Page 10 of Beautiful Noise
“You are and you’re right about one thing. It could all change in a matter of seconds. You’ve got these talent lacking muthafuckers out here studying your every move, hoping they’re up next. It’s possible.”
“Nah…” I shook my head lazily. “It’s not possible. They might create a little buzz, and might even make a few dollars doing so, but they’ll never be me. There’s only one Eccentric; so studying me won’t do shit but get them labeled as a watered down version of me. They’d do better to create their own lane instead of trying to replicate mine. My style, my vibe, my talent only works for me. That’s how they get fucked up in the game.”
I spoke with confidence because I meant exactly what I said. I had my own thing and anyone who tried to duplicatemewould be seriously disappointed. I preached that to the up-and-coming artists I mentored, making sure they understood the importance of bringing something fresh, new, and authentic to the table. Success might be possible through imitation, but longevity was not. I’d lasted so long because I created my own vibe, left my mark on the world in ways that others couldn’t duplicate. The key was changing the game, not remixing it.
“That’s why I respect you, E. People truly don’t understand how down to earth you are.” He paused and added, “But your fucking ego is still other worldly.”
I chuckled, nodding. “If I’mma hype anybody, I’m gonna hype myself. That isn’t ego, that’s called confidence.” I sat up, brushing my hands over my head before I extended to my full height. “Run that shit back so I can lay these vocals and take my ass home.”
“Bet, I appreciate you doing this.”
“You appreciate me doing it for free.”
“That too.” He chuckled. “She can’t afford what you cost for a feature, and damn sure can’t afford to pay for one of your songs, but I see good things for Leijah. She’s about to fuck shit up.”
“Good because the way dude played her wasn’t right. I didn’t like that, which is why I’m here. Shorty is gonna be straight, and with me singing this hook, she’s gonna get the audience she needs to prove how talented she truly is.”
“Which brings me to another thing I wanted to run by you…”
“And here comes the bullshit,” I muttered, which had Clay laughing lightly.
“It’s not bullshit. I was just wondering what type of investment you would be willing to make with her career.”
“I never said I would be invested in her career. I’m doing you a solid for free.”
“This would be paid, and the budget isn’t massive, but it’s money and also writing credits.”
I laughed, looking at Clay like he had lost his mind. “I’m not a songwriter.”
“You write all your shit, E.”
“Because it’s mine. My feelings, my emotions, my experiences. Not the same thing.”
“It could be.”
I quickly shook my head. “Nah, it couldn’t. My brain doesn’t work like that. I have to be attached to what I write. Iamattached to what I write. It’s strictly for me.”
“You wrote the hook?”
“That’s two lines that don’t mean shit and all I really did was play off her lyrics which were dope as hell. So why does she need a writer?”
“Those weren’t her lyrics. She has a voice. I won’t take that away from her, but she can’t write songs. She hasn’t lived, hasn’t experienced anything, so there’s nothing to pull from. She needs a writer and a good one.”
I nodded in understanding but added, “I can’t help. That’s not my lane.”
“Not even if the price is right?”
“It’s not a money thing for me, Clay. You of all people should know that.”
He exhaled a sigh of frustration and leaned back in his chair. “I do but I’m fucking desperate.”
“I’ll keep that in mind, and if I come across anyone, I’ll send them your way. You need someone new, someone with a fresh, unique vibe so she stands out. Truthfully, that’s not me. I’m antiquated as fuck in this industry.”
“You’re thirty-two.”
“Not my age, my sound. I don’t think I have it in me to do anything other than what I do. I’ve perfected the art ofme.”
“I would argue but I can’t. You’ve damn sure perfected the art of being Eccentric.”