The final months of 2016 marked a seismic shift for Echo Chamber Records. It was no longer the "Alex Vance vanity project" or the "little indie label that could." With the successive releases from Billie, Khalid's signing, and the shocking acquisition of a complete unknown with rock-star ambition like Harry Styles, the music world began to see Echo Chamber for what it truly was: a curated gallery of future icons. Alex Vance wasn't just a pop star; he was becoming one of the most respected and enigmatic A&R minds in the industry, a sixteen-year-old with the ear of a veteran.
The heart of this new phase pulsed within the walls of Alex's home studio, which now operated with the quiet efficiency of a world-class facility. The schedule was a carefully managed rotation of burgeoning genius.
Mondays and Wednesdays were for Khalid. The process of creating his debut album, a project Alex had already titled American Teen in his head, was one of soulful, relaxed discovery. Alex would start each session not by presenting a finished song, but by presenting a feeling, a concept pulled from the master blueprint in the Codex.
"Alright, K," Alex would say, leaning back in his console chair. "I had this idea about that feeling at the end of high school. You know? You're not a kid anymore, but you're not really an adult. You're broke, you're bored, but you still have all this hope. You're just… young, dumb, and broke."
He'd play a simple, laid-back chord progression. Khalid, understanding the vibe instantly, would step to the mic and let his warm, melodic voice flow, finding the pocket of the beat with an effortless grace. Alex would then pull tracks from the Codex, song after brilliant song—"Young Dumb & Broke," "8TEEN," "Coaster"—each one a perfect fit for Khalid's narrative of suburban teenage life. Their collaboration wasn't about songwriting; it was about translation. Alex provided the story, and Khalid provided the voice, the feeling, the truth. The album was shaping up to be a modern classic, a perfect snapshot of a generation.
Tuesdays and Thursdays were a different energy entirely. Those days were for Jarad. The sessions with Juice WRLD were intense, volatile, and profoundly brilliant. Alex kept his promise. Before Jarad ever stepped into the vocal booth, he met with the therapist Alex and David had hired for him, a kind but firm woman who specialized in anxiety and youth addiction. Some days, Jarad would arrive at the studio quiet and withdrawn. Other days, he'd burst in with a manic energy, freestyling for ten minutes straight without taking a breath, his rhymes a torrent of pain, humor, and heartbreak.
Alex's role here was that of a catcher, a lightning rod. He knew from the Codex that Juice's most iconic song was a track built around a Sting sample, a song called "Lucid Dreams." He played the melancholy guitar loop for Jarad one afternoon.
Jarad's eyes went distant. He grabbed a pen and paper and started scribbling, his hand flying across the page. Twenty minutes later, he stepped to the mic and delivered the entire, iconic song, the lyrics of love and torment pouring out of him as if he'd known them his entire life. Alex watched, his heart aching with the beauty and the tragedy of it. He was capturing moments of pure genius from a young man who was in a constant, pitched battle with his own mind. The work was emotionally taxing, but Alex knew it was the most important work he would ever do.
Fridays were for Harry. After weeks of phone calls and feeling each other out, Harry officially relocated to LA, moving into a small rental house that Echo Chamber facilitated. His sessions with Alex were less about production and more about sonic exploration. Alex became his musical history professor, introducing him to the vast library in his head.
"You want to be a rock star?" Alex asked one afternoon, kicking his feet up on the console. "Let's talk about rock stars."
He would pull up the isolated vocal tracks for Queen's "Bohemian Rhapsody," dissecting Freddie Mercury's harmonies. He'd play the raw, thundering drum stems from Led Zeppelin's "When the Levee Breaks." He made Harry listen to the glam-rock theatricality of David Bowie, the soft-rock sensibilities of Fleetwood Mac, the swagger of The Rolling Stones. For Harry, it was like discovering a secret, sacred history of music he'd only ever glimpsed.
Then Alex would present him with the songs. He started with one he knew would be perfect: a breezy, confident track with a 70s California feel, a song called "Sign of the Times" that Alex knew was a six-minute epic disguised as a pop song. Harry heard it once and was immediately obsessed, recognizing the ambitious, genre-bending DNA that he craved.
The public, meanwhile, only saw the polished end results. The quiet release of Khalid's "Location" became a runaway viral hit over the holiday season, climbing streaming charts and heralding the arrival of a major new voice in R&B. Music blogs began connecting the dots. Alex Vance. Billie Eilish. Khalid. A pattern was emerging.
A feature in Rolling Stone magazine, titled "The House That Alex Built," solidified the narrative. The article portrayed Alex as a teenage wunderkind with an almost supernatural "golden ear," a modern-day Berry Gordy building a new Motown from his suburban home. It detailed the label's shocking artist-friendly deals and its focus on creative freedom.
The final paragraph of the article read:
"Industry veterans are baffled. In an age of algorithm-driven pop and focus-grouped singles, Echo Chamber Records operates on an almost archaic principle: taste. Alex Vance seems to have an unerring instinct for what's next, signing artists from wildly different genres who share only one quality: a singular, undeniable authenticity. With the recent, shocking signing of the unknown British musician Harry Styles, the question on everyone's mind is no longer 'Is Alex Vance for real?' but 'Who will he anoint next?' He isn't chasing trends; he's setting them. In a quiet revolution, this sixteen-year-old isn't just making hits; he's becoming the single most important tastemaker in modern music."
Alex read the article on his phone while on a rare weekend visit to the set of Bizaardvark. He watched Olivia, now a seasoned pro, effortlessly nail a comedic scene, her face lighting up the monitors. She caught his eye from across the soundstage and gave him a small, proud wave.
He smiled back. The weight of his secret, his knowledge of the future, was still immense. But looking at the life he was building—the thriving label, the incredible artists he was privileged to work with, the love of a girl who was conquering her own world—he no longer felt like a ghost from another timeline. He was home. He was a Tastemaker. And the music was just getting started.
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ARC 2 ENDS HERE
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