Two Audiences

From 1999 to 2006, I played drums in an original rock band called Restraining Order – a name inspired by a violent club owner we'd met early on who later found himself barred from being around his own staff (yikes). We played shows in and around Philadelphia in the small circuit of venues that supported original music. Being a bunch of professional guys in our early 30s, we didn't have the drive to "make it" that some of the younger bands we shared the stage with possessed – but being professional guys in our early 30s, we didn't care. We were writing and recording our own songs and performing them for friends, family, co-workers, and open-minded strangers.

Though we were an original band with all members contributing songwriting duties, we'd usually include one or two cover tunes in each show. And like most original bands, we prided ourselves on changing these songs in significant ways from the recorded versions – the tempo might be sped up, a signature keyboard lick would be played on guitar, the bridge would morph into a cheesy pop tune of the day – anything to put our stamp on it. Otherwise, what's the point of playing someone else's song in the first place? We never tried to make it sound like the original – there were plenty of cover bands out there doing that much better than a bunch of rockers like us ever could.

(our fully functional and animated website-within-a-website - now sadly offline)

One night we found ourselves playing a show at a brewhouse/restaurant/music venue for a crowd that largely seemed like they'd rather dance around to songs they were already familiar with rather than hear something new. The venue was booking a mix of original and cover bands (rarely a good idea), often on the same night (an even worse idea), and because of this their customers were a mix of two crowds with very different expectations. Whenever we played a cover song that night, the regulars went nuts! Meanwhile, the people who already knew us were waiting for the music from our CDs –our original songs that they'd already listened to and had come out to hear performed live. And when we played those, the cover-loving portion of the crowd lost interest. The whole show was one long mixed reception.

(yes, there was indeed a cowbell somewhere back there)

After our set that night, a well-meaning friend found us as we were loading out and made a suggestion to the band: "I know what you can do to make people like you more," he said (he wasn't one to pull a punch) "It's so simple! What you do is you play a few cover songs, then you play an original! Then another two or three cover songs… then one or two more of your songs! The audience will be happy to hear music that they know, and when you play the original tunes they'll be ready to give them a chance. By the end of the show you could play only your songs! Make it 50/50! It's a great plan!"

Our friend was trying to help, but it was a terrible plan – and we knew it. (sorry if you're reading this, Danny).

(four rockin' dudes with a rude attitude... or so we claimed)

People who come out to see original bands are explorers. They're taking time out of their lives and paying money to see and hear art that's performed by its creators. That group might appreciate a cover or two during a show – especially if the song is given a unique twist – but anything more than that is a big turnoff. To that audience, playing a show that consisted of 50% cover material would be giving them only half of what they showed up for. They paid to see your art and half of what you gave them was someone else's creative output. People who take pride in supporting original music might politely endure your half-cover-filled set, but more than likely they'll walk out in the middle of it, never seeking you out again. You disappointed them.

And people who come to see a cover band are looking for pure entertainment. They're out with friends, drinking and having a good time. They want to hear well-known songs from their favorite bands, all performed by the group of musicians in front of them who more or less aim to imitate the style of the original recordings. That audience is there to have fun, and if you play 50% original material, then half of what you gave them was music they weren't expecting and had no familiarity with. They might listen to your original songs, but only out of politeness, and only in the hopes that you'll get back to the covers soon. And they, too, will not seek you out again. You disappointed them as well.

(our promotional game Gig Racer where band members save music gear falling out of the back of a tour van – we had lots of gimmicks)

This plan that my friend suggested comes back to me often – usually when I'm working on a project where the audience hasn't been clearly defined, or a new audience is being considered. If it's a name and logo for a product called Bitchin' Bob's Kickass Hot Sauce that's moving into a big supermarket chain, maybe a name change to Bonkers Bob's Kick-Butt Hot Sauce would get the more mainstream crowd to buy it as well? Think of all the new sales!

(one takes a stance while the other is a visual apology)

My vote will always go against a move like that. You'll lose a big chunk of your original audience who not only isn't offended by that extreme name, but the name is actually a big reason why they're buying the product in the first place. They like that name! It aligns with their image of themselves. And that other, more timid buyer that you're trying to woo will probably still be too put off to make the purchase. It's a bad move all around.

Illustrators deal with this too. If you have a really grungy illustration style that's getting you work in music publications, maybe pulling back on the grunge – just a little – will also get you editorial work in family magazines? Possibly. But even if it does, those music pubs will probably lose interest. You sacrificed your edge in their eyes. And you're likely to still be too extreme for the more conservative magazines. You're stuck in the middle, alienating people on both sides.

(a self-promo self-portrait I sent out when I started doing freelance illustration - a few art directors may have been turned off by me in a tank top rubbing an alligator's belly while holding a knife between my teeth, but the ones who weren't gave me a bunch of magazine and newspaper assignments)

This idea even comes into play when designing a logo. Are the colors too saturated? Is the font too distressed? Maybe the image shouldn't have sharp corners... maybe that in-your-face neon magenta should be dusty rose instead... maybe...

Originals and covers don't usually mix well (except in LinkedIn articles, ironically). Pick your core audience and serve them appropriately. If you need to move into two different arenas, a second name and separate brand may be your best bet (which makes me wonder why Restraining Order didn't become Habeas Corpus when we played cover band-type venues? I would have loved to design that logo... hmm...)

Though we didn't take my friend Danny's suggestion that night, I'm still glad he made it – his plan for total audience domination has taken on iconic status in my mind when a compromise is suggested. It's become a convenient way for me to instinctively sense when I may be part of making an improvement to a project vs. when I'm just contributing to watering it down. Thanks for the unintentional contribution to my creative path, Danny. And I'm sorry we didn't play that 80s pop tune you requested. You wouldn't have liked our version anyway ;)

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Here's one the first original songs Restraining Order recorded and released on CD in 1999. Trivia tidbit: The song's title earned us some website visits from the U.S. Department of Defense a couple years later. That was fun.

And the Joe Jackson cover below (played at punk speed with spacey, freeform jazz bridge) was from the same show and venue discussed in the article above. That's a doctor, a lawyer, a designer and a network engineer rocking out on stage. Who could tell? Note the brief but enthusiastic cheers at the end. Thank you, half the audience.

Bonus Link: Our atypical submission form for the 2001 Philadelphia Music Conference which may have looked a little too official – we weren't accepted. This is what happens when you get a lawyer and a designer in the same band.

See more of my work here: www.plasmicstudio.com