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Robin Mitchell Joyce, our attorney, received the response from Trijon a few days later and called Matt and I to arrange a meeting.

“I have some good news, and some bad news for you,” she said as we entered her office. “The good news is that they agreed to most of the stuff that we added. The bad news is that not only did they not agree to the stuff we crossed out, they’ve added some language that makes this contract worse than the first one.”

The newest version of the contract now included a stipulation that Trijon would hold and retain all publishing and songwriting rights for any works created by us during the term of the contract.

Let me put that another way… If I were to write a song for our album, I would be giving up the songwriting and publishing rights to the song. Trijon would receive the royalties. Additionally, the way the section was worded, if I were to write a song that was recorded by another artist, Trijon would receive the royalties. If I were to write a song during the contract period that wasn’t recorded until some date in the future (say 10 or 15 years later) then they would receive the royalties.

Err. What!?

How on earth does Delious figure that he could be responsible for my songwriting talents? Matt and were incensed. It was insulting to even think about.

We discussed our response with Robin and left her office.

“That does it,” Matt said. “I’m calling Delious and that prick Jeff and telling them that I’m not doing this.”

I told Matt to calm down and wait a little while. I wanted to talk to Anthony, our producer, who as you’ll recall was the only one of the group that I really trusted.

I called Anthony the next day and asked if he would be interested in meeting me for a short conversation. He agreed, somewhat reluctantly.

We met for a beer, and I asked him if he knew what was going on.

“Sort of,” he replied. “You have to understand that I am not really a part of the arrangement. I was asked by Al Cooley and Rick Blackburn at Atlantic Records to help Delious get this project put together. I don’t have any financial stake in what happens. I get paid either way.”

I explained that he had just expressed the very reason that I wanted his opinion. I laid out the details of the contract for him. He tried hard to keep a straight face as I told him about the percentages and the merchandising. When I got to the newest changes about songwriting and publishing royalties, he stopped me.

“Look, Paul… I think you are incredibly intelligent, and the things that you think are deal breakers are indeed bad news for you. What I can tell you is that you really need to examine the contract and if it feels right, sign it.”

He was furiously shaking his head ‘no’ as he continued, “I can’t tell you to sign the contract. I can’t tell you to not sign the contract. I can only tell you that you’re doing the right thing by talking to an attorney and really reading these papers.” He was still shaking his head with an emphatic “No” and making eye contact with me.

I told him that Matt was ready to quit. I also told him that I didn’t think I’d be able to continue in the project if Matt left. I thanked him for meeting with me, and told him that we’d talk again soon.

A few days later, Delious was back in Nashville and wanted to meet with me and Matt.

We showed up at the studio and found Anthony and Delious waiting for us outside. “Hey guys!” Delious was excited and being overly friendly. Jeff was conspicuously absent.

“Look guys, I know the contract is a mess. It’s something our lawyers will have to fight out and get ironed out. I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about. I wanted you guys to check out the reason we’re going through all this.”

And with that, he walked to Anthony’s car and invited us to get in. Once we got settled, Delious put a cassette in the stereo, and Matt and I sat together speechless as we heard the cut of “Talking to Strangers,” that track on which Matt was singing lead.

It was incredible. Anthony did a brilliant job with the production, and Matt sounded better than I had ever heard him. The harmonies were tight, and perfectly mixed. It sounded like something Diamond Rio, Shenandoah, or Restless Heart would do.

Matt and I looked at each other and said simply, “Wow.”