Behind the Mask - A Sequel (of Sorts) to A Star Is Born

A Band Is Born

A Band is Born

After what seemed like an eternity, Phil called one evening just before Thanksgiving. "I think I have figured it out." We agreed to hold a "business meeting," which apparently meant no pizza and beer. Phil said he would send instructions, and we should follow them exactly.

Later that evening, I got a text from him. "Issaquah CVS parking lot, 7pm." OK, this cloak and dagger stuff is getting silly. Brian, Juan and I drove over together, contrary to instructions, and arrived a few minutes late. As we got out of the car, we were a bit perplexed about next steps until a Suburban pulled up next to us. "Get in."

The drive took forever, and eventually we got out at an abandoned industrial zone somewhere outside of the city. The Suburban lurched to a halt outside a warehouse that had seen better days. Even in the last light of dusk, we could tell the roof had sagged and the delivery door was askance. A smaller door to the side opened, and Phil appeared. "Come on in."

We walked into the warehouse, and the inside was exactly the opposite of what the exterior might have suggested. Sound insulated grey fabric walls and a cement floor bounded what must have been the most technically advanced sound studio I had ever seen. The mixing boards looked like they could launch a rocket, and server lights blinked constantly, as if they were already working on something.

Phil gathered us around a table and began to explain. "I took your album to a friend at Virgin Records, and he said he was prepared to sign you immediately. I told him it wasn't so simple." Phil proceeded to lay out weeks of negotiations in which Virgin lawyers and execs sorted through the details of how a band's identity could be hidden, when the company was channeling millions of dollars into distribution, advertising, and the impossibly challenging logistics of getting them to and from anonymous concerts.

The idea they came up with was what they called a "single point of failure," somewhat ironically, since this is a bad thing in its original engineering context. For us, it meant nobody but Phil would know who we were, so no leaks could emerge. Virgin would set up a trust that managed the band's income, Phil would make the key decisions, and ownership would split among the five of us, equally, based on a separate agreement between the group and Phil. Of course, we couldn't touch the money without creating a paper trail (and massive tax obligations), so for now it would just sit in trust, if we actually made any. Virgin could pay our costs, but we couldn't make a dime directly. In return, I got my wish – anonymity.

Phil said we should think it over, but I think he didn't get how much thought we had already given it. Let's give it a go, we insisted. Money wasn't really the issue, since none of us really believed our songs would earn much.

The next week, our first single, Creedence, was released. Virgin decided to take a soft approach, putting it on iTunes and a few other sites without much fanfare. I will admit to being disappointed when I spent the first evening refreshing my browser every ten seconds to see the song's sales ranking stuck at number 19,521. (At least there were a few hundred below it.)

The next morning, I checked again. This time, it took a bit more time to find the song. We had moved up in the standings a bit, at least far enough that I wasn't going to find the song by skimming the iTunes sales page before class.

After school let out, Phil called. "I have a bit of news. Your song isn't in the top ten. Yet." He proceeded to explain that Creedence was in the process of going viral. Data geeks have figured out how to map the "trajectory" of sales, and the song was picking up such momentum that it had an outside of chance of making #1.

What we didn't anticipate was the marketing buzz created by our anonymity. The song was attributed to a band called "anonymous" on iTunes, and I guess we never really talked about what we were going to call ourselves. But the buzz of a novel approach caught fire, and within a week, radio stations were playing the song, gossip rags were speculating what already famous musician was really behind it, and we were getting nervous over all the publicity. It seemed impossible that our harebrained scheme would keep our secret safe.