“I’ve never really had a hobby, unless you count art, which the IRS once told me I had to declare as a hobby since I hadn’t made money with it.” Laurie Anderson

Opening a live music venue can be a terrible idea. That may sound quite a statement from a chap who’s worked in three - having launched two of them from scratch - so let me qualify it.

I’m talking about those small spaces that specialize in new acts, new talent, new ideas and new energy. I’m talking about those wonderful proving grounds. Those up-close and personal, wild, loud, thrilling, singular and sultry live spaces where – when the stars align - you can even see something life-changing. You may never get the chance to see those acts in such an intense setting ever again, as they leapfrog onwards and upwards career and capacity wise. And therein lies the problem.

It’s these smaller spaces and the promoters that use them that are taking chances with bookings. Here you’ll find enthusiasts promoting things they love, where a glitch in PR or a slight shift in a release schedule can make a world of difference to a show’s success. In fact it can kill a show dead – ‘If only they’d been on Jools Holland’s show a fortnight ago and not in two weeks time’, things like that.

Now the small venue may have made loss after loss on those nascent shows – of course, it’s not for the larger spaces to take those cultural chances - but still they press on. And remember some bands may never make good at these little venues, understandably being eager to move up to bigger, more bankable halls as soon as they get the chance.

But there’s something else at the core of the small live music space that just doesn’t add up and it’s this: the very thing that has drawn people into the building is distracting them from the thing that’s actually keeping the place remotely open.

I mean the show (that wonderful thing blazing away up on the stage over there) is hypnotically and inexorably pulling people away from the bar (that thing in the corner that’s paying for everything).

The better the show, the greater the audience’s disinterest in the cash generating booze machine - “Ay there’s the rub”. Seriously, I’ve seen heaving venues hosting shows sold out months in advance, where the bar has been barely glanced at all evening - it’s just not why people have come out for the evening.

The box office won’t keep a venue open either, rightfully going in large to band fees plus incumbent show costs. The sliver of the box office actually retained by the venue is barely touching those big bills (rent, staff, insurance, PAYE etc) so a small business can easily find itself dancing on the cusp of profitability. On the face of it, it’s one lousy business model.

So why open a venue? Plainly, the smart money would just open a regular bar and be done with any other aspirations.

Believe me, in this instance there’s far less fun where the smart money is, far fewer moments of jaw-dropping splendor, far fewer unrepeatable and groundbreaking nights, and often a much worse soundtrack.

If you are prudent, inventive and hardy you can find yourself with a solid business as well as a satisfying one. As George Bernard Shaw wrote “Happy is the man who can make a living by his hobby.” 

Originally published in the Gig Section edition of The Musician, Extra c/o The Musician’s Union - http://www.themu.org