You just got offered your first gig. Someone at a venue said the magic words: "We'd love to have you play." Your whole band group chat explodes. You're in.
Hold on. Before you say yes, read the offer again. Slowly.
Because here's the thing nobody tells new bands: most bad deals don't look bad. They look exciting. They look like opportunity. They use words like "exposure" and "partnership" and "building your fanbase." And by the time you realize what happened, you've played a three-hour set for free, loaded your own gear in and out, and the venue made money off every drink your friends bought.
Let's walk through the five deals that burn new bands the most.
1. "We'll Give You Exposure"
Translation: we're not paying you.
A venue that offers exposure is telling you that your music has no dollar value, but their stage does. Think about that. They charge for drinks. They charge for food. The bartender gets paid. The sound guy gets paid. The person who booked you gets paid. But you — the reason people walked through the door? You get "exposure."
Exposure to what? The 14 people at the bar watching the game?
Here's the rule: if the venue makes money on the night you play, you should make money on the night you play. Period. Even if it's $150 split four ways.
Walk away when:
The word "exposure" is the entire offer. No guarantee, no door split, no nothing.
Exception: benefit shows and fundraisers where nobody is getting paid and the cause matters to you. That's generosity, not exposure. Know the difference.
2. The Ticket-Selling Trap
The venue says: "We'll give you 50 tickets at $10 each. You sell them, you keep the money. That's your pay."
So you sell all 50 tickets. You make $500. Not bad, right?
Wrong. Do the math on what actually happened.
YOU promoted the show. YOU texted everyone you know. YOU convinced 50 people to leave their houses on a Thursday night. The venue did nothing except unlock the door. And in exchange for your marketing work, they got 50 people buying $8 beers all night. The venue risked nothing and made $800 in bar revenue. You did all the work and made $500.
The real gut punch: some venues make you BUY the tickets upfront. You pay $500 for 50 tickets, and whatever you don't sell, you eat. That's not a gig. That's the venue selling you a $500 marketing contract.
What a fair deal looks like:
The venue promotes the show AND you get a percentage of every ticket sold. 80/20 in your favor is standard. 70/30 is acceptable. Below that, they're keeping your crowd's money.
3. Pay-to-Play
The venue says: "We need you to sell a minimum of X tickets or pay the difference." Sometimes it's framed as a "room rental." Sometimes a "production fee." Sometimes they don't tell you until after you've played and they hand you a bill.
Let that sink in. You drove to the venue, set up your gear, played your music, entertained a room full of people, and at the end of the night, you OWE THEM MONEY.
No legitimate venue charges bands to play. The venue's business model is selling drinks and food to the people who came to see you. If they can't make that work, that's their problem, not yours.
No exceptions.
This one is always a bad deal.
4. "We'll Give You the Door"
Sounds generous. "You get 100% of the door." But read the fine print. Did the venue set the ticket price? Is it $5? Is there even a cover charge, or is it a "suggested donation" jar that most people walk past?
The venue gave you the smallest slice and called it the whole pie. On a busy night, the bar makes 5-10x what the door makes.
What a fair version looks like:
A guarantee plus a door split above a threshold. Example: $300 guarantee, plus 80% of the door after the first 30 tickets. Now the venue is incentivized to promote and you have a floor.
5. The "Residency" That's Just Free Labor
"We'd love to have you as our house band every Thursday."
Cool. What's it pay?
"Well, it's a residency, so it's more about building your audience..."
A residency is a job. Restaurants don't ask their cooks to work for free every Thursday to build their reputation. A weekly residency should pay a weekly rate. It can be modest. But never zero.
What a fair version looks like:
A set weekly rate, even if it's modest. $200/night for a Thursday with a 3-month commitment. Now you have reliable income and they have reliable entertainment. That's an actual partnership.
How the Spider Rider Protects You
Every one of these bad deals happens because the terms aren't set before the conversation starts. You're negotiating in the moment, excited about the gig, saying yes before you've done the math.
The Spider Rider on The Rock Salt flips that. You set your terms in advance: your minimum guarantee, your door split, your merch commission, your hospitality asks. When a venue looks at your page, they already know your price. If they reach out, it's because they can meet it.
No more "we'll give you exposure" emails.
The one-sentence version:
If the venue makes money on the night you play, you should make money on the night you play.
Write that on your practice space wall.
Build your Spider Rider and set your terms →The Salt Vault · Business · 101 Level · Rock Salt Academy, Track 3