💡✍️ADN #189: The crowd that isn't on your phone

My band used to get the same reports after almost every show.

Our fans would have the best time they’d had since the last time we rolled through town and the bar…

“We sold more beer than we sold in a month.”

“The most whiskey we’ve moved all year.”

“Best night we’ve had in here in I don’t know how long.”

I liked hearing that our fans were happily hungover and the venues were happy to have us back.

It took me a while to understand it was the whole reason we kept getting asked back.

Most venues aren’t really in the music business.

They are in the drink business.

The band is just what gets people in the door, so they’ll buy a drink.

Once a buyer figures out that booking you means a good night at the register, you stop being some band asking for a favor and become the band they want back.

A lot of moving up is just that.

Going from a favor to a sure thing.

Now, this doesn’t mean you have to sell drinks to get gigs, but if you are an artist or a band that doesn’t make the bar money, it could affect the type of guarantee or door deal that the promoter will commit to.

 — 

Your live crowd is its own animal.

You are not going to drag everybody from Spotify and Instagram into a room.

Some of them, sure.

But there’s a kind of person out there who doesn’t really care about the recorded version of you.

They love going out.

They love a band in a loud room on a weeknight.

They might never once look at your monthly listeners, and they’ll still be the best fan you’ve got.

And if you’re not playing out yet, those people are invisible to you.

They’re not in any dashboard.

The only way you find out they exist is to get up in front of them.

When you’re starting, you’re not building a crowd out of thin air.

You’re borrowing other people’s.

Open mics.

Songwriter rounds.

Whatever weekly thing your town has.

And opening for an artist or band whose people would probably like you if they’d ever heard of you.

Every one of those is a room with a crowd already sitting in it.

Go win a few of them over and leave with a way to reach them again.

That last part is the part people skip.

Have something at the merch table that gets you their email or their number.

A QR code.

A giveaway.

Something memorable, because who wants to hand over their email for free?

You play to 150 people and walk out with zero names, that’s a fine night if the set was good, but it’s a smaller win than it should’ve been.

The set’s over in 40 minutes.

The list is your follow-up tool, forever.

Every gig is really an audition for the next one.

If it doesn’t feel like one show is leading to another in a town, it’s usually because you’re not killing it every time, and the gap until the next call just keeps getting longer.

So play like it matters, and be the easiest band on the bill.

Show up on time for load-in.

Don’t play long.

Settle up easy.

Say thank you.

Tip the sound and light crew.

That stuff gets around.

The monitor crew and the door guy talk to the people who book the room, and they remember who was a pain.

And promote your show like it’s yours, even when you’re the opener.

The best thing that can happen is you sell as many tickets as the headliner.

Does that bug the headliner a little?

Probably.

Not your problem.

Mostly, it just makes them want you on more dates.

You want to climb the rooms in order.

Play the room that fits where you actually are, the right size, and the right kind of crowd.

That cool 500-cap place you’ve got your eye on does nothing for you if you put 100 people in it.

Doesn’t help you, doesn’t help the room, and honestly, it sets you back a little.

Here’s something that took me too long to get: a sellout is a sellout.

A hundred people in a hundred-cap room beats the same hundred standing around a 1/5 full five-hundred.

One of those is a sold-out show.

The other is a 4/5 empty room.

The same hundred people.

The buyer across town hears two completely different stories.

So grow into the room instead of reaching past it.

Early on, I’d do something like three opening slots for every show I headlined.

Those openers are basically paid rehearsals while you build a draw.

Once you’re moving 300 or so tickets, you can do fewer, two-to-one, then eventually one-to-one when enough people know you and you’re playing the town less.

Sell out the 100.

Then the 200.

Then the 300.

Every now and then, you skip a rung.

Mostly you won’t, and that’s fine.

All of this means you have to connect with people.

Buyers, bookers, sound guys, and the manager standing in the back.

You’ve got to get out and meet them, which means going to a lot more shows than you play.

Pick a couple of nearby towns and do the same thing there.

The next rung up almost always comes from somebody you know, and you’re not going to meet them easily over email.

A cold email that says “can we play your room” lands in the same pile as the thousand others saying the same thing.

When you open for somebody, hang around after.

Don’t be a pest about it, but give them some merch, follow each other, get a number if it’s that kind of night.

Most bands that opened for us never gave us much to remember them by.

The ones that did, we’d rock their shirt at the next gig.

Cut the sleeves off and wear it.

They might be headlining in two years… You never know.

When you do pitch a buyer, keep it short.

Remind them where you met.

A couple of bullet points — tickets you’ve sold, who you’ve opened for, one video they can click.

And give them a real reason for the ask.

A record coming out, a little run of dates, a specific Friday you’re trying to fill.

Telling a buyer you’re “available whenever” feels generous to you.

To them, it’s a shrug.

Make it easy to say yes.

So this week:

Pick your town.

Make a list of the rooms and put them in order by size and the kind of crowd they pull.

Figure out who the actual people are at each one.

Put a couple of shows on your calendar that you’re not even playing, just to be there.

And start getting names at every gig, starting with the next one.

The online stuff spikes and then flattens out.

The live thing stacks up.

One good night gets you the next one.

The guy you met at the bar books you somewhere new.

The sold-out hundred turns into a sold-out three hundred.

It’s all word of mouth.

That’s the crowd you can’t download.

You’ve got to go stand in front of them, steal their attention, and leave with a way to reach them again.

See you next Sunday,

Neil