Dude, what the fuck? Doors opened like an hour ago and no one’s here! Now I’m texting all my friends like, “You need to get your asses down here right now!” But they’re all like, “Sorry dude, didn’t know you even had a show!” You didn’t know?! After I spent all morning painstakingly formulating that one perfect promo tweet this morning?! Punk is dead.
As an artist, I carefully craft everything I do. Well, except for the music. That’s just gotta flow naturally. I find, the more effort I put into my music, the greater the risk that I’ll feel bad when it doesn’t immediately make me famous. But dammit I worked hard on this tweet. So where is everyone?!
Any true musician knows that it takes more than just having good songs to get people to actually come out to a show. You need an identity, something you stand for, and, of course aloof, generic tweets that make people feel invited to attend your event that you might not even bother showing up to. Well, I nailed that last thing. So why am I standing in an empty venue save for one very pissed off promoter?
Last week, this one dude brought out 200 people to this place so I called him up to ask how. First of all, the asshole laughed at my one tweet thing. He said that only works for celebrities. Um, hello! It’s me, dude. Like everyone in town knows me. Then he went off about hanging posters, handing out flyers, hounding radio and newspapers for interviews, Facebook community pages, booking bands with decent followings and giving them a bigger cut of the door, asking the bar for drink specials, and individually messaging friends and family weeks in advance. Jesus Christ, buddy. I already have a part-time job.
Fuck this promoter shit. I’ll leave that to the ugly, talentless losers who can only imagine lives behind the scenes. I was meant for the spotlight, not the grunt work! From now on I’m only gonna put effort into the parts I like about playing music. Primarily drinking in bars, which is what I’m gonna start doing now that the show is canceled.