RIVETING REPOST: TEST YOUR 'METTLE' DEPT: IS IT HEAVY?

Copyright relevant owner

Back in 1990, the manager of a local band asked me if I could possibly secure the services of a 2000 A.D. artist to do an album cover for him.  He had no specific artist in mind - anyone who worked on the comic would suffice.  "I'll see what I can do," I replied, "but it'll probably cost you."  I 'phoned SIMON BISLEY, who wasn't interested, so I told him to name a figure that'd make it worth his while.  Perhaps wishing to price himself out of a job he didn't want, he quoted a sum far in excess of his usual page rate (at that time anyway).  I relayed it to the manager, thinking it'd be beyond his means, but to my surprise, he agreed.  I told Simon it was a deal and he went to work, turning the job 'round in no time flat.

Simon generously offered me £100 for putting the job his way, but I turned it down on the grounds that, as he'd done all the work, he was entitled to all the money.  All I'd done was make a few 'phone calls to describe to him what the band had in mind (before he and the manager started talking directly between themselves).  As it turned out, it was worth every penny - and then some - because the cover was what swung a record deal their way.  The band's manager played their demo album to the record company, then delivered the coup de grace - the finished cover art by a high-profile artist.  A deal was struck on the spot.

I was promised an extra-special mention in the sleeve notes, which was only fair, I thought.  After all, the cover had got them the deal, and I'd got them the cover.  When the album was released, everyone else and their granny got a mention - everyone, that is, except me, who'd suddenly become the invisible man.  Simon Bisley got paid, the band got their cover and a record deal, the manager got to bathe in the reflected glory and publicity (plus whatever percentage he was on), staff at the hotel the band rehearsed in were thanked in the sleeve notes, and sundry other folk were credited for simply breathing.  Me?  I got hee-haw!

Well, that's not quite true.  I got one spare, well-played copy of the CD (with well-worn, wrinkled inlay booklet).  I'd have thought I deserved a brand-new, shrink-wrapped copy at least.

And the moral of the story?  If anyone asks you to do something which they hope is going to make their fame and fortune, charge them for your time.  Promises of gratitude are worthless.