I sit in the coffee house chair, as nervous as I can be. It still took me alot of effort to realize I was speaking to a representative of Nuclear Blast Records. He was a balding man in a very nice tux, and he was sweating bullets at the sight of us.
The Tally: Me, slEDGe , SLyMe , Donovan Mathews , and this poor bastard in the middle of a night-cafe of NYC.
Donovan straightens up and continues with his work. “So Jim… What does Nuclear Blast want from Stripped Cog Nightmare?”
Jim straightens up in response. “Well… We think that you guys would want to sign with us. Am I right?”
Donovan arches an eyebrow. “M’kay. What’s your offer?”
Jim wipes his forehead before going into a long, in technical detail discussion with Donovan that went more than a little over my head. I couldn’t quite get this guy. He was scared pissless of us. Or was he scared pissless of Donovan?
“The label won’t be very receptive of your times of available performance. Many shows and festivals are still hosted in broad daylight. How can they work around that kind of loss?” Jim asks, loosened up but still in fearful awe.
Donovan smirks. “Tell them it’s a Night/Shade managed act. They ought to know the prerequisites of our clientelle. Ask the members Schadenfreude. Aren’t they signed with you? They are managed by Night/Shade, regardless.”
Jim goes back into sweating his nut-sack off. He then wordlessly reaches down, and picks up a stack of forms and sits them on the table. He then gulps and says at length, “Well then. Here are the contracts for each of you, individually. You can sign now, or later when I get proper word from the head of the label. you gentlemen have a lovely evening.”
He shakes hands with all of us. His fingers were sweaty and clammy, like he was expecting to be killed at any moment. What could he be so afraid of? If he was afraid of Donovan, then what kind of reputation did he have among their groups?