Madhouse vs. The Man

The summer before Abby's sophomore year at college, Madhouse continued to gain popularity, but it still wasn't enough. Abby was doing the best she could to promote us. She made sure that we were getting gigs all around the Seattle area, yet our despair continued to build. We still didn't have a record label, and that August, my parents made me move out of the house. I rented a cheap apartment just outside of Hubbard, but it was still a little bit expensive for me. I was running out of money, and although I had been recently transferred to film crew, I still didn't love my job. It was just something I did to pay the bills, and I wanted a career that I truly loved.

My bandmates were in similar positions. Robin had recently moved to the same apartment complex that I was living in, and Kyle was working his way through Hubbard Community College with plans to transfer in a year. All of us were sick of waiting for a record company to come along and notice us, and by the time Abby went back to college, we decided that something needed to change.

"What are we going to do?" Kyle asked. "We've been a band for two and a half years now, and we still don't have a record label."

Robin shrugged. "A lot of bands take even longer than that to get a label," he said. "It just takes patience."

"We're not patient people, Robin," I said.

"You're right," Robin said. "I'm kind of sick of waiting too, but there's not much else we can do."

"Are you sure about that?" I asked.

"There is one option, but I'd like to save that as a last resort," Robin said.

"What is it?" I asked. "We're desperate."

Robin refused to answer, but Kyle and I begged him to tell us. Eventually, he gave up and said, "Beverly has a lot of connections in Los Angeles. If I asked her, she could probably get us signed."

"Who's Beverly?" I asked.

"My mother," Robin answered, rolling his eyes.

"I thought your mother lived in Hubbard with your dad and your siblings," Kyle said.

"That's my stepmother, although she's more like a mom to me than Beverly," Robin said. "Anyways, Beverly could probably get us signed. If you guys really want me to, I'll talk to her."

"Please do," Kyle said. "We'll never be able to go anywhere as a rock band if we don't have a label, and this seems like our best shot at getting one."

"We can even go to Los Angeles with you to give you some moral support," I said.

"Would you really do that for me?" Robin asked.

"Of course," I said. "You're one of my best friends. I'm always happy to help you."

"I'll schedule a trip to LA then," Robin said. "Thank you so much, Bianca."

"You're welcome," I said, smiling.

The next week, Robin, Kyle, and I visited Beverly in Los Angeles. While Robin's old house back in Seattle was similar to mine, his mother's house was much flashier, complete with gaudy blue paint. When I rang the doorbell, a short, brunette woman answered the door. Robin may have gotten most of his features from his father, but his aversion to aging clearly came from his mother's side. Although Beverly must have been at least forty from Robin's descriptions, she appeared to be around twenty five. "Hi Robin!" she exclaimed. "You didn't tell me that you were visiting."

"Sorry about that," Robin mumbled.

"It's okay," Beverly said. "Come on in!"

Kyle, Robin, and I all entered Beverly's house. The decorations in the house hadn't changed since the late seventies, but it wasn't too much of an eyesore. "Robin, I need to remind your father to stop letting you wear those ridiculous boots," Beverly said. "Also, why are you carrying around your guitar? You don't need that everywhere."

"Yes I do," Robin said. "It comes in handy sometimes."

"I understand that, but it's really quite unnecessary," Beverly said. "What are your friends doing here?"

"They're my bandmates, actually," Robin said. He gestured towards Kyle and I. "This is Kyle, and this is Bianca."

"It's nice to meet you," I said.

Beverly ignored us and continued to speak to Robin. "You've never visited me for no reason, so I know you need something," Beverly said. "What do you want from me, Robin?"

"I'm trying to find a record label for my band," Robin explained. "I thought you might be able to help."

Beverly smiled. "You're right," she said. "That is my area of expertise."

"Great," Robin said. "We're called Madhouse, and we play mostly rock music. Do you want to hear us play?"

"Don't bog me down with details," Beverly said. "All I need to know is that my son is in the band. I'll talk to my boss at BMG, and we'll see what we can do. How long are you going to be in LA?"

"Just a few days," I answered.

"It may take a little longer than that for me to convince them, but I think it will work," Beverly said. "I don't exactly have the power over them that I did when 'Honey Dearest' was the most popular song in the nation."

"Thanks Beverly," Robin said.

"You're welcome," Beverly said. "Robin, you should visit more often. Honestly, if you wanted your band to become famous, you should have come here a long time ago."

"I'll try to visit more often," Robin said, but I could tell that he didn't mean it. "Do you need anything else from us to get us signed?"

"No," Beverly said.

"Kyle, Bianca, and I were going to head to the beach," Robin said. "We'll see you later."

Beverly sighed. "Bye Robin," she said.

The three of us left Beverly's house. "I didn't know we were going to the beach," I said.

"We aren't," Robin said. "I just wanted to get away from Beverly. Even her house is a shrine to her pop star days."

All of a sudden, it clicked. "Why didn't you tell me your mother was the one who sang 'Honey Dearest?'" I asked. "That's my mom's favorite song!"

"I didn't think it was important," Robin said. "She hasn't had a hit since before I was born, so it's not like she's a real celebrity anyways."

"I think this is our best chance at getting a record deal," Kyle said.

"You're probably right, but I need some coffee," Robin said. "Where's the nearest Starbucks?"

We walked to Starbucks while Robin continued to complain about Beverly. In my opinion, she wasn't that bad, although I did find it odd that she hadn't asked for a demo. I had a CD in my bag for that very purpose, but it seemed like the music wasn't important in this case. Robin's celebrity relation might be enough to get us a record deal.

The day before we left Los Angeles, Beverly told us that she had talked BMG into giving us a recording contracts. All we had to do was look it over and sign it. It seemed simple enough to me, especially after I saw how much money they were thinking of paying us. It was a significant increase from what I was earning at my job at the movie theater. Robin did not seem so comfortable with the contract. "I'm not so sure about signing to a big label like BMG," Robin told us on the plane.

"Why not?" I asked. "Did you see how much money they're giving us?"

"Yes, but I don't want to be signed to the same label as Beverly," Robin said.

"Why don't you want to be signed to BMG?" Kyle asked.

"I listened to Beverly's music before she signed to BMG," Robin said. "It's not great, but it's not as bad as her newer stuff. I guess you could describe it as folk pop. Then, she released 'Honey Dearest,' and BMG wanted the rest of her music to sound like that. Beverly's been releasing formulaic pop hits since then. I don't want Madhouse to turn out like that."

"I hope we don't turn out like that either, but I don't know if that happened to anyone else," I said. "Maybe it was just her."

"I don't know either, but it still concerns me," Robin said.

"Besides, we need the money," I said.

"You're right, but this may not be worth it," Robin said.

I considered that, but at that point, I still wanted to sign to BMG. If we signed to BMG, we might not be able to make the music we wanted, but if we didn't, we might not be able to make music at all. However, we needed to talk to Abby before committing to anything. Abby had recently taken a course on recording contracts at college, so she was the person to go to when it came to making this decision. She was also picking us up at the airport, so we would see her soon.

When we arrived at Seattle-Tacoma International Airport, Abby was there waiting for us. "How did it go?" she asked.

"We got an offer from BMG, but we need you to read over the contract," I said.

"Wow, that's impressive," Abby said. "They must have really liked your demo."

"No, they just liked that I'm related to Beverly," Robin mumbled, but he handed Abby the contract.

Abby took several minutes to look it over, and then said, "I'm not so sure about this contract."

"Why not?" I asked.

"It says that you have to make one commercially acceptable album within the next year," Abby said. "I learned in class that you're never supposed to sign a contract that involves the phrase 'commercially acceptable.' All it means is that the record company can meddle with your music as much as they would like."

"I told you this was a bad idea," Robin said.

"I suppose you're right," I said. "Maybe we shouldn't sign to BMG."

"I really don't think it's a good idea," Kyle said. "Abby, can you let them know that we're not signing to them?"

"Sure," Abby said, smiling. "I'll call them when I get home. Come on, let's drive back there."

Abby drove Robin, Kyle, and I home, and I was satisfied with our decision not to sign to BMG. None of us were entirely comfortable signing with a big record company quite yet, especially one that might take away our creative freedom, but we still needed a label. Madhouse was still not making a lot of money, and all three of us knew that a record deal might do that for us. Even if BMG wasn't the right choice, we needed someone to sign us.

A few weeks after we decided not to sign to BMG, Abby called me. "Hello?" I said, uncertain as to what news she had for me. I knew that it could have been anything from an update on her life at college to a new venue that she had found.

"Hi Bianca!" Abby said. "You won't believe what happened today."

"What is it?" I asked.

I could almost see Abby bouncing up and down on the other end of the line. She took a deep breath, and then in a high pitched voice told me the news. "I got you a record deal!" she exclaimed.