Two years ago, David Bowie struck a deal on Wall Street that brought him $55 million (€52.7 million) overnight and a credibility among bankers he was never likely to achieve with Ziggy Stardust. The "Bowie bonds" were a radical innovation: shares sold in Bowie's own talent, namely the projected royalties of his first 25 albums over the next 15 years. He had, in effect, floated himself on the stock exchange and, with this, gained greater control of his royalties.

Bowie got the applause, but the man behind the deal was a 36-year-old broker who has just pulled off the same trick for James Brown, this time to the tune of $100 million. His name is David Pullman, he comes from New York, and he has a flair for drama to rival that of his clients.

"Your dad wants you to be a doctor because he says business is bad; your mom wants you to be an attorney because she'd like to divorce her husband. I wanted something bigger. After I was in Time magazine, my third-grade teacher called to say, `Is that the same David Pullman? I knew you'd be the one to succeed'. "

Mr Pullman looks like Jerry Seinfeld, talks like a machine gun and, while modest he ain't, his boasting recalls that of the class nerd who grows up to be hugely successful but never quite believes it. "When we struck the Bowie deal, we didn't even know if it would work. But the first lesson of success is that you mustn't be afraid to fail. Bowie never once rang to ask if there were problems.

"The same with James Brown. They look you in the eye and, within 60 seconds, they get the concept. Everyone thought I was crazy when I first did the deal; now they're all at it."

"It" is the intellectual property market - an estimated one trillion dollar field that deals in non-tangible assets like royalties. The idea came to Mr Pullman when Bowie's manager approached him with the aim of selling his publishing rights. Mr Pullman had a better idea: why not keep the rights and float bonds backed by Bowie's future earnings?

"It was pro-creator, pro-artist, because it let them keep the copyright. The artists loved it: they'd say, `I wish I'd met you years ago. It's about time there was someone on our side'."

Mr Pullman charges a 10 per cent commission and, before doing anything, sends in the auditors to find out whether his clients are being treated fairly. "Most artists are lazy: they complain a lot but they aren't disciplined enough to audit their accounts. So we send in the best."

It's a hard line he also takes with his staff, snapping down the phone as they ring in at 15-minute intervals. "You got the message this morning? And have you done anything about it? That was four hours ago. This is unacceptable. Have you phoned Mandy? Have you phoned Mandy? You're not listening to me: I said, `Have you phoned Mandy?' "

He bangs down the phone. "Someone I should have fired," he says, smiling to show that he's soft really.

The Pullman Group gets 1,000 enquiries a year, but it's rare that an artist has the status to secure the deal: Iron Maiden have done it, and the songwriters behind 40 per cent of Motown's hits - Holland-Dozier-Holland. For once, old age increases the artist's value. "James Brown was 66 when his agents approached us. Our catalogues are typically 20, 30, 40 years old. If a song is producing money from 1966 to 1999, the odds are it's going to continue to produce."

Pullman gets on well with the artists because he says he understands them. His first ambition was to go to art school, and he likes the glitz of rubbing shoulders with legends. "There are similarities between the sharpness in eye of someone who's an artist, and of one who's a top businessman."

It would all be very wearing if he took himself too seriously. But he doesn't. There is a "family" crest on the company website, a medley of lions and harps that turns out to be cribbed from the Pullman coach company - a total gimmick. At least, I think it is. The phone rings again. It's New York. "Did you update the website?" he asks. "No, not the photo of James Brown. Just the one of me."