Scene: Dimly lit record label office, smoke curling through the air. Peter Coyote lounges at the head of a massive leather couch, cool, calculating, sizing up the young band sitting across from him. The musicians look equal parts excited and nervous, caught somewhere between awe and dread. Coyote lights a cigar, gestures grandly for them to sit down, and gives them a warm, almost predatory smile.

Peter Coyote: (smoothly, leaning back, puffing on the cigar) Come in, come in. Take a seat, dear boys. You know, I’ve got a feeling. A very good feeling about you lot. You’re going places, places you haven’t even dreamed of.

(grins, eyes twinkling)

They’re gonna love you. You’ve got that look, that edge—raw, unpolished, a little hungry. They eat that up. And, if you play this right, you’re gonna fly, fellas. You’re never gonna die. You’ll be immortal.

(the band members nod, glancing at each other, unsure)

And you know why? Because you’re special. You got… I dunno, what’s the word… (snaps his fingers) integrity. Not like those other acts. You’re real. Hell, I’ve always had a deep respect for artists with a little edge, the ones who mean it. That’s you, right? You mean it.

Band Member 1: (clears his throat, hesitant) Uh,

Peter Coyote: (laughs, slaps the table) The message! Exactly! The message. We’re on the same page here. And that’s why I’m thrilled to have you on board. Look, your sound, it’s… (pauses, as if searching for the word) fantastic. Real raw. Gritty. Just fantastic. (pauses, then deadpan) By the way, which one of you is the “wild one”?

(the band members exchange confused looks)

Peter Coyote: (nods approvingly) Perfect. Every band needs one, right? Keeps things interesting. And the kids—oh, they’ll love it. Love it. Now, let’s talk about the plan, shall we?

(leans in, voice turning sharp, conspiratorial)

Did we tell you the name of the game, boys? We call it riding the gravy train. That’s what this is. You want to be icons? Legends? You gotta play the game. And the game? It’s all about selling. The album, the merch, the tour… all of it. You got a message? Great. But you gotta sell it.

Peter Coyote: (raises an eyebrow, smirks) Creative control. Sure, sure. Listen, we love that. Love that. But here’s the thing, kid—(leans in closer)—you want freedom? You gotta earn it. And you earn it by giving the people what they want. So, first thing’s first, we need another album. Fast. Doesn’t matter if it’s new, or remixed, or hell, just play it louder. Just get it out there. You owe it to the fans.

(band members nod reluctantly)

Now, don’t get me wrong. We’re happy. Real happy. So happy we can hardly count. You’re the hottest act in town. Have you seen the charts? They’re green with envy, every last one of ‘em. And this? This is just the start.

(pauses for effect)

This thing—this project you got? It could be huge. A monster. If we all pull together as a team. We package it right, market it right, throw a few hits on the radio… you’re looking at arenas, boys. Big money. And don’t worry about the details. Just keep doing what you’re doing, and we’ll handle the rest.

Band Member 3: (almost whispering)

(Peter leans in, deadly serious)

Peter Coyote: So, did I tell you the name of the game, boys? We call it riding the gravy train. Now, the train’s leaving the station. All you gotta do is hop on.

(softly chuckling, shaking his head) Fellas, fellas… Look, I get it. You wanna be real, make waves, set fires. I see it in your eyes, that fire. But here’s the thing: you’re sweating over the wrong side of the deal.

Band Member 1: (puzzled)

Peter Coyote: I’m talking about the audience, champ. You keep playing like you’re trying to win ‘em over. Get rid of that. Quit trying so hard to prove you’re something special. No, you’re not here to sell them a damn thing. You’re here to get them to sell themselves to you.

(leans in, elbows on the table, voice low and smooth)

What I’m saying is: quit performing for them. You’ve got it backward. They’re your audience—make them feel like they’re the lucky ones. Make them think, “Hell, if I could just get a taste of what these guys have.” You want the public pumping you, hyping you up so they get a whiff of the magic. You understand?

Band Member 2: (hesitant) So… we don’t try to impress ‘em?

Peter Coyote: Impress ‘em? Impress ‘em? Son, they don’t want to be impressed; they want to be validated. Look, people are starving for something they think is authentic, and you? You got that look. Now, you wanna be rockstars, right? The real thing? Well, the real thing doesn’t try to be anything at all. They’re beyond all that.

(snaps fingers)

What you gotta do is be the thing they want to be. Make ‘em crave you. When they look at you, they should think, “That’s how it’s done.”

Band Member 3: (nodding slowly) So, we gotta… just stop caring?

Peter Coyote: Bingo. Stop selling them something. They wanna be sold to? They’ll go buy a pair of sneakers. You? You’re in the mystery business. They’re not buying a show; they’re buying the chance to believe. Make them chase that, make them sell themselves on you.

(smiles slyly)

That, boys, is how you pump the public—get them working for you. They’re your best hype. You just let them catch the idea of you, and that’s enough to keep them coming back, hungry for more. And you know what that looks like? You don’t make a better product. You don’t give them anything real, anything authentic. No, you reach for something easier. You try to hit a degraded, simplified version of that early fan—the one who was hungry, who thought this meant something.

(He pauses, letting it sink in, then points a finger at them)

That’s how it works. They aren’t looking for real. Real’s too much work. Real asks them to think. So we give ‘em the basics. A catchy hook, a leather jacket, a spotlight, a little swagger—and, suddenly, they think they’re witnessing something big. They’re buying the brand, not the band. And it’s all dressed up to look like the old days, but really? It’s just an echo, a shadow of what it used to be.

(leans back, chuckling)

But here’s the best part—they don’t know the difference. They don’t even want to know the difference. It’s easier that way. We simplify it, water it down, keep the edges soft. You don’t have to be great. You just have to look great. The audience does the rest.

Band Member 1: (protesting, uncomfortable) But isn’t that… isn’t that kinda hollow? I mean, people can tell when something’s real, can’t they?

Peter Coyote: (smirking) Oh, they think they can. They’ll tell you they want authenticity. But do you think they’re out there buying garage tapes? No, they’re lining up to buy what we tell them is authentic. It’s like this: the idea of something real is more valuable than the reality of it. You package that, they’ll buy it every time.

(pauses, letting the words hang in the air)

See, that’s how you reach the new consumer. You give them a memory of a memory, a cheap thrill that doesn’t need to mean a thing. They get the feeling without the work, without the grit, without the soul. And the best part? They’ll eat it up. They’re looking to us for what’s cool, what’s real. We just show ‘em the shortcut and call it the real thing.

Band Member 2: (disbelieving) So… so we just become… what? A brand?

Peter Coyote: (grinning coldly) A brand? No, boys. A brand would be too generous. You’re not a brand. You’re a product. And products? They get sold.