So you want to be a music producer—or you saw a movie with a "music producer" in it and you want to be sitting pretty like that guy was with sunglasses sitting in the VIP section at the fictional club.

To run with the big boys, you'll be working with a record label. This label is going to be making deals with the distributors who will promise to distribute their music and deals with the people who do the record selling, so they can get hooked up with a fat check in advance as long as they promise to give them some music worth hearing. 

Now here's where you come in: the label's going to dress you up in a fancy suit, some leather shoes, and a snobbish attitude, and ship you out to places like the Roxy, 21 Club, weddings, and bar/bat mitzvahs looking for that talent they promised to give some other guys. If you were one of the lucky ones who got a backstage pass to the Roxy in 1989 and saw Guns 'n' Roses before they were big, you'd be a big deal today and wouldn't be reading this at all. 

Once you become that kind of big-deal producer, you can just buy your way up the food chain. You could be like Michael Jackson and just buy the ATV Music Publishing Company—then you'd own and be in charge of the copyrights and distribution of a bunch of Beatles songs. And Paul McCartney would hate you.

A good music producer is going to know at least a little something about music. But that's pretty much the only thing that's stayed the same throughout the last forty years.

Think back to 1974: It was the best of times; it was the worst of times. It was the age of no Internet or VCRs; it was the age of the LP to cassette format and the dawn of MTV. Digital sound was nothing more than a glimmer in the consumers' eye. Then technology came around and ruined everything except for our love of meaningless quizzes and procrastinating.

Technology totally transformed the music business and now the entire industry's revenue is only about half of what it was twenty years ago. A big album in 1974 could sell about eighteen million units—today, even Beyoncé's latest couldn't sell more than 1.3 million units. And she runs the world.

And, the worst part is, it's still declining. There's not a whole lotta cash money to work with here. When it comes to the major publishers, almost all of them have gone bankrupt. And almost all of the radio stations left are automated (a.k.a. run by robots) aside from the two major broadcasting companies, Infinity and Clear Channel. 

So you're either a hanging with the big boys or you're a nobody. And the bad news only gets worse when you realize how little competition this leaves in the industry. This lack of competition means a total buyers' market—a.k.a., there's way more supply than demand—and producers just don't get rich anymore.

If we haven't crushed your dream yet, congratulations. You have heart and conviction. Or maybe you're just naïve, but we like your spunk. We'll give you the low down. Even though you're not riffing, crooning, yodeling, warbling, or spilling your soul on the radio, you're the reason that sweet, sweet music is making its way out in the world. 

You may not be a part of the actual recording and engineering of the record, but you'll be there holding your artist's hand through all of it. You're responsible for their success—whether success is measured by the amount of people listening to it or creating a new unique sound is up to you (and how much money you want to make).

Think of yourself as the film director for music: You call the shots and decide what the final product is really going to look like. The Notorious B.I.G. may be telling everybody else to "Relax and take notes," but Biggie's taking notes from you. Get out your sculpting tools, because you're shaping these artists with your own two hands (and ears and sound studio). 

You figure out the "hook" that makes people listen to the song over and over again. You craft that tune "Bye, Bye Miss American Pie" that people can't get out of their heads. You decide how weird Lady Gaga is going to be—should she wear a dress of cotton balls or slap on a couple of filet mignons to that award show? You cut Justin Bieber's hair. You make him America's sweetheart and then change your mind and make him a bad boy. You basically invent who they are.

To become this deity-like figure, you're going to have to find an act first and contact those musicians whose eyes have a certain twinkle in them—you'll probably have to go through the band's/crooner's/string quartet's/opera singer's manager.

You'll want to pick something good, obviously, that you can groove to and it would be even better if it had some commercial potential. You can pick anything from country, rock, pop, reggae, classical, jazz, EDM, punk, R&B/hip-hop (which is where the most money is for producers nowadays)—whatever your cup of tea is. 

After you've hooked your act, you're going to want the world to see what you see. You'll set up the budget and recording schedule so you can get those angelic voices, those sick arpeggios, and that ear-blistering power chord onto a record that can be shown to people. Not all producers are tech-savvy, but it definitely doesn't hurt to understand some of the basics of sound engineering so you can help out with the actual creation of the record. 

If you've got a guy at a recording studio who can do all that knob-turning and dial-pushing for you, you'll be all set. But you're going to want to hang around and give them the skinny on what's working and sounds good and when they need to go easy on the reverb or amp up the cowbell. You're there to brainstorm potential arrangements, to figure out when it needs a little more something, to find their "hit," and to make things catchier. It's a little creativity meeting a little marketing.

Now you've got a record you want to push, so you'll be contacting the artists and repertoire (A&R) departments of music publishers or record companies, so they can do what they do best and scout talent.

Because you've got an ear of gold and will be delivering the next big record of the decade to these clowns, they'll make you an offer and throw contracts at you and your performers. You've got to look through all their fancy legal mumbo-jumbo in order to negotiate and become comfortable signing and letting your budding performer sign these contracts. You're like the daddy of a vulnerable music baby—protect them (and yourself) from these vultures.

If you're going to be a producer (with a top hat and a cane…), you'll need to be familiar with The Harry Fox Agency. They're the middlemen between the copyright holders and the artists who want to use copyrighted music material. 

Basically, it's an accounting firm that tracks the money that comes into the business so they know how much you owe music publishers for using their material. It sounds like they're trying to protect musicians and their ownership of material, but it's a little more like trying to protect their beach houses in Cabo.

When it comes to the cash, the "nobodies" in the business are in for some bad news. Unless you're a big shot, you have a pretty sorry deal ahead of you. There will be the publishing royalties, which are split 50/50 between the writer(s) and the publisher(s) of the songs, whether the project makes a profit or not. 

If you have a musical background and give some valuable input to the song, the music producer has a chance at getting a cut of these royalties if they're involved in the actual publishing and/or writing of the song. 

After all this is organized, you work out the mechanical royalties for your artist, which ends up being between 8-25% of the album's suggested retail price for each sale (with 25% deducted for packaging fees). Unless your artist is selling their album for $74.99 a pop, it's a pretty bleak market for these guys. And, if you're getting basic royalties, you're taking it from this tiny, inflatable pool of money. You lucky dog.

In the age of YouTube, the art of becoming an independent music producer is pretty much dead. YouTube sensations take care of themselves and everybody else is assigned to a label, so, chances are, you'll be working for the man, too. This means more steady cash flow for your fast and hard lifestyle. This also means you'll have to work out a contract, and this will outline the kinds of acts you'll be finding and what the final product must look like. 

If you're really in it for the music and had your eye on a jazz trio or blues band, the label may be asking you to forget those clowns and find them the next American, One-Direction-type boy band. Swallow your pride or swallow a potentially really unsatisfying dinner every night, 'cause you ain't workin' at all.

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