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“Leo. Look at me. Whatever happens today, tomorrow or in a month’s time doesn’t matter. You have a voice that is so unique. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever heard.”
“What are you on about? I’m notthatgood,” laughed Leo.
“You fecking are. You have everything. Yourvoice. Your talent. Every bit of music you put together has this magical ability to hook me in straight away, and I’m not being biased. The words you write, they make me look up and listen, they flow with your music so well. That, my friend, is a gift, one to get you noticed. I wish I had something like that I could give to the world.”
Leo watched Kai as a usual sadness settled in his friend’s look. At times it seemed like Kai had so much he wanted to give to the world, but just couldn’t find how to do it. It was as if there was something missing from his life that he was desperately searching for, but just didn’t have any idea how to find it, so it was Leo’s turn to tag-team the pep-talk.
“You do. Look at your bloody skills. You can build and make anything. I don’t know why you don’t just work for yourself instead of that bunch of cowboys.”
Kai’s brow furrowed. “Because it costs money to start a building business. Anyway, we’re talking about you, not me. Listen to me, Leo. So what if Kris bloody Proud doesn’t sign you to Wrap’d? They’re not a patch of what they used to be anyway. I mean, they’re signing people from fecking reality shows these days. Why don’t you just shut that laptop and get to work on some sick beats.
Leo started to close it, slowly.
“But phone the agency and see if they’ve got any work for you first. It’d probably do you good to get out the house.”
Leo let slip a smile. “Two more minutes, then I shut off the laptop.”
As it turned out, he didn’t need them. A notification in his inbox popped up from none other [email protected].
“I’m not even going to say open it,” urged Kai. “Feck it, I will. Open it.”
As Leo clicked on the email, his heart sank. He didn’t even have to read the first line to know it was bad news. He somehow felt it in the opening words, that negative thought spiral returning with a vengeance.
Dear Leo,
Thank you so much for submitting your work to us, it was a real privilege to listen to. There are some really unique qualities to your lyrics and the style is definitely vibrant.
However, there are some areas that we found lacked the kind of originality that we’re looking for and although it’s great to produce music that’s aligned with some of your influences, we feel your music carries a vibe that we’ve heard before from such artists as Harmonic 288, Bruck Wild, Jim Tones et al.
We also think that the undertone of your music steers towards the genre of rap and we feel that for a more mature artist like yourself, it’s not a genre we would be able to market you within successfully.
At Wrap’d, we are not only looking for a unique style, but for the ‘whole package’ and although your music is technically excellent, we feel your act lacks that extra something that will help us take you to the next level.
We wish you every success in your career and hope to rub shoulders with you within the music industry in the future!
Best,
Q. Steele.
Senior Talent Producer, Wrap’d Records.
“Fucking jumped up, fucking twat,” snarled Kai, taking a swipe at the screen.
“Hey, watch it. You break this computer then I’m well and truly fucked.”
Leo watched Kai, clearly needing to take his frustration out on something. The nearest thing he could find to kick was one of Ariella’s ping-pong balls, which he sentenced to a life-term beneath the sofa.
“Proud couldn’t even be bothered to sign it himself,” Kai snapped, clocking the e-signature at the bottom.
Leo was still trying to gather enough words to structure any kind of sentence as Kai continued his tirade.
“A more mature artist like yourself?”
“I’m thirty-one,” muttered Leo, softly.
“I know that. He’s saying you’re too old to rap, if you even wanted to rap. What you do isn’t even rapping. Shit, I’m so angry.”
“I’m not exactly over the moon either.”
