From A Producer To A Global Superstar

Chapter 594: Not Just Streams

By morning, JD Records had stopped trying to measure the controversy by volume.

At this point measurement was pretty useless.

The internet was too loud, too divided, too convinced of its own intelligence. Every hour produced a new headline, a new reaction video, a new article pretending to have the final word on a sentence that had not even finished spreading.

Inside Conference Room One, the screens told the story without mercy.

Dayo Jason Says He Wants to Surpass Michael Jackson

Ambition or Arrogance?

Streaming Numbers vs Real Legacy

Dayo Fans Split After Michael Jackson Statement

The King of Pop Debate Returns

Valerie stood at the head of the table with a cup of coffee she had not touched. Alice sat two seats away with a laptop open, her hair tied back and her eyes sharp in the way they became when public opinion stopped being a discussion and became a battlefield. Ulrich was near the window, arms folded, expression unreadable. Around them sat the senior people who mattered for this conversation: legal, distribution, international marketing, digital strategy, retail partnerships.

Dayo was not there.

If he had been in the room, half the executives would have spent the meeting watching his face instead of solving the problem. Dayo had already done his part and for the first in few years he left them to do their jobs without helping. He had walked into a serious interview, honored Michael Jackson, then calmly told the world he wanted to build higher.

Now JD Records had to decide what to do with the fire.

Alice clicked her remote, and the screen shifted to a clean summary of public sentiment. Red, gold, gray, and blue blocks spread across the chart like a map of a country at war with itself.

"Good news," she said. "The full clip is performing better than the bad-faith cuts."

Ulrich looked over. "That is the good news?"

"It is what we have to work with

."

"Wonderful. I was afraid optimism had become expensive."

Alice ignored him. "The split is clear. Younger listeners mostly support him. Nigerian and African markets are extremely defensive of him, especially after the coded comments started. Legacy pop fans are divided. Michael Jackson loyalists are the hardest group to reach. Older music journalists are focusing on era differences. Racist accounts are trying to hide behind legacy language, and Dayo’s own fanbase has a small but loud group saying he went too far."

Valerie finally picked up her coffee. "How small?"

"Small enough not to damage the base. Loud enough to become headlines if we mishandle them."

" And the Follower movement?"

Alice’s mouth shifted.

That was not quite a smile. More like disbelief wearing professional clothing.

"He gained. Massively."

"Hmm one good thing happen i guess."

The screen changed again. A rising line appeared, then another, then a third. Social platforms. Video platforms. Regional accounts. Search subscriptions. Fan-community memberships.

Alice tapped the first spike. "Right after the interview clip."

She tapped the second. "After the Global Culture Review article."

Then the third. "After the backlash articles accused him of arrogance."

The room stayed quiet.

Ulrich gave a low laugh. "People unfollowed him for disrespect and millions followed because they wanted to see if he would do it again."

"Pretty much," Alice said. "A few longtime fan accounts posted that they are leaving. That got emotional traction. But the larger movement is new eyes, and not all of them are supporters. Some are waiting for him to fail."

Valerie looked at the line. "Attention does not ask whether it is loved before it becomes useful."

Legal cleared his throat. "Useful can become dangerous."

"Yes," Valerie said. "That is why we are here."

Alice moved to the next slide.

The headline at the top read: PR OPTIONS.

She did not look excited about any of them.

"We can release a statement. We can pin the full interview. We can have Dayo post a personal note. We can push clips where he calls Michael the blueprint. We can coordinate with fan accounts to stop insulting Michael Jackson in his defense, because that is making things worse. We can correct misinformation where needed. We can keep quiet and let the full context circulate."

Distribution leaned back. "Which one works?"

Alice gave him a tired look. "None of them completely."

That earned the first honest silence of the meeting.

She continued, "People are not reacting to the same sentence. That is the problem. His supporters heard ambition. Michael loyalists heard disrespect. Critics heard arrogance. Younger fans heard generational pride. Some people heard a Black artist refusing to lower his eyes, and they hated that more than the actual words. We cannot make all of them hear the same thing."

Ulrich nodded slowly. "People believe the version that protects what they already felt."

"Exactly," Alice said. "But we still have to frame the battlefield. If we do nothing, the headline becomes Dayo versus Michael. If we move correctly, the headline becomes Dayo honoring Michael by chasing the highest standard."

Valerie set her coffee down.

"No apology."

Nobody argued, but legal looked like he wanted to.

Legal adjusted his glasses. "An apology might reduce the temperature."

"It would also admit guilt where there is none," Valerie said. "He did not insult MJ. He called him the blueprint. He acknowledged the era difference. He said tools do not create legacy by themselves. If we apologize, we teach every bad-faith account that they can make Dayo kneel if they scream loudly enough."

Alice nodded. "A retraction is worse. It makes him look like he said something for shock and ran when the room got hot."

International marketing added, "Silence alone lets other people write the meaning."

"Then we do context," Valerie said. "Full clip. Clean subtitles in every major language. Pull the respectful lines, not the cocky ones. Tell the fan pages to stop attacking Michael. Nobody wins by disrespecting the man Dayo just named as his role model."

Ulrich pushed away from the window. "And the racist comments?"

Alice’s expression hardened. "We do not make them the center. But we do not pretend they are not there. If outlets ask, the line is simple: Dayo’s ambition should be judged by his work, not by people uncomfortable with where he comes from."

Valerie approved that with a small nod. "Good. No moral essays from the company account. No emotional thread. No fighting ghosts in comment sections. We are a label, not a teenager with Wi-Fi."

One of the younger digital managers lowered his eyes quickly, as if deleting a thought.

Ulrich caught it. "You had a thread ready, didn’t you?"

"No, sir."

"You absolutely did."

"It was a draft."

"Delete it."

"Yes, sir."

The room relaxed for half a second.

Then distribution put a different report on the table.

"This is where the argument becomes harder."

Valerie looked down.

Physical sales.

The words sat quietly at the top of the page, but everyone in the room understood the weight behind them.

Streaming had given Dayo speed. Streaming had given him reach. Streaming had given him numbers so large that people were arguing about whether the modern music industry still knew how to count.

But Michael Jackson’s mountain had not been built on streams.

It had been built on people buying the music, carrying it home, placing it on shelves, playing it for families, wearing the tape thin, damaging vinyl, replacing CDs, and turning ownership into evidence of love.

Distribution tapped the report. "The old guard’s strongest argument is physical ownership. They are saying streams are not sales."

"They are not entirely wrong," Valerie said.

That made the room focus.

She did not say it defensively. She said it like a person refusing to lie because the lie would weaken them later.

"Streams matter. In this era, they matter enormously. But if we want to enter Michael’s territory, we cannot pretend physical legacy is irrelevant."

Ulrich looked at the screen where a research brief had been pulled up. The image of Michael Jackson’s Thriller cover sat in the corner beside historical notes.

Nobody spoke over it.

Even in a room built to push Dayo forward, Michael’s name changed the air.

Valerie looked at the brief. "Say it properly."

The research lead straightened. "Michael Jackson’s Thriller is still treated as the physical-era mountain. Guinness lists it as the world’s best-selling album, released in 1982, with global sales estimated above sixty-seven million copies. The same record notes its RIAA certification for thirty-four million U.S. shipments in 2021."

No one rushed to respond.

The number was not shocking the way Dayo’s streaming numbers were shocking. It was heavy in a different way. Sixty-seven million copies did not flash across dashboards in real time. It sat across decades. It lived in houses. It survived formats. It became the kind of record people mentioned with their voices lowered.

The research lead continued, "And it was not instant in the way modern streaming is instant. Reports from around a year after release still had Thriller selling hundreds of thousands of copies per week, and by 1984 it had already become the best-selling album ever."

Ulrich folded his arms again, but this time the gesture looked less guarded and more respectful.

"That is what people mean when they say legacy," he said. "Not only peak. Persistence."

"Exactly," Valerie said. "Which is why we do not act like three days of streaming erases that. It does not."

The room absorbed the sentence.

Then she turned to distribution. "Now tell me where Dayo stands."

Distribution clicked to the next slide.

BEAUTIFUL THINGS — PHYSICAL POSITION

"Initial global physical batch was three point two million units across CD single, standard vinyl, and limited regional editions. Sold out."

Alice looked up. "Clean sales?"

"Clean."

"Returns?"

"Too early, but negligible so far."

He moved down the report. "Paid pre-orders and backorders are at eleven point seven million units. Retail allocation requests are twenty-eight million units, but before Valerie glares at me, I know those are requests, not sales."

Valerie glared anyway. "Good."

A few people smiled.

Distribution continued, "Strongest demand: United States, Nigeria, United Kingdom, Japan, Brazil, South Korea, Germany, France, Canada, and the Philippines. Japan is overperforming on CD and collector editions. Nigeria is overperforming beyond available supply. Vinyl is constrained everywhere. Pressing capacity is the problem."

Ulrich looked at Valerie. "Eleven point seven million paid orders in three days."

"Backorders," Valerie said. "Do not round it into history yet."

"Still."

"Yes," she admitted. "Still."

The room felt it then.

Not victory. Not yet.

Belief.

It moved through them carefully, as if no one wanted to say it too loudly and scare it away.

For the first time, the executives were no longer only defending Dayo’s statement. They were beginning to plan as if the impossible might actually be a target.

Alice leaned forward. "If physical demand is real, then the old argument changes. People can still say streams are not sales, but they cannot say fans are unwilling to buy."

Retail partnerships nodded. "Stores are already asking for more than we can supply. Some chains want midnight physical drops. Others want regional cover variants. Japan wants a premium booklet. Nigeria wants local manufacturing support because import delays are going to cause riots if we are not careful."

"Do not say riots in a planning meeting," legal muttered.

Retail shrugged. "Fine. Highly passionate consumer frustration."

Ulrich laughed. "That sounds worse."

Valerie did not laugh. She was looking at the Thriller brief again.

"We are not beating that with one single."

The room quieted.

"Let me be clear," she said. "If anyone here thinks a hot campaign, even one this hot, casually walks past what Michael Jackson built across time, leave now and save me the disappointment."

Nobody moved.

Good.

Valerie continued, "But Dayo did not say he had already surpassed him. He said he wanted to. That means our job is not to fake the mountain being smaller. Our job is to help him climb properly."

That changed something.

Ulrich looked at her then, and for the first time since the interview, his expression carried open agreement instead of cautious calculation.

"You believe he can do it."

Valerie did not answer immediately.

On the screens, Dayo’s numbers kept moving. On another screen, Thriller remained in the research brief like a monument from another age. Between them sat the distance from speed to permanence.

Finally, Valerie said, "I believe he is the first artist I have seen who makes the question sound less ridiculous after you check the data."

Alice smiled faintly. "That is a very Valerie way to say yes."

"It is not yes," Valerie said. "It is ’work.’"

Ulrich’s smile was small. "That is also yes."

Distribution cleared his throat. "Then what is the physical plan?"

Valerie turned away from the screen.

"First, no gimmicks. We are not selling plastic with a logo slapped on it. If fans buy a physical copy, it has to feel like they are holding part of the era. Not merch. Evidence."

Alice typed quickly. "Archive edition?"

"Eventually. But carefully. Standard restock first. Then collector editions by region. No fake scarcity. If we limit something, we explain why. Vinyl capacity must be realistic. CDs can move faster. Cassettes only if the demand is proven, not because someone in marketing thinks nostalgia is a personality."

The cassette enthusiast from marketing wisely stayed quiet.

Valerie continued, "Every physical edition must count clean. No bundling games that make the numbers vulnerable. No confusing packages. No inflated shipments we cannot defend. If we enter a legacy argument, our receipts have to survive hostile reading."

Legal nodded, visibly relieved. "That I support."

"Good," Valerie said. "Second, we do not market this as ’Dayo versus Michael.’ Never. Not once. The language is Dayo chasing the standard that inspired him. Honor and ambition. Not replacement."

Alice added, "Respect the blueprint. Build higher."

Valerie pointed at her. "That. But less like a slogan from a sneaker campaign."

"I’ll make it tasteful."

"Please do."

Retail partnerships raised a hand. "Manufacturing timeline?"

"Find capacity," Valerie said.

"We already have calls out."

"Call again."

"It is not that simple."

Valerie’s eyes moved to him, calm and dangerous. "I did not ask for simple. I asked for capacity."

He nodded once. "Understood."

Ulrich walked toward the table and placed both hands on the back of a chair.

"Let’s say this clearly," he said. "Because if we are going to do it, everyone in this room needs to understand the scale. Michael Jackson did not become Michael Jackson because a label had a good week. The industry bent around him because the public kept choosing him. Again and again. Across formats. Across borders. Across years."

The room listened.

"Dayo has speed. He has the internet. He has a fanbase that behaves like infrastructure. He has a song breaking the ground under our feet. But now we need proof that survives after the dashboards cool down."

Valerie nodded. "Physical ownership. Touring demand. Performance moments. Cultural memory. Repeatable impact."

"Exactly," Ulrich said. "If he wants the crown, we cannot hand him cardboard and call it gold."

Alice looked at the follower growth, the sold-out physical batch, the pre-orders, the controversy charts, the headlines still multiplying. "Then we are not managing a release anymore."

"No," Valerie said. "We are managing a legacy campaign."

The words settled across the room.

Nobody cheered.

That would have made it feel cheap.

Instead, people opened laptops wider, pulled up files, sent messages, requested numbers, challenged supply reports, and began working like the statement had become a contract they had all signed without noticing.

Michael Jackson remained on the screen.

Not as an enemy.

As the standard.

Dayo remained on the other screen.

Not as a boy who had spoken too loudly.

As the man they now believed might be reckless enough, talented enough, and dangerous enough to chase it.

Hours later, after most of the room had split into smaller calls, Valerie stayed behind with Ulrich and Alice. The screens had dimmed, but the reports were still open.

Alice rubbed her eyes. "No matter what we say, some people will still call it disrespect."

"Yes," Valerie said.

"Some will say the physical campaign is manipulative."

"Yes."

"Some will say he is using Michael’s name."

"Yes."

Alice leaned back. "You are very comforting."

Valerie finally took a sip of her cold coffee and regretted it immediately.

"We are not trying to make everyone believe us," she said. "We are making sure the people willing to listen can hear the truth clearly."

Ulrich looked at the Thriller report once more.

"Michael built something that took time to become untouchable."

Valerie nodded. "Then we respect the time."

"And Dayo?"

Valerie’s eyes moved to the physical sales report, where the sold-out batch and paid pre-orders sat beneath the title Beautiful Things.

"With Dayo," she said, "we find out how fast an era can begin without lying about how long legacy takes."

Alice closed her laptop slowly.

On the main screen, the newest retail update refreshed.

Another country had sold through its entire allocation.

Valerie looked at it for a long moment.

Then she picked up her phone and called distribution again.

"Wake the pressing plants," she said. "All of them."