A hotel lobby. Tony, Rich and Harry are sitting around a table
Harry: Right you two, they'll be here soon, so behave
Tony: Run this past me one more time: why're we doing this?
Harry: These people have coughed up cash on Vanish and, for reasons best-known to themselves, they want to meet you. I've tried to warn them...
Tony: Oh right, flesh-pressing then, is it? Mind you, s'pose they'll all be blokes
Harry: Best behaviour, Tony
Tony: Don't worry, I'm a professional, me
Rich: I'm not, I'm an academic
Tony: And don't we all bloody know it. Hmm, bet they'll all be weirdoes
Rich: You mean only weirdoes like us?
Tony: Nah, but it's only weirdo blokes want to meet you, so you can autograph their LP sleeves with their [nerdy voice] special pens. Take it from me, I had a stalker once
Harry: You must've been so proud. Look, Tony, only weirdoes pay for music nowadays, normal people stream or download it for free. So I mean it, play nicely, the pair of you. These people've got no idea what you're really like and as your manager - however briefly [meaningful stare at Tony] - it's my job to keep it that way. They'll've been exposed to you at an impressionable age, maybe built their whole lives around you. We can only hope that at some point they'll've seen sense... [Shudders] Anyway, to them you're not people, you're not even gods, you're dreams which never came true
Rich: And would've been a huge disappointment if they had. Yes, that was part of the contract, wasn't it?
Tony: I don't remember signing anything like that. Then again there's tons of stuff I don't remember signing. Heady days...
Rich: I'm talking about the unwritten contract all artists have with their audiences. That's why these crowd-funding things make me uncomfortable. I mean, in the old days the artist'd say "here's my album, hope you like my startling new musical direction". With a bit of luck, the audience'd say "do you know what, Artist old chum? We do like it. Have more cash than a sensible person could spend yea unto the seventh generation". Nowadays the Artist goes "if you give me some money I'll make an album. It'll be dead good, honest." The audience say "Hmm, all right then, but none of your weird stuff, OK? In fact make it a bit like the hit album, y'know, the really good one. Only a bit different, obviously..." Neither side has the faintest idea what the other wants. In any case, the whole point about art is that you produce your work then lay it before the world. This is closer to venture capitalism, like a business funding a boffin's research in the hope it might produce something marketable
Harry: You always were too clever for your own good, Rich
Tony: Bloody teacher's pet
Rich: Even so, we've got a duty of care, haven't we? I mean, the thing about Tony here is that when he opens his gob and sings, people have a tendency to believe him, God help them. They take the stuff I put in his mouth seriously; I mean, they play our bloody songs at their weddings
Harry: Mostly funerals nowadays, I think, Rich
Rich: Er, yeah, now you mention it...
Tony: So what you're saying is they thought we meant it? [Shakes his head in disbelief] What'd I tell you? Weirdoes
Rich: I did mean it. Once that sincerity's gone the whole deal's off. In fact, sometimes I think the whole music industry's in breach of contract and that's why we've ended up where we are. We dropped the mirror
Tony: I never got into coke. Mug's game
Rich: I mean the mirror we were supposed to be holding up to people's lives
Harry: Hmm. I see what you mean, but I think it's just cyclical. It's like this idea that being able to do a food shop online's the future we were promised when we were kids, somehow a bigger leap forward than jet packs and holidays on the moon. Actually, 150 years ago you'd've sent your grocer a list and a boy'd've turned up with your grub an hour later. Up until the early sixties, pop groups were all managed by impresarios who had jugglers, ventriloquists, comedians and animal acts on their books. Everyone made their money from personal appearances, product endorsements and the rest of it, there was no money in recordings back then. Plus ça change... [Tony looks blank]
Rich: [Reflecting] Hmm. Yeah, I see what you mean. So you reckon crowd-funding's going back to patronage of the arts then? "Dear Mr Mozart, I enclose ducats. Please compose a string quartet with my name in the title. Only I want a nice tune you can hum, not the kind of cacophony that passes for music nowadays. While you're about it, kindly knock up a nice calming sonata for her ladyship the missus as she's having trouble sleeping. I'll expect a bulk discount."
Harry: Pretty much, yeah
Tony: What in the name of blue blazes are you two on about? [Looks up] Uh-oh, weirdoes at 10 o'clock
Harry: That's no way to talk about your patrons, Tony
