This is the first edition in a two-part series about venues and promoters in the Global South

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Throwing parties is, unequivocally, a risky job. From last-minute cancellations and high artist fees to copycat bookings and rising club closures, the odds are stacked against promoters. Dealing with non-stop stressors is, in fact, so ingrained into the profession that some refer to themselves as “crisis managers.”

Geography throws an additional wrench into the equation. Sit down with an event organiser in a developing country, be it Egypt or Colombia, and they’ll tell you that business is infinitely more difficult than in the West. Weak currencies, a small consumer base and, in some cases, a culture of corruption are among the many structural obstacles weighing on rave scenes in emerging markets. As frustrating as these issues are, there’s a more pressing challenge–one that’s wrecking havoc on balance sheets in several burgeoning scenes.

Most underground clubs in the Global South rely on external promoters to bring in crowds. But these venues often take several months to pay promoters, causing a major liquidity strain that leaves the latter unable to do their job. Independent and DIY organisers around India, Argentina, Mexico, Brazil, South Africa and Morocco confirmed this with Resident Advisor, identifying the problem as their top headache.

Frustration and a sense of despondency coloured most of these conversations–the phrase “everything is against us” kept popping up. Bemoaning the stress of shouldering the financial burden of a booking, all of them said they were fed up with fronting costs without any help from venues. (All interviewees wished to stay anonymous to protect their business and avoid further tensions with nightlife stakeholders.)

For an overseas act, promoters typically pay performance fees, travel and marketing costs (such as flyer artwork) ahead of the gig. Depending on the venue, they also take a percentage of ticket or bar sales. As these organisers emphasised, many clubs don’t help out with promotion, which increases pressure on them to move tickets. It doesn’t help that pre-sale tickets are a relatively new phenomenon in many budding markets, adding to a promoter’s overleveraged position.

“If a tour is happening in December, we have to book flights, visas and hotels by September,” one Mumbai promoter told RA. “By November, the full [performance] fee has to be with the artist, so our money is in limbo from September until the next year.”

 

 

Sometimes, clubs will provide an advance specifically for A-list artists (the likes of Dixon or Jayda G) but not for less famous names, or local or regional acts. Often, the income from ticket or bar sales barely covers the promoter’s upfront costs and with payments from clubs taking anywhere from three to eight months, organisers are often left in limbo, unable to plan for the future.

Venue operators say their hands are tied. They recognise late payments are rupturing the nightlife ecosystem but say their liquidity levels are also crunched, leaving them with no other choice. In South Africa, locals say most clubs are owned by expats or overseas residents who aren’t around to address such operational matters. In Central and South America, a club’s profitability can be stymied by the presence of drug cartels who demand regular fees. Business in these places is often conducted on relationships, not logic, several players attested.

In short, promoters in the Global South complain of doing all the heavy lifting by filling venues—yet are paid the least (on average, 15 percent on a booking) compared to what the talent and club make. They’re also the last to receive their cash. Sometimes, payment never arrives at all. In several cases, promoters say clubs blame them for “not being good enough” to hit the agreed-on thresholds. Local artists bear the brunt of this. They’re the ones expecting a paycheck after the event as opposed to international acts whose agents usually demand advances before accepting a booking.

Leftfield programming suffers as a result “of such a supportless environment, where financial constraints and the informal nature of doing business can be very counterproductive,” one Casablanca-based promoter said.

Of course, not all emerging markets are the same. In Amman, Jordan’s capital city, nightlife veterans say late payments aren’t an issue at all. Given the scene’s tiny size, bookings are more pragmatic. “The reality of financials has to outlive the hype of a booking,” said one local. In Rio de Janeiro, most parties happen at DIY spaces or warehouses versus traditional clubs, so the whole risk is on promoters regardless.

Stay tuned for part two on May 28th.