band's buzz remained high.

The most amazing and interesting part is that when singers go on talk shows to promote, it's usually all about the promotion. The show naturally wouldn't miss the chance to introduce the band, the song, with not only the host introducing them but also subtitles on the screen, ensuring maximum promotional impact.

However, this episode of "The Tonight Show" didn't do that.

No band, no song—everything remained a mystery.

And this became the very reason why the band's buzz stayed high—

Pure.

It wasn't for commercial promotion, nor was it to prepare for fame and fortune.

Naturally, the band caught the attention of record labels.

Some contacted Connor, while others reached out to Anson or Edgar. Whether it was industry giants like Universal Music Group or newly established independent labels, whether through phone calls or emails, different channels, different methods, and different conditions all painted a partial picture of the market landscape, revealing where they currently stood.

There were those who sincerely hoped to discover the band's talent, and there were opportunists looking to make a quick profit off them—such is the diverse landscape of the entertainment world.

Hence, Anson came to this conclusion.

Finally.

Anson smiled and quietly looked at Mike.

Dustin, on the other hand, was much more straightforward. He rolled his eyes dramatically. "So, do you want to say it, or should I?"

Mike was a bit helpless. "Sorry, Dustin is just impatient like that."

Anson didn't mind and shrugged lightly. "But you still chose to come negotiate with him, which means you've already mentally prepared yourself."

Mike froze for a moment.

Dustin laughed, "Haha, I knew I'd like this kid."

Mike shook his head helplessly and finally got straight to the point.

"Yes, you're right."

"We have market considerations, but Dustin believes that musically, we shouldn't miss out on you guys."

"Indeed, your performance is challenging people's existing understanding of music. Pop music is like that; people tend to like what they're familiar with, something that's easy to listen to. There's often a subconscious unfamiliarity or even resistance to new things, which is why record companies don't like innovation."

"When Queen recorded 'Bohemian Rhapsody,' and when The Beatles recorded the 'White Album,' EMI Records was utterly confused. They all thought the market wouldn't accept such avant-garde music."

"Musicians want to push their boundaries, but record companies want musicians to stay the same, to keep delivering the familiar stuff along a well-trodden path."

"So, you can imagine the internal debate at Warner Records over your music."

"But music is like that."

"Too old-fashioned, and it won't work; too avant-garde, and it won't work. Too conventional, and it won't work; too trendy, and it won't work. We're all trying to find a balance between pop and art."

"I believe, or rather Dustin believes, that you guys have found that balance."

"In fact, your performance on the streets of Manhattan gaining such long-lasting attention on the forums is the best proof of that. So, I think you deserve a chance, which is why we're here today..."

Suddenly, the conversation stopped.

Mike seemed a bit awkward.

Dustin glanced at Mike and shook his head lightly. "What's so hard to say? Anson just mentioned it, didn't he?"

"The contract might not be that great."

Mike coughed twice, his expression slightly helpless, but he still looked at Anson.

"Maybe the contract terms are a bit lacking, but if Dustin produces the album, as I just said, we will respect the band's musical style. We want to sign the unique band that you are. We won't change you; otherwise, there would be no point in signing this contract."

After pausing for a moment, Mike noticed that Anson hadn't spoken, just kept listening attentively, so he immediately understood and didn't hesitate this time.

"Warner Records can offer the band a contract of one million dollars per album, and we'll put it in writing that you will also be the producer, having creative control over the album to ensure it aligns with your vision."

One million dollars per album—what does this mean for each band member in the 2002 music market?

Honestly, Anson didn't know—

Even though he was a time traveler, his understanding of the music industry's inner workings was limited.

Anson remembered that in 2001, Mariah Carey left her previous label, Columbia Records, to sign with Virgin Records under EMI, with a deal of 20 million dollars per album.

Of course, that's not a fair comparison.

First, Mariah Carey is a diva, at the top 1% of the industry pyramid.

Second, even for Mariah Carey, Virgin Records' move was widely criticized as "foolish and wealthy" within the industry.

Third, a year after signing, Virgin Records realized it was a mistake and paid a $28 million termination fee to drop the deal.

Given this context, the contract Warner Records offered seemed fair—not groundbreaking, but decent for a new independent band.

Thinking it over carefully, it wasn’t surprising.

In 2002, Universal Music Group was still the undisputed leader in the music market, with a global market share of up to 30%, leaving the other four major labels unable to effectively compete.

However, Warner Records had been slowly gaining ground, and by around 2006, they had accomplished the impossible, surpassing Universal Music Group to become the leader in global music market share, completely reshaping the world map.

From various pieces of information, it was clear that Warner Records had been quietly making moves and slowly laying out their plans. Anson and the band likely represented one of their attempts—

Even if there were concerns within the company, they still offered a one million dollar per album contract, which was both generous and risky.

Setting aside the value of the contract, Anson wasn’t dazzled by the numbers. "So, what are the limitations?"

Mike lightly shook his head and smiled. "You're really not easily swayed, huh."

Anson smiled back. "I thought you'd already prepared yourself for that."

Dustin laughed outright, clearly enjoying the situation.

Mike took a deep breath. "We can only sign a three-album contract with the band, but we have the right of first refusal for the fourth album."

Anson slightly raised his chin. "I thought you guys usually signed five-album deals in one go. If there's no follow-up after the first album, the contract just sits there gathering dust, binding the band while ignoring them."

After all, without an album, the record company doesn't have to pay, but if the band hasn't completed the contract, they can't leave, so they're stuck in a dead-end deal with no future.

Such cases are all too common in the music industry.

So, Warner Records' three-album contract sounded much more reasonable.

*Chapter 450: Walking Into the Trap*

In the music industry, newcomers with no support often aspire to join major companies, seeking shelter under a big umbrella. When they see a contract from a top-tier company, they eagerly sign it, thinking the bigger and longer the contract, the better. They are uncertain about their future, and a big company seems like the best security.

However, these newcomers are merely disposable objects in the eyes of big companies, with no burden when discarded. The big contracts only serve to make it easier for these companies to exploit them. When dealing with newcomers, the company never takes a loss.

From this perspective, Warner Records’ three-album contract reveals their hesitation and lack of confidence. But it also shows Mike's sincerity; they genuinely want to work with Anson.

As soon as the conversation started, Anson made a joke, lightening the atmosphere. But before Mike could respond, Anson continued, “So, what about the royalties?”

By now, Mike wasn’t surprised anymore; he had become numb.

It was clear that Anson had done his homework. He knew the band’s position and understood the record company’s mindset. All signs pointed to Dustin being right—this was a tough nut to crack, and open communication was the best strategy.

Mike said, “Warner Records is willing to offer the band an 11% royalty deal.”

This time, Mike didn’t try to embellish it because he knew Anson understood the significance—11% is an important figure.

Royalties are essentially a share of the sales from the album.

The record company records the album and distributes it through various outlets like record stores, supermarkets, and large malls. For each album sold, the artist receives a percentage of the sales.

An 11% royalty means that for a $10 album, the artist earns $1.10 before taxes.

This income is known as royalties.

Unlike film box office bonuses, which must be negotiated, every artist in the music industry earns royalties. The difference lies in the percentage.

Musicians can earn from other sources besides album sales, such as licensing their music for films, covers by other artists, and use in other performances. However, album sales royalties remain the primary source of income from record deals.

It’s important to distinguish royalties from copyrights.

The income musicians earn from album sales is called royalties, whereas the ownership of the songs written by songwriters is called copyright.

If someone uses the song for any purpose, they must pay the copyright holder, which often surpasses royalty income.

For example, Anson wrote and composed the song “Wake Me Up,” so he owns the copyright. Then the band recorded and released it through Warner Records.

Thus, Anson would earn royalties as a band member and additional income as the copyright holder.

The other band members, however, do not earn from the copyright.

Copyright income is not controlled by the record company. Unless Anson sells the copyright to Warner Records, they have no claim over it.

On the other hand, royalties are income that musicians receive from the record company, so naturally, the company tries to minimize the artist’s share.

Generally, musician royalties range from 10% to 20%. New artists usually get the lower end, around 10%.

From these figures, it’s clear that musicians don’t make much money from royalties alone. Without copyrights, they often struggle to make money, even with million-selling albums, as the income remains modest.

For artists, real money comes from concerts, which is why legendary top-tier artists frequently go on long tours.

This is also why, in the entertainment industry’s hierarchy, musicians rank lower than actors. Many musicians try to break into Hollywood at the peak of their careers.

Now, back to the discussion.

Warner Records’ willingness to increase royalties by 1% is rare.

As Mike said, they are sincere.

With scale, confidence, and sincerity, Warner Records is indeed the band’s best option at the moment. Anson admits he is tempted.

But he stays calm.

Anson thought for a moment and said, “Is there a possibility that we could negotiate the numbers a bit more?”

It’s not the right way to negotiate if you don’t haggle and just agree right away. At least, one should try.

Mike asked, “Like what?”

Anson replied, “20% royalties, at the cost of $800,000 per album.”

Mike: ???

Mike quickly realized that Anson was negotiating the record deal as if it were a movie deal, but clearly, records and movies are two different things.

Typically, musicians should strive to increase the upfront payment, for a simple reason: the record market is in decline, and albums don’t sell well.

With a $10 album and 20% royalties, they would need to sell 400,000 albums to earn $200,000.

Of course, they were discussing raising royalties from 11% to 20%, which means the band would need to sell an additional 220,000 albums to make up the difference.

In 2002, a sales milestone of three million albums was the benchmark, which only a few top stars could surpass. New artists often sold less than a million, sometimes even under 500,000.

This is completely different from movies.

Looking at Anson’s request, Mike couldn’t help but smile.

Warner Records’ internal debate was about their concern that the band might not be accepted by the market, and the album sales might not surpass 500,000.

If they offered $1 million per album, after deducting production, promotion, and distribution costs, the breakeven point would be around 300,000 to 400,000 copies.

This was the root of the internal disagreement.

But now, if the band was willing to lower the contract price per album and replace it with increased royalties, it would help Warner Records share the risk. The burden would shift entirely to the band.

They were worried the band might not sell 300,000 copies, but now Anson’s proposal would require them to sell an additional 220,000 copies to break even. It looked like a case of digging their own grave.

Warner Records naturally welcomed this.

For the first time since meeting Anson, Mike genuinely laughed.

“Anson, the right way to negotiate is to keep the $1 million while increasing the royalty percentage,” Mike kindly reminded.

Anson shrugged slightly. “But obviously, Warner Records wouldn’t agree to that deal.”

Mike agreed, “No, we wouldn’t.”

Anson replied, “So, I’m offering a fair deal, one you can’t refuse.”

Mike said, “But you realize that means you might need to sell 200,000 more albums to make up for the difference.”

Anson smirked, “What, don’t you have that much confidence in us?”