"You'll have to ask Khalid. I don't know much about dance music," Ludacris said, shaking his head.
Scooter nodded.
"What, thinking of getting into electronic music? I'd suggest a trip to Europe," Ludacris said casually.
"Do I really need to go that far just to buy a lottery ticket?" Scooter joked.
For the past two years, Scooter had been trying his luck with one "lottery ticket" after another, but none had made a splash. YouTube's rise had given him a new place to scout talent. It was there that he'd discovered Little Justin and persuaded the boy's mother to bring him to the States.
Over the past couple of days, he'd found another potential investment on YouTube...
Just then, Ludacris spotted a teenager hovering by the entrance and glancing inside every so often. Realizing the kid was probably too nervous to come in, he waved him over.
"Come on over, kid. Wanna try the good stuff? Never tried it before? Even better—you're about to have the time of your life." Before the boy could answer, Ludacris ushered him forward.
·
"I'm sorry, but I still have classes to attend, and my sorority keeps me busy enough as it is. I have to organize all of that myself, so I'm afraid I can't accept your invitation..."
[Delete?]
Ryan pressed Confirm without hesitation. Elizabeth Olsen had turned him down, which left him a little annoyed, but he didn't think much of it.
There might not be many three-legged toads around, but there were plenty of two-legged women.
[Leg Girl!]
[Elizabeth!]
[hello?]
Ryan checked the time and realized it was still the middle of the night where she was. He closed the private message window, opened his Myspace, and posted an ad looking for someone to manage his social media accounts. Then he clicked Send.
Next, out of habit, Ryan opened YouTube again and searched "Harlem shake." Seeing the video count climbing once more, he couldn't help smiling.
If Déjà vu had given him his first track, "Tremor," and let him sample the life of a DJ, then his second track, "Harlem Shake," had truly helped him build a name for himself at breakneck speed...
Hadn't it?
Ryan suddenly noticed a video that caught his eye. Unlike the other viral videos, which were just people copying the dance, this one was titled, "We Interviewed the Creator of the Harlem Shake—Here's What He Had to Say!"
He clicked it. A fat guy Ryan didn't recognize appeared on-screen, sporting lip and nose piercings and tattoos all over his face.
The so-called "interview" was nothing more than handheld camcorder footage. It was crude, but that didn't stop the bastard from solemnly describing the "hardships" he'd endured while creating the Harlem Shake and claiming to be "genuinely thrilled" by its current success.
Then Ryan scrolled down to the comments. They were all along the lines of "Thanks for bringing us joy," "This track is awesome," and "You're a genius producer"...
Ryan quickly closed the page, his heart pounding.
Had I been replaced?!!
Ryan opened iTunes and searched for "Harlem Shake." The results were just as crushing.
The first dozen or so results were all knockoffs, while his "official Harlem Shake" was buried at the bottom of the first page.
The results were ranked by downloads. In other words, every track above his was selling better than his official version!
Rounded up, he'd lost a hundred million.
"What is it? I'm in the middle of filming," Trey said over the phone, her voice drowned out by noise.
Ryan told her what had happened.
"Just contact my lawyer. He'll take care of it. Also, remember to report the infringing videos on YouTube," Trey reminded him.
Ryan hung up and called the lawyer first.
"You charge by the number of cases?!" Ryan's voice rose.
"Of course. They involve different infringers, so they can't be consolidated," the lawyer replied as if it were obvious.
The Harlem Shake hadn't made him any money yet, and now he had to shell some out?
"Are you signed to a record label?" the lawyer asked.
"What?"
"I mean, record labels handle these things for you. They all have lawyers they work with regularly," the lawyer explained. He'd worked with Trey for years, so they knew each other.
"Not at the moment," Ryan said, shaking his head.
After arranging for the lawyer to take the case, Ryan called YouTube's complaint line.
"Please provide proof that you're the original creator of the song and own the master recording copyright," the customer service agent drawled.
That was no problem for Ryan. He asked for an email address and sent over his copyright registration and a screenshot showing when he'd uploaded the Harlem Shake.
This time, the person who got back to Ryan wasn't a customer service agent but someone who identified himself as the head of the music channel.
"We noticed three days ago that the Harlem Shake was spreading across YouTube at an unusual rate. We asked VEVO's staff about it, but they couldn't find the relevant copyright holder either," the man explained.
"What's VEVO?" Ryan asked, unfamiliar with the name.
"You're probably just a regular music fan, and you haven't signed with a record label yet, right?" the man said, beginning to explain.
The rights to distribute a music video usually belonged to the record label, though the singer was entitled to a share of the revenue. TV stations and video sites, as the distribution channels, were also supposed to get part of the playback revenue. The problem was how to divide up that revenue—and when.
VEVO had been created to solve the complicated distribution issues. It was a multinational video hosting company founded by three major record labels—Universal, Sony, and EMI. It negotiated with video sites and hosted the labels' vast libraries of music videos on sites like YouTube.
Most of the most-viewed videos on YouTube were music videos. Since ads ran before them, they generated considerable revenue. Most of it went to video hosting services like VEVO, which took out its operating costs and profit before passing the rest to the record labels.
By the time a dollar in revenue had made it that far, perhaps only fifty cents remained. Of that, twenty cents was supposed to go to the songwriter and performer. But even that twenty cents was subject to all kinds of deductions by the record labels—expense allocations, delayed payments, and every other form of skimming. Of course, it was all "standard industry practice."
As an "independent musician," Ryan had accidentally dodged the scythe meant to reap his earnings.
"Since you're not signed to a record label, you can apply directly to YouTube's Partner Program, or YPP for short. Once you're approved, any video using the Harlem Shake as background music will earn you a share of the ad revenue. YouTube takes a larger cut, but you'll get more money, and you'll get it on time. We encourage artists like you to share their work and creativity on YouTube," the man said with a smile. He then offered to deal with the infringing videos himself.
Just an hour later, Ryan saw that the knockoff video had been "red-flagged." YouTube had stepped in and marked it as infringing. The comments had all turned into a wave of righteous condemnation, and the uploader quickly issued a new statement, claiming it had "just been a joke" and that he'd "meant no harm."
You're not sorry. You just know you're screwed, Ryan sneered.
Then he downloaded the video and saved a copy, before emailing it to his lawyer to add another infringement claim to the case.
He'd lost money on legal fees for now, but he'd be earning more down the line. Looking at it that way, did he really need a record label taking a cut?
He probably did. He'd gotten lucky with the Harlem Shake this time, but who knew what his next song would be?
"Tremor" was a case in point. There was nothing wrong with the track itself, but it just hadn't taken off...
Had it?
Ryan opened the back end of Beatport and was surprised to see that yesterday's daily sales had shot up to over 6,000, sending the track straight to fifteenth place on the sales chart.
Ryan couldn't figure it out. If it had just been word of mouth, the sales wouldn't have jumped so much all at once.
In the end, he found the answer on Twitter.
The well-known DJ Tiesto from the Netherlands had posted a recommendation for two tracks. What's more, both songs had appeared on Tiesto's radio show Club Life on Radio 538 in the Netherlands, as the closing tracks.
Ryan thought back to his earlier conversation with the VJ. Besides owning his own record label, Tiesto also did business with Spinnin Records.
Most likely, Ryan had caught Spinnin Records' attention too! He smiled. His earlier plan was gradually coming together.
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