Biggest opportunity of my life…and I was dreading it

G looks at me with something that is a cross between confusion and horror.

She says, “You HAVE to stop this!”

“No, I don’t, it’s fine. I’ll handle it,” I reply, trying to convince myself as much as I am her.

When I was 31 years old, Sony offered me my own record label.

A few months earlier, I’d heard about how a friend of mine, Imran, had an imprint (a sort of “sub-label”) on XL records. He’d put out the first UK single by this new band Vampire Weekend, which had blown up. One night, I’m out with my music lawyer friend Martin, and I’m feeling hard done by.

I whine, “Imran has a label. Why don’t I?”

Martin smiles and says, “Let’s get you one.”

A few weeks and several meetings later, Martin and Sony’s lawyers are getting the contracts ready for Huckster Records, an imprint of the Epic label (whose parent company is Sony). On Epic are artists like Abba, Mariah Carey, Celine Dion, and now… whoever I decide to sign.

In the meantime, I am figuring out the logistics. It’s going to be a 7” vinyl records label and Epic are giving me an extremely generous budget: they’ll pay for the vinyl, radio promo, press promo, a *music video*, and a small live tour. And — because I don’t yet have either — they are also going to buy me a laptop and an iPod (this is before the days of smartphones). All I have to do is to take care of finding someone to print the actual vinyl and the record covers, then figure out distributing those to record shops.

Which, it turns out, is really hard. And really stressful. And not my skillset. And I don’t want to do any of it. Like, ANY of it.

But I don’t tell anyone that.

Most people to whom I tell the details to just rave at me, “Oh my godddddd, that’s such an INCREDIBLE deal they’re giving you!!! You’re sooooooo lucky!!!!!”

It feels good. Kind of. If I can ignore the nausea in the pit of my stomach. Which feels like a small stone in there, that is gently leaking poison.

When I tell G about it, I assume she’ll be stoked for me. She had been my first girlfriend — it took me until my late 20’s to figure out I wasn’t completely straight — and we’re still friends. We’re both in the music industry; she manages a band and I am a radio DJ and — apparently — imminent record label boss.

What I haven’t counted on is what I like to call the “L*sbian Mind-Reading Skills”.

(I’m *-ing out the e to avoid your sp@m filter. Because it’s not that kind of story.)

Before G, I’d only dated straight cis men, most of whom were a bit clueless as to what was going on with me unless I spelled it out in explicit language. On top of this, I’d always considered myself gifted in being able to pretend that I am ok when I’m not. Until I was 30, I had gotten away with it. But G always knows what is happening beneath the surface. No matter how big the smile I plaster on my face, she can tell when something is off. Like now.

That afternoon I’d gushed to her about the label, about how Epic are paying for all sorts of things that parent companies of imprints and sub-labels don’t usually pay for, how I can’t wait to start signing all my favourite small bands. She sees through it immediately.

“Oh my god, you don’t want to do this.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re really stressed out about this, aren’t you?”

“Well… I am finding the distribution stuff hard… but, like, can it be that hard? I mean… I do kind of feel sick every time I think about it. But maybe I’m just being stupid… Anyway, I’ve already spoken to the first band and we’re about to sign. They’re making a music video at the end of the month. If the deal isn’t signed by then, I’ll just pay them back the money they’ve spent on it once I do get paid.”

That’s when she said, “You HAVE to stop this!”

Two weeks later, I get a call from Martin, who’s been acting as my lawyer on this deal.

“Marsha, I have terrible news… Sony have cut Epic’s budgets across the board and it’s last in, first out. They backing out of your imprint deal. I’m SO sorry.”

As soon as he hangs up, I take a breath and start smiling. Then, I dial G’s number.

——

So now, tell me — is there something that you’re not fully admitting to yourself? And do you have anyone in your life with G’s mind-reading skills who’s already figured it out? Hit reply and let me know (you don’t have to specify what the thing is, if you don’t want to)(but if you do, I will absolutely keep your secret!) — OR if you want to make my heart SING, come over and leave me a comment at yesyesmarsha.com/recordlabel.

You rule!

xx (Yes Yes) Marsha

PS today’s storytelling lesson? Start right in the action. When we’re telling stories to our friends, we usually start with context, but that’s less exciting for our brains. So start in the action, say something intriguing for us to want to keep reading (but not so vague that we’re not hooked in), then give the context. More on this here.

PPS want my free guide to the magic bullet for captivating storytelling, along with free coaching via email on storytelling and writing captivating presentations? Join the Yes Yes Family — it’s FREE! Just pop your details in below and I’ll ship the guide over*:

*you can unsubscribe whenever you like because, clearly, I am not the boss of you

Me in 2007, which is around the time this happened, DJing at The Water Rats music venue. Photographer, my friend Sooz I think?