Kapitel 18: Chapter 18: You Take the Lead
"The first week's sales are only a little over three thousand copies, and the radio play count is just thirty-five. Look at this and face reality," Yesan threw the compiled data onto the desk, his face filled with anger.
Raymond, Davis, and the other staff members sitting across from him looked clearly dejected, their expressions a mix of disbelief and dismay at the abysmally low sales.
With these numbers, not only was it impossible to hit the Billboard charts, but even mentioning them would invite ridicule.
Especially the radio play count—since late 1998, Billboard had abolished the single sales system. Now, a song could enter the singles chart solely based on its play count, without a separate release.
But thirty-five plays were likely all from Raymond's own circles. After the first two days, all the radio stations stopped accepting requests to play the song.
Every time they played it, their ratings plummeted, making it a radio killer.
Old Ai's station had been particularly hard-hit, with complaints surpassing any previous record. Some even sent threatening letters with bullets, warning that if they played the song again, there would be consequences!
It wasn't worth risking their lives for a bit of money! So, no matter how good the album cover looked, they weren't willing to give Raymond's new song another chance.
Now, Faith Music Company and Raymond personally had reached rock bottom.
When Ethan walked into the office, Raymond was slumped like a wilted plant, merely waving his hand without his usual energetic gestures or favorite fist bumps.
"Yesan, what's wrong with him?" Ethan asked, puzzled.
Yesan shrugged. "You know, Ethan. His single sales are dismal. His pop star dream is shattered."
Saying this, Yesan pulled out a small bundle of cash from his drawer and handed it to Ethan. "Luckily, your cover kept the sales from looking worse. At least this year's lowest sales in the South were only a bit over a thousand copies."
Although he said this, there was no hint of relief on Yesan's face because that album was from an old black man who funded it himself to fulfill a dream.
Besides that, no other album had fared worse than Raymond's.
Ethan, however, seemed puzzled. "Yesan, it's not that bad."
"Really?" Raymond jumped up from the sofa, seemingly finding a confidant at last.
"I told you it's a market issue. Those listeners just don't understand my music!"
He excitedly walked over to Ethan, shaking his hand. "Thanks, brother."
Ethan smiled and responded, noticing Yesan's sour expression. "Raymond, stop blaming the listeners and think about why you didn't listen to me initially. Why insist on having Faith release such an unpopular song?"
"With sales this low, how do we handle the album's subsequent release? I said not to use this song as the lead! Now everything's a mess, and radio stations won't even play our song! Do you want me to go around begging radio stations like a salesman?"
"Damn it!" Yesan grew increasingly frustrated, slamming his hand on the table. "Forget the album release!"
"That's not an option, Yesan." Raymond's face showed determination as he leaned on the desk, gesturing wildly. "Listen, I believe this album will succeed! Once it's released, people will recognize its value!"
"You believe? Oh my god, are you Jesus? Then tell me, how are we going to release it? How do we recover from this horrible reputation?"
"I…" Raymond opened his mouth but was at a loss for words.
It was Ethan who answered, "How about the song 'Eight Hours Later'?"
"What?" Yesan turned to him, and Raymond also looked at Ethan.
"I'm saying 'Eight Hours Later.' That song is in line with current market trends and might help Raymond salvage his reputation," Ethan spoke with calm confidence.
"Is that song really viable?" Yesan regarded Ethan with importance since the cover he designed had propped up the current sales.
"Yes, it's definitely promising."
Raymond eagerly added, "See, Ethan says so too."
"You always say that! Enough already!" Yesan dismissed Raymond and, when alone with Ethan, continued, "Do you think this song can persuade SBK Records?"
"What do you mean?" Ethan furrowed his brows.
Yesan sighed. "I plan to find a new distributor. I'm familiar with SBK…"
Pausing, he lit a cigarette and exhaled a cloud of smoke. "But the people at SBK aren't fools. If I go to them now, they'll probably toss the album straight into the trash. So I plan to pick another song and shoot an MV…"
"Leave the MV to me. I'll handle it and convince those tough record company executives, Yesan."
"You're confident?"
"Absolutely!" Ethan was confident because the MV for the previous album's cover was prepared for just such a moment.
"Alright." Yesan didn't ask for details about the creative concept. Instead, he said, "You take the lead, Ethan. You're in charge of the MV for this song!"
"My only condition is to impress SBK. If you succeed…" He pulled out a stack of high-denomination bills from his drawer. "All of this will be yours!"
After signing the contract with Yesan, the MV production for "Eight Hours Later" quickly got underway.
The song *Starboy* had won the MTV Europe Music Award for Best Music and was one of Billboard's Top 100 Songs of 2016.
To achieve an environment similar to the original, Yesan rented a studio in the North District. When Raymond and his team arrived, they were immediately impressed by the bustling atmosphere of the studio.
"Wow, is this Hollywood?" Davis, wearing a gray short-sleeve shirt and arm-in-arm with a strange black woman, followed behind his brother.
Big Mike nodded, excited. "Yeah, it looks huge. Look at that girl! Awesome!"
"I'm going to hit on her," Little B decided, heading straight to ask for the girl's phone number.
Ethan walked ahead, chatting with Raymond about his younger brother's situation. "What's up with your brother? Is he dating someone new?"
"Forget it, he got dumped," Raymond said bluntly, revealing his brother's situation.
Ethan learned that Arcady and Davis had split because someone had leaked photos of Arcady taken by Ethan. A talent scout saw the photos and wanted to sign her for a movie.
Davis didn't want to break up but couldn't make Arcady stay. They had a big argument, and Arcady ended the relationship.
Ethan shrugged, saying it was normal for everyone to plan for their future.
Davis had some leeway due to his brother, but if Raymond's new song didn't improve, they would eventually return to a lower-tier life.
Loitering on the streets, working at McDonald's, earning a little money to spend at bars, and living a confused and aimless life.
Well, Ethan suddenly thought that even if they made money and became famous, many black stars seemed to end their lives in a similarly disoriented manner.
The group arrived at the designated model room, admiring its luxurious apartment-like furnishings and almost wanting to sleep there.
After a brief look at the set, Ethan sent a few people to buy second-hand furniture.
Since Raymond would be smashing furniture with a cross in the MV, they couldn't destroy the model room's items and end up paying a fortune in damages.
Second-hand items were much cheaper.
Raymond, Davis, and Big Mike left, while Ethan and Little B stayed at the door, waiting for the set design team that Apollon had arranged.
During the wait, a chubby white man walked out with a sign that read "Production Assistant, Daily Wage Settlement."
As he put down the sign, a few people quickly approached, eager to apply for the job.
Among them was a familiar figure passing by the crowd.
"Wait a minute…" Ethan frowned, recognizing the person standing on the edge of the group, seemingly also seeking a job.
"Tom Brown?"
Upon closer inspection, it was indeed the neighbor Ethan's mother had mentioned. He recognized him by his distinctive street fighter-like short hair.
While Ethan was still contemplating, the white man had finished his task.
"Finished! We have enough people!"
He and the workers left directly, and the hopeful job seekers dispersed, leaving Tom standing alone, staring at the set with his hands in his old leather jacket pockets, a frown on his face.
After hesitating for a while, Tom turned to leave but heard hurried footsteps approaching, tensing up.
"Tom! Is that you?"
Upon hearing the voice, Tom was momentarily startled, then relaxed when he recognized the speaker.
"Ethan?"
"Hey! Long time no see!" Ethan clapped Tom on the arm. "Camila mentioned seeing you. I didn't expect to run into you here."
Tom smiled back. "How have you been?"
"Pretty good, not bad. By the way, I haven't had a chance to thank you. If it weren't for you, Camila would have been in trouble."
Ethan recalled how when they first moved here, Camila was once robbed by a group of white guys on her way home with money meant for their future. Thankfully, Tom happened to pass by and saved her.
"Little B, a cigarette." Ethan extended his hand. Little B instinctively handed over the cigarette and then slapped himself for his habitual servitude.
Ethan gave the cigarette to Tom, who expertly lit it and took a slow drag, savoring each puff. "I just happened to be there."
"But I've always been grateful to you," Ethan said. "So, are you looking for a job?"
"Yeah." Tom seemed a bit reserved and didn't like to talk much.
"It just so happens that I've taken a job to shoot a MV. Are you interested in helping?"
Ethan suddenly extended an olive branch. Tom paused for a moment with the cigarette in his mouth, then stretched out his hand and shook hands with Tang De.
"Thank you."
"You're welcome."
....
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