The Fine Art of Bootlicking: How the Industry Rewards the Wrong Things

I’ve been putting on shows for years. Not for a paycheck. Not because I have some big corporate backing. Every single show I’ve ever done has been out of my own pocket. No sponsors. No business partnerships. No safety net.

I do it because I love music. I do it because I believe in giving artists a stage, especially the ones who have busted their asses to get where they are. I do it because I know what it’s like to be the fan in the crowd, watching a band that changes your life, and I want to make sure that still happens for someone else.

But the more I do this, the more I realize that love for music isn’t what gets you ahead. The bands that deserve it the most don’t always get the opportunities. The promoters who put in the real work don’t always get the support. The venues that care about the scene still struggle while others profit.

Because in this industry, it’s not about talent, or hard work, or passion—it’s about playing the game.

The Bands Who Deserve It vs. The Ones Who Cheat the System

I’ve booked bands who have spent years grinding—sleeping in vans, driving all night, playing their hearts out for 10 people in a basement. Bands that genuinely care about their music and their fans. Bands that will promote a show, show up early, and do everything they can to make it a great night. Local Michigan bands like Heartsick, Midwest Skies, Act As One, Doogie and I could list 100's of them.

And then I’ve booked bands that have all the numbers but none of the work ethic.

I’ve learned the hard way that I can’t trust Spotify stats. I’ve been burned by artists who claim to have 50,000 monthly listeners, only to bring zero people to a show. I’ve seen bands with thousands of followers who can’t get ten people to engage with their posts.

Now, before I book anyone, I investigate:

• Where are their streams coming from? If all their plays are coming from one country they’ve never toured in, I know they’ve bought fake plays.

• Do their social media numbers match their engagement? If a band has 10K followers but their posts get 3 likes, I know it’s smoke and mirrors.

• Have they actually pulled a crowd before? I reach out to other promoters and ask. Nine times out of ten, I hear the same thing: “Yeah, their numbers are fake. They flopped.”

Meanwhile, the real, hardworking bands—bands that actually have fans—are getting passed over because they didn’t buy their way onto a playlist or pay for a PR campaign that does nothing.

And that’s the part that kills me. The bands that deserve it the most are often the ones struggling the hardest, while the ones who play the game get ahead.

The Promoters Who Keep the Scene Alive vs. The Ones Who Exploit It

I’m not the only one doing this for the right reasons. There are plenty of other DIY promoters out there who put their own money on the line because they love music. Who take the financial risk so bands can have a shot. Who genuinely care about the scene.

And then there are the ones who just see it as a hustle.

I’ve seen promoters charge bands ridiculous fees just to get on a show. I’ve seen people make bands sell a minimum number of tickets just to play—even though the promoter is already taking money at the door. I’ve seen pay-to-play schemes disguised as “opportunities,” preying on young artists who don’t know any better.

And what about people like me? The ones who fund this out of our own pockets because we believe in it?

Here’s what it’s like to be a DIY promoter with no sponsors, no business backing, no financial safety net:

• I pay for the venue. If the show doesn’t make money, that’s on me.

• I pay the bands out of pocket if the turnout isn’t great. Because I refuse to let hard-working artists leave empty-handed.

• I handle all the marketing, flyering, and promo myself. No street team. No big-budget ad campaigns. Just me.

• I take the loss when a show doesn’t break even. And trust me, that happens more often than not.

And while I’m putting my own money into making sure these shows happen, the venues are making money at the bar, the bands with fake numbers are getting booked elsewhere, and the industry gatekeepers are still making all the rules.

It’s exhausting.

The Good Venues vs. The Gatekeepers

I want to be fair—there are great venues out there. I’ve worked with venue owners who genuinely care about the music, who take risks on new bands, who do everything they can to support the scene. Without them, none of this would exist.

But then there are the venues that treat this like a power game.

I’ve put on shows that made thousands in bar sales, only to have a venue ghost me when I tried to book again. I’ve worked with places that expect promoters and bands to take all the financial risk while they reap the rewards. I’ve seen bands bring in big crowds, only to have the venue take all the credit and give them nothing in return.

And the worst part? It doesn’t matter how well a show does. If you’re not part of their inner circle, if you’re not constantly stroking their ego, you’re replaceable.

That’s the reality of this business—relationships matter more than results.

So, What’s the Answer?

I wish I had a perfect solution. I don’t.

But I do know this:

• I’m done booking based on fake numbers. If a band’s online presence looks too good to be true, I’m looking deeper. If they don’t have a real fanbase, they’re not getting on my show.

• I’m working with bands who actually care. If you promote, if you put in the work, if you show up ready to play your heart out, I’ll go to bat for you. If you expect a free ride because you gamed the system, I’m not interested.

• I’m only working with venues that give a damn. If a venue doesn’t respect the artists, the promoters, or the people keeping the scene alive, I’m done with them.

• I’m not funding the illusion anymore. I’ve already spent tens of thousands of dollars doing this the right way, while others cheat their way to the top. I refuse to keep pouring money into a broken system.

I still believe in music. I still believe in the bands who deserve to make it. I still believe in the venues that care and the promoters who do this for the right reasons.

But I’m done playing the game.

If that means fewer shows, so be it. I’d rather put on one great, honest show than ten where I have to prop up someone else’s illusion.

Because at the end of the day, music deserves better than this.

Peace, Love and Music, Mickey 🤘🎵