It’s simple:
To get to number one on the charts, the only place a singular talent like myself belongs.
The music industry says no one pays for music anymore.
I say people would; it’s just no one has made anything good enough to be worth paying for.
Until now.
Until this.
Until…
That’s my debut album. On it, I bare my soul. And the results are breathtaking.
10 stunning songs. 6 striking banter tracks. The album is simply a masterpiece.
I humbly ask that you pay $3.75 for this magnum opus. Why $3.75? Well, it’s the minimum price an album must cost for its sales to register on the official charts. I personally think fans should pay more for the album (trust me, it’s that good). However, the big wigs at my label Sex Sells Records urged that I charge that $3.75 minimum, and since they gave me my start, I acquiesced.
That’s it. $3.75. For just the price of one to three cups of coffee (depending on the ritziness of the coffee shop you shop at), you can load the slingshot that will launch my shooting star.
But, hey, that’s just for the digital version!
The album will also be available in CD form (for $10… another steal!). I’ll be honest, I can’t think of a better way to say “I love you” this holiday season than with the ultimate stocking stuffer, a Bret on Bublé CD.
But, for the truest music fans among you, I also will be selling the music in vinyl. That’s right. Vinyl. Warm, crackling vinyl.
I must say there is no better listening experience than hearing my masculine timbre on that full-bodied vinyl. Sweet, sweet vinyl. This might be too good to give someone as a gift as you’re probably gonna want the feels this provides all to yourself.
Highly recommend you draw a bath, pour some wine, and put on some Bret on Bublé vinyl. Guaranteed to make your stresses melt away. Get it here for $20.
And I know what you might say, “Why would I buy this, Bret? It’s 2019. I’ll just stream the record for free.”
And to that I say, “That’s true. You can stream it. Out of industry-necessity, I have made it available on all the streaming platforms.”
At this point, your brow would furrow. You were not expecting agreement from me.
But then I would continue. “But is that really the type of world you want to live in, where a jazz artist can’t make it to number one just because he plays real, authentic jazz and not that fuddy-duddy nonsense you hear on the radio today? Don’t you wanna see a true-to-form artist like myself with a fully-realized vision and an even fuller devotion to the craft make it to the top?
You nod your head in agreement, transfixed by my pitch-perfect penchant for words.
And then I would deliver my coup de grâce.
“Who says sophistication can’t be number one again?”
And with that,
