The arrangement of Panda was extremely simple, with almost no traditional melody, relying on the singer's rhythm and vocal changes to create impact.
The backing track was overall monotonous with few chord changes.
It relied mainly on B-flat minor writing to reinforce the dark, deep street atmosphere.
It could be done with just an 808 drum machine, and any arranger could handle it easily.
But for the final quality of the song, Leon still chose to let an industry master handle it.
The next morning, he contacted Max Martin, asking him to create a beat for Panda according to his requirements, but unexpectedly, he was refused.
The reason given by Max was that he was very busy with work recently. Taylor Swift's inspiration was exploding, and the arrangement work for at least three songs had not been completed.
"If Miss Taylor can give me a holiday, I can fly to New York tomorrow..." Max sounded helpless on the phone.
Leon was a big-name singer, but obviously, Taylor's status was higher.
For such a big shot, in the case where her own work has not been completed, it was impossible to let the arranger work for others first.
But Max obviously didn't understand the relationship between Leon and Taylor.
Any problem in life could be resolved in bed by friction.
Leon immediately took out his phone and dialed Taylor's number: "Honey, how is the performance going?"
"Oh my God, I'm tired as a dog... I can only rest for one day, and I have to fly to St. Louis tomorrow. I have two more shows there."
Taylor's voice was weak, more like a lazy cat than a tired dog.
"I think you have to give yourself a break." Leon said, "When these damn shows are over, find a place to relax. How about Cancun? I heard the beaches there are ten times better than Miami."
Hearing the word vacation, Taylor's tone immediately cheered up, fully revived. "This proposal is very good~ We can walk hand in hand on the beach at sunset, creating while tasting tequila."
Leon scratched his head: Who promised to go on vacation with you?
Two days later, he would formally sign with Columbia Records in Rob Stringer's office, which would definitely cause a shock in the industry.
The recording of The Rap of America was at its climax, and the pilot episode would be officially broadcast on Netflix in ten days.
He had too much work to handle; how could he find time for a vacation?
But Leon wouldn't feel bored at all.
Work was making money; vacation wasted time and cost money, basically a negative return.
But he didn't want to spoil Taylor's fun, so he smiled and asked: "Just creating together?"
"Then what else do you want to do?" Taylor lowered her voice, as if expecting something.
"I heard there are many uninhabited beaches in Cancun... maybe we can do something on the beach." Leon started talking dirty. "Witnessed by the sunset, don't you think it's very romantic?"
"Leon!" Taylor felt her face flush and heart beat faster, whispering: "Be serious, the assistant is right next to me!"
Then, her brain crashed for several seconds, recalling the scene of fighting fiercely with Leon under the moonlight in the recording studio last time.
"Damn, what strange things am I thinking..." Taylor shook her head, muttering in her heart, Why does he always like these strange places...
Leon laughed non-stop on this end of the phone; he could fully imagine the other party's naive appearance at this moment.
At this time, he cut to the chase at the right time: "Even without beaches and sunsets, you have endless inspiration. Max is so busy arranging your work that he doesn't even have time to participate in his children's summer camp activities."
"Of course, I will release a great new album soon." Taylor sounded arrogant.
"I believe this album will definitely explode..." Leon perfunctorily said repeatedly. "By the way, can you lend me Max for a few days? I have new inspiration recently, just need to knock out a beat."
"What kind of work? Does it suit me?" Taylor perked up.
"Trap, accurately speaking, Atlanta Trap."
"Rap again?" Taylor sounded helpless. "Why is your head full of those messy things, guns, violence, crime..."
"Those are just lyrical content, all for the needs of the show."
"Okay, then I also need to borrow someone from you."
"Who?" Leon was full of question marks.
"You." Taylor let out a fox-like sly laugh. "When I finish the performance in Canada, you must accompany me for two days."
"No problem!" Since Bonnie moved out, Leon obviously felt his spirit was much better.
Now he was full of confidence in his kidney function.
"You promised, you have to cooperate with whatever I want to do!"
"No problem, as long as you don't tie me to the bed."
"You guy." Taylor pouted, her face flushed. "The assistant is urging me; I should go do my makeup."
"Good luck with everything, baby."
"Remember, you still owe me a collaboration single; I remember it all the time."
After hanging up the phone, Leon drove to the company. As soon as he got out of the car, his belly emitted a strong feeling of emptiness.
Since Bonnie moved out, the good days of having clothes handed to him, food served to his mouth, and releasing positive energy by patting his butt were gone forever.
Facts have proved that even with a big mansion, a woman who can handle everything properly is needed.
Leon bought a copy of The New York Times and Entertainment Weekly at the roadside newsstand, and then walked into the McDonald's next door.
"What would you like? The usual?" Because he frequented here, the black guy at the front desk already knew Leon's preferences.
It was hard not to be impressed by this weirdo who always wore sunglasses and a mask.
"Just the usual."
"Double Cheeseburger meal, add bacon, switch fries to apple slices!" The front desk guy's fingers flew up and down on the ordering machine. "Total 11.25 dollars."
"Thanks."
Leon took the paper bag. As soon as he returned to the office, he was complained about by Phil.
"You guy really took stinginess to a new height. If I slept with the same woman for a week, I would go crazy, and you can actually eat this stuff for a month..."
Leon was too lazy to respond to the old geezer, took a bite of the burger, and asked: "Did the program recording go smoothly this morning?"
"That's not my business scope; you have to ask Sean."
Leon snorted coldly. According to his understanding, the old geezer had been guarding the set since 6 am.
No profit, no early rising. The only reason driving him to do so was King Von.
His precious big ngga disregarded the doctor's dissuasion, dragged a crippled leg to participate in the program recording, and beat up another contestant from New York on the set.
The reason was that the person performed JAY-Z's new work Niggas In Paris.
Since the shooting incident, the popularity of this song had risen exponentially.
Successfully topping the Billboard Hot 100, record stores all over New York had long queues at the door.
This was another hit produced by JAY-Z after Empire State of Mind in 2009, telling everyone with strength that the East Coast music scene was still his empire.
"Fans are expecting your move..." Phil narrowed his eyes and said in a deep voice.
"Expecting what?"
"Expecting you to come up with a more explosive work to counterattack. Everyone knows you never suffer losses and slap faces overnight."
"Hmm, speaking of which, I did write a good song recently, and I plan to give this song to Little Von."
Hearing this, Phil trembled as if struck by lightning, and quickly jumped up from the sofa. "Are you serious?"
Everyone knew that songs written by Leon were a guarantee of becoming hits. The old geezer already had a picture in his head: Banknotes drifting in the sky like snowflakes.
"Really, he has proven himself with practical actions." Leon smiled and said: "He didn't take this bullet for nothing."
Not to mention hitting the thigh, even hitting the balls would be considered great value.
The old geezer changed his previous perfunctory attitude, stood straight like a private reporting the battle situation, and told what happened on the set in the morning.
"Kanye was weak this morning, his eyes were blurred as if he couldn't open them, and the recording was interrupted several times because of this."
"Isn't he always like that?" Leon asked.
"No no no... he almost fainted on the set." Phil grinned. "I have reason to believe that his soul was sucked empty by Kardashian."
Since Ray J humiliated Kardashian face to face, the relationship between Kanye and Kardashian had escalated rapidly.
Under Leon's guidance, he found a breakthrough and completely won the heart of the goddess.
Judging from the current progress, Kardashian might really get pregnant by the time the program recording finishes.
Leon felt the emotional line between these two was also very interesting, so he immediately sent a message to Sean to write this part into the script.
Only the miserable Humphries, his plan to privatize the "public bus" seemed to be bankrupt.
The two chatted about the program for a while longer. Leon called Bonnie in and asked:
"Did Eminem reply to the email?"
"Not yet." Bonnie spread her hands.
This result was within Leon's expectations.
Inviting Eminem to join The Rap of America as a flying mentor was a plan he had set long ago.
In fact, initially, he planned to invite him as a resident mentor, replacing Cardi B's position in the program.
In this way, the three major mentor lineup of the program would truly be considered superstar level, the ceiling of the rap world.
But even though Leon had a good personal relationship with Eminem and the help of 50 Cent and others, the plan still failed to materialize.
Drug abuse and alcohol almost completely destroyed his spirit. He couldn't even cope with a two-hour concert, let alone program recording that often took more than ten hours.
Sometimes, Eminem would suddenly become manic, verbally abuse others for no reason, and destroy everything he could see in front of him.
Only when Dre was present could he barely be controlled.
"However, Warner Bros. sent an email to the company this morning," Bonnie said.
"Warner? What did the email say?" Leon threw down the apple slices in his hand and sat up slightly.
"Mainly about the novel copyright of Ready Player One. It seems Mr. Jeff is very interested in continuing to talk to you."
This move confused Leon. He initially determined that the other party didn't want to sell Ready Player One at all, just using him to pressure Spielberg.
Is Jeff really this straightforward?
But after calming down and pondering for a while, he quickly denied this idea.
As an old fox who has been struggling in the entertainment industry for many years, things would definitely not be that simple with Jeff.
Phil seemed to see his doubts and grinned. "That guy probably fell out with Spielberg... That's Spielberg! He can't accept threats from anyone."
Spielberg stood at the peak of Hollywood. Every year, countless film companies waved the most valuable scripts and IPs, wishing they could kneel on the ground and beg him to film.
Phil stood up and lit a cigarette. "He suddenly implied Warner Bros. on social media recently, and mentioned you by the way."
"Me?" Leon clasped his hands behind his head, getting more confused.
"That's right, although he didn't mention your name." Phil took the Entertainment Weekly from the table and flipped through it quickly. "There should be a report on this matter; let me find it..."
"Right here!"
He pointed to a large prominent section on the magazine, two full pages about Spielberg's recent remarks.
"I thought the situation where studios controlled everything like tyrants was gone forever after the passage of the Paramount Decree in 1948. I didn't expect there are still fools waving copyrights to threaten artists."
Many people couldn't understand the meaning of this passage, but Leon was sure the other party was talking about Warner Bros.
The article continued: "The film industry is full of coincidences. Some guys who don't understand movies at all made a lot of money by luck, but he can't always be so lucky. Movies are movies, and music is a different matter."
The riddler Spielberg's two tweets made movie fans all over the internet do reading comprehension.
If the tweet mocking Warner was hard to guess correctly, the intention of the second tweet was too obvious.
Many smart netizens saw at a glance that this was implying Leon. He was the only musician who had recently earned enough attention and money in the film industry.
Regarding Spielberg's ridicule, Leon didn't feel angry at all, and even wanted to laugh a little.
He understood his opportunity was coming.
"It seems Jeff's cleverness backfired." Leon curved the corners of his mouth.
Superhero movies were overturning the market order at an alarming speed. Since then, the always low-key and calm Spielberg had changed his temperament greatly.
He began to make controversial remarks regardless of the occasion. From streaming to superhero movies, all behaviors attempting to overturn the traditional market were attacked by him.
The reason was not difficult to guess. Any practice attempting to overturn the traditional market was encroaching on Spielberg's throne.
"Disney's The Avengers is close to wrapping up. Spielberg's nerves are tighter than ever," Phil said. "He rebooted the legendary IP Jurassic Park. This confrontation should be very fierce."
Leon took a sip of coffee and did not respond.
Originally, he didn't care how much money big IP movies made; anyway, it had nothing to do with him.
He just didn't expect this confrontation to bring unexpected gains. If Spielberg didn't film it, the copyright of Ready Player One was likely to be in his bag.
"Reply to Warner Bros. via email, saying that I am very busy now and have no extra energy to focus on movies, but as a fan of the novel Ready Player One, I am still slightly interested in this work."
"Yes, Boss." Bonnie swayed her hips and walked out of the office in high heels.
Just as she walked out of the office, Leon's phone rang.
The call was from a strange number.
"Leon! Do you remember me! Hahaha!" The voice on the other end sounded like a drunkard, with a heavy accent.
Leon frowned and asked in a deep voice: "You are..."
"It's me! Conor McGregor! We met at Rogers Centre!"
"Oh oh... I remember." The image of a chattering Irish hooligan emerged in his mind; he almost forgot about this matter.
"Listen, buddy! I have unified the mixed martial arts events in Ireland! I feel like King Arthur, William Wallace... Now I'm going to take an ironclad ship and lead the Irish to conquer the world!"
Conor's voice became louder and louder, speaking some boundless trash talk like a high junkie.
Leon moved the phone further away. "Congratulations, what can I do for you?"
Conor's roaring stopped abruptly, and his tone lowered by three degrees. "Do you remember your promise?"
"Of course, I said I would sign you." Leon said, "I've been in New York recently; my office welcomes you anytime."
Suddenly there was no movement on the other end of the phone, making one think the signal was lost.
About ten seconds later, Conor's voice came again.
The tone completely lost the arrogance of claiming to be a king just now, the voice weak like a castrated cat. "Boss... I only have 65 Euros on me now. I really don't want to borrow money from my girlfriend anymore... Can you..."
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