Anatomy Of A Gig
When I decided to put on a live rock gig in Midleton, Cork — alternative rock, original music, bands outside the usual pub-friendly circuit — my motivation was both experimental and experiential.
Big words, I know.
But that is what it was. I wanted to test something.
Could we attract bands to play an unknown venue outside the usual city music hubs? Could we put original rock music into a different kind of room? And most importantly, would people come?
It was not about making money. It was about trying to understand, in a practical way, some of the pain points that original musicians seem to face again and again.
Pain points like these.
* not enough access to gigs
* the expense of gigging
* unsustainable pay
* venue gatekeeping around what kind of bands are seen as “suitable”
* some genres being treated as less desirable
* cover and tribute bands often being seen as safer than original music
Of course, many more issues emerged in the six to eight weeks between “let’s put on a rock gig” decision day and the night of the actual gig.
So, what did I learn?
First of all, I learned that putting on a rock gig by yourself is very hard.
Duh, right?
But I went into it with a fairly simple idea: get the bands, book the venue, advertise widely, and people will come.
As the famous line goes:
Build it and they will come.
Except, in this case, they mostly did not.
So the obvious question is: why?
Was the venue the problem?
I do not think so. The venue was excellent. It had staff, a large stage, good capacity, a professional sound engineer and lighting tech, easy parking, easy access, and it sits in a densely populated catchment area.
Was the quality of the artists the problem?
Definitely not.
Each performer brought talent, musicianship, professionalism and commitment. The quality was there. You will be able to see that for yourself in the videos from the gig, which we will be sharing over time.
Was the event promoted enough?
That is harder to answer.
Posters went up. Local media were contacted. Facebook groups were posted in repeatedly. Videos were recorded and posted. A paid Facebook ad ran and had a decent click-through rate. Eventbrite was live for weeks and had steady page visits.
But what counts as “enough”?
That is where things get more complicated.
Different people will attribute low attendance to different causes. Cork being in the All Ireland hurling semi-final that day. The hot weather. People being at the beach. The ticket price. The door policy. The venue being outside the usual city circuit. The fact that the bands were not widely known.
Some of those things may have mattered. Some may not.
But in my experience, when something does not go the way you hoped, it is rarely because of one single factor. It is usually a combination of things.
There is one factor, though, that I keep coming back to.
Risk aversion.
More specifically: audience risk aversion.
We know that major live gigs are well attended in Ireland. We also know that many smaller gigs, especially those involving unknown or emerging original artists, struggle to pull audiences. There are exceptions, of course. But when you look at event listings for many prominent live music venues, a pattern appears.
The bookings are often safe.
Known names. Familiar songs. Tribute acts. Covers. Music that people already recognise. Music that is likely to keep people in the room, keep drinks moving, and reduce financial risk.
That is not a criticism of venues. Venues have to survive. Bookers have to make decisions that keep doors open and staff paid. I do not envy them that job.
But it does raise a question.
What do audiences actually want?
Do they want to discover new bands, new songs and new genres? Or do they mostly want a live version of something they already know?
There seems to be a prevailing belief that if the public does not know the band or the songs, they are less likely to come. That people want familiarity. That they want songs they can sing along to, artists they already trust, or music close enough to what they already like that it feels safe. In other words – predictability.
The problem is that you cannot build a vibrant music scene on familiarity alone.
If live music depends only on past iterations, creativity pays the price. Musical innovation pays the price. Musicians who do not want to play the same familiar songs over and over pay the price.
They are left with a difficult choice: conform to the norm, or disappear quietly back into garages, bedrooms, rehearsal rooms and attics to play the music they have created mostly to themselves.
The other option is to try to compete with millions of musicians globally in the overcrowded self-produced EP and album stratosphere of Spotify and social media.
Usually with little to no support.
It is entirely possible that a more experienced gig organiser would have filled the 190-capacity standing venue where I put on an alternative original music gig last week.
No doubt I made mistakes. Plenty of them. I was ignorant in some areas, naive in others, and learning on the go.
But I do not think organiser inexperience explains everything.
Enough people knew about the event.
Most chose not to come.
And that is the uncomfortable part of the experiment.
My current working theory is this: unknown bands, unknown organiser, unknown music, original music, and a general lack of musical curiosity all combined to make the event feel like a risk to potential audience members.
Not a huge risk, obviously. Nobody was being asked to remortgage their house.
But still a risk.
A risk of spending money on something unfamiliar. A risk of giving up a their Saturday night for an unknown outcome. A risk of hearing music they did not already know.
And maybe that is one of the biggest challenges original musicians and venues face.
Not lack of talent.
Not lack of effort.
Not lack of songs.
But the difficulty of persuading people to take a chance.
That is what this gig exposed for me.
Music scenes are not built by algorithms. They are not built by playlists. They are not built by saying “support local music” in principle.
They are built by people turning up before the band is famous.
They are built by venues that take risks.
They are built by audiences willing to be curious.
They are built when someone decides that unfamiliar does not mean unworthy.
That is the anatomy of this gig.
Not failure. Not success.
This test gave information, not facts.
Building an audience for original live music is not just about booking a room, finding bands and putting posters up. It takes trust, repetition, curiosity and time.
The challenge is to make original, alternative music feel less like a risk and more like an invitation.
Because if we want stronger live music scenes, musical creativity and genre variety we have to keep trying.
So that is my takeaway.
The first experiment did not prove that this Backline Live Project is easy or even that it could work.
It just proved that it matters.
And that is why I am going to keep trying, mad as that may be.
