14 Cents a Ticket: The Real Math Behind Your Favorite Band’s Tour (or ugly money truths about the music industry)

Question: How long does it take for a brand-new rock band to actually make money after covering all their expenses?

1. 6 months
2. 1-2 years
3. 3-5 years
4. Most never do

The correct answer is D.

I’ve known for a while that it’s hard for a lot of bands to make it big—and it’s just as hard for them to make money on the road. So when I was writing Shame Me, book two of the Rock Stars on the Rise series, I did a lot of research. And every time I thought I had covered all the angles, I thought of more things to consider. It didn’t help that everything I searched revealed even more things I hadn’t thought of. I tried hard to depict all of the money issues the band had while promoting their first album in a realistic way.

The real bands we see and love and enjoy may also not be as well off as we think. Especially in today’s environment of streaming music, it’s difficult if not downright impossible for bands to earn a comfortable living, and much of what I researched said that many current bands make most of their money through merch—although that can also be another way a label traps artists. But, when it doesn’t, there’s the upfront cost of making merch like t-shirts. (And, after all the research I’ve done, I will never again complain about how much I spent on a band t-shirt at a concert!).

Let’s take a look at a typical concert ticket. The venue, as expected, takes its cut first. Then you have other expenses, like the agent, manager, and let’s not forget taxes. Add to it, an opening act only makes a fraction of what the headliners do. Then there are all the travel expenses (food, lodging, transportation, road crew, and insurance). And if the label has fronted money for the tour, well, all that profit goes to them to pay them back. It can be a vicious cycle. If I did the math right, that means that, for a $20 ticket, a band member can expect to make 14 cents, according to an article on The Trichordist. (Just so you know how I came up with that number, I based it on what Lowery specifically says in this article: “Each band member (4) makes . . . 0.7% of face value of each [$20] ticket.”)

for a $20 ticket, a band member can expect to make 14 cents, according to an article on The Trichordist

Some of the research I did led me to a video that explains how one band figured out how to make touring “affordable” by buying and renovating their own bus. I love finding videos like this one, because they help me really get into the mindset of a band trying to make it—and that realism makes my writing better.

All that is what led me to write the following scene in Shame Me (Rock Stars on the Rise #2).

**WARNING: Strong language**

Zack said, “So what’s so important about the money that we have to talk about it on our day off?”

“I’m nervous about how the numbers add up.” When Zack raised an eyebrow, I continued. “Okay…let’s look at the debt. We’ll be on the road a total of 27 days—and every single day there are costs: hotels, gas, per diems, the occasional group meals, the wages of the crew, Mick, and the bus driver, and probably other shit I haven’t even thought of. But I started there.”

Cy said, “Show us what you have.”

I opened my notebook. “There are eleven of us altogether,” I said, hoping I didn’t have to show my math—but it was the four of us in the band, Mick, five roadies, and the bus driver. “So let’s start with per diems. I’m going to assume they’re giving us all the same per diem.”

“Which ain’t shit,” Zack interjected.

“Yeah, but it adds up. Two hundred a week times eleven for four weeks equals $8,800.”

Braden’s eyes grew wide. “Whoa.”

“That’s just the beginning. Now let’s look at hotels. I’m not sure you’ve noticed, but Mick has his own room.”

Cy put down his sandwich. “He does?”

“Yeah—but if he didn’t, that would put three in a room…which might be weird or uncomfortable.”

“One of us should—”

“Let’s not sidetrack here. Regardless, that means we’re booking six hotel rooms almost every night. I know we’re not staying anywhere fancy, but even the budget hotels where we’re staying add up. I don’t have the receipts and I haven’t asked Mick yet, but I looked up the average price for a lot of the places we’ve already stayed, and I estimated it at around eighty dollars a night for a room—but it could be more. Multiply that times six rooms times twenty-seven days—”

Braden said “Holy shit” before I could give the total.

“And that’s almost $13,000.”

“Okay, Dani,” Zack said, sitting back on the bed, leaning against the wall, “just cut to the chase. I don’t need to hear line-by-line items.”

“Fine.” I let out a slow breath and turned two pages in the notebook where I had computed the grand total. “I know some of my numbers might be off, but we’re looking at total expenses of between $180,000 to $200,000.”

“Jesus,” Cy said, standing up so he could look at the notebook over my shoulder, “you put a lot of thought into this.”

Braden’s brown eyes were wide, as if he’d just seen a ghost. “I can’t even imagine that kind of money.”

Zack said, “Guys, we knew there’d be expenses. It’s the cost of touring. We’re making money. We just aren’t seeing it yet.”

“Okay, then,” I said, “let’s move on to earnings. I got the settlement sheets from Mick.”

“What are those?” Braden asked.

“They’re basically an accounting of total receipts from the show—what the show grossed minus expenses. Without going into excruciating detail,” I said, looking pointedly at Zack, who seemed like he couldn’t care less, “our band is netting an average of about five-thousand per show.” I didn’t miss Braden’s eyes growing wide again, but this time with a twinkle. “But don’t get all excited about that. Some venues pay a little more and some a little less, so I used actual numbers for the sheets I have and estimated for the rest. All together, for the tour itself—only sixteen shows, guys—we’re probably going to earn $80,000.”

Cy shouted, “That’s bullshit!”

Frowning, I simply nodded.

“Can I see the spreadsheets—or whatever you called them?”

Picking up my phone, I tapped in the passcode. “The settlement sheets. Yeah, I took pictures of them. Do you want me to text them to—”

“Can I just look at one?”

Handing him my phone, I said, “Yeah.”

While Cy scrutinized the sheet, using his fingers to move the photo around and zoom in and out, Zack sat back up. “It’s the cost of business. It’ll all even out in the long run.”

Cy was a ball of fury when he spoke. Still looking at the phone, he said, “You think so? Maybe when we’re headliners like LFS, but right now, we’re getting the scraps. Gross ticket sales, a little over $100,000—and all we fuckin’ get is $5,000. That’s a load of horseshit.”

If it hadn’t been such a serious topic, I might have laughed at Cy’s words. But he was right. We were definitely getting the short end of the stick.

“Why so little?” Braden asked.

“So there’s all these deductions,” Cy said, squinting at my phone. “Shit like facility and promoter fees, security and staffing, and all kinds of bullshit. So right off the top, a third of it’s gone. Then they divvy up the rest, and LFS takes eighty-fucking-percent.”

“Come on, man,” Zack said. “That’ll be us someday. They’re the ones drawing in the crowds. Hardly anyone knows us yet—so we’re paying for exposure.”

“Yeah, that might be true, but do you wanna go back to washing dishes after this goddamn tour? ‘Cause that looks like what’s gonna happen. If Dani’s numbers are right, we’re gonna owe the record company after all this.”

* * *

If this excerpt makes you eager to read more, you can dive into the Rock Stars on the Rise series now, starting with Shake Me!

Every week in my Rockstar Romance Newsletter, I’ll be dropping a little trivia question pulled straight from the research rabbit holes I fall into while writing. This week’s question, How long does it take for a brand-new rock band to actually make money after covering all their expenses, led me to conduct a lot of research last year. If you guessed anything other than “most never do,” you’re not alone. I knew some of what I found, but I had no idea that even bands we’d consider successful struggle with this reality. And when I crunched the numbers myself, I was stunned and knew I had to share that in my fiction. I hope you enjoyed reading this post, knowing how it shaped several scenes in Shame Me.

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