No big names on the poster. No tickets to sell out. Just a band you haven't heard yet, a room with fifty people in it, and a decent chance one of those songs stays with you for years.
Go out tonight?
@bandlines.bsky.social
@bandlines.bsky.socialNo big names on the poster. No tickets to sell out. Just a band you haven't heard yet, a room with fifty people in it, and a decent chance one of those songs stays with you for years.
Go out tonight?
@bandlines.bsky.socialOn a small gig, the door is usually most of the money. It pays the sound engineer, covers the room or the promoter's risk, and whatever is left goes to the band, often split four ways after the petrol is covered.
Photo by Legend Vibe on Pexels
@bandlines.bsky.socialThe setlist gets written before soundcheck, argued over in the van, and taped down by the pedals. Then the first three songs tell you what kind of night it is. The bands people remember are the ones who notice, and change it without the room ever seeing the join.
@bandlines.bsky.socialThe merch table has one real window: the gap between the lights coming up and the crowd going home. People are buzzing, they've just seen you play, and they'll buy a shirt if someone is there to sell it.
@bandlines.bsky.socialWe asked a small group of Irish bands how they sell merch. Nearly all of them said the same thing: at gigs, off a table, to people who just watched them play.
They're carrying a box to a venue and carrying most of it home again.
@bandlines.bsky.socialStage set, sound checked, and waiting to go on.
Wherever you are tonight, someone spent the afternoon getting a room ready for you.
Go out. Pay in at the door. Buy the merch.
Photo by Wendy Wei on Pexels
@bandlines.bsky.socialA phone call months ago. A venue saying yes. A band loading gear into an empty room, and a crowd who chose to join them on a Tuesday night.
That's the part that matters...the connection, the shared joy.
Everything else...is just admin.
