Overdubs were something that were done on virtually every album produced since the development of the modern recording studio in the mid-twentieth century. It was the practice of adding additional instrument or vocal tracks on top of the basic tunes to enhance the sound of the music for radio airplay and the record consumer. Some bands, like Intemperance, for example, used them minimally (that had always been at Matt’s insistence) and some bands, such as Boston, Queen, or Rush, used them extensively, to the point where it was sometimes difficult to reproduce their finished product live. Matt was a staunch conservative when it came to overdubs. He considered them dishonest—a misrepresentation of the art—and, as such, he had refused to allow any overdubs of any kind on any of the tracks of his album. And as an established artist, he had insisted that his contract give creative control of the recording process to him and him alone. Though everyone from the head of National Records down to the janitor who swept up the mixing room had begged Matt to allow the audio engineers to dictate at least a few enhancements to his work, he was as unmovable as a granite cliff when it came to this issue.
“You’re making a mistake, Matt,” Crow told him. “Those tracks are too harsh for airplay, particularly with the length of them. You don’t have a single cut under six minutes on the whole album.”
“Those tracks are raw!” Matt insisted, for perhaps the thousandth time. “They sound exactly as they do live. And they’re long because of the guitar work. That’s the appeal of them.”
“The length we can work with,” Crow said. “We’re not trying to sell singles of your cuts here—hell, singles have been pretty much going the way of the dodo bird ever since CDs became the primary format anyway—but that rawness, that simplicity of only three instruments and one vocalist...” He shook his head. “ ... that’s what going to hurt us. Station managers aren’t going to like taking up six to eight minutes of airtime that won’t appeal to a broad cross section of their demographic. At least not without some sort of enticement to give your tunes a little kick in the ass.”
“What kind of enticement are you talking about?”
“We need to wait until Intemperance and the members of the group (he saw Matt begin to scowl dangerously)—sorry, former members of the group—are back in the public spotlight a little. That will raise awareness to the point that we can release your album and there will be an intrinsic demand for it, tunes unheard. That will increase sales if you insist on putting the project out as it stands now.”
“What the hell kind of shit are you spouting?” Matt demanded. “Lines On the Map is still in the top ten on the album charts. I get a buttload of letters every week from fans asking me if we’re getting back together, asking me when my solo album is coming out. Every time I run into a fucking reporter from those entertainment rags, I get the same shit from them. I hardly think we’ve faded from the public consciousness.”
“That’s not my point,” Crow said. “They’re still going to be playing Intemperance on the radio forty years from now. You guys will undoubtedly be accepted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame the first year you’re eligible.”
“I’m not standing with any of those fuckers at the induction ceremony!” Matt suddenly yelled. “I’m not showing up if any one of those assholes are there!”
Crow held up his hand in appeasement again. “How about we cross that bridge in 2007, Matt? That’s the first time Intemperance will be eligible.”
“That don’t fucking matter,” he insisted stubbornly. “I ain’t never gonna change my mind about that shit. I’ll never stand with those fucks again!”
Crow let out another sigh. “Fair enough,” he acquiesced. “Anyway, my point is that overall popularity does not matter to what we’re discussing here, we’re talking about current projects that bring the band and its former members back into the current public consciousness.”
Matt closed his eyes tightly for a few seconds and then slowly reopened them. He took another deep breath and then said: “Please explain what kind of metaphysical bullshit you’re talking now.”
“It’s simple,” Crow said. “When there are new Intemperance related albums on the chart, when there are new Intemperance related tunes being played on the radio, the public interest in the former Intemperance members becomes part of the current public consciousness instead of the nostalgic-based public consciousness. Interest in any new Intemperance related project will then be automatically increased at that time. That will increase the willingness of radio station managers to play Matt Tisdale solo tracks. That, in turn, will increase distribution of your work and pull in more music consumers who will then buy the album.”
Matt rolled his eyes to the ceiling. “Are you talking about that fucking Greatest Hits album you’re planning to release?” he asked in disgust. Since National Records owned the rights to all Intemperance tunes released under their label—which meant all Intemperance tunes that had ever been recorded and released—they had the right to do with them as they pleased. And what they pleased was to continue to make money off of them for as long as they could conceivably get away with it. As such, they were now in the process of putting together a double CD package of all of the band’s most popular songs—an album that would be sold for a wholesale rate of nine dollars and a retail rate of sixteen dollars. There was nothing any of the band members could do about this. It was in the contracts they had signed that the exclusive rights to the songs belonged to National for twenty-five years. Though the band members would be paid royalties on the sales of the album, and had the right to participate in the mixing and arrangement of the album if they wished—none of them wished to do so—they could not prevent the project from going forward.
“It’s due for release late at the end of September,” Crow said. “It’s going to go platinum in a month, guaranteed. Intemperance will be back on the album charts again and the current exposure will begin to climb.”
“Undoubtedly,” Matt said, “but that’s not going to increase airplay of Intemperance tunes. There’s nothing new on that album. You’re just repackaging the shit we already did to profiteer from it.”
“True,” Crow allowed, “but that’s not the only Intemperance related project that is set for release around that time.”
Matt’s face became dangerous again. “Are you talking about the album that motherfucking traitorous ass-sucking mole Coop has been working on?” Of all the former Intemperance members, Matt hated Coop the most. At least Jake and Nerdly and that faggot motherfucking freak Charlie had stuck to their convictions when it had come to voting Darren out of the band—the act that had led directly to his overdose and death (at least in Matt’s mind). Coop had initially had Darren’s back, had been loyal to him and against his removal and had been the standoff vote that kept the issue at a stalemate. But then, because he’d knocked up some twat and had been worried about his precious income, he’d turned his back on his brother and sold him out.
“Veteran will be releasing their debut album about a week after Intemperance’s Greatest Hits is released,” Crow said.
“A bunch of fuckin’ sellout assholes,” Matt spat.
Crow simply shrugged. “Your opinion of them aside, I’m told that their album is quite compelling. It is projected to garner extensive airplay of multiple tracks and to reach multiplatinum status by the end of the year.”