Chapter 30
It was announced yesterday afternoon that Metropolitan Records have been successful in their bid to acquire the Evergreen label.
The deal covers all Evergreen artists signed to the firm at present.
Evergreen have been struggling for some time, and the bid from Metropolitan comes not a moment too soon for the ailing company, established earlier in the decade and responsible for launching such names as Simon Morrison, Peggy Valance and Richie Davis.
Only four years ago, Metropolitan were a small independent company, struggling for a slice of the market share. Since then, they have gone from strength to strength, with bands such as The Trojans and The Rattlers.
But it is, of course, the phenomenal success of The Fishermen that has shot the company finances into orbit.
With eight number-one hits in fifteen countries over the past three years, plus three albums turning platinum both here and in the United States, Metropolitan have established themselves as a major player in the music industry.
The acquisition of Evergreen should give them the push they need to join the top five British record labels.
Helen McCarthy, Metropolitan’s young financial director (and at present one of few senior women in a male-dominated industry), was unavailable for comment yesterday.
The mysterious Miss McCarthy, who rarely gives interviews, but has done so much to steer Metropolitan into its strong financial position, was said to be out of the country on a short holiday.
Brad Owen, Metropolitan’s creative director, commented that Evergreen’s acquisition could only improve and enhance the label’s current artist list.
‘I look forward to working with the artists involved,’ he told reporters during a short statement.
With debts running into hundreds of thousands, it remains to be seen whether Miss McCarthy can wave her financial wand and turn Evergreen’s fortunes around.
Metropolitan are at present refurbishing a building in Bedford Square to house both themselves and their new acquisition.
Helen folded the two-day-old copy of The Times neatly on her knee and pushed it into a pocket of her briefcase.
‘Ladies and gentlemen, please return to your seats, extinguish all cigarettes and fasten your seat belts. We will be landing at Heathrow in approximately ten minutes.’
Helen gazed out of the window as the plane banked over London and prepared to land.
She allowed herself a small smile. The five days in Nice had been just what she needed.
It was the first holiday she’d taken in three years.
The tough negotiations with Evergreen had taken up much of the past two months.
It had been a hard battle which had left even her titan resources drained and in need of a break.
Her trip had not been all pleasure. Yesterday she’d had a meeting with John Hale, a young American producer, currently with EMI in the States.
In a couple of months’ time, John would be joining Metropolitan to take charge of Evergreen and its rebuilding process.
If he was a success there, then Helen hoped it might be possible to have him fill Brad’s shoes.
He was fast becoming a liability, morphing over the last few years into an overweight, bleary-eyed alcoholic. Nonetheless, as a producer he could not be bettered when on-song. The Fishermen loved him. Helen knew she’d find it hard to persuade them to give another producer a try on their next album.
Brad had one last chance. She’d send him back to the clinic in a few weeks, dry him out and put him into the studio with The Fishermen in September.
If he didn’t hold off the alcohol this time, then it really was time to oust him.
Brad thought he was untouchable, but Helen knew of ways and means, foul though they might be, to get rid of him once and for all.
Brad may have begun Metropolitan, but it was her baby now. She was the one who had steered its rise from nowhere into a company with a turnover approaching fifteen million pounds per annum.
And she would have no one, no one, spoil her hard work.
The plane touched down on the runway. Helen decided she’d go home to her Holland Park mews house for a shower and a change of clothes, then she’d pop in and check how the work was going at the new offices.
She’d pored over the plans with the architect, and after six months of gutting, rewiring, replumbing and replastering, Metropolitan was set to have a very impressive headquarters.
Her pride and joy were the three recording suites in the basement.
They were state-of-the-art and had cost more than the refurbishment of the rest of the building put together.
In the long run, it was a shrewd investment.
In a few weeks’ time, Metropolitan would be totally self-contained. All their artists could record under one roof, which would save on the high cost of renting studios elsewhere.
As she walked down the ramp from first class and into the terminal building, Helen felt a spring in her step. Things were going better than she ever dreamt. She was a rich, successful young woman.
Work was more than enough to compensate for the loneliness of her personal life.
Still no love, but enough power now to make up for it.