The signing of Khalid marked a new, soulful chapter for Echo Chamber Records, but Alex knew his label's sound couldn't be defined by a single genre. His vision was more ambitious. He wanted to create a home for the most vital, groundbreaking voices of this generation, regardless of their style. And the raw, melodic anguish of the artist now known as Juice WRLD represented one of the most vital—and vulnerable—new movements in music.
Getting Jarad "Juice" Higgins to Los Angeles was a far more delicate operation than bringing Khalid out. It took weeks of patient, low-pressure text exchanges. Alex intentionally kept the conversations away from business, focusing instead on music they both liked, video games, and occasionally, cautiously, how Jarad was feeling. He learned that Jarad was whip-smart, funny, and deeply sensitive, his bravado a thin shield for a well of anxiety and insecurity. He was also, Alex quickly gathered, surrounded by a rotating cast of friends and hangers-on who were more interested in the clout of a potential record deal than in Jarad's well-being.
Finally, Alex made the offer, framing it not as a business trip, but as a safe haven. "Come out to LA for a week, just you," he texted. "I'll put you up somewhere quiet. We can hang out, make some music in the studio with zero pressure. My dad and I want to have a real conversation with you and your mom about how we can build a support system for you. The music will come. Your health comes first."
That last line was the key. Jarad, weary of people who only saw his talent, agreed. When he arrived, Alex met him personally. He was quieter in person, his eyes constantly scanning, taking everything in. Alex drove him not to a flashy hotel in Hollywood, but to a secluded, comfortable guesthouse with a pool and a view of the canyons. The fridge was stocked, the Wi-Fi was fast, and the address was private.
Their first day together was spent at Alex's house, playing Mortal Kombat and ordering pizza. It was a calculated move to establish a baseline of normalcy, of friendship. In between rounds, Jarad would freestyle effortlessly, stringing together complex, heartbreaking rhymes about his inner turmoil with a casual brilliance that left Alex breathless.
The next day, David Vance met with Jarad and his mother, who had flown in separately. The meeting took place not in an office, but in the Vances' own living room. David, drawing on all his years of parental wisdom and business acumen, laid out a plan that was unlike any record deal she had ever heard of.
"The standard music contract focuses on deliverables—albums, singles, tour dates," David explained calmly. "The Echo Chamber contract for Jarad will focus on stability. The first clause, before any mention of music, will be a funded wellness plan. That includes access to a top-tier therapist specializing in anxiety and addiction, a sober coach for when he's on the road, and a financial advisor to protect his earnings. We are investing in Jarad, the person. The music, as phenomenal as it is, is a product of that person. We have to protect the source."
Jarad's mother, a woman who had seen the darkness nibbling at the edges of her brilliant son, started to cry. She had been terrified of the music industry, seeing it as a machine that would chew him up and spit him out. Here, for the first time, was someone offering not just a contract, but a safety net.
With his mother's tearful blessing, Jarad Higgins officially signed to Echo Chamber Records.
The creative energy in the studio with Juice was electric, a complete contrast to the smooth, collaborative vibe with Khalid. Juice was a torrent of ideas, a raw nerve of creativity. Alex's role wasn't to guide him to a melody, but to simply hit 'record' and capture the lightning he summoned.
To demonstrate his commitment to this new, edgier sound and to showcase the sheer artistic duality of his label, Alex decided his next personal single needed to be a powerful counterpoint. While he was laying the groundwork for some of the most emotionally intense music the world would ever hear, he wanted to release something that was pure, uncomplicated joy. He wanted to release a song for Olivia.
He delved into the Codex, searching for the perfect pop anthem, a track that was musically brilliant but emotionally direct. He found it in the catalog of Bruno Mars: "Just the Way You Are." It was a song of unconditional acceptance and adoration, a perfect, sun-drenched love letter.
He recorded it over a single weekend, feeling a lightness and joy that had been absent from his own recordings for a long time. The production was bright and lush. He built it around a driving piano melody and layered it with soaring vocal harmonies, shimmering synths, and a crisp, propulsive drum beat. It was a masterclass in pop craftsmanship, every element polished to a brilliant shine. He poured all the feelings he had for Olivia—her humor, her strength, her goofy charm—into his vocal performance. He wasn't just singing lyrics; he was listing the reasons he loved her.
"When I see your face, there's not a thing that I would change, 'cause you're amazing, just the way you are…"
The music video was simple and heartfelt. It was a montage of beautifully shot, candid-looking moments between diverse couples—laughing, dancing, arguing, and forgiving. Alex himself only appeared briefly, sitting at his piano, smiling as he sang. The final shot was a close-up of a polaroid picture developing, revealing a smiling Alex with his arm around Olivia, a genuine, private moment he'd chosen to share with the world.
Across the country, on the sprawling, chaotic set of Bizaardvark, Olivia was having a rough day. She had flubbed a line in five consecutive takes, her comedic timing felt off, and a powerful director had made a dismissive comment about her performance that had left her shaken. She retreated to her small trailer during a lunch break, feeling overwhelmed and a million miles from the confident person she was supposed to be.
She sat on the small sofa, scrolling listlessly through her phone when a notification popped up. It was from Alex.
Alex: For you. Always. xo
Below the text was a private link to his new music video. She tapped it, her heart giving a little flutter.
The opening piano chords filled her small trailer, bright and optimistic. Then Alex's voice came in, warm and sincere. As she watched the montage of couples and listened to the lyrics, the stress of the day began to melt away. The song wasn't about an idealized, fairytale love. It was about loving someone's imperfections, their laugh, their soul. It was about being seen, fully.
Then came the final shot. The polaroid. It was a photo Alex had taken of them on the beach during their California trip, her hair messy from the wind, her face crinkled in a genuine, un-telegenic laugh. It was a picture she loved because it was so unabashedly real. Seeing it there, as the final statement of this beautiful song dedicated to loving someone exactly as they are, made tears spring to her eyes.
Her co-star knocked on the trailer door. "Liv? You okay? They're calling you back to set."
She quickly wiped her eyes, a radiant smile replacing her earlier frown. "Never better," she said, opening the door. She walked back to set with the piano melody playing in her head, her step lighter, her spirit fortified. The director's criticism no longer stung. Alex saw her. That was all that mattered.
When "Just the Way You Are" was released, it became an instant global anthem. It was played at weddings, proms, and anniversary dinners. It was a tidal wave of pure, uplifting pop that cemented Alex's status as a generational talent capable of anything.
In the span of a single month, Echo Chamber Records had become the home of both the architect of a generation's love songs and the future poet laureate of its anxieties. Alex Vance was proving that his label didn't have a sound. It had a philosophy: to find the most powerful voices, no matter what they had to say, and give them a place to be heard. The duality was breathtaking, and the industry was taking serious notice.