The terms of an agreement to perform often can be described as vague at best. Let's say you are going to play a 300 seat concert hall. The date and time have been established in a series of short emails. You ask for some more details on the logistics. A short answer comes back saying, "We have the lights and sound. You can take 60% of the house. Ticket price $15."
Performance night rolls around and all 300 seats are filled. You're thinking 300X$15=$4500 is the house, and your cut will be 60% of that, or $2700. Sweet.
Except as you're packing up, the house manager tells you what a fabulous job you did, how everyone loved it, how they'd love to have you back next years, and hands you a check for $200. You wrinkle your brow in confusion and say, "Is that it? I though we had 60% of the house." "Of course," the manager answers with a smile, explaining that it was 60% after the costs of advertising, house rental fee to cover heat and cleanup, paying the light and sound guys, and of course his house managing fee.
This is what we call a pivotal moment. You can call the guy foul names, which might feel awful good at the time, but is also likely to lose you the opportunity to play at this--and possibly many other--venues. Or, you can swallow hard and realize that you had not fully understood the terms of your gig contract, and vow to do a better, more professional approach next time.
Legally speaking, a contract is a meeting of the minds. A lot of folks think of a contract as a written document, but that's not necessarily the case. Only certain kinds of contracts-- those involving real estate, those for projects lasting longer than a year--are required by law to be in written form. For most ordinary contracts, like an agreement to play at the Joe Coffee House on a Saturday afternoon for $200 plus tips and a cup of coffee, are legally binding even if they consist of just words and a handshake.
The first thing to think about in terms of whether you have a binding contract is clarity. Did your minds actually meet, completely, regarding the terms? Did Joe Coffee tell you that you're being paid $200, or did he say you were playing for tips and that some bands make as much as $200 in the tip jar?
A lot of venue managers dodge you when you try to pin down details on the logistics of a gig. Sometimes this is because they are being exploitative and venal. Most times it's because they are really busy running a restaurant or bar or concert hall and dealing with employees and vendors and a thousand other things besides your gig. Either way, it is really to both of your advantages if you can try your earnest best to sit down and clarify the details. If you can convert those details to writing -- on a scrap of paper while you talk at the bar, or in an email asking if these are indeed the terms that the house understood to be in effect, can indeed help if a conflict arises later, even though it's not technically necessary to make the contract enforceable.
What, then, do you do when your payment isn't what you expected? It depends. My band played our premier night at a restaurant venue that we were trying to negotiate into a regular monthly weekday-night gig. The owner said he'd pay us $100 plus dinner and we could keep all our merch sales. But when we got out to the van after packing up that first night and unfolded the $50 bill he gave us, we discovered the bill was all alone; he'd paid us $50 not $100. We sat there and talked about whether to go back and say something -- in this case, it was likely honestly just an error on the guy's part. But maybe not, maybe he just tipped us that for the first night before agreeing to pay us $100 for subsequent months. We realized neither one of us had been focused on the payment discussion as our attention was on the dangling carrot of a regular ongoing gig in a new town. We opted to not say anything, as it might create a bad taste or bit of tension in what was promising to be a productive relationship. We said we'd watch next time and see what happened -- and from then on, he not only paid us the usual $100 each month but on good-selling nights he threw us extra. We more than made up for what might or might not have been a missing $50.
Granted, this was small potatoes, and we have day jobs so although $50 is $50, it was not going to kill us. When you're handed $200 while expecting a couple thousand, a face-to-face meeting to discuss how the discrepancy in understanding arose is well worth pursuing. The trick, however, is not to approach it with anger, but rather by asking if you can meet to review the event and the finances to make sure that any repeat performances meet the business needs of both you and the venue. The same approach works well in seeking clarity before playing at a new venue -- earnestly express that you are anxious to make the gig work for both of you and pursue both of your needs and expectations. This is a non-confrontational approach which will help bolster your reputation as a serious, professional entertainment organization.
If, after a face-to-face businesslike conversation, you conclude that you were indeed shafted and the venue reneged on a representation of what you would be paid, then consider consulting an attorney, or suing the venue in small claims court for contract violation if the missing payment is under your state's small claims court limit. Just realize that such an action will forever burn bridges with that venue--but some venues deserve to have those bridges burned, and your lawsuit may well encourage them to either change their practices, or at least serve to warn other performers of the dangers of gigging at that place.
Performance night rolls around and all 300 seats are filled. You're thinking 300X$15=$4500 is the house, and your cut will be 60% of that, or $2700. Sweet.
Except as you're packing up, the house manager tells you what a fabulous job you did, how everyone loved it, how they'd love to have you back next years, and hands you a check for $200. You wrinkle your brow in confusion and say, "Is that it? I though we had 60% of the house." "Of course," the manager answers with a smile, explaining that it was 60% after the costs of advertising, house rental fee to cover heat and cleanup, paying the light and sound guys, and of course his house managing fee.
This is what we call a pivotal moment. You can call the guy foul names, which might feel awful good at the time, but is also likely to lose you the opportunity to play at this--and possibly many other--venues. Or, you can swallow hard and realize that you had not fully understood the terms of your gig contract, and vow to do a better, more professional approach next time.
Legally speaking, a contract is a meeting of the minds. A lot of folks think of a contract as a written document, but that's not necessarily the case. Only certain kinds of contracts-- those involving real estate, those for projects lasting longer than a year--are required by law to be in written form. For most ordinary contracts, like an agreement to play at the Joe Coffee House on a Saturday afternoon for $200 plus tips and a cup of coffee, are legally binding even if they consist of just words and a handshake.
The first thing to think about in terms of whether you have a binding contract is clarity. Did your minds actually meet, completely, regarding the terms? Did Joe Coffee tell you that you're being paid $200, or did he say you were playing for tips and that some bands make as much as $200 in the tip jar?
A lot of venue managers dodge you when you try to pin down details on the logistics of a gig. Sometimes this is because they are being exploitative and venal. Most times it's because they are really busy running a restaurant or bar or concert hall and dealing with employees and vendors and a thousand other things besides your gig. Either way, it is really to both of your advantages if you can try your earnest best to sit down and clarify the details. If you can convert those details to writing -- on a scrap of paper while you talk at the bar, or in an email asking if these are indeed the terms that the house understood to be in effect, can indeed help if a conflict arises later, even though it's not technically necessary to make the contract enforceable.
What, then, do you do when your payment isn't what you expected? It depends. My band played our premier night at a restaurant venue that we were trying to negotiate into a regular monthly weekday-night gig. The owner said he'd pay us $100 plus dinner and we could keep all our merch sales. But when we got out to the van after packing up that first night and unfolded the $50 bill he gave us, we discovered the bill was all alone; he'd paid us $50 not $100. We sat there and talked about whether to go back and say something -- in this case, it was likely honestly just an error on the guy's part. But maybe not, maybe he just tipped us that for the first night before agreeing to pay us $100 for subsequent months. We realized neither one of us had been focused on the payment discussion as our attention was on the dangling carrot of a regular ongoing gig in a new town. We opted to not say anything, as it might create a bad taste or bit of tension in what was promising to be a productive relationship. We said we'd watch next time and see what happened -- and from then on, he not only paid us the usual $100 each month but on good-selling nights he threw us extra. We more than made up for what might or might not have been a missing $50.
Granted, this was small potatoes, and we have day jobs so although $50 is $50, it was not going to kill us. When you're handed $200 while expecting a couple thousand, a face-to-face meeting to discuss how the discrepancy in understanding arose is well worth pursuing. The trick, however, is not to approach it with anger, but rather by asking if you can meet to review the event and the finances to make sure that any repeat performances meet the business needs of both you and the venue. The same approach works well in seeking clarity before playing at a new venue -- earnestly express that you are anxious to make the gig work for both of you and pursue both of your needs and expectations. This is a non-confrontational approach which will help bolster your reputation as a serious, professional entertainment organization.
If, after a face-to-face businesslike conversation, you conclude that you were indeed shafted and the venue reneged on a representation of what you would be paid, then consider consulting an attorney, or suing the venue in small claims court for contract violation if the missing payment is under your state's small claims court limit. Just realize that such an action will forever burn bridges with that venue--but some venues deserve to have those bridges burned, and your lawsuit may well encourage them to either change their practices, or at least serve to warn other performers of the dangers of gigging at that place.
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