[Chapter 6: A Song Written for You]
"I had to admit, Mr. DiLeo's idea was highly feasible," Seymour Stein said in the restaurant, thinking he couldn't let Michael Jackson's former manager steal all the limelight in front of Daisy.
The Cuomo and Morgenthau family's top-tier connections were exactly what everyone wanted. Seymour wanted them too. Otherwise, why would he even be there?
After a moment of thought, Seymour added, "Country music had always been the conservative white boys' territory. That crowd was practically openly hostile to Black artists. If this song mixed genres the way DiLeo suggested, it would definitely draw fire. If we used the media right, though, the marketing effect would be huge."
"Bingo," Frank DiLeo said with a snap of his fingers and a smile. "The key was Orlando's look, his background, and the fact that the song itself had hit potential. By the way, the title was Old Town Road? Old Town Road? Inspiration from the old neighborhood in the Bronx? When we shoot the video, we should show as many Black faces as possible."
Orlando had no idea where the original writer of the song had drawn inspiration from. Faced with Frank's question, he could only laugh and answer, "Yeah."
As for the video... in the vision he had received, there really were a lot of Black scenes.
At that moment, the wealthy Ms. Cuomo -- who had been smiling quietly up until then -- suddenly spoke. "Once the controversy kicked off, wouldn't it put Orlando at risk? Race is a double-edged sword."
Orlando could hear the inner thoughts of the three people at the table. He felt warm inside. Right then he could sense Frank and Seymour's thoughts, and most of them centered on Daisy. They all wanted to flatter and court Daisy. Her family status was too elevated. Her background had been out of reach even for already-successful men like Frank and Seymour; she stood on a higher plane.
Only the other half of their thinking was genuinely about Orlando's potential to break through. They wanted to push him.
And Daisy -- his dear girlfriend -- thought of him with the most care. No doubt about it.
Orlando decided he would repay her tonight. Tomorrow was Saturday. If he didn't make sure his woman was feeling it all night and left the bed in no shape to get up by morning, then all she'd done for him would have been for nothing.
"It probably wouldn't be a problem," Frank DiLeo said. "Although he had Black ancestry, he looks so white. If he dyed his hair blond, he'd read as pure White. We all knew the media and the public were very forgiving of white-looking stars."
Seymour reassured Daisy that she didn't need to worry about that.
Seeing both music-industry veterans agree, Daisy Cuomo smiled and nodded. She looked at Seymour. "Mr. Stein, I'm planning to partner with Mr. Keller to start a record label."
"This label will be under Warner. I'll call Steve Ross," she said. "And practically, I'd like you to help me and Orlando."
---
Although Orlando was a rookie in the record business, he didn't need Frank DiLeo or Seymour to explain things, and he didn't even need Daisy to spell it out. He could tell what she was planning without words -- he was telepathic.
Using that link, he read the three of their thought patterns and understood how the global music distribution channels worked. The industry was basically monopolized by six major labels: Warner, MCA, Sony Columbia, PolyGram, EMI and BMG. The other record companies were mostly production houses; they had to rely on the majors for distribution. Some had regional distribution clout, but compared to the majors' global reach, it was child's play.
Beyond those six, most of the smaller companies were actually imprints under the majors. Fifty percent of their equity belonged to the majors, which generally didn't interfere with their operations. They only had to hand over about 30% of distribution revenue. Anti-trust rules kept the majors from being too blatant, but opening an independent label without the majors taking a stake was tough unless one could prove real value -- like Michael Jackson or Madonna. And one had to avoid missteps, or the majors would move in.
In other words, when a normal singer released a song, the majors would first skim 30% off distribution. Of the remaining 70%, another 50% often went to the major. What was left -- roughly 35% -- had to cover production costs, and then the artist split the remainder with the label... very little really reached the artist.
Orlando read all of this through the telepathic link and thought, 'These vampires are outrageous.'
Although Daisy Cuomo wasn't in the record business, she was New York royalty. She had asked industry pros and knew Orlando's best move in this situation: like MJ and Madonna, he needed his own label. That label could be affiliated to one of the majors.
But that plan required one thing: value. You needed to be worth it -- a global superstar like Michael Jackson or Madonna. Orlando clearly wasn't there yet, no matter how brilliant he was at writing.
But Daisy had a plan. She had just discussed with Seymour and Frank that she would appear as a partner, investing her name and clout to co-found a label with Orlando. With the Cuomo and Morgenthau family names backing the venture, they could partner with one of the six majors. She had already picked Warner.
Everything Daisy proposed was for Orlando's sake. How could he not be moved? He had never been lifted like this by benefactors in his life. And this benefactor was gorgeous, poised, and could handle the vigorous needs of his young, strong body night after night.
---
Orlando exhaled softly and watched Daisy, Frank and Seymour talk about label and management contracts -- things he didn't understand at all. A familiar feeling washed over him, the same sensation he'd had a few days earlier when the inspiration for Old Town Road had hit him.
The new revelation arrived.
Orlando stayed motionless, absorbing the vision for more than a minute. Then he glanced around and saw the piano in the center of the Garden Steakhouse. He reached out and took Daisy's slender, pale hand. She looked shocked and shy.
"Darling, I just got a burst of inspiration and wrote a song," Orlando said.
"What?" Daisy asked, surprised.
Seymour and Frank exchanged a look when they saw the pretty boy openly holding the widow from the Cuomo-Morgenthau circle, and confirmed what they'd suspected -- this was that kind of relationship.
"This song I wrote for you, just now," Orlando said. He stood and, with the restaurant staff and other patrons watching, walked to the idle piano.
The piano sounded melodious, and simple and bright tunes began to echo...
♫ Oh, her eyes, her eyes
Make the stars look like they're not shining
Her hair, her hair
Falls perfectly without her trying
She's so beautiful ♫
*****
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