Listen to 'Vampire With a Briefcase'

Mixing art and commerce is never easy. My old drummer from three against four had exciting adventures on a major label and got to tour the world opening for some big bands, but when the label didn't hear a hit on a subsequent record, the album got shelved - they weren't allowed to share it with their fans. There are many such stories.

I've always been a bit paranoid about signing contracts. I wrote this song not long after I signed a noncompete agreement. I had a weird adventure several years ago when a music publisher I knew offered to introduce me to a TV producer's wife in Los Angeles who was interested in some of my music for some popular TV shows. But the publisher was worried that I might make a deal with the producer and just cut her out of the equation altogether. To try to assuage her fears, I went out to find a lawyer who could help me draft a noncompete agreement stating that I wouldn't do any business with the TV producer unless the publisher was involved in any deals that got made.

Finding a lawyer was an adventure in itself. I got an appointment with a very well connected and super expensive lawyer who worked with all sorts of famous musicians. On my way to the appointment I had a sudden attack of severe indigestion. Honestly, I don't believe I was repressing anxiety or anything, I was just falling ill, but I had to keep my appointment. So I go to his office, and as I'm waiting to get ushered in to see him I start feeling really awful. I'm turning green and my guts feel like they are churning. Right as he comes out to shake my hand, I actually slightly shit myself. I don't think my private horror was discernible, but boy, let me tell you, I was acutely aware it. We sat down at his conference table and he asked me what I wanted. I told him I wanted to draft up a noncompete agreement so I could meet this TV producer. After hearing my story, he recommended against creating the contract. I told him I wanted the contract anyway, I wasn't that serious about getting work in TV, I was just curious what this meeting might bring. I was anxious to end the meeting and get to a bathroom. Suddenly he sized me up and decided that I wasn't being enough of a businessman about my music, and told me that I wasn't ready, I wasn't far along enough in my career, and that he wasn't interested in working with me. I hadn't expected to get rejected by someone who charged $400 an hour for his services, I kinda figured he just would take anybody's money. I asked to use the bathroom as I was leaving and emptied my guts. Then I immediately walked to the first clothing store I could find and bought a new pair of underwear.

I found a different lawyer who only charged about half as much, and he negotiated the contract for me, although he warned me that there had some uncomfortable conversations with the publisher and that he had never been treated so rudely. All warning signs. I told him I really didn't care about composing music for crappy TV shows, it was all just an amusing adventure for me. He negotiated a 5 year length to the noncompete, so if things went bad, I could always get in touch with the TV producer 5 years later free of the contract.

Months later, I'm in Los Angeles, meeting the TV producer's wife who handles the music decisions. She is nice, chatty, and very Los Angeles, delighting in showing us her aromatherapy collection. The publisher pulls me aside and warns me not to trust this woman. We make some small talk. Then we sit down at a conference table with the TV producer's wife and lawyer. We small talk some more. Nothing happens. The publisher is no nonsense, very New York. Make me an offer! Says her posture. Nothing specific is discussed. They tell us the lawyer will draft something up and send it on later. We leave. The whole meeting doesn't take very long. I'm surprised at how stand-offish the publisher is at a potentially lucrative moment, essentially alienating the people who might have offered us money. But what do I know? The two women have a prior relationship that has turned sour. It seems to have nothing to do with me. I spend a long drive with the publisher trapped in bad traffic as she complains about Mexican immigrants. Nothing comes from the meeting.

Although my brush with lawyers and contracts was mostly harmless, I still have paranoia about falling prey to some tricky guy in a suit who tells me everything I want to hear and gets me to sign some awful contract that ruins my life. So, my creative, idealistic, head-in-the-clouds, trusting daydreamers, stay vigilant! Don't get bitten.

July 9, 2010

Chris Henry emailed me the beat. I jammed out some music over the beat with my guitar. Originally there was this long intro that got cut. Here's an earlier version. Back then I called it 'Lookout Lookout'.

Sturgis played drumset and it was mixed by Mark Miller at Slaughterhouse with Anand Nayak and Nate Van Til really helping edit down some of the layers and keep it sparse and spooky. Once it was done, it struck me that spooky funk is a genre we had all done before together. If we had a few more songs, we could have a whole album of spooky funk! Other songs from our past in that genre would be Mr. Bonedragger and Erotica.

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