Rewind With A Superstar System

Chapter 56: Convincing Argument (1)

<🎧 Song Recommendation: Topanga by Trippie Redd>

... 𝚏𝗿𝗲𝐞𝚠𝕖𝐛𝗻𝗼𝐯𝕖𝚕.𝚌𝗼𝗺

Mr. Finch and the young band leader, whose name turned out to be Leo, took their seats. Leo looked more interested in the cocktail menu than the legal battle, his eyes scanning the list of drinks with a bored expression.

Finch, however, was all business. He placed his worn satchel on the table and pulled out a manila folder.

"First, let me introduce my client," Finch began. "This is Leo Carter, lead vocalist and primary songwriter for Midnight Pulse. As stated in our correspondence, we believe your client, Mr. Varley, has infringed upon the copyright of Midnight Pulse’s intellectual property, specifically the composition titled Coming Home, which your client performed in Project: Star."

Zack didn’t blink. He sat back in his chair, fingers steepled, looking every bit the seasoned attorney. "We acknowledge receipt of your notice, Mr. Finch. However, we dispute the premise entirely. My client has not infringed on any copyright. In fact, we are here today to clarify a significant misunderstanding regarding the nature of the two compositions."

Finch scoffed, pulling a printed sheet of music from his folder. "Misunderstanding? Mr. Tuna, the melodies are identical. The chord progression is identical. The lyrical themes are identical. We have a digital timestamp from six months ago. Your client performed his version two weeks ago. In the eyes of the law, access plus similarity equals infringement. Unless Mr. Varley can prove he wrote this song before six months ago, we have a clear-cut case."

Von kept his face neutral, just as Zack had instructed. Don’t speak unless I tell you to, Zack had said. Let me be the shark.

"Similarity is not identity," Zack countered smoothly. "And access is the key word, isn’t it? Mr. Finch, my client has never been to the venue where Midnight Pulse performs. He has no connection to your client’s social circle. But more importantly, we believe the similarities are purely coincidental, stemming from the fact that your client’s version is... incomplete."

Leo looked up from the menu, raising an eyebrow. "Incomplete?"

"Yes," Zack said, turning his gaze to the musician. "Leo, isn’t it true that the demo you sent us is just an opening verse? About thirty seconds of material?"

Leo shrugged, leaning back. "Yeah. We never got around to finishing it. Writer’s block, you know?"

"Exactly," Zack said, turning back to Finch. "Mr. Finch, you are threatening to sue my client for stealing a song that doesn’t even exist yet in its completed form. My client, however, has a fully realized composition. A song with a bridge, a second verse, and a complex outro that your client admits he never wrote. How could Mr. Varley steal a bridge that didn’t exist?"

Finch flushed, sensing the trap. "That is irrelevant! The core melody—"

"Is a common pop progression," Zack interrupted. "But to put this to rest, we prepared something for you. We didn’t just come here to argue. We came to show you the difference between a sketch and a painting."

Zack reached into his briefcase and pulled out a small Bluetooth speaker. He set it on the table and paired it with his phone.

"This is a demo my client recorded yesterday," Zack explained. "It’s a rough studio recording of the full version of Coming Home. Please, listen closely."

Zack pressed play.

The song began. It started with the familiar acoustic guitar riff that Leo had written, but then it evolved. Von’s voice came in, richer and more emotive than the show’s performance. The first verse flowed into the chorus, which matched Leo’s demo perfectly.

But then, the song continued.

The second verse introduced a new melody line, weaving a counter-harmony that Leo had never imagined. Then came the bridge, a soaring, complex shift in key that transformed the song from a simple ballad into an anthemic masterpiece. The lyrics dug deeper, exploring themes of longing and regret that Leo’s version had only hinted at.

Leo sat up straighter, his boredom vanishing. His eyes were wide, fixed on the speaker. His foot started tapping involuntarily. He wasn’t looking at Von with anger; he was looking at the speaker with pure artistic appreciation.

The song ended with a haunting vocal run that faded into silence.

For a moment, nobody spoke. The ambient noise of the lounge seemed to rush back in.

"Wow," Leo breathed out, shaking his head. "That... that was sick. I mean, seriously. The way you took it into the bridge? I never would have thought of that chord change. It makes the chorus hit so much harder."

"Leo!" Finch snapped, glaring at his client. "Do not admit inferiority! That is your melody he is using!"

"Yeah, but..." Leo scratched the back of his neck, looking conflicted. "I mean, he took it somewhere else, man. That’s a whole different vibe. I’ve been stuck on that chorus for six months. He finished it in a way I couldn’t."

Zack leaned forward, sensing the kill. "Mr. Finch, your client just admitted that my client’s work is transformative. Under copyright law, if a work is sufficiently transformative, it can be considered a new creation. Furthermore, my client’s version proves independent creation. It is scientifically improbable that he could ’guess’ a bridge that fits so perfectly if he was simply copying a fragment."

Finch slammed his folder shut, his face turning a red. "Transformative? Independent creation? You are throwing around buzzwords, Mr. Tuna! The fact remains that the foundational melody is my client’s property! We can prove priority! We will not be swayed by a flashy recording!"

"It’s not just a recording," Zack said, his voice dropping to a steely calm. "It’s evidence that this is a case of Cryptoamnesia, unconscious plagiarism, or perhaps just parallel thinking. It happens in music all the time. Two people have the same idea, but one executes it fully. If you take this to court, Mr. Finch, you will be asking a judge to penalize a finalist on the biggest show in the country for writing a better song than a local band who never finished theirs."