INTERMEZZO

Frankfurt, Germany, year 1993 or so.

Me (long hair, leather pants, limited English, absolutely no idea about…anything really). 

Frank (an expensive suit, perfect English, the manager of the major recording company). 

We are having coffee and discussing the contract for our first album. Frank is being infinitely patient. I’m trying to understand the difference between publishing/recording deals, copy/mechanical/performing rights etc. I am on my fifth espresso, but still nothing makes any sense. It’s all too complicated, and I don’t feel ok signing my life away without having a slightest idea what follows.

Frank gives up and says, ‘I’ll make it easy for you. In simple terms it works like this: You get famous, we get rich. Clear?’ 

I remember I started to laugh. I thought it was a joke.