Picture this: a busy Friday night in a trendy city venue. An up and coming band plays a beautifully-crafted and well-rehearsed set to a delighted audience, at least half of whom are the band’s loyal fans. The bar is busy and the night is energised. It’s a scene many of us are familiar with and is one of the great things about life in a city with a vibrant and exciting music scene. As the night draws to an end the various members of staff who have made the night happen congregate in the back office to collect their pay check. The frazzled bar staff collect their well-earned cash. Door staff are handed their envelopes with wry smiles and pats on the back, ‘Thanks guys that was a tough one tonight’. The school kid who collects glasses excitedly pockets his £20, and the cleaners, who have just arrived, take their wages in advance, their eyes diverted though the gap in the door at the alcohol stained apocalypse that awaits them. Now it’s the turn of the band. The guys and girls who rehearsed solidly in expensive studios for months; who promoted the show for weeks; who arrived at 3pm in a hired van after a 2 hour journey; who lugged all of their gear in the pouring rain to the sound check; the band that entertained the revellers and made the night awesome; in what giant envelope will the 5 of them receive their remuneration they quietly wonder? ‘AMAZING set guys, you were great… er we didn’t take as much as expected at the bar though, so obviously we won’t be able to pay you. Really sorry. I think we have a few bottles of beer left over that you can take’. The band saunter outside into the first rays of sunrise, 2 warm beers between them, full of defiance and resignation.
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