Chapter 10: Rap

As soon as he stepped outside, the cool breeze hit, and Song Ya calmly reflected on things. Although he hadn't solved any real problems, the purpose of his consultation had been achieved. At least now he had a clearer understanding of what was urgent and important, so he no longer felt completely lost.

"According to Goodman's plan, the most important thing right now is to record the demo for the song 'Secondhand Store,' then take the demo and the sheet music to the composer association for registration. After that, find a reliable agent!"

Once he had made up his mind, he got to work. He found a phone booth with a yellow pages directory, flipped to ASCAP's number (the Composer Association), and dialed.

After a long wait, someone finally answered. Once the purpose of his call was clear, it was a series of transfers, waiting, transfers, and more waiting...

During the downtime, he began planning the demo recording.

"I can't handle the accompaniment for the demo on my own. I'll need to get help... No, I can't rely on anyone for now."

Before, Alexander Song had been a key trumpet player in the school band, so his musical foundation was solid, and he could read music. It was this background, combined with his rapidly improving English, that allowed him to adjust the original version of "Secondhand Store" to fit the modern era. For example, he had removed the confusing 'shouting' at the beginning, changed the electronic parts, altered incomprehensible jokes in the lyrics (which were likely from a time that hadn't arrived yet), and even swapped out the self-deprecating "honky" that the white singer used.

But that wasn't enough. Song Ya now had terrible musical sense, and his creative abilities had been enhanced by the "Apocalypse cheat" he had gained after crossing over. He knew how things worked but didn't understand why they worked that way. Recording the demo was a creative stage, and bringing in outside help could easily expose his shortcomings.

Finally, someone from the other end of the line took charge. The process for simple registration was straightforward: the Composer Association had an office in Chicago, and he just needed to make an appointment and go through the procedure.

"Well, I'll record an acapella demo. Time is tight, and the school has all the necessary equipment, but it'll be tricky. I'll have to give it a shot. Ideally, I can finish everything in one day and take it for registration tomorrow. If I can't make it, I'll just register the lyrics and music."

He made an appointment for the next afternoon, then visited a flea market near Chinatown. He bought two blank tapes and a very cheap plastic digital watch, a brand called CASIQ, with a liquid crystal display and a MIC logo.

The morning flew by quickly, and by lunchtime, Song Ya started feeling hungry. He didn't dare enter the expensive nearby Chinese restaurant, so he settled for a hotdog from a white-owned street vendor to fill his stomach.

"I've spent too much money this morning... Ugh, I'm so broke... I guess it's the shame of being a time traveler."

He bit into the hotdog while heading for the subway. Who knew when his "Apocalypse cheat" would kick in again? He couldn't afford to bet everything on one plan. "Being a lawyer sounds pretty good. Goodman is a washed-up lawyer, but he charges $35 an hour for a consultation and sells two pages of paper for $10... Maybe I should go the lawyer route. At least after studying, I won't get easily fooled by others."

He was only in ninth grade, equivalent to the third year of junior high in China, so it was still early. Recording the demo was his top priority, and while riding the subway, Song Ya kept tapping his hands on his legs and muttering to himself.

When he first crossed over, he had no interest in his body's musical talent and didn't appreciate rap, which seemed like a chant. But after a month of fighting for academic credits, he had to admit he'd need to regain his musical sense if he wanted to make it big.

Back at school, he went straight to the music teacher's office.

"I feel deeply ashamed of my lack of dedication during band rehearsals."

"Because I've improved in other subjects, I've neglected my pursuit of music, and I regret it."

"Please, give me another chance!"

"Yes, I wasn't feeling well this morning and took some time off, but I'm feeling better now…"

"No problem, I'm fine now. I'm completely recovered. By the way, how about I perform a little something for you?"

"Uh, I was hoping to borrow the instrument storage room and the equipment inside to record something…"

"I would never... hide away with a girl, doing... you know... that."

"You think too highly of me. I can't even get my hands on the leaves... or whatever else..."

"I really, truly apologize for my mistakes these past few days. I swear I'll practice hard and get my skills back."

"I was your main trumpet player, remember? Please, give me another chance, teacher!"

"I promise I won't miss a note again... Wow, that necklace, where did you get it? It's so beautiful."

"It suits you so well…"

"Honestly, I think that Ms. Cheryl has the worst taste... Right, right, her hairstyle paired with those giant earrings looks ridiculous."

"She's no comparison to you!"

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't be gossiping about other teachers, but you know me—I'm straightforward, I say what I think…"

He flattered the teacher with a bunch of compliments until she was pleased, and finally, he got the key to the small orchestra storage room.

After locking the door, he inserted the new tapes into the Sony double-cassette recorder and plugged in the Canadian-made metronome.

"I'm gonna pop some tags, only... uh, cough, cough."

"No, no, let me redo that."

"I'm gonna... I'm gonna... Ugh, damn it, wrong again…"

The beginning was always the hardest, and mistakes were inevitable. Song Ya had no choice but to persevere. After class and club activities were over, when the music teacher knocked and entered, the young man from China, once a laid-back Buddhist, was now reluctantly being pushed into the world of rap by the "Apocalypse cheat."

The final product was far from perfect, but at least it roughly matched the sheet music, which was all that mattered. After all, this was just about copyright registration, not artistic value.

After thanking the music teacher, Song Ya hurried home. That evening, he took Tony out and began to lay things on the line.

"FXXXYOU!" Tony exploded in anger the moment he heard that, exactly as Song Ya had expected.

To Tony, the success of Little Lowry's first album was within reach, undeniable. Once Little Lowry became a star, Tony would help out and enjoy the perks. But this fifteen-year-old brother was trying to sneak a song, which supposedly had lyrics and music all handled by him, into Little Lowry's new album!

This wasn't just unrealistic—it was about money.

Tony believed Song Ya was just jealous of Little Lowry's success and was trying to sneak in a laughably bad excuse to grab a share of the pie!

Helping Little Lowry spend money was one thing; trying to insert himself into the core of Little Lowry's career and share in the profits was another. Tony might not be great at studying, but he wasn't stupid.

"You're trash! How did I end up with a brother like you? If you weren't my brother, I swear I'd twist your head off!" Tony grabbed Song Ya's collar and lifted him off the ground. "What happened to you? How did you become so greedy... so stupid? Where did the old Alexander go?"

"Hey! Hey…"

Song Ya hadn't expected Tony to react this strongly, but it seemed like he really valued his brotherly bond with Little Lowry. "Calm down. Let me explain. You'll understand!"

"Speak!" Tony set him down.

"Well, first, I didn't have to tell you about this. I was originally planning to meet with the owner of Little Lowry's music company first. But I told you first because you're my brother, and I respect you."

"Secondly, without my song, Little Lowry's new album will never succeed. That day, I overheard a conversation between Little Lowry's manager and the music company owner…"

"Seven thousand tapes for the first release, no vinyl, no digital CDs, just seven thousand tapes... Is that what a successful album looks like?"

"Why would I lie to you? This will all come out soon enough."

"If you take away all the friendship and emotion and just look at the music, which of the ten-something songs on Little Lowry's album is any good? Which one sounds like it could be a hit?"

"They only sold seven thousand copies of the first album. Can he even release a second? If the first album lost money, what will he use to support you and 'The Silencer'? And don't forget AK and El…"

"Yeah, I've changed. I've become more calculating, but this change is good for us! Like you, I want to get out of this godforsaken place. Do you want to stay here forever?"

"The idea for this song came from when I was at the secondhand store, the day we shot the MV…"

"Of course! I guarantee this song will absolutely be a hit!"

"Don't you remember? I was the main trumpet player in the school band!"

"Fine, you don't have to believe me, but anyone who knows music will understand immediately."

"Want to hear it? I've got a demo."

After a whole day of talking and singing, Song Ya's throat was nearly on fire. In the end, he managed to convince Tony, who was half-believing, to let it go for now.