A Wealth Of Inexpensive Concerts Happen In LA. So Why Are They So Hard to Find?

Since last fall, I’ve been attending Sean Carnage’s music showcases whenever possible. The events, which usually happen on the second Friday of the month at Chinatown venue Oracle Tavern, are pure joy. They’ve turned me onto artists that streaming platforms and social networks probably wouldn’t recommend to me, acts such as Dizparity, Acidtrain and Dildox. At the shows, I’ve reconnected with old pals and become acquainted with new groups of people.

The bonus is these shows only cost $10.

“I still think underground and small shows are your best entertainment value,” says Carnage, who has been promoting shows in L.A. since 2005.

I’m inclined to agree with him. For all the talk about skyrocketing ticket prices, once you venture outside the duopoly of Live Nation and AEG, live music still runs in the same price range as it has for many years. Scroll through Dice, the ticket app used by venues like Zebulon in Frogtown, Alex’s Bar in Long Beach, The Paramount in Boyle Heights and other local haunts, and you’ll find a good amount of shows for $20 or less. This summer at Highland Park venue LodgeRoom, you can catch Arizona-based synth group Body of Light for under $30, which includes the service fee you’ll see before you check out. At Corbin Bowl in Tarzana, shows come with a price tag of $0 to $10 at the door. And, outside of Carnage’s events, Oracle Tavern offers other shows with varying low covers.

Let the music play

In the past few months, my live music experiences have included a $5 show at Corbin Bowl, a free one at Zebulon and one of Carnage’s events. Yet, I’m disappointed in myself for only going to three shows in nearly two months. Over the span of decades that passed between my first concert and the COVID-19 shutdown, I had been to more shows than I can remember. Deep into lockdown, live music was one of the things I missed most but making it a regular part of my post-pandemic life was more difficult than I imagined.

Andy Poncherello, who books at Corbin Bowl, remembers the pandemic days when people vowed to go to every show possible once venues reopened. “That’s what people said,” he recalls. “That lasted 10 days.”

Corbin Bowl, a venue in Tarzana with affordable shows.

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Veronica Lechuga

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LAist

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His remark resonated with me. Personally, the lack of shows on my calendar wasn’t due to a fear of getting sick. It wasn’t because of money either. In theory, I know where the shows I can afford are. In practice, though, I no longer had any idea when they were happening.

“People will come and say, I wish I knew about this earlier,” says Nicholas Guy Aguilar, a talent buyer for Alex’s Bar in Long Beach. “We book shows out so far in advance and we have so much to promote and there’s so much that the algorithm can handle and that the human mind can handle as well.”

Certainly, most of us who are glued to our phones are inundated with so much information on a daily basis that it’s hard to take note of anything that hasn’t gone viral. But there’s another factor too. Often, flyers for events pop up in my feed after they’ve happened. I’ve heard friends complain of the same thing. In fact, it’s a problem that people who organize shows have seen themselves.

“I’ll see stuff that we paid to get promoted come up after it’s already gone on,” says Jose Galvan, talent buyer for The Paramount.

No connection

Across platforms, social media has become virtually useless at keeping up with live events. Even while writing this story and actively tracking concerts, the one post that repeatedly appeared was an ad for the touring Re:SET festival with LCD Soundsystem in early June, an AEG event with starting ticket prices that fell far beyond the parameters for both this story and my personal budget. I have to dig to find anything about the bands, promoters and venues I choose to follow. Those ads for high-priced events are all over my feeds, though, trying to give me a case of FOMO for shows I didn’t want to attend in the first place.

I can’t help but think that the only concert announcements that are guaranteed to be seen on socials are the ones with the biggest advertising budgets.

“I think that’s the world that we’re in,” says Cory Doctorow, the novelist, activist and co-author of the essential read Chokepoint Capitalism: How Big Tech and Big Content Captured Creative Labor Markets and How We’ll Win Them Back.

Suburban John takes the stage at Corbin Bowl in Tarzana.

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Veronica Lechuga

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LAist

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“That’s the world where you vote with your wallet and the people with the thickest wallets get the most votes,” he adds. “We have an election every day to decide what’s in your social media feed and the way that you vote is by giving dollars to social media and everything in your social media feed sucks.”

Are there other ways to keep up on live shows? Sure, but if you, like me, subscribe to mailing lists from venues across town, plus event-heavy newsletters like Restless Nites, you might notice how often they either end up in your junk folder or are buried under the pile of spam and scam messages that slither into your inbox.

You may have also noticed that, after decades of lax antitrust regulation and the rise of Big Tech with virtually no oversight, both local and national media has been eviscerated. The little space that remains open for music coverage goes to the same big stories that dominate social media.

Some have returned to old-school means of promotion. Carnage is blogging, posting interviews with the bands who play his shows. He’s also back to printing flyers and personally inviting people.

“It’s so funny that we’re full circle back to that, but that’s where we are,” he says. And he’s clearly not the only one. Walk down streets in club-heavy neighborhoods, like Sunset Boulevard through Echo Park and Silver Lake or Figueroa Avenue in Highland Park, and you might spot show flyers taped to light posts or hanging in store windows.

But, these actions won’t completely solve the problem. That’s because this seemingly insignificant gripe is actually a symptom of something much bigger. Doctorow notes that the issue I describe — not getting notifications of the events I logged in to see — is the same one that faces loads of groups who have been relying on social media to connect with each other and share information.

Rip it up and start again

It’s a situation that will require big actions and groups from all backgrounds coming together to make them happen. Doctorow talks about the end-to-end principle that guides utility companies as a possible basis for regulation.

“One idea for social media would be a regulation that says, the duty of an intermediary, of a platform that sits between two groups of people, is to connect willing senders with willing receivers,” he says. “So, if I subscribe to what you post, then, when you post it, I should see it.”

Additionally, Doctorow notes that legislation that helps local, indie and niche media like the AMERICA Act, which intends to break up digital ad monopolies and currently has bipartisan support in Senate, could benefit music fans. So could privacy laws that would end surveillance advertising. After all, if you want a healthy music scene, you need a healthy music press.

We need L.A.’s indie music scene to thrive.

“I think they really are a dying breed,” says Eli Flasher, talent buyer for the LodgeRoom, of independent venues. Historically and to this day, indie venues play a big role in the city’s music scene. In the cases of the LodgeRoom, as well as Corbin Bowl and The Paramount, the emphasis is on all-ages shows and the price points are also pretty accessible for younger music fans. That’s essential for encouraging the next generation to get involved in the scene.

Zebulon showcases live acts in Frogtown.

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Veronica Lechuga

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LAist

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For the 21+ set, price matters too and venues seem mindful of the impact of rising cost of living on L.A. fans. At Zebulon, there is a significant amount of free shows on the calendar.

“To have anybody be able to come see live music is very important,” says talent buyer Emily Rose Epstein.

Sophie Alieninova of the synth-punk duo Dildox has taken affordability into consideration when organizing her own shows. She mentions recently debating over whether to charge $5 or $10 for a recent show at Redwood Bar x Grill. Ultimately, Dildox went with $5. That lower price, Alieninova says, could make a difference for someone who wanted to buy a drink or the band’s cassette. “I know money is tight right now,” she adds.

Mirror Tree performs at Zebulon in Los Angeles.

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Veronica Lechuga

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LAist

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Ultimately, shows are about more than a good time. They’re about connecting with people who have similar interests in person while watching new bands grow and supporting both local and touring artists. Carnage says that, during a hiatus from show promotion, he learned the value of being part of the audience. “People counted on me to show up. The few bucks that I paid at the door was a big deal to the performers, the promoters, that I supported. It made me feel really good,” he says.

“Concert going is the original crowdfunding,” Carnage adds. “It’s not branded that way, but that’s what it is. If you go there, you are a patron. You are directly supporting an artist and or an artistic endeavor. You are lifting that up.”