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Open Letter from a Bar Owner
Notes on the article by Neil Wedd

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This article has caused a flutter on Facebook. Some of it is over the top, but some of it has real resonance. I would say the guy runs a small bar, not a big venue.

A bar, that is, an establishment that earns its revenue primarily from selling alcoholic beverages, measures its success by the ounce and the accounting is done everyday becawe mostly live on the edge. So we spend our time trying to figure out how to sell more ounces. It's not just how many people are in the hoor how great the atmosphere is (that's certainly important), but how many drinks, preferably premium, we sell in a day. That's it.

The atmosphere point is important. But a venue is a business that usually sells alcohol and food.

Live music is important to most of us (if we have that kind of venue). But it is a significant expense and is only worthwhile if it produces more than it consumes, just like advertising and anything else we spend money on in order to sell more ounces. But so many of the bands that come through here have no clue what their job is. Your job is to sell booze. You're not here for any other reason.

A bands job is to provide entertainment. A venue is not a rehearsal space. It is not the bands job to sell alcohol, but it is the bands job to create an atmosphere that people can enjoy the music in.

There are some truly awful bands that actually chase customers away. But there are also some bands I would call mediocre who do a fantastic job of selling my product. There are also some really good bands who rock the ho but not the cash drawer. While I appreciate good music and would never have an interest listening to that mediocre band's lame CD, they're coming back next week. Here's why:

1. They play simple music people recognize. People don't dance to brilliant guitar solos or heady changes, they dance to the hook lyrics of a simple chorus. (If you've ever wondered why pop is popular, that's why). When the ladies want to dance, the guys show up and everybody drinks. Simple truth.

2. They don't ask me for drinks, they ask my customers. This is a subtle art and if it's done well, the band can more than pay for itself. Here's a few obvious techniques: If someone offers to buy the band a round, you order shots of top-shelf. Even if you don't drink it, ask for it anyway. If someone asks for a request, try to make a deal with them. If you buy (your date, your table, the band) a round, we'll play your song. Some bands beg for tips, and that's fine, but it's not what I'm paying you for. (Try to play request anyway. At least you wont chase them off.) We had one front man hold up a mixed drink and make a wonderfully cheesy but impassioned pitch that you simply had to try this becait was, as he put it, "a glass of pure happiness". It resulted in over a hundred bucks in the drawer in just a few minutes. Those guys are busy.

3. They may not be the best band in town but they look and act professional. I cringe when I see a supposedly professional band wearing frayed khaki shorts, flip flops, mildly offensive t-shirts and greasy baseball caps (the standard bro uniform). I don't care if you're bald, a baseball cap is unacceptable. Live music is a visual form of entertainment. If you dress well, even if it's hipster, funky, weird or flamboyant, as long as you look like you care about your appearance, and show a little self respect, you'll go over better with my customers. The good bands also respect their gig and the customers. They show up on time, they don't make a racket while they setup (hint: keep your drummer quiet especially when the jukebox is on.), they choose their list carefully, they pace their sets well and stay engaged with the audience (don't stop playing if the dance floor is full), they don't get hammered and and they don't leave a mess. All this adds up to what we call retention. Customers don't leave. You would be surprised how many customers leave becaof the band. And it's usually not becathe band is awful, but becait's too loud, it's the wrong repertoire, it's rude and dismissive, it's not engaged and basically no fun for anyone else but themselves. And here's a little tip: Your continued employment is directly dependent on my bartender's opinion of you. That's probably true for every single bar you play.

This part is a mixture of rubbish and sense. For some bars it makes sense. Cover bands for instance.

Bands are on stage to entertain. So look the part. You want people to like you and your music. So look the part and stand out. You need to be memorable. And the part about loudness is true. It's not a contest to deafen people. Always employ the best person you can afford to mix you.

And the bartender's opinion counts. Becaowners and bookers aren't always around, the bartender sees what happens and gives a report. Be an idiot and you will be remembered as such.

One last thing. It's hard to find work. You might be surprised at how much competition you have. I get emails, voicemails, regular mail, fed-ex packages left for me, all with earnestly concocted press kits and demos and I ignore almost all of it. I get walk-ins who, if I'm there, I'll give a few minutes to. Again, you'd be surprised how many show up in their bro-clothes, tell me how awesome they are, and hand me a business card with a URL to their reverb nation page or YouTube channel. They probably go home and wonder why they don't get a call, but I'm not going to visit your website or listen to your demo. You've got maybe 60 seconds to make your "elevator pitch" and just a few more minutes to make it stick. There is a sales technique I'm seeing that's impressive, stands out and really works, but out of respect for the bands that figured it out, call it a trade secret. 

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