SUPPORTING LIVE MUSIC WITHOUT LOSING MY ASS.

Live music is everywhere in the 78130. You can find somebody playing almost every day of the week, usually within a mile or two of wherever you are. If you want proof, check out New Braunfels Live Music Today on Facebook. My good friend Gary Rowe keeps that page packed with musicians, venues and shows happening all over town.

And that, my friends, is exactly why I am not interested in booking live music just so Duesy’s can say we do. I could fill every blank spot on the calendar with another musician, including somebody who played 250 yards away the night before, make a graphic, slap LIVE MUSIC TONIGHT across it and pat myself on the back for “supporting local music.” Cute. That doesn't mean it makes sense.

I would rather look at what is already happening around town, who has played nearby, what the weather looks like, what our patrons are actually showing up for and whether I honestly believe there will be an audience sitting in front of that musician. If the answer is no, well then, I ain’t doin’ it.

There is this odd idea that the venue with the fullest music calendar must somehow support musicians more than everybody else. Bullshit. Putting somebody on a stage doesn't automatically mean you did them a favor. If nobody is listening, the patio is empty and everybody else is twenty feet away inside watching football in the air conditioning, congratulations. We technically had live music. But what the hell did we actually accomplish?

That question matters in Central Texas because from June well into October, it is hot. Sometimes it is flat-out fucking miserable. Our breezeway is covered and, on the right day, it is one of my favorite parts of Duesy’s. Give me a little breeze, a good musician, an iced tea and a crowd that wants to listen, and I am all in. But when it is 101 degrees at four o’clock and the air is not moving, everybody with a lick of sense is sitting inside.

I am not sticking a musician outside in that heat for three hours so I can check a box on the calendar. Nobody wins. The musician is miserable, the crowd is inside, and I am standing there wondering why I paid somebody to slow-roast on stage. I would rather book fewer shows and make the ones we do book memorable. I have zero interest in filling a calendar just to look busy.

And musicians, this applies to you too. Not every artist fits every venue. That is not an insult. It is not personal. It doesn't mean you are not talented. You might work great at Duesy’s and make absolutely no sense somewhere else. You might pack the place down the road and not be right for us. You may get hired here and not there, or there and not here. No hard feelings. It is business.

A smart owner usually knows what works in their room. Or, at the very least, eventually figures it out after paying for enough mistakes. The crowd matters. The size of the room matters. Volume matters. Style matters. Time of day matters. A musician can be damn good and still be completely wrong for a particular venue. That doesn't make the musician bad, and it doesn't make the owner an asshole for knowing the difference.

That is actually one of the best things about this town. Musicians have choices. Venues have choices. Patrons have choices. We do not all need to book the same people, offer the same experience or chase the same crowd. Different rooms can be...different. Imagine that.

Now for the unspeakable truth. The too-taboo-to-talk-about part: live music is expensive.

Before a musician ever walks through the door, venues are already paying thousands of dollars every year in music licensing just for the legal right to offer it. Then there is sound equipment, repairs, electricity, staffing, promotion and the actual cost of paying musicians. There is money on the table before somebody plugs in a guitar.

So yes, I am going to pay attention to who I book. And this is probably where I lose a few musicians.

If I hire Joe Blow, who has seven followers, no draw and needs the gig because groceries are expensive, I sympathize. Groceries are expensive for all of us. But needing the money cannot be the entire sales pitch. The starving artist still has to bring something to the table.

Advertise the show. Share the gahdang post. Tell your buddies. Invite Aunt Susan. Text your neighbor. Mention Duesy’s on your page. Try to fill one table. One. I am not asking you to recreate Woodstock. I am asking you to act like you give a shit whether anybody knows where you are playing.

I expect effort because I'm putting in effort too. We are paying you. We are promoting the gig. We are providing the space, licensing, staff and a customer base we have spent years building. The deal cannot be that the venue does all of that, the musician shows up, plays for three hours, expects a free bar tab and then looks confused when the room doesn't magically fill itself. That is not marketing. That is wishing. Shit in one hand, wish in the other, baby.

And no, I do not expect every musician to pack the place. Sometimes everybody promotes the hell out of something and twelve people show up. I own a bar. Believe me, I am very familiar with that particular heartbreak. But there is a huge difference between a bad turnout and no effort.

If you repeatedly play somewhere without telling anybody you are playing there, never share the event, never invite anybody and make absolutely no attempt to help build a crowd, eventually the owner is going to notice. At least this one will.

Talent matters. Showing up on time matters. Being easy to work with matters. Reading the room matters. And whether musicians like hearing it or not, making some effort to bring people through the door matters too.

The whole starving-artist thing can only carry so much weight. At some point, honey, you have to ask whether you are participating in your own starvation. Most of us work for our money. Musicians are not exempt.

I genuinely do not care how you promote yourself. Make a reel. Post a flyer. Call your mama. Send smoke signals. Just care enough to try.

And yes, money matters. It has to.

The musician needs to make money. My bartenders need to make money. Duesy’s needs to make money. Nobody is paying the electric bill with “community support.” Supporting local music doesn't mean pretending basic math doesn't exist. If I ignore the numbers long enough in the name of being supportive, eventually there is no music budget. Period.

I want to pay musicians well, give them a crowd worth playing for and keep the business healthy enough to hire them again. That is the damn point.

Football season adds another layer because it starts while Texas is still hot as hell and our patrons absolutely want sports. I am not going to pretend otherwise because somebody thinks a “real” live music venue should turn every television off the second the band's ready for soundcheck. That is not Duesy’s.

We have separate areas and separate audio zones. We can have music in the breezeway and football inside. Sometimes it works perfectly. Sometimes a game goes into overtime right as somebody is supposed to start a set and suddenly we are trying to keep fifty football fans happy while Lisa Lou is standing there holding her Les Paul wondering what fresh hell she walked into. Welcome to the bar business.

Duesy’s is half sports bar and half live music joint. That is intentional. There will be weekends when music gets most of our attention. There will be weekends when football does. There will be summer afternoons when I decide nobody needs to bake on stage. At all.

And then there will be days when the weather finally cooperates, the breezeway fills up, the musician is killing it, drinks are flying across the bar and everything hits exactly right. Those are the moments I care about.

I am not trying to win some imaginary award for booking the most bands in town. I do not need seven nights of music to prove Duesy’s supports musicians and musicians do not need to play every room in town to prove they are successful. This town has enough music, enough venues and enough different crowds for all of us to be a little more selective. That is the beauty of choice.

We are going to keep booking musicians. We are going to keep paying them. We are going to keep promoting them. We are going to keep giving new people a shot when it makes sense and bringing people back when it works.

But I am also going to keep watching the room, the weather, the calendar and the numbers, because I want musicians to still have a stage at Duesy’s next year. And the year after that.

That, too, is supporting live music.

Like it or not.