How To Treat Musicians (From Someone Who's Been on the Other Side for almost 17 Years)

Tonight I got a call from someone I’ve known and worked with for over five years—a musician I admire, a friend, and someone whose band happens to be one of my favorites. He had flown over 878 miles to fulfill his end of a contract. Despite flight delays and exhaustion, he showed up—even though his band couldn’t make it.

But when he arrived, he found that the promoter who was supposed to pick him up was nowhere. No ride. No plan. No care.

But he knew he could call me.

And he was right.

Without hesitation, I said, “I’ll be there as quick as I can.”

Here’s the kicker: this wasn’t even my show. It wasn’t my responsibility. But here I am, taking care of the musicians anyway—because that’s what you do when it’s not about the clout, the status, or the paycheck—it’s about the music, the people behind it, and the trust you’ve built over years.

ODP has always been about the music, the bands, and the fans. Never about the almighty dollar, I have lost more than I have profited.

After I picked him up, I made sure he was okay. You could see the frustration and exhaustion on his face. We offered him two choices: he could crash at our house and take a ride to the Detroit area in the morning since hotels and rental cars were impossible to get (anyone from up here knows how impossible summer is with all the tourists), or Damien would drive him down tonight.

He chose to go tonight because he has a gig Sunday out of state.

That is what we do. We care.

There’s something sacred about music. It brings people together, starts movements, and saves lives. But for me, it’s not just about the music anymore. It’s about the people behind it—the ones pouring their lives, pain, joy, and truth into every note.

And I’m not just saying that as a fan. I say it as a promoter who’s been doing this for nearly 17 years. I’ve thrown shows, booked tours, worked with local and national acts. I’ve been there behind the scenes, before the doors open and long after the gear is packed. I’ve become friends—family, really—with the artists I work with.

Because I’m not in this to fill a calendar or to make a shit ton of money (believe me I could use the money) I’m in this to treat musicians like human beings.

They’re Not Just Bands—They’re People with Real Lives

Too many forget that musicians are more than entertainment. They’re not robots on stage or content machines. They’re people—writing songs about their trauma, their addictions, their heartbreak, their survival.

Every lyric carries something real. Every performance is a window into their lives—grief, growth, love, loss, and everything in between. Some are singing through pain you’ll never see.

And behind the scenes? Bands function like families. And just like family, they argue. They clash. They go through it. But they still get up on stage, night after night, and give you their everything. That’s not easy.

After almost two decades in this industry, I can tell you who the straight shooters are and who’s silently battling demons. Once you become true friends with a band, you can see through them. You can tell when something’s off. And sometimes, just being that one person who checks in and cares makes all the difference.

Promoters: If You Book a Band, You Take Responsibility

Let’s be honest: if you’re going to book a band, show up.

Don’t sign contracts and vanish. Don’t make promises you won’t keep. Don’t leave a band in the dark with no food, no ride, and no plan. That’s not just bad business—it’s reckless and disrespectful.

When a band signs on with you, you become responsible for their safety, comfort, and basic needs while they’re in your care. That includes delays, late arrivals, emergencies—all of it. If something goes wrong, it’s your job to step in and fix it.

And if you can’t handle that, then I’ll say it plain: you shouldn’t be booking bands at all.

Here’s the Difference: Are You in It for the Music or the Clout?

There are two types of people in this business:

The ones chasing money, power, and recognition.

And the ones here because they love music and give a damn about the musicians and their craft.

One is just doing a job.

The other is building a legacy. I am the one building a legacy.

Why I Go the Extra Mile

I’ve had bands tell me I do too much. That I treat them better than they’re used to. But that’s not a flex—it’s a reminder that so many of them have been treated like they’re disposable.

And I’ll never be that person.

Because I’ve seen what they go through—the sleep deprivation, the cheap food, the mental toll, the endless hours on the road—and still they show up and give their all. The least I can do is make sure they’re fed, safe, heard, and respected.

Final Thoughts: Treat Them Like It Matters—Because It Does

This industry doesn’t need more rockstar promoters with inflated egos and empty promises.

It needs more real people who lead with loyalty, heart, and respect.

So if you’re in this business—act like it. Feed the band. Communicate. Be present. Keep your word. Watch for burnout. Ask how they’re really doing. And support them offstage as much as you do under the lights.

Because behind every band is a story. Behind every show is a sacrifice.

And behind every song… is a soul.

Peace, Love and Loud Music,

Mickey 🎵💜