Industry Insights: Saving Our Stages (and What Comes After)

In an industry that grows and changes so rapidly under a government that is often divided, it is important to consider the economic impact that live entertainment has on local communities.

Industry Insights explores the inner workings of the greater music industry, and what they mean for artists and fans alike.

Written by Arundhati Ghosh

Photo courtesy of Austen Johnson

Ann Richards, as New Orleans’ Head of the Mayor’s Office of Night-time Economy Howie Kaplan notes, may have said it best: “If you're not at the table, you're on the menu.”

Amongst the fascination over this year’s AI spotlight at SXSW, as well as taking into consideration the conference’s tech-reverence — note the NFT spotlight at the 2022 conference —  it is easy to sideline retrospecting on the roots of art and culture in favor of looking ever-forward. Lisa Gedgaudas, one of Denver’s Cultural Affairs Program Managers, sat down with Howie Kaplan, Tamara Keshecki (Director of Grants and Government Relations at St. George Theatre as well as a Research Associate at U. Mass Amherst), and Tobi Parks (attorney and CEO of xBk in Des Moines) in order to discuss the economic impact of live entertainment, or, as Gedgaudas  further specifies, “how ‘arts and culture’ works in government.” 

All four of the onstage speakers are members of NIVA — the National Independent Venue Association. Parks doubles as the Board Vice Chair of NIVA’s 501(c)(3) arm, the National Independent Venue Foundation (NIVF). When asked about live entertainment as a sector, Keshecki mentions all the gears that come together to make a working machine: “nonprofits large and small, independent venues, multinationals, promoters, agents, of course artists themselves.” Parks expands upon this to emphasize how they should note that live entertainment is “important at a governmental level,” and Kaplan emphasizes the others that affect how venues are run: “loaders, technicians, all of the different support services… licensing, legal.” They are secure in their belief that there is an intrinsic emotional value held within the arts, but Keshecki is quick to mention that the government is data-driven. Emotions cannot always factor first and foremost into inherently emotional industries. 

So how do we establish venues? Perhaps more prudently, how do we fight to save them? 

Keshecki points out that cultural events are, ultimately, an economic multiplier: If someone attends a show at a local venue, they are likely to stop by the cafe next door for some coffee beforehand if it’s the morning, or they may bar-hop at local pubs or dives after a late-night show. Businesses around venues see gains in cash flow, so, while maintaining venues may not hold economic water to everyone in office, the economic benefits are likely to allow governments to see venues — and, to an extent, artists themselves — as investments. 

Gedgaudas nods along, agreeing in entirety as she says that “music saves lives, it can be a social good… it [moves] a community forward.” She then transitions into discussing the main reason live entertainment’s economic impact has been called into question of late: President Trump, and the pandemic.

Photo courtesy of Arundhati Ghosh

In 2017, the President's Committee on the Arts and Humanities had a fallout, only to be reinstated under President Biden in late 2022. Following the Executive Order on Promoting the Arts, the Humanities, and Museum and Library Services in September, Congress passed an end-of-year omnibus package in December that stated that the National Endowment for the Arts (NEA) and the National Endowment for the Humanities (NEH) would be funded at $207 million. The five long years during which the committee was unable to carry out its duties was marked not only by a presidential change, but notably by the COVID-19 pandemic.

The imbrication of economics and cultural impact is necessary, as governmental trust has been fundamental in keeping venues open and entertainment industry professionals employed throughout the past few years. At the height of pandemic shutdowns, venue operators found themselves in a bind: they could not ignore the public health risks of staying open, but they could not put themselves at massive economic risk, either. For the first time, venue operators realized that, rather than viewing each other as competitors, it was necessary to work together. 

According to Parks, with all the other speakers in agreement, “prior to the pandemic, independent venues didn’t communicate [with each other].” She’s passionate in stating that NIVA is why venues still exist. Operators and other personnel began their advocacy push for a government bail-out with mass mailing list activations first, then moving on to a letter-writing campaign for lobbying. With over 2 million letters, NIVA and their #SaveOurStages campaign put forward what was, according to Keshecki, the “largest advocacy campaign Congress had ever seen,” a move that, ultimately, led to the passing of a $16.2 billion nonpartisan bill for arts and culture. Unprecedented in more ways than one, the push and subsequent bill passage stretched not only over both political parties, but also across tax statuses. 

Kaplan adds that the “government should facilitate cross-wave cooperation” between venues, as, “for every $1 spent at a venue, $12-15 go into the direct local economy.” He remembers putting the economic benefits of bailing out venues first, and following it up with emotional heavy handedness — the phone call he witnessed between Louisiana Senator John Neely Kennedy and Kennedy’s all-time favorite artist, now-late artist Meat Loaf, was one he will never forget. Parks boils NIVA’s pandemic-era success within the government down to the fact that, though she is a “hard-core Democrat,” she has realized that there is “no political boundary” with human matters such as music or the arts. 

Gedgaudas, recognizing that the time on their too-short hour-long allotment is running out, speeds through the next few instances of venues impacting their communities, but the importance of her point is still felt. Parks remarks that her venue is open for live music at night, but, during the day, it holds events for “community involvement to professionalize the industry” such as workforce development. Keshecki’s theater often operates as an educational setting, a meeting place for community assemblies, and a place for poetry readings, among several other things. Live entertainment venues are, ultimately, pillars of the communities they are a part of. It is simply a matter of governments continuing to recognize this. 

This was — and remains — a glaring issue. It is important for municipalities to take an interest in promoting live entertainment from artists’ and venue operators’ perspectives in order to maintain a city’s culture and history. Despite NIVA’s successful lobby for a bail-out, all of the panelists agreed that the $16.2 billion dollar bill was a one-off, and would never be replicated. Fighting for venues to maintain a higher importance in their respective local governments’ eyes over opportunities for new development is still needed. Each community deserves its own cultural voice. In cities such as Austin, where the growth is unprecedented and fearsome, developers are quick to bulldoze small, local venues for highrises. No corner of Austin is safe. As recently as June of 2022, the Austin Historic Landmark Commission negotiated just how much of 4th street — the city’s historic LGBTQ hub — was eligible for zoning and/or designation. The outcome of that discussion has been vague, verging on bleak. 

Massive conferences don’t necessarily allay artists’ fears; nor do they view live entertainment from artists’ points of view. SXSW itself is notorious for underpaying their live entertainment: According to the Union of Musicians, the conference makes more money off of application fees than it pays in artist dues. Bands receive $250 per gig, and solo artists and duos get paid $100. No act is given compensation for putting on multiple performances despite many of them doing so. International acts are not given monetary compensation at all; rather, they only get artist wristbands. This is a gross oversight on SXSW’s part, considering that the artists make the experience, and the experience is now integral to how Austin is perceived as a city. 

Artists and venues tend to get overlooked for their more natural approaches to creating art, an issue that can, ultimately, permeate beyond individual incomes and easily unbalance a city’s collective valuation of culture. In a time where everyone seems to only be looking forward, we must be vigilant in being protective over live entertainment’s past.