American Entertainment 1978: New York Night Fever

Chapter 92 The Mastermind

"I bet Joyce definitely had her eye on your management contract, didn't she, Zeke?" The two walked into a secluded backstage corridor, and Okuin got straight to the point.

"Mrs. Bogart did indeed make a similar suggestion to me."

“There’s no need to be so wary, Zeke,” Okuin smiled gently. “You’re on a roll right now, but you do need a top-notch agent. It’s hard to make a name for yourself in the record industry all by yourself.”

Qi Ke didn't respond. He wasn't a newcomer to the industry anymore; he had already seen through Joyce's rhetoric and wouldn't be swayed by such lighthearted provocations.

Recently, I haven't had anything important to do, and Tino has been following the Spider Band to promote their products and sell merchandise, both of which are for my own benefit, so their interests are clearly intertwined.

"I don't play games. My fees are definitely fairer than Joyce's; I only charge 25% of your profits." Ocuin didn't waste any words, directly handing over a business card. Zeke's pupils constricted slightly, his face showing surprise: "What? 25%? That's so high?"

Seeing his reaction, Bill looked surprised: "This is a very fair price for a newcomer. You can ask around; the commission rate for the KISS band's manager has always been this high. And Joyce is Neil's wife; for promising newcomers like you under her management, the commission rate is always over 30%."

Zeke secretly rejoiced, thankful that he had fought hard enough to prevent Joyce from succeeding. 3%? Even a robbery wouldn't have been this fast!

These top-tier agents in the industry are indeed notorious for their ability to exploit people; they are ruthless beyond imagination.

"Thank you for your high regard, Bill. I'm having a very pleasant time working with Tino, and I have no plans to change agents for the time being."

"It's alright, I'm just giving you another excellent option." Bill was extremely courteous, showing no displeasure whatsoever, and simply smiled faintly. "If you want to achieve greater things, you'll eventually find that Tino Barzi can't support your ambitions."

He suddenly leaned closer, adding with a half-smile, "By the way, I'll give you some news. Jacques Morali just signed Casablanca to a deal for the Villagers' next three albums, but the company sent you out to do the promotions, obviously not planning to let you know about it."

After saying that, he calmly turned and left.

As soon as Bill left, Zeke couldn't help but wonder: there was no need for the company to notify him of this; he had Marco, his informant in the mailroom, who already knew.

And do Americans have some kind of mysterious obsession that they can only succeed in this industry by relying on a powerful agent?

In his Chinese-style thinking, while professional help is important, how can it be put down as the key to success or failure? In the end, it still depends on one's own hard power. Can you just grab anyone off the street, pair them with a top agent, a gold-medal lawyer, and a mountain of resources, and mass-produce a world superstar?

Isn't this pure nonsense? These people don't produce anything, yet they just talk and take a quarter of a celebrity's income. Why is it so expensive?

After Bill walked away, JR came over and said, "Bill's connections in the TV industry are fucking amazing. Before he signed Kiss, he already had Flipside, that primetime music hit. Lennon was on his show, you know what I mean?"

"Flipside? He made that?" Zeke exclaimed in surprise.

"That's right." JR nodded, then lowered his voice and nudged Zeke with his elbow. "But seriously, man, who do you think is behind all those KISS T-shirts and lunchboxes everywhere? Those guys are good at showing off on stage, but off stage they're all just handymen. Apart from Gene occasionally chiming in, they don't know anything."

A thought struck Zik, and he casually asked, "Who will do that job? Surely Bill can't be the one drawing up the plans and running around the factory himself?"

"Ha!" JR chuckled briefly. "Bill is a master strategist. He sets the stage and sets the tone, while the dirty work—design, production, and distribution—is all done by the professional companies he finds."

"That guy's brain is like a complete money-printing assembly line. We sometimes call him a vampire in private, but KISS..."

This brand—he really built it up single-handedly.

Zeke's heart wavered slightly. If that's the case, Bill does seem to possess the hard skills of a top professional.

He has vision, connections, media resources, and platform channels—he has it all. If I really sign him, I'll likely be able to get what I want, like Kiss.

Similarly, if they are fully packaged and aggressively promoted, they can reach the top of the mainstream music scene several times faster.

In particular, the business strategy of turning fan enthusiasm into merchandise is exactly the business secret that Zeke wants to learn right now.

But a 25% commission is twice that of Tino, which is simply outrageous.

Moreover, this guy is gay, as many people have mentioned, but he usually hides it very well. In the American music industry, management and agents also have to strictly hide their sexual orientation and live in the closet.

Although Zeke doesn't discriminate, he doesn't want a gay agent hanging around him all the time.

He returned to the dressing room, where the four members of KISS had finished their makeup and were changing into their signature stage costumes.

Thickened studded leather chokers, studded bracelets, leather vests, studded restraint accessories, and metal chains—wild and sharp.

Each person was wearing thick-soled platform shoes with heels over half a foot high, instantly making them appear taller, like four giants.

The only downside was that Paul Stanley looked a little disheveled; perhaps he had eaten too well in Japan, as he was slightly overweight with noticeable fat around his waist and abdomen.

A somewhat effeminate-looking man put a leather straitjacket on him, while the other three members surrounded him from behind, working together to pull the straps tighter and reshape his loose waist and abdomen. The group worked hard to help while joking and teasing each other, creating a lively and cheerful atmosphere backstage.

Peter spotted Zeke from afar and immediately waved, "Zek, come lend a hand!"

Zik smiled and stepped forward to help exert force, tightening the strap with his fingertips while secretly chuckling to himself.

The top rock stars who appear radiant and unrestrained in the eyes of the world actually have a rather miserable life in private.

They cannot have a bloated figure, and they cannot escape body image anxiety. For the sake of their stage image, they have to forcibly cover up their excess fat.

Elvis Presley, who gained weight in middle age, is the most typical example of what not to do. Even at the peak of his career, his reputation and popularity would be damaged by his physical decline. The entertainment industry has always been this cruel.

The backstage costume and makeup work was completely finished. The four members of KISS were all dressed up. All the props, fireworks, and lifting equipment for the entire performance were in place. All the staff were in their positions. The highly anticipated final concert was ready.

Peter Chris walked up to Zeke in his heavy platform shoes, raised his hand and patted Zeke's shoulder heavily: "Kid, do you dare to come up on stage with us?"

"I?"

Zik's pupils dilated slightly, his face full of astonishment. This was no small performance; this was the Long Beach Arena, a proper professional stadium with a capacity of 10,000 people.

Through the gaps in the curtain, one could see a dense, dark mass of people outside, layer upon layer, stretching as far as the eye could see. The clamorous sounds continued to surge, making the ground tingle slightly.

"Don't be nervous. My drum corps will rise into the air as soon as the performance starts. You can just stand on the spare lift platform next to me." Peter's face was covered in paint, so his expression was unreadable, but Zeke felt that there must be a wicked smile on his lips under the makeup. "The audience below is all busy watching the fireworks and Gene vomiting blood. Nobody has time to look up at you."

Qi Ke was apprehensive. Although he had never seen KISS's live performance, he had heard of it. Peter's high-altitude drum troupe was one of the show's highlights, soaring to a height of nearly five meters and suspended in mid-air without any protection.

If one slips or the equipment deviates even slightly, a fall would almost certainly result in serious injury, posing a significant risk.

"Don't scare him, Peter. Zeke, you stay with me." Thankfully, JR came to the rescue in time.

Zeke immediately breathed a sigh of relief, nodded in agreement, and stood with JR in the shaded area on the side of the stage.

The voices of the crowd behind the curtain possessed a tangible power, causing one to unconsciously slow down their breathing.

The next second, the lights suddenly went out.

The entire venue fell silent; the breathing of twelve thousand people created a deafening "quiet."

This extreme atmosphere was a shock that Zike had never experienced before, and his heart involuntarily tightened and pounded.

After a brief silence, the announcer's voice suddenly blared from the surround sound system hanging overhead.

His voice, processed with multiple layers of reverb, was deep and magnetic. He deliberately dragged out his speech in a slow and cheeky manner, gradually stirring the emotions of the entire audience.

"Ladies and gentlemen—— boys and girls——"

As the deliberately drawn-out note faded, the pent-up enthusiasm of the entire audience finally erupted, with scattered screams and restlessness quickly merging into a surging wave of sound.

The announcer, unperturbed, spoke again, her tone arrogant and overbearing: "You wanted the best—"

Swish-!

The giant curtain was instantly and forcefully pulled open!

Paul Stanley burst forth from the light and shadow, standing at the very front of the stage, arms raised high, his posture flamboyant and unrestrained. At the same time, Peter's drum kit unleashed a crisp and furious roll, instantly maximizing the rhythm.

"AND YOU GOT THE BEST! THE HOTTEST BAND IN THE WORLD——"

(And so you got the best! The hottest band in the world —)

As the explosive words fell, all members of KISS appeared on stage. The pyrotechnic devices on both sides of the stage were activated simultaneously, and scorching, dazzling pillars of fire shot into the air. The scorching heat wave instantly swept over the front row of the audience, hitting them head-on, hot and passionate.

The announcer's scream echoed throughout the venue: "K-I-S-S!! KISS!!!"