The suffering that Tampa Bay’s ticketed concert venues have endured during the pandemic has flown beneath the radar when compared to bars, restaurants and retail.
“Absolutely,” Tom DeGeorge, who owns Crowbar in Ybor City and has become the local venue industry’s loudest voice and strongest advocate during the pandemic, told Creative Loafing Tampa Bay. “I don’t think anyone took us into consideration in the beginning. We got no funding. Legislators and officials didn’t understand our business model. When the restrictions loosened, we couldn’t just pick up where we left off, like bars and restaurants could.”
Collectively, the country’s live-music industry has canceled or indefinitely postponed thousands of shows. Touring has stopped, save for a few national acts willing to do limited regional jaunts and play small or mid-size venues. DJs, who travel light, are doing sets at clubs like The Ritz in Ybor City.
Since the live-entertainment world shut down in March, many local venue operators have certainly shown their heavy mettle. (To be clear, this article is not about bars that hire local bands; it concerns venues that present mostly touring acts and sell tickets.)
The Bay area’s venue industry in 2020 was devastated but not decimated—and should be applauded for its adaptability, innovation and resiliency. The expected carnage has not come. According to DeGeorge, only one venue has outright closed: Skipper’s Smokehouse packed it in after holding 40th anniversary concerts in late September, but ownership said at the time that the pandemic was more the “nail in the coffin” than the primary reason. Count our market as fortunate. Nationwide, hundreds of music havens—mostly small, independent and for-profit—have shuttered during the pandemic.
Although Tampa Bay venues have resumed limited programming, mostly at 50% capacity—and there is optimism for a rebound in 2021—they are by no means in the clear. Much hinges on the nearly $1 trillion coronavirus rescue bill that was being hashed out (and held up) before Congress finally came to an agreement on it Sunday night. Senators will vote on it Monday, Dec. 21 as the Dec. 31 issue of CL goes to the printer—and it still has to pass the desk of a president more focused on his election loss than he is on helping the American people—but Senate Minority Leader Chuck Schumer already lauded the legislation from the Senate floor.
"These venues are so important to my state and so many other states across the country. They are the lifeblood of our communities. They were the first to close and will be the last to open," Schumer said. "This bill gives them a fighting chance.”
Within that bill is the Save our Stages Act, which allocates $15 billion for small clubs, performing arts centers, large arenas, comedy clubs and Broadway theaters, as well as promoters and talent reps. The provision provides to venues grants equaling 45% of their average gross revenues from 2018 and 2019. On Tuesday, Dec. 15, Sen. Amy Klobuchar said that passage of the Save Our Stages Act was “looking good.”
Those dollars should let most local establishments cover back rent and other expenses—in effect, allowing them to remain open. If the money does not come through, DeGeorge said, we’re likely to see a significant number of closures. While established, well-funded places like Ruth Eckerd Hall, the Straz Center, Amelie Arena and MidFlorida Amphitheater are almost certain to be spared, scrappy, independent music clubs are most at risk. “Some are three or more months behind on rent and they’ve been asking their landlords to hang on until they get the federal money,” DeGeorge explained. “If that doesn’t happen, expect landlords to start evicting. By Feb. 1, we could see a vast number of places closing.”
DeGeorge said Crowbar was not, for time being, at risk of shutting down. However, he added, if a lot of other venues around the country close, it would leave him few options going forward. “With the debt I compiled this year and no touring bands for years, I would have no choice but to close.”
He foresees a subsequent wave of real estate sales, where buildings that once housed music clubs will fall into the hands of developers looking to build new residential or multi-use projects.
A fractured industry comes together
It took a Herculean effort to get the $15 billion package into the sprawling federal rescue bill. In late March, just weeks after the pandemic forced the shutdown, operators quickly formed the National Independent Venue Association (NIVA). DeGeorge was enlisted early in the process to be one of the Florida “captains.” “They liked that I had some pitbull in me,” he said. “I went from presenting shows to being a lobbyist virtually overnight. I learned fast.”
The Crowbar owner said he has spent up to 12 hours a day on Zoom meetings and conference calls with lawmakers’ offices at the federal, state and local levels, as well as corralling mass support from advocates. “We’ve gotten two million emails sent to Congress,” he said. “I think it’s nothing short of remarkable how a bunch of indie venues got together and accomplished so much, regardless of the outcome.”
NIVA, which has 29 Tampa Bay members (ranging from the Brass Mug to the Mahaffey Theater), had to convince lawmakers just how vital live venues are to communities—culturally and economically. Estimates say that for every dollar spent at a ticketed venue, $12 is dispersed throughout the community in restaurants, bars, hotels and elsewhere.
“It’s my understanding that the Bonefish Grill on McMullen Booth [Road] near our building is the number one Bonefish in the country,” Bobby Rossi, Executive Vice President—Entertainment at Ruth Eckerd Hall, told CL. “That’ll happen when you have 200 live events a year taking place up the road.”
Independent music clubs serve as launchpads for striving local acts and support emerging bands as stops on a national touring circuit. These music rooms become key gathering spots for a city’s younger denizens, those not ready to settle into cushy seats and watch established acts at performing arts centers. Not surprisingly, the indie joints are way down in the pecking order of government concern. Do you think Rick Scott or Ron DeSantis has ever given a passing thought to places like Crowbar, The Ritz or the Hideaway Café?
A fitful journey out of the darkness
After being forced to shut down in mid-March—near the end of a first quarter that saw most venues do robust, if not record, business—some concert-industry people felt they’d be dark for a month or two and then get back to business. That outlook proved too rosy. The coronavirus repeatedly surged and receded, rules shifted on what businesses could open and when, at what capacity, with or without masks, and what governing body had the ultimate say. The maelstrom caused widespread uncertainty. “The recommendations were so patchwork that it seemed like you could interpret them in any way you wanted,” Rob Douglas, a long-time Bay area concert promoter who books Jannus Landing, told CL. “There was no real leadership from the State of Florida or the federal level.”
While restaurants could nimbly shift from 25% to 50% to 100% capacity, live music venues were hamstrung by logistical problems, as well as their collective conscience. One industry professional not authorized to speak on the record said, “Do you really want to be that guy?”—the place that screws things up, throws a bad light on the live-music community with super-spreader events.
Booking calendars became puzzle boards, with widespread cancellations, and postponements upon postponements. “My eraser was working overtime,” Rossi said.
“I’ve booked the same fuckin’ tours four times,” Douglas added.
Rather than merely riding the plague out, venue personnel got creative—essentially reinventing their business model on the fly. The key was to figure out how to present shows in a safe, socially-distanced way. That meant limiting capacity. Reserved seat venues had different issues than general admission ones. Outdoor venues arguably had more flexibility than indoor ones. Questions hung over the process: How could the shows break even, let alone make a profit, under such a dark cloud? Was it even worth doing?
The braintrust at the Palladium in St. Petersburg started batting around ways to reopen as early as May, and actually had some shows slated (but never announced). Ruth Eckerd Hall put a 38 Special show on sale for July 24. Jannus Live planned to present The Wailers the following night. All of those dates were ultimately canceled or postponed, largely due to a spike in the coronavirus.
Douglas explored the idea of booking two-night stands at some Central Florida drive-in theaters. When price quotes for staging and production came in, he got sticker shock. “I finally said, ‘fuck it,’” he recalled. “The expenses would’ve given me no upside. And that was without considering what I would pay the artists.”
The summer months were marked by fits and starts—and a few modest successes. Ruth Eckerd Hall turned its capacious lobby into a performance space and presented 27 scaled-down, sold-out shows by the likes of Sister Hazel, Greg Billings and Mindi Abair. With (distanced) table seating, capacity was 120. “When I gave [Abair] her check, I said, ‘I’m sorry—I know it’s not what you normally make,’” Rossi recalled. “She looked at me and said, ‘You could’ve written any number on that check you wanted.’ She was so happy to be back performing again.”
Amid the little victories was at least one boondoggle. In late August, the Cuban Club in Ybor City held a concert by rapper Moneybagg Yo. Even though the independent promoter said ticket sales were limited to 25% capacity, news stories called the place “packed” and photos circulating online showed concertgoers crammed in shoulder to shoulder. The event stirred a backlash from other venue operators, prompted widespread condemnation on social media and earned a public rebuke from Tampa Mayor Jane Castor. (It’s interesting to note that the Cuban Club is not a member of NIVA).
Despite the mayor's complaints, there’s not much stopping venues like Tampa's Cuban Club from hosting outdoor concerts on private property.
In late September, Gov. DeSantis issued an executive order that lifted the remaining coronavirus-related restrictions on all businesses, but left some regulatory discretion to municipalities. Venues got no clear message on whether it was permissible to fill their places to the max. Instead, most adhered to a self-imposed 50% limit. Live music at small clubs started to bubble up in September.
Jannus Landing—capacity 2,000—partnered with popular Bay area party band The Black Honkeys in a seated concert on Oct. 3. Ticket sales, only available by the table, came close to reaching the 356-person limit, Douglas recalled. The courtyard venue is currently limiting its own events to half capacity but letting outside promoters set their own rules. Douglas booked a few monthly shows by Uncle John’s Band, providing the Grateful Dead tribute act a new home in a post-Skipper’s world. Those mostly older crowds tended to social distance themselves, Douglas said.
With concerts that skew younger, “we have signage everywhere encouraging people to please maintain social distancing,” Douglas said. “But you know what it’s like. People get a couple drinks in ‘em and their inhibitions are dispatched and the next thing you know there are 300 people crowded in front of the stage. Some bands don’t care and some bands do care, but there’s nothing we as a GA venue can do about it.”
In early October, the Palladium rolled out five concerts by acts that reside locally—effectively moving them from the cabaret-style Side Door room to the 831-seat main theater. Ticket sales were limited to 180 and the audience was arrayed in socially-distanced seating pods. Shows by Nate Najar and Phil Fest, La Lucha and others either sold out or came close. (On Dec. 15, executive director Paul Wilborn emailed an update: Due to the Coronavirus spike, the venue suspended live shows after Nov. 8, but planned to stage Nate Najar’s Jazz Holiday on Dec. 18 as a livestream)
Ruth Eckerd Hall, while not facing imminent demise like some smaller clubs, has incurred its share of pain. The venue had to cut full- and part-time employees from 310 to 53. (Management has plans to gradually bring staffers back as concert activity increases.) And lest some people think that a heritage nonprofit venue like Eckerd doesn’t have to sweat the bottom line, Rossi said that 80% of its budget is generated by ticket sales.
Ruth Eckerd Hall struggled to find ways to admit enough people so it made sense to reopen. Early state and CDC guidelines limited the room to 29% capacity, Rossi said. That clearly didn’t make sense. When loosened rules finally permitted 50%, he got going—later than most, but in a big way. In the second week of December, Ruth Eckerd Hall and the Capitol Theater staged a full slate of shows, including Travis Tritt, 38 Special, Big Bad Voodoo Daddy and a Fleetwood Mac tribute band. Ruth Eckerd Hall is operating at a max of 1,100 while the Capitol allows 375, with face coverings required for the foreseeable future.
Crowbar has held a few “listening room” shows, with tables and chairs, limiting them to 25% of the space’s 300 capacity. The venue started with Have Gun, Will Travel on Oct. 17. “When I was completely dark, I was losing about $10,000 a month,” DeGeorge said. “Now that I’m open with limited shows, I’m losing about $13,000 a month. My moral compass said I can do a bigger service trying to show people an alternate way of doing things, and I also wanted to let my staff make some money.”
Bay area venues are carefully emerging from their slumber. “No one’s getting rich here,” Rossi said. “But the thinking has been, ‘Let’s do this. It’s terrific being back in business again.”
What lies ahead
What can we expect from the concert industry in 2021? When will it return to something that resembles normal?
For starters, to co-opt a phrase from James Carville: It’s the vaccine, stupid.
Most everyone in the live-music business agrees that widespread proliferation of the COVID-19 vaccine will be the prime driver in gaining real momentum. Venues can then consider full-capacity shows. Acts will return to the road. Folks will feel safe attending concerts again. There seems little doubt that a pent-up demand for live music exists.
DeGeorge—who's spearheaded a new "Safe & Sound" venue initiative to help concertgoers feel better about going to shows—feels that a nationwide mask mandate, an idea that has been floated by the incoming Biden administration, would certainly advance the cause. He also thinks that a coordinated national approach to fighting the pandemic is essential. “As long as matters are handled on a state-by-state basis, it’s a big problem,” he said. “You cannot effectively route national tours when every state is doing something different.”
Rossi sees an interim step, where certain acts do short regional jaunts, called “run-outs,” carry minimal gear and perform two shows at half-capacity rather than one packed event. In fact, the building just booked Foreigner for March 27-28, with each night capping at 1,110.
As far as the large venues, they’re likely to be slower to come online. Business at arenas and amphitheaters is driven by full-on tours, which involve more complex logistics and massive production, huge upfront expenses with far more dollars at risk, and potentially finicky stars who don’t need to tour. Even so, “the hope is that activity at bigger venues gets booked for summer and goes on sale in the spring,” Rossi said. “If they have to sit out another summer, I don’t know what will happen.”
Douglas said that the country’s two major concert promotion companies—Live Nation and AEG—have been cautious about resuming operations, in part because of liability concerns. “They have very deep pockets and are trying to figure out a way to defend themselves in the event of big lawsuits where people say they contracted COVID-19 at their events,” he said.
Furthermore, a Live Nation memo obtained by Rolling Stone spelled out how the concert behemoth was looking to shift significant financial burden to artists—starting with decreasing monetary guarantees by 20% across the board. These revised criteria could further stall the resumption of larger tours.
Douglas told me back in April that concert-industry analysts he’d spoken to did not expect a return to something akin to normalcy until the fourth quarter of ’21. It seemed shocking at the time. Several months later, it merely “seems achievable,” he said. DeGeorge, too, thinks the concert business should recover fairly well by the fall of next year.
While the country works toward mass inoculation, the live-music industry has to rebuild operations and adapt to new business paradigms. That’s why NIVA plans to continue on after the pandemic has been tamed. A national network of indie venues could help a notoriously fractured industry cooperate and put up a united front going forward. It could also make it easier for agents to organize tours.
Rossi sees some silver linings amid the darkness. Overall, he said, “artists have been cooperative. The industry is now not so much a strict buyer/seller mentality as it is working together to make things happen. I think [the pandemic] has humanized the business.
“You could argue that we needed a good scrub. We’d gotten too methodical. We got a chance to step back, take a look, and be ready to deal with that pent-up energy that you can only get from a live concert.”
Since this story was published, Congress passed the Save Our Stages act, and it passed the Senate before Trump vetoed the bill, setting up what could be the first veto override of his presidency. Here are more details.
UPDATED: 12/21/20 12:46 a.m. Updated after Congress came to an agreement on a new coronavirus relief bill.
See a list of Tampa Bay’s “Safe & Sound” live music venues here.
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This article appears in Dec 31, 2020 – Jan 6, 2021.