A couple of weeks ago I hosted a pal, let’s call her ‘Sally McDaid’, and her driver / soundman / manager ‘Morton Tesco’, for three nights during an Irish tour. Sal – a critically well-regarded singer/songwriter/guitarist living in ‘Devon’ – has been touring Ireland more or less annually for 15 or more years, along with extensive touring in the US, GB and northern Europe. Indeed, her first (pre-professional) album was released in the mid 90s in Ireland, where she lived for many years, about 10 years before her full-time music career proper began. I’ve seen her play to audiences of 6 to 200 at various places in Ireland over those years. Before Covid, it had been slowly but surely building. But Covid now seems like a merciless line in the sand. For various reasons – cost of living for punters, people getting out of the gig-going habit, Brexit costs for touring artists from the UK (Sally travelled in to Dublin), etc. – the always fragile pub-level touring game seems done for.
This time around, with 8 gigs booked, 4 were cancelled at the 11th hour while Sally and Morton were on the island, having invested time and money getting there and relying on friends to put them up (far from unusual at troubadour level). The reason being lack of advance ticket sales – literally, two tickets in a couple of cases.
(An aside: Personally, my view is that if someone at the labour-of-love troubadour level who has booked an artist can’t at least – if wider sales have failed – round up half a dozen friends to have an evening of mutual huddling together and enjoyment of the music (and almost any troubadour would far rather play to a handful of people than twiddle thumbs in a B&B), then they shouldn’t be promoting anything. I find it disgraceful not to honour a contract or (as seems likely) barely to have bothered promoting a show when you know the artist has travelled hundreds of miles to be in proximity and will have to overnight nearby anyway.)
In short, Sally’s audience seems more or less to have collapsed in Ireland. Even one gig where she would have had her strongest crowd – near 200 people – pre-Covid was down to around 50 this time. Areas where she might have had 25-40 before were down to 2.
It seems to me that it is no longer tenable – certainly not sensible – for her to tour in Ireland. I’d even suggest to any other English/US based troubadour not to risk it. It’s done. It’s over.
In mitigation, Ireland has always been tricky for touring artists in general – despite exporting way more than its fair share of international artists, the home circuit has always been lean – a few interested pubs and arts centres, north and south. Plus a few festivals here and there (including, for instance, the three-weeks-long Cathedral Quarter Arts Festival in Belfast, running at this very moment and giving a platform to various visiting bands and soloists). Certain visiting artists do well – Chris Smither and the late Kelly Joe Phelps, for instance, have always had great crowds – yet not too many other Americana people; David Gray was a pub-level sensation in Ireland for five years before ‘White Ladder’ broke him in the UK…
Nevertheless, even though Ireland may be an imperfect litmus with which to test the robustness of the current troubadour ecosystem, I’ve been hearing enough from other pals in the GB folk scene to mirror Sally’s experience to feel that it’s a fair indicator. One friend in GB – a music academic (day job – phew!) who is also a well-regarded folk singer – recently undertook a short English tour, entirely solo, staying with promoters/pals along the way. Two gigs were cancelled, numbers were lean elsewhere. It was rewarding for the soul but not the pocket. She can’t imagine her previous experience of touring as a trio with hotel accommodation returning.
I don’t know, personally, the Yorkshire troubadour Johnny Campbell, but he seems to be critically acclaimed. A few days ago, he put his head above the parapet to tell his social media followers where things were at for him as a pro musician after 11 years at it. It’s a very honest, pragmatic and admirable statement – and I think it reflects where a lot of people in the cottage-industry troubadour game are at.
Sally reckons she will soldier on full-time, and I wish her every success possible. But I feel it’s surely a doomed enterprise now to attempt to be a fully professional self-funding touring and recording artist. The odds have become too great.
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Here’s what Johnny had to say:
Today is the anniversary, when I became a full-time, self employed, professional musician, which is now eleven years to the day. ELEVEN YEARS!
After taking a leap from being unemployed with no money to fund this, this is now by far the longest, hardest and most fulfilling job I’ve ever had.
So far in these 11 years I’ve released four albums and three singles, toured 22 countries, have been billed with lots of performers from BBC folk award winners and nominees, those I’d only dreamed of being billed alongside who I’ve bought records from at a young age to also dozens of committed, dedicated independent musicians who’ve influenced and shaped my path.
This year saw the release of my best-selling album so far, True North, which is also my first 12” vinyl release. With dream reviews in national press like MOJO and Songlines, each receiving four stars, it’s pushed what I do to a slightly wider audience, but it’s taken a bit of navigating to do that.
In these eleven years, the music ‘industry’ saw the death of the CD era, the tail-end of the download era, the birth of streaming, the re-birth of vinyl and the emergence of subscription models. In no other time in the music ‘industry’ have we see so much change. Especially in the last four years.
Since 2020, I’d been observing how many artists are adapting and thus re-structuring my career to shape things when we come into the ‘post-pandemic’ stage. Until 2020, I relied on heavy touring which paid off, but I know a re-structuring of how much I perform live and focus my energies is a big part of maintaining consistency. I used to do several three and a half week EU tours a year which were rewarding but gruelling. Then, often followed by a two or three week UK tour.
And as the myth of artists making the bulk of their income from heavy touring has now been blown wide open, the uncertainty and unpredictability of relying solely on live shows is waaaay too unreliable and thus I chose to re-structure my tours, be selective in where and when I do a live show, and invest my time in different ways.
That does mean fewer live shows than pre-pandemic, and a re-structuring of the length of touring but it means that I can focus on promoting those shows more effectively, rather than quantity. As always, there are no guarantees in this game and I know that independent artists like myself and larger artists are doing exactly the same thing. Fewer shows, more focus on them with fingers in other pies.
I’m really proud to play a small part in Britain’s best selling walking magazine, Country Walking Magazine, writing up walks for them is a dream, and I wish to delve a little bit more into travel writing in the next few years. Watch this space.
Last year I decided to set up Moorforge Folk Festival, which champions underground, alternative and up-and-coming folk acts, which this year it sold out WAY AHEAD of the July date. I’m really proud of this. I really feel like things are heading in the right direction with it. Working with Hwæt Zine on guided walks has been a real highlight over the last year or so, and can’t wait to start this year’s run of walks.
I’ll be spending most of my time over the next few months writing, walking, with a few shows, but mainly preparing for Moorforge Folk Festival, before the latter part of the year with the second half of UK and EU True North promotion.
Yep, these past eleven years have been quite a ride in that journey, and I want to take the opportunity to thank everyone who’s got involved in any way, live streams, ordering merch, through Patreon and Kickstarter which have been my main sources of income outside of emergency grant funding and limited government support in the pandemic.
Just a reminder that I don’t have a manager/agent picking up the pieces and putting things in place for me. Neither do I have a rich family funding me or any sort of financial safety net to dip into, other than worst case scenario, the dole. I, like others, exist solely on hard graft, a supportive network of committed musicians and those who put shows on, turn up to shows and order merch. You know who you are, and that is reciprocated.
Johnny x
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What tales from troubadours (anonymised or otherwise) have others on the AW heard? Is anyone remotely positive about the touring environment?
Oddly enough a friend on Facebook (I’ll be seeing him on Thursday along with@Beany) posted this today.
NME has just posted on ‘X’ my review of 1982 (from 8 January 1983). – Seems not much has changed. 😉
He still promotes gigs.
Looking forward to it immensely and nervously. I am the first to speak for an hour. I am hoping I don’t run out of anecdotes. I know John from when he started promoting gigs. He certainly did not do it for the money.
I’ve seen the itinerary I thought it was a dip in and out not a full conference. Looking forward to it immensely.
I’m not a troubadour but I have a great-sounding PA system which I will install, operate and remove for gratis if I feel like supporting the event. A local gig promoter bought LED stage lights in the good times. We had a decade or more of putting on fantastic occasional gigs in a Baptist Chapel near Cambridge with amazing acoustics and sightlines, and were on the books of several national and international agencies. All run on a shoestring.
Our last gig, post-Covid, was three of the most-established and popular local bands (he couldn’t afford the inflated asking price for even the second-grade touring acts) for less than a tenner a ticket. We didn’t sell enough to cover the hire of the venue.
The promoter has since moved to Falmouth.
Don’t know them personally, personally (I know them, in the way I know AW contributors), but one band had their debut album come out just before Mar 2020 lockdown leading to their (self-funded) launch party at the 100 Club being delayed until their second album came out.
They still have the day jobs, but are still pushing on with album #3 this year, mini-tours of the Home Counties, many festival appearances over the summer.
The plan for album #3 was “to crash the charts” – it’s still the plan, but costs have gone up hugely (and my £30 in the pot is a mere drop in the ocean).
Duncan Reid (who’s been in the game for nigh on 50 years) recently announced his retirement (off the back of one of the best albums of his career) – not down to age and wanting to slow down, because it is no longer viable to for him and the and tour, and certainly not as they used to around Scandanavia and Japan (being 2 favourite territories).
I posed the question to Henry Cluney (XSLF) if he would consider coming to the South of England. The answer (as one would expect) – “not economically viable”.
And venues? We hear of x venues closing each month, so there are fewer places to play. And those that are left are not getting the bands coming through cos it’s just not cost effective to tour as it once was.
Doomed? it’s looking a real probability that the sub-theatre pub circuit is going missing presumed lost
Really sad to hear about “Sally” and her driver/manager/soundman’s recent experience over the water, and I share your contempt for the promoter who doesn’t.
I’ve seen Sally and Morton’s cheerful grit myself, putting on a show near Bath to an audience in single digits. I don’t know what the answer is, I only know that some of the best gigs I’ve seen have been performances by artists clearly in your troubadour category, and I just wish more people could realise what they are missing.
All I can do is to shout about those artists on here and spread the word to all my friends. That, and keep going to the gigs, but then I already know how rewarding it can be.
This has also been doing the rounds.
As someone connected with venues and scenes the picture is indeed mixed to difficult. I would say with the odd exception like The Brudenell which has a pull because of all they’ve done there over the last few decades, small-scale venues that only rely on live events are indeed having a tough time. The more than live music shows are a part of a wider offer, like club nights (Leadmill), being a pub (Hare and Hounds) etc. that can even out the ups and downs of the live scene the better. Promoters are taking fewer acts out on tour, being more cautious with where they go, and fees have hugely increased over the past few years for well-publicised reasons. Because the promoter has a B2B model, they can increase fees to what they feel they need and the market will bear. There’s no wider issue, whereas venues at the end of the chain have to put their ticket prices out in public. Hence typically the venue margin is being squeezed. Societal shifts in alcohol consumption are also challenging the ‘we lost on the gig but won at the bar’ traditional small-scale venue deal. Not seen any evidence that alcohol-free and soft drink consumption generates anything like the turnover that alcohol does. Sad but true.
We saw Sally at a small venue near Munich in March – she was outstanding, as always. The venue was well chosen and could have seated about 120, but unfortunately we were less than 20, including the bar staff – my heart bled for her.
The tickets were only €14, so cost isn’t really a factor, but promotion certainly is. I only stumbled upon the concert by accident, despite being on every concert announcement website known to man.
And while Covid certainly seems to have been the event that has, for the moment, scuppered Sally’s slow but sure climb into the public consciousness, promotion has been a problem for much longer, even affecting much more well known artists.
At the end of 2015, only weeks before his tragic death, we saw Colin Vearncombe (Black) in a 1000 capacity venue in Munich – there were 18 people in the audience. When we slunk in, 10 minutes late, he thanked us for turning up and asked us which seats we would like. To his eternal credit his performance that night was stellar.
Talking to him in the bar afterwards, it was clear that he was utterly baffled at the almost non-existant turnout, until we informed him that the minimal promotion that had taken place, had only used his real name and not mentioned Black.
Like Foxy above, I don’t know what the answer is, but it feels like a death spiral: relatively unknown artist, poor or non-existent promotion, leading to poor ticket sales and subsequently no reviews in the local press.
Indeed. From the artist’s perspective, Sally couldn’t be doing any more – she spends every hour when not onstage, it seems to me, doing social media promotion, booking future gigs, hustling media. Even during the three days I was hosting her and Morton Tesco she had arranged a BBC NI radio interview on an afternoon magazine show. On a previous occasion staying with us, her PR had arranged a late-notice interview on an RTE farming programme at some ridiculous hour of the morning – like 6am. She drove the 100 miles to Dublin from Belfast and did it. None of these things seem to make any difference.
It is all a bit disconcerting to say the least. I think live music at the grass roots level is struggling. I was recently in Galway for a long weekend and was expecting lots of opportunities for live music but the pickings were slim and the audience numbers even slimmer. Everyone was more interested in getting pissed than listening to live music.
A question re Brexit – is it really a problem in Eire? We got the Holyhead to Dublin ferry and we’re not required to show our passports either in UK or Eire.
I assume it would be relatively easy to put a guitar, a mic and a small amp in the back of a van. I know this wouldn’t be feasible for a band but for someone like Sally?
“live music at the grass roots level is struggling”. I think this is actually the nub of the problem. In the same week we went to see Sally we had also been to see Lucinda Williams. The show was pretty much sold out, albeit in a fairly small venue (approx 700 seater). She was great, her band were stunning, but talking to friends and acquantancies in the weeks that followed, every time I gushed about this or that, the response was always “who?”.
Putting a guitar, a mic and a small amp in the back of a van doesn’t seem to be the problem, rather a complete lack of interest if it’s not Adele or Taylor Swift.
At the other end, how many of us, or at least those of us without kids in the target demographic, had ever heard of the rapper A Boogie Wit da Hoodie before his show at Britain’s newest and biggest biggest indoor arena was called off because the venue wasn’t ready? Yet he is apparently a big enough name to put on at a 23000 capacity hall.
There are at least two parts to this. One is just people our age getting out of touch with the newest acts (I think of Rob near the end of High Fidelity, surprised that he doesn’t recognise the name of a band playing a middling sized venue in London), and the other is everyone becoming out of touch because in the absence of a show like Top of the Pops and radio stations which attract many millions of listeners the singer/band/song which becomes part of the national consciousness because it’s just everywhere is much rarer.
No – it affects Sally. She and Morton travel in a van, loaded with PA, mixing desk, two guitars, drum, digital piano, mic stands etc. plus normal luggage. When travelling from UK to Rep of Ireland (as on this occasion) she has to have a carnet, costing the equivalent of one gig’s fee – so every time she leaves the UK for Rep of Ireland or mainland Europe, she has to do one ‘free’ gig.
Such a nonsense isn’t it? Obviously, she needs to fork out for a carnet because she’s stealing vital trade from local artists who are queueing up to perform in local venues to such an extent that, as @SteveT reports, “the pickings were slim and the audience numbers even slimmer”. The tentacular, insidious effects of the moronic Brexit catastrophe continue to unwind to everyone’s disbenefit.
Re the post above about Boogie Wit Da Hoodie, is it not that the amount of music out there, of differing appeals to a never more eager and wider demographic, that the Venn diagram can no longer have the size of overlaps as in times gone by. And stretches so far that many sections are near empty, bar cyclical whims of hype and circumstance. The “troubadour” market is predominantly older now, with other pressures affecting the willingness of would be punters to attend. The world is not populated by AWistas, and even the most diligent of us sometimes put other stuff between us and the next gig, intentionally and otherwise. I could go to a show 3 or 4x a week, such is the treasure chest of local availability, broadly Brum. If I were footloose and fancy free, I might. I’m not, so I go 2 or 3 x a month. Too many artists pitching for the same bums on seats sounds harsh. Is maybe true.
Football, for all its crassness at times, seems to be able to sustain many hundreds of sizable clubs – teams with average crowds of 200 demand a phenomenal amount of working hours and infrastructure – in England.
Pop music reminds me of Rugby Union.
80,000 attending a Harlequins v. Northampton Premiership match at Twickenham.
One rung lower, Caldy, Hartpury or the Cornish Pirates struggling to attract 2,000.