datamusicata

Last night I performed in little club in Upton, Massachusetts. A wonderful fellow named Matt Lindi produces concerts and the open mic there and invited me to perform in the room, which is called the Rose Garden.

Because I am not well known in that area, he suggested that we do a seminar and a concert and see if that would generate enough interest to draw a crowd. I was already out in the northeast, staying with a friend in Mansfield Center, Connecticut, and I had the Wednesday evening off, so I thought why not? I am already here. And my feeling is if I am on the road, I would rather be performing than anything else; otherwise what am I doing out here?

He emailed a few days before the gig and said that very few tickets had sold and if I wanted to cancel, that would be alright with him. My feeling about that is simple, perhaps naïve, but simple. If I said that I am coming, then I am coming. If I actually agreed to a date with no guarantee, then I have no choice but to show up. Even if no tickets have sold, if you are advertised to perform, then you perform.

Now I have noticed that the higher the guarantee, the better the chances are that the concert promoter will bust his buns to get at least enough people in the venue to cover that guarantee, so unless you are helping a friend, I recommend never playing a gig without a guarantee. With no guarantee, the club owner has nothing to lose by letting you play and consequently, no skin in the game. It’s all your skin.

In this instance, Matt is a friend, I wanted to help him and I knew that he would do all he could to get people in there, so I agreed. And the morning of the show very few tickets were sold. Matt called me in Connecticut and once again offered to let me off the hook. But I told him that a deal is a deal and I went.

The upside is that while we didn’t have the crowd we had hoped for, we had enough people for me to do a real show and sell CD’s and come away with enough money to make it almost worth my while.

If I had not gone, those few dozen people would have all been disappointed and, more than likely, less inclined to come to the next show that I did. And they would have told their friends that I didn’t show up.

When you perform; when you tour, you are building your reputation. And it takes a long time to build a good reputation. It’s slow going, but if you work hard, and you work steady, you end up with a solid, supporting base of people who subscribe, on some level, to what you do.

And remember this. While it takes a long time to build up a reputation, it only takes a little while for it to fall apart. One or two no shows and word gets around like wildfire. Promoters are less inclined to hire you, and audients are less inclined to make plans to come to your show.

And in this economy, with these energy prices, many, many people are staying home because EVERYTHING costs so much more than it did a year ago. So when they decide to spend some of that hard earned money on you, they deserve your gratitude, and your respect and most importantly, your commitment—to your craft and to give them the best show you know how, regardless of the number of people in the audience.

If you say you are going to show up, then you have no choice but to show up. We are only as good as our word. And finally, people told me it was one of the best shows they ever saw me do.

As artists, our only real satisfaction comes from growing as artists. It sounds pretentious, but I swear it’s true. The more you give your music, your art, the more it will give to you.