Intersting read from last weeks Tribune about how much money bands really get paid.
Jamming to cover the balance sheet
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By Kevin Pang
Tribune staff reporter
August 24, 2003
Kill Hannah is living the rock 'n' roll dream. They signed a recording contract with Atlantic Records in 2002, local stations are playing their single "Kennedy" and they headlined a sold-out show recently at Metro--one of Chicago's most influential rock venues. Now they're just waiting for the rock 'n' roll lifestyle to kick in.
"Financially, we're living worse now than a year ago when we were unsigned," says lead singer Mat Devine, who founded the band in 1995. "But our threadbare lifestyle allows us to appreciate the good things. We feel like Leonardo DiCaprio on the Titanic, just totally thrilled to be on it."
The modern-day band is a small business as much as it is a musical venture. Fans are investors who purchase albums, T-shirts, pins and posters instead of company stock. Concert tours are business trips to lure prospective clientele.
"When bands get signed, it's like they won the lottery, and all they get is another lottery ticket," says Kill Hannah's manager, Stephen Hutton. "And if they're successful, it's like they'd won the lottery twice."
To become nationally recognized will require more work than it did to secure a record deal.
Success of their first record, "For Never and Ever," set for release Oct. 14, will be measured by how close they come to 100,000 sales. Hutton said more than 96 percent of records will not hit that benchmark. Less than 1 percent will be certified gold, meaning sales of 500,000. Going platinum is the Holy Grail--one million sales.
So potential breakout bands like Kill Hannah invest much of their time promoting themselves. On their off day last week, band members were outside the Congress Theatre after another band's concert, handing out fliers for their own show.
Guitarist Dan Wiese said at this point in their careers, every fan is integral to success. He recalls an Omaha show where only two people showed up. "It was the easiest show to swear off and not put any effort into it," Wiese said. "But we talked to the two afterwards, and they later drove to Des Moines to see us play. That's two more people that's going to buy our records."
To expand their visibility, the band recently performed for the first time in Grand Rapids, Mich., the second of three bands behind the headliner, nu-metal group Saliva. Kill Hannah not only wasn't paid but picked up other trip-related and show costs.
They spend $500 in rent each week on the van, not including the cost of gasoline. A single show's production costs can vary between $500 and $4,000 depending on use of special effects, band management said.
For most bands, T-shirts and other band paraphernalia sold during shows are the major source of income.
Say a shirt sells at a show for $15 and costs $7 to make. With an $8 gross, roughly 75 percent of it will go to the concert venue, manager and other incidentals. Divide what's left among five band members, and each makes about 40 cents from a T-shirt. On a good night, merchandise sales barely cover gas and lodging.
Kill Hannah, which boasts 14 varieties of shirts and more designs coming, claims it usually outsells other bands with whom it plays. Last year, Greg Corner, the tall, business-savvy bass guitarist, attended a T-shirt manufacturer's convention just to learn more about the trade.
He recently drove to Milwaukee to pick up an order of 812 T-shirts. "It's a tank of gas to drive up there, or it'll cost $100 for them to ship it down here. I'd rather save our money," Corner said.
While Corner never studied business in college, "I just fell into that role," he said. He started the band's merchandising company on the Internet several years ago.
While in the van during the three-hour trip, Corner calculates the band's finances on a spreadsheet program with his laptop. Band members insert a couple thousand logo pins, two at a time, into small plastic bags to sell that night for $2.
"I hear it from my friends all the time: I have to go to work every day and you guys get to go out on the road and have fun," guitarist Jon Radtke said. "They don't realize it's a job and there's lots of work involved."
The van, once used to transport senior citizens, has a mattress, a 13-inch television and duct tape covering a paneled door. There's enough room to stretch legs, but the cramped quarters mean someone is always contorted. Then add two crew members that handle sound systems, tuning guitars and driving.
When playing in a new city, Kill Hannah estimates that 10 percent of the audience at a given show will become fans, meaning they will join their mailing list, buy their record or tell a friend about them.
Their fan base includes more than 2,000 Kill Hannah Street Team volunteers, many of whom help post fliers and promote the band through word-of-mouth.
The band gets into Grand Rapids at 4 p.m., but the members do not realize they have arrived. Corner is checking artwork for their album on the laptop. Drummer Garret Hammond is lost in a bag of pretzels. Guitarist Jon Radtke has dozed off. Devine and Wiese are locked in the shoot-em-up video game "Halo" on their Xbox.
When they arrive at the venue, Hammond, who studied jazz in graduate school at the University of North Texas, lugs each part of his drum set to the stage while the crew takes care of the guitars. Hammond runs a music studio in his basement, teaches drum lessons and paints houses to supplement his income.
Sound check is cut short because the headlining band, Saliva, wants to set up. Kill Hannah gets only 30 seconds to play while the sound technician frantically adjusts settings.
Some band members go out to eat afterward. This day they have allotted themselves $8 each for meals. Some days, they skip dinner to save money.
Hours later, at 9 p.m., Kill Hannah finally takes the stage in a smoky, sticky room of 600.
The band has a loud and subversive look--untamed hair, smudged eyeliner. Fog machines and fluorescent lighting add to their dark, enigmatic flair. In the span of 10 songs, concertgoers who have never heard of the band are moving to their music, which is intensely melodic glam-rock over hefty beats.
Kill Hannah was a song title before it was the band's name. Depressed over the breakup with his college girlfriend, Hannah, Devine wrote the song and liked the title so much he adopted it as the band's name. And Hannah, now living in Switzerland, remains friends with Devine and is said to be flattered with her namesake.
Since the group's first performance in 1996, there have been several personnel changes, including the death of their original drummer. The current group has been together three years.
So why would they choose a job that pays less than flipping burgers?
"We're all college-educated. Tomorrow, we can take a job and make much more money," Devine said. "It's a huge risk we're taking, but it's a small sacrifice to do what you want to do."
Kill Hannah has yet to turn a profit. But record companies don't take that into account when signing bands to contracts because they focus on the music and the group's brand potential.
When bands are signed, the money paid up front is considered an advance. Bands don't make any money beyond the advance until record sales pay off the loan. Kill Hannah members won't disclose the amount of their advance.
But their manager says most groups sign for between $200,000 and $400,000. Subtract touring, recording and production costs, plus fees for the manager and lawyer, and stretch the money among four or five band members over several years, and what remains does not amount to rock-star riches.
"If you're doing this for money, then you're in the wrong business," Corner said.
For Kill Hannah, all of its revenues are pumped back into the band or used to pay down debt. Devine only recently repaid, with interest, a $500 loan a friend made in 1994.
Kill Hannah members live two lives and incur the costs of both. Not only do they have to pay Chicago-area housing costs, they also pick up lodging and food bills on the road, sometimes stretching for weeks at a time. Insurance payments are made on cars sitting in garages.
Most of the band members worked day jobs until they signed the record contract. As of last year, guitarist Dan Wiese worked at an Evanston industrial sales company. After one particular night show, he remembers standing in front of the mirror, rubbing makeup off his face so hard that his skin turned raw and purple. "It was more like a means to an end," Wiese said of his job.
Ever laid-back and business-like throughout the day, on stage they let loose a thrilling, body-flinging 45-minute set.
Longtime fan Nicole Manchester drove seven hours from Milwaukee to Grand Rapids to see the show and was upset at having missed the first five songs.
"We forgot the one-hour difference from central to eastern time zone," Manchester said, red-faced. What songs she didn't miss, she sang word for word.
Immediately after the band's closer, "Welcome to Chicago," Corner trots to the merchandising table. Like a salesman pitching cutlery at a county fair, a sweat-drenched Corner sells T-shirts and signs autographs.
Radtke, passing around a clipboard, collects 32 names for the band's e-mail list. About 11 p.m., Kill Hannah is still working the lobby. Devine snaps pictures of fans with his digital camera for their Web site.
The band quietly exits through the side door as Saliva angrily plays on. Kill Hannah members load instruments and merchandise into the van, parked in the shadows of Saliva's two tour buses. Some three hours later, the members bid each other goodnight.
"See you at rehearsal tomorrow," Devine reminds everyone.
Two days later, they will play in front of 1,100 people at Metro, the same Chicago club that served as a launching pad for The Smashing Pumpkins, Urge Overkill and R.E.M., groups that have left their mark on American music.
Kill Hannah hopes to be one of them.
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More online Links to the Web sites of and music by Kill Hannah and 7th Grade Underdog.
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