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The band road trip in late August was a slog, 16 gigs in 19 days. When the band returned from the road in early September, Joe had a deli lunch with Stan and Marty. Marty explained to Joe that he had struck out getting their demo airplay.
"They like the songs. The issue is getting approval from the suits."
"That's why I think college radio is the way to go. Our fans are college kids and those stations aren't in bed with record companies."
"They have no reach. You're limiting your audience because they have weak signals."
Joe chewed his pastrami. "It's better than not getting on the air at all," he met Marty's eyes. "That's limiting our audience far more than a weak radio antenna."
Stan snapped at Joe. "Don't talk with your mouth full. What's wrong with you? That's disgusting."
"Then don't look," Joe then opened his mouth.
Stan looked away, "Have some manners, and maybe a little class."
Marty laughed at the old Jew and young punk, then got back to business. "Give me more time. I'm trying to find a renegade DJ who likes your music and is willing to play it. That's how I got past bands on the air."
"So you're working around the suits."
Marty nodded. "Yeah. Some DJs hate the system as much as anyone and are willing to rebel against it."
Joe took a huge bit of his sandwich and waited for Stan to look up, "Maybe we should be rebelling against the system."
"Goddamnit!" Stan slapped the table. "Don't be a pig. I know you're doing it on purpose."
Joe chewed and swallowed with a smile. "If you don't like talking and eating, maybe you shouldn't have lunch meetings."
Stan fumed as he went back to his brisket. Joe smirked at Marty. "I have a little good news for you." he said. "We've been playing our originals a lot this summer, and we've added a few more. We have fifteen now. I think we've fine tuned them. I'd like to record again."
"Okay, that's great. When?"
"As soon as you can give us a couple of days in the studio?"
"Later this week?"
"That'll work," Joe said, slurping the end of his coke while looking at Stan. "We can ditch that demo. I'm redoing those four songs. We're making fresh recordings of everything." He turned to Stan. "You said you have a guy in Yonkers who presses vinyl, right?"
"Yes, but he won't press a dozen records. You have to place his minimum order."
"And what's that?"
"Five-thousand," Stan wiped his mouth with a napkin."but you don't have a label and you don't have distribution."
"I have some ideas." Joe held his cup up for the waitress to refill his Coke. "How difficult would it be to start our own record label?"
Stan laughed, "You haven't cut a single record and you want your own label? You're putting the cart before the horse."
"Humor me," Joe said. "You say you want to help our band. Do me a favor and look into that."
"You're serious?" Marty asked.
"Yeah. You have a studio. What's a label, a paper sticker in the middle of a record with a company name on it? What else do they do?"
"For one thing they give you credibility," Stan said. "They pay the costs a band can't cover. They market and distribute your records, and they'll get you airplay."
"I told you," Joe pointed a French Fry at Stan. "I have some ideas. Just find out what it would take for us to start a record label."
Stan shook his head, "You are one cocky punk."
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