Put me on the Door?

Hi there,

I've said 'Put me on the door?' many times myself and it seems such a small ask, doesn't it? Please just write my name on that precious piece of paper - the one in possession of the door biatch - so that I don't have to pay to get in the club. There was one period of my life and career that I wore as a badge of honour the fact that I never paid to get into any gig I wanted to go to. It was my selfish 20-somethings and I felt that my industry somehow owed me that.

I'd like to think that passing years have made me wiser and less selfish but truthfully, it has been my experience on the 'other' side of the velvet rope that has really made me think differently. When you ask for free entry to a gig, who is really paying the price?

I am now often the promoter of the shows I perform in. The promoter is the person at whose feet the financial responsibility ultimately falls. Depending on the deal, too few tickets sold can directly hit the promoter in the hip pocket. Venues are less willing to take financial risk nowadays, so will often offer 'door deals'. That means a promoter gets paid only by receiving a percentage of the ticket prices and out of that, must pay the band, possibly the sound system and engineer, promotional costs and any other expenses. Obviously in this situation, any tickets given away are tickets that can't be sold to help the promoter make costs. 

When you're an indie artist putting on your own gig, you're a promoter whether you like it or not. If all your friends and family ask to be 'put on the door', what chance have you got to break even let alone actually get paid for your work? For an indie gig I promoted at The Basement a few years ago, I worked out that even with a house almost full of paying punters, if I included all the hours I had spent working towards this event, my hourly rate would make even a Nike factory worker blush! 

I once invited an agent to see a show I was in, and I offered to put him on the door. He said he would be happy to come and see my gig but insisted on paying his way. His belief was that it was our duty to support each other in this industry and always paying to see gigs was one way to stop live music being devalued. That was the first time I had heard this particular point of view, and I eventually adopted it as my own.

So, is all this to say that no smart businessperson would ever give away tickets? Not at all! Recently I was working with an international act in their first time to tour in Australia. One of the venues for this act was only half sold, two days out from the show date. In this case, the act's promoter had negotiated a guaranteed fee, so the financial risk lay with the venue itself this time. As part of the deal, the venue had offered the promoter a small number of 'comps' which they had duly given to various industry folk - but they found they needed more freebies than were offered. Obviously the venue would prefer to sell than give them away so they decided to cross their arms and refuse to give the promoters any additional free tickets. But in this case, that is exactly what the venue should have done. In fact, they should have been giving away tickets with gusto! A full room is in everybody's interest. A full house creates the illusion of success - it's more exciting for the artist and even audience members prefer the atmosphere of a well attended show. Giving away unsold tickets is such common practice (I was lucky enough to see Pink at the Entertainment Centre as a result of this strategy) that it has a name - it's called 'Papering the House', and it is an art. Don't do it too early and risk losing last minute sales - and when you do do it, be discreet so that paying audience, media and reviewers don't suspect!

The bottom line is that giving away tickets directly affects someone's bottom line one way or another. We all know there is no such thing as a free lunch - we need to also realise there is no such thing as a free gig!

All the best for Christmas and a safe and successful 2016,
Amanda

Jazz ain't jazz!

Hi there,

I can't count how many times my brief at a gig has been 'jazz' but I've ended up doing everything but. Even wikipedia admits 'Jazz' is a slippery beast to define. I'm talking Ella, Louis and Duke when I say Jazz. My mum says Jazz and means 'lively'. I've heard many a muso make a booboo and call that 'jazz'. I think a lot of venue managers like the 'cool' that the word jazz conjures but don't actually want the blue notes. After all 'Jazz on the Deck' sounds much better than 'a bit of pop music outside there past the pokies'. 

So when I've been booked for a 'jazz' gig and ended up doing anything but, it's not because I'm being a rebel - after all I know where my bread is buttered and I always aim to please the client. But sometimes, well, we entertainers actually know what we're doing! We are being booked because we are professional and know our craft, right?

I remember being booked for a wedding where the bride gave us a list of all her favourite (non-Jazz!) songs us to play at the reception. They included songs from Garbage, Portishead, Blondie, Morcheeba and the like - a woman after my own heart when it comes to taste in music. But not for a wedding. As soon as we cracked out her requested rocker: 'I'm Only Happy When it Rains' you could see the tumbleweed rolling across the barren dancefloor. 

So we played 'Moondance' and 'Love is in the Air', like we always do at a wedding and suddenly all was right in the world. The bride was happy because everyone else was - and cavorting bodies on the dancefloor is the best yardstick for a wedding band's success. 

So I soon learnt that when dealing with less-than-experienced clients, my job was to nod my head, smile and say 'sure' and then turn around and play what actually works rather than what was asked for. What is the point of hiring a professional and then telling them their job? When you hire a chef you may choose the dishes and of course it will be to suit your tastes, but you don't tell them exactly what ingredients to use and how to combine them. Jazz, rock, polka - whatever works is what is best. In the end, as Mr Ellington himself says, 'it's all music'.

See you next time,
Cheers,
Amanda
www.amandaeston.com

Should you Produce yourself?

Hi there,

I am the person who, in between hairdresser visits, hacks at and colours their own hair. I got down on my hands and knees and sanded and stained the damaged floorboards in the kitchen rather than call a professional and I decided I could produce, direct and edit my latest music video all by myself. So I'm no stranger to do-it-yourself.

One area I don't go near, however, is my own music production. I have lots of ideas and I put all those ideas in a multi track demo that I give to a producer. He sees through my suspect sounds and mootable mixing, sprinkles some fairy dust and suddenly what I hear in my own head comes to life. I've heard a lot of self-produced artists recently and each time I've come away thinking: great singer, great songs, but there is something missing. I'm not suggesting that there are no great artists who are also great producers - Michael Carpenter at Love Hz Studios is one of those and Floyd Vincent did a great job on his recent live album. But I think that a lot of artists aren't equally good producers and, while hair does grow back, no-one really looks at the kitchen floor and I might get away with a DIY film clip for one of my songs, I know my home baked production would be half baked. Just like I think singers need singing lessons, I think artists need producers. If nothing else, it's a second brain and pair of ears to prod you out of your comfort zone... or perhaps reign in the wilder reaches of creativity and lend some consistency to a group of tunes that will end up as an album or EP. 

Songwriter's songs are like their babies and we don't take kindly to criticism of our offspring - but let's face it, often it is required. And you might think the little tacker would look terrible in a stripey onesie but it could just be that the pattern brings out the absolute best in their complexion. It takes a lot of years to become a good singer. It takes just as long to become a good producer. So if you have been spending most of your time working on your singing and songwriting, why not leave the knob twiddling and audio magic to the guys and girls that have been spending so many of their waking hours on that craft?

By the way, you can judge for yourself, my DIY filmclip (this is the remix version).

http://youtu.be/dhI5nL0jsuY

'Till next time,
Amanda

What a Singer can Learn from a Stripper

Hi there,

Many moons ago, a few friends and I decided it would be a fabulous idea to check out the seedy delights of Kings Cross in Sydney. Our road trip through sleazy showrooms and seamy strip joints brought us to an esteemed establishment where we were ushered to seats with another dozen or so punters. Soon after, a young woman ambled on stage in a tiny white bikini. She alternated smirking at the audience and looking for obvious guidance to a gentleman standing at the back of the room. She reminded me of a kid in their first kindy concert, but with fewer clothes. It was vaguely, darkly, humorous at first, watching a stripper in training. It became more interesting if you watched the trainer at the back of the room - the pupil on stage was trying to mimic the teacher's clunky gyrations and gestures, awkwardly pulling her bikini bits to the side to flash this and that and then looking out at us like a deer stuck in headlights.

Let's forget for a minute that we were not experiencing a slice of the often sad and unsavoury underbelly of our city and judge this strictly as a performance. Earlier that evening I had seen unmistakably more seasoned strip artistes flaunting their talents. The surrounds were equally salubrious but I didn't get the same depressing, distressing feeling I did at this last show. Those other women had looked as though they enjoyed their work and took pride in it, no matter how that kind of work may be judged by others. As a result, the audience got caught up in the moment and responded with enthusiasm. The white bikini girl was so uncomfortable and frightened, it was painful to watch for everyone.

Now I'm trying to equate anything I do with a strip show, but I have certainly performed at gigs where I have been less than prepared, proud or comfortable. But I've realised that no matter how much I wish the stage would open up and swallow me on occasions, it's my duty to look like I belong there, look like I'm enjoying it and do the best job I'm capable of. A performer that has committed to their art and is comfortable in their own skin, feels authentic to an audience and they react accordingly.

So there, I learnt all about commitment from a stripper!

Cheers,
Amanda
www.amandaeaston.com