While the exchange of currency for someone to sing songs for two to three hours in the corner of a drinking establishment has always been a perplexing one, the allure of live music is strong. But now I’m here singing quietly to the three of your twenty tables that are full and you’re feeling swindled. How dare I not advertise more? How dare I expect payment without having more of a “following”. Have I no shame? (Probably not, I am after all a musician). But let’s consider an alternative possibility before we point fingers at the performer:
Your bar is stupid.
Now, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with a bar being stupid. I’m convinced some of the stupidest bars I’ve ever been in are the most successful. Being stupid is not the point. It’s HOW your bar is being stupid.
For starters, your bar has the words “sports bar” in its name. This is not stupid. It actually gives a very good indicator of what I should expect from your bar:
– facing any of the four cardinal directions I will be able to see a minimum of five tv screens
– at least six beers on tap will have the word “lite” at the end of them
– the closest thing on your menu to “ethnic food” is the chicken quesadilla on your appetizer list
This is good branding.
Do you know what I do not expect to see in your bar? A thirty-something with a guitar singing “Ventura Highway”.
There is a reason an orchestra does not hire hotdog vendors to roam the isles during a performance. It is not because they don’t like hotdogs. It is not because they think the hotdog vendor is a bad salesman, or that they think the hotdogs will not be very good hotdogs. It is because their patrons are not expecting there to be a hotdog vendor.
Yes, the unexpected is not inherently bad. The man who didn’t think he needed to make a dinner reservation only to find it would be a forty-five minute wait for a table, which led him to skip dinner altogether because his seat is in the center of the row and he didn’t want to have to uncomfortably squeeze past everyone to get to his seat at the last minute only to elbow the person sitting next him while he tries to take off his coat before he sits down might be DELIGHTED to see an unexpected hotdog vendor. But the risk-reward trade-off does not stack favorably.
Secondly, your bar has too many rooms. The acceptable options for bar seating are as follows: indoor or outdoor, bar or table, private event space, or main floor. You have a downstairs, an upstairs, a patio, and a second patio with those plastic tarp walls that gives you the temperature control and aesthetic ambiance of a rainy day at a music festival. What did your servers do to deserve this?
Adding live music compounds this stupidity. Given the option, there is a ninety-five percent chance patrons will not sit in the room with the musician and they are justified in making that decision. The music could be too loud. The music could be bad. They might be planning on having a loud conversation. What if they end up being the only ones in the music room? Are they expected to clap at every song? How much eye contact is too much eye contact? Is the performer going to talk to them in between songs? It’s an easy choice to play it safe and not be in the room, every time.
So regardless of how we got here, here we are. You have paid money for someone to come sing songs at your business for customers who thought they showed up to watch four football games at once and eat chicken wings. I don’t know what your logic is behind this (I have theories, but we’ll save that for another day).
And we will continue to be here until you accept the fact that your bar is stupid. Only you can stop what you’ve started. Nobody, not a single person that you pay to come and sing in your bar for three hours will EVER tell you it’s a bad idea. Because why would they talk themselves out of a job?
The point is, live music is similar to whip cream. Whip cream can make a lot of things better. It can be fun, it can be aesthetically pleasing, it can make a good thing better. You do not put whip cream on a cheeseburger. Even if it’s some trendy fad, or if someone weirdo is trying to convince you they go well together, it’s still stupid. Do whatever the metaphorical equivalent would be of adding mustard and ketchup. Don’t let your bar be a stupid cheeseburger.
(but if you do, hit me up. I will be your whip cream. Daddy has bills to pay.)