According to Alex's plan, the song "Thrift Shop" should ideally be included in Little Lowry's new album, since part of his "inspiration" came from that music company boss in the pink suit with a deep bass voice.
His idea for the 'adaptation' of the original song was to have Little Lowry handle the rap part and the bass-baritone boss sing the very catchy chorus.
He didn't dislike Little Lowry, and by preventing Little Lowry's new album from failing, he could also solve Tony's 'employment' problem, and he could also get royalties from the lyrics and music. It was a win-win-win situation.
But this meant he had to put his plan into action as soon as possible before the new Lowry cassette tape officially went into production, leaving him with very little time.
Their wallets were even tighter.
The LCD numbers on the timer kept changing. He made up his mind and sat down opposite Goodman.
Goodman mimicked the tone and mannerisms of a Black man: "You made the absolutely right decision, BRO!" He clenched his right fist and extended it toward Alex.
Alex didn't respond; instead, he put on a stern face and stared at him coldly.
"Excuse me."
Goodman immediately backed down. "Forget about what I just did, sorry, sorry..." He awkwardly withdrew his fist and apologized repeatedly. "I was just... I was too excited. Business hasn't been good lately... Mr. Slade, I'm very, very sorry."
Most other races are quite afraid of this tactic used by Black people. Even relatively honest Black people will occasionally use it to test the other party's strength. Alex has been in this world for so long that he can now flexibly grasp the nuances of it. The key is in the eyes; they must be filled with murderous intent.
"Just call me Alex. First question."
Taking advantage of the other party's minor flaw, Alex was now 80% certain that the other party didn't have any powerful background and wasn't very bold. Feeling slightly relieved, he took out his notebook, checked the information, and asked, "Does a minor under the age of eighteen need a guardian's signature to enter into a contract with someone?"
"certainly."
Goodman quickly went to the filing cabinet, opened a drawer, and said, "Or the guardian can sign a power of attorney authorizing someone else to act as guardian." He handed a document to Alex, "This is a standard power of attorney, but if you need to delegate partial guardianship, you'll need a lawyer's help. Wait..."
He looked Alex up and down carefully. "How old are you this year?"
"Fifteen, what's wrong?" Alex replied casually while looking at the document.
"FXXX!"
Goodman cursed in frustration, "You actually managed to trick me, you little rascal!"
"Given how cowardly you were just now, it doesn't matter if you get caught," Alex continued, "Second question..."
"What did you write? It's so inefficient for us to keep asking and answering questions one by one."
But unexpectedly, Goodman was the kind of person who would take advantage of kindness. To make up for his earlier embarrassment, he reached out and snatched the notebook from Alex's hand. "Let me take a look. Hmm, the copyright transfer of the songs, the profit sharing of the music album..."
He muttered as he retrieved relevant documents from the filing cabinet, tossing them to Alex one after another.
"That's about it for now, but to be honest, these standard format documents are all useless." Goodman sat back down in his seat. "These laws are very flexible, and Hollywood and the music industry have their own ways of doing things. Finding a good agent is the most important thing."
"I've done some research. Aren't there several associations that can protect the rights of songwriters and composers and the copyright of songs?" Alex pressed.
"You mean ASCAP (Association of Authors, Writers and Publishers of America) and BMI (Broadcast Music Association)?" Goodman explained, "First of all, they only provide services for the rights and interests of their members. To become a member, you have to pay a fee; BMI is more expensive, ASCAP is cheaper. Then you also need to have published works."
Do you have one? If so, they will usually send you an invitation.
"No, I'm here for legal advice regarding my first song," Alex replied truthfully.
"You see, here's the problem." Goodman spread his hands: "Without publicly publishing your work and being invited, you're not eligible to become a member, but without becoming a member, it's difficult to publicly publish your work. It's a paradox, isn't it?"
Alex was a little confused. "What about the copyright? I won't lose my songwriting copyright, will I? Like, what if a music company forcibly takes it over?"
Goodman laughed. "This possibility is unavoidable. Hollywood supports so many agents, managers, lawyers, accountants, and so on. Why? Because there are just too many of these kinds of things."
"I'll say it again: find a good agent," he advised once more.
"What if I encounter a 'bad' agent? According to you, if I don't publish any work, no agent will take notice of me, and if no agent takes notice of me, I will never be able to publish any work in my life. That's a paradox!" Alex was a little frustrated. The gap between ideal and reality was quite large.
"It's already very difficult to get into this industry, kid."
Goodman pointed at Alex, "I've seen plenty of black...cough...African American kids like you, sitting in the back of the bus, humming a song, listening to their Walkmans, scribbling on scraps of paper with a pencil, dreaming of instant fame, right? Unfortunately, reality is cruel. Capitalist society only naturally eliminates a very small portion of the top of the pyramid. How many famous singers has Chicago produced in the last decade? Divide that by the population, and you'll know your chances of success. And those young men and women who go to Los Angeles to pursue their dreams, how many of them actually get good roles in a year? Most are failures; you just can't see it. Face your own abilities and don't waste your money on unrealistic dreams."
"Nonsense, am I the same as them? I'm a transmigrator, I have a cheat code!" Alex rolled his eyes and muttered to himself.
The two talked for a while longer. Goodman, observing Alex's expression, felt that Alex didn't seem to be planning to give up, so he didn't bother to persuade him any further: "Regarding copyright, here are a few pieces of advice for you. First, you need to keep all the evidence, including your manuscripts when you were writing the lyrics and music. Don't throw away the scraps either, as they will be useful when you're fighting a copyright lawsuit. It would be best to record a demo of all the songs you've written, because performing is also a form of copyright."
"Secondly, you can register the lyrics, music, and demo with ASCAP for copyright purposes. It will cost around twenty dollars. Note that this is just registration; it doesn't mean ASCAP recognizes your copyright. To get ASCAP to recognize your copyright, you'll likely have to spend several hundred dollars and several months, because they need to do things like comparisons, and you still won't become a member."
"Finally, increasing the commission rate for agents is a good strategy for the first few years in the industry. Anyway, agent contracts cannot exceed three years. If you are not satisfied, you can simply change agents when the time is up. If you can really get into the industry, you will be eligible to become a member of ASCAP or BMI. At that time, the various assistance provided by the association can also share some of the agent's workload. Many of the difficulties you are facing now will no longer be difficulties then."
After saying that, Goodman pointed to the timer, which showed that exactly fifty-five minutes had passed.
Alex felt that he was still a very conscientious person and that he had benefited greatly from him. He stood up, shook hands with him solemnly, and said goodbye, "Thank you." He took out thirty-five knives and handed them to the other party.
"Uh… the consultation fee is a consultation fee. You also need to pay a materials fee, ten dollars per document." Goodman pointed to the documents that Alex had put into his briefcase.
"..."
Alex quickly took out all the documents, picked out a useful guardianship agreement, and then took out ten knives, returning them to Goodman along with the other documents.
"You stingy bastard!" Goodman cursed, then carefully examined the banknotes he had received. "You're from the South City, aren't you?" he suddenly asked.
Yes, why?
"Be careful of people who pay for contracts in cash." Goodman flicked the banknotes in his hand. "You South City blacks… African Americans like to accept cash payments because they can evade taxes. Once they evade taxes, if the tax season is over, they're in breach of contract, but you won't dare to sue them easily, because if the contract is exposed, they'll only face a lawsuit, while you'll be facing the IRS, understand?"
Alex knew how powerful the IRS was; the most famous Chicago mob boss, Al Capone, had fallen into the hands of the IRS, making it even more terrifying than the FBI.
He thanked them again and left the GOODMAN law firm