Years of dedication have gone into learning your craft, mastering your instrument, and honing your voice. Countless hours have been spent writing songs, rehearsing them until they become second nature, and finally perfecting the setlist that will tell your story on stage. You’ve labored over the nuances of each note and every lyric, piecing together a show that you hope will leave a lasting impression. Then comes the grind—playing gig after gig, slowly building a name, a following, a reputation. The hustle is relentless, but it’s what every band must endure in those early days of playing on stages, big or small.
But let’s not focus on those parts right now. Instead, let’s talk about a specfic, crucial and often frustrating aspect of this grind: getting people to the show. More specifically, dealing with those who say they’ll be there... and then don’t show up.
For any emerging band, promoting a show can feel like one of the most daunting tasks on your to-do list. The usual steps are taken: a month before the gig, you start posting on social media, creating event pages, and hyping up the show. You might design eye-catching flyers and scatter them around town, hoping they’ll grab attention in a sea of competing advertisements. You spend time messaging friends, family, acquaintances, even that one person you met briefly at another show, just to get a few more bodies through the door.
And after all that, you might look at your Facebook event and feel a spark of hope. Sixty, seventy people have clicked “interested.” Comments under your posts are encouraging—friends saying, “Can’t wait!” or “See you there!” You might even start to believe that this could be the night when all that hard work finally pays off.
As the day of the show arrives, you're already at the venue, setting up, tuning your instruments, and running through a final soundcheck. Your mind is racing with last-minute thoughts about the setlist, stage presence, and the crowd you’re hoping will fill the room. As you prepare, you keep one eye on the entrance, watching as people trickle in—or don’t.
Then, the texts start rolling in.
“Hey, sorry, can’t make it tonight. Good luck!”
“We got sick, maybe next time.”
“Couldn’t find a babysitter.”
Each message lands like a punch to the gut. The excitement that was building in your chest suddenly turns into a knot of anxiety. You try to shake it off, but as the texts keep coming, it’s hard not to let the disappointment seep in. When you're already at the venue, watching the sparse crowd, these messages can turn what was a hopeful night into one of quiet discouragement.
Here’s the thing about those last-minute texts: they often do more harm than good. To anyone who thinks they’re being considerate by letting the band know they can’t make it, understand this—your specific absence might not even be noticed. By bringing it to light, you inadvertently draw attention to something that might have gone unnoticed.
Now, it’s completely understandable that things come up. Life happens—people get sick, plans change, emergencies arise. But even in these cases, it’s better to hold off on letting the band know until after the show. By then, the moment has passed, and the band isn’t distracted by the disappointment. They’ll appreciate your honesty and concern later, but right before they go on stage, your message may do more harm than you realize. If you can’t make it, simply don’t show up. There’s no need for a pre-show apology; it’s better to address it afterward if you feel the need.
Without those texts, the band is more likely to feel content with the crowd size, even if it’s smaller than expected. When there’s no pretense or attention drawn to who isn’t there, they can focus on who is there, and that makes all the difference.
For bands, it’s essential to recognize that the music industry, even at its grassroots level, is saturated. You’re competing not just with other artists, but with the comfort of people’s couches and their endless streaming options. The reality is, even if you do everything right—promote tirelessly, connect with your audience, play your heart out—there will always be no-shows. It’s part of the process.
But no matter how many people are in the audience, whether it’s five or fifty, those are the people who matter. They’ve made the effort to be there, to support you, and to share in the experience you’ve created. That’s where your focus should be. Play your best, every single time, for those who showed up. Let their energy fuel your performance, and leave everything on the stage.
Remember, every show is an opportunity for growth. The disappointments, the empty promises, and the smaller-than-expected crowds are all part of the story you’re writing. Embrace the challenges, learn from them, and keep pushing forward. Your persistence and passion will pay off in the long run, and when it does, you’ll look back on these early days with pride—not just for the gigs that went well, but for the way you handled the tough ones.
If you found this insight helpful, be sure to explore the rest of Descant Music’s blog for more articles on the challenges and triumphs of the music journey. Whether you're looking to deepen your skills with piano, voice, or guitar lessons, or simply want to learn more about navigating the music world, Descant Music has you covered.
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