When Oasis and Taylor Swift announce their shows the news media go berserk. Tickets sell out as soon as they go on sale and prices for second-hand tickets go through the roof. This isn’t how it works for smaller/less well-known performers.
As I re-discovered recently with my 60s, 70s, 80s Big Singalong show at Penistone Paramount, getting people to come to a concert is a job in itself. It would be lovely to think that all we need to do is: create the show, write the show, develop the show, practice the show and do the show but all of that seems to be the easy part.
Why is it so difficult? The public are known to gladly hand over huge sums to see big-name acts. Why do they baulk at spending a small fraction to see an excellent, but less well-known group, playing just down the road? The media suggests that the public want to see what they already know they will like. I have no doubt there exists a small percentage of humans who enjoy diving blindly into new experiences but most of us need to know what it is we are getting into before we part with our money. Hence the popularity of tribute acts whose chief appeal is that they offer you the same feeling you used to get from the band they are pretending to be.
I know my Big Singalong show is a good one. Feedback from audiences have been excellent. Perhaps having the word “Singalong” in the title conjures up idle hours spent in nursery schools and care homes rather than inspiring the reader to think, “I must get to THAT!”
But a sing-along is what it is, and, try as I might, I haven’t been able to come up with alternative wording that conveys how much fun the show actually is. Try describing an apple to someone who only knows oranges. Being told that an apple is a fruit about the size and weight of an orange does not do enough to describe an apple. You have to try one to know.
There’s an old adage in advertising that you don’t sell the steak you sell the sizzle. Likewise, when promoting music, we must somehow sell the good feelings you will get by being at the concert. If it were just about the music you could stay home and listen to it.
The problem of how a small act promotes itself is a big one. The theatre, or whoever is hosting the show, will usually do some advertising but this is rarely enough so it must be supplemented in every way you can think of. One thing I do is to pay for a full-size window advert at a prominent road intersection. It’s not cheap but it puts me in people’s thoughts every time they pass by there. I get posters and flyers designed and printed which go up on notice boards and get handed out wherever I go. Carrying them with me makes every accidental meeting with a friend or acquaintance an opportunity to advertise. I contact local radio hoping to get an interview to talk up the show. I go busking at the local market to hand out flyers.
Having the internet in our lives has given musicians a host of new ways to promote ourselves. Unfortunately, most of the world is trying to do the same thing and so we get lost in a cacophony of voices all shouting, “Look at MY pictures, watch MY video, listen to MY podcast.”
Facebook and Instagram algorithms actively squash anything with a whiff of self-promotion because they want you to buy their advertising instead. My experience is that paid online ads don’t seem to work either so I continue looking for ways to create eye-catching and engaging posts about the show. It’s not what I want to be doing but there isn’t much alternative.
Because of the chronic unreliability of the evermore dysfunctional social media, I also take time to message friends, one-on-one. I assume they would like to know that I have a show coming up. At the same time, I also don’t want to be annoying or to make them feel obligated to support me. Trying to get the wording right is a time-consuming balancing act. When I’m out and about and happen to meet people, I don’t want to come across as pushy so I find myself wilfully not mentioning the show. Even the choice to not-promote takes mental energy.
Despite not getting quite the size of audience I had hoped for the show was undoubtedly a smash. The engagement of the audience made it one of the best times I’ve ever had on a stage and my team of musicians were, as always, outstanding.
The next day I was chatting with an acquaintance who told me she didn’t come to the singalong because the seats next to her friends were already sold. I told her there were plenty of other seats and, with some quick shuffling, we could have sat her with her friends. Only later did I realise my insanity. The show was over and I was still trying to sell tickets in retrospect. This is how the habit of self-promotion gets into your brain.
In the meantime, until I have a marketing team to boost my showbiz creations, the art of the hustle will remain a necessary part of my job. Like P.T. Barnum, coming into town with a parade of jugglers, acrobats and clowns you will see me approaching with a smile on my face and a flyer in my hand welcoming you to, “Come to my show, you’re gonna LOVE IT!!
Do you have an idea that has worked as a sure-fire audience attractor? I’d love to hear about it. For now though, I am donning my Santa hat and getting to work on the Christmas singalong. It’s only 7 months away!
Keep Strumming and Smiling,