Wealth & Money Quote by Alan Parsons

Parsons slips a grin over a bruise. The line opens in gratitude - “delighted” is the polite, public-facing emotion you’re supposed to have when your work becomes stadium shorthand - then immediately yanks the curtain back: cultural ubiquity doesn’t automatically translate into getting paid. That pivot is the whole move. It’s not bitterness so much as a veteran’s reality check, delivered with the dry precision of someone who’s spent decades watching the business side outmuscle the art.

The sports-world detail matters. Arena anthems and broadcast stings are the modern equivalent of radio monopolies: massive repetition, huge audience, and a kind of involuntary imprinting. If a track becomes part of that machinery, it’s doing real labor in the culture. Parsons’ frustration is that the compensation structure often treats that labor like a one-time asset sale instead of an ongoing revenue stream.

“Cheap deals” is the key phrase - blunt, almost folksy, and pointedly plural. He’s not blaming “the market” or “bad luck”; he’s naming intermediaries, the label-and-publisher layer that historically controlled rights, negotiated licenses, and advanced money that looked good upfront but hollowed out long-term earnings. The subtext is generational: musicians from the classic era were trained to chase exposure, then learned exposure could be the trap. His intent reads as both warning and postmortem - a reminder that the soundtrack of collective euphoria can still be a private lesson in contract gravity.