Letter To The Editor: Inflation Is Out Of Control!

by A Concerned Local Music Consumer

Dear Fellow Outraged Denizens of Portland,

This is ridiculous! I understand that some of you social justice warriors will hit me with cookie-cutter, bleeding-heart internet rhetoric about how artists need to be paid and their performances count as labor, but come the fuck on! Ten whole fucking dollars to see some shitty garage band at some bar that already charges ten dollars for a fucking cocktail? Miss me with that shit! I have ticket stubs I bought on eBay for Pink Floyd at Madison Square Garden for five whole dollars in 1973! Do these snot-nosed punks think their barely rehearsed set in some dive bar is worth twice as much as Pink Floyd in the ’70s?! No, I don’t know how inflation works!

The point is, ten dollars is a lot! As I said, that’s like one cocktail. That’s one gas station sandwich. That’s one gallon of gas!

Are we poor, humble patrons of the Portland arts really expected to keep this pitiful so-called music scene on life support by shelling out our hard-earned dollars to see something we could just hear for free by walking through inner southeast neighborhoods? Make it make sense!

Don’t give me that bullshit that the band has expenses to pay. Don’t give me some sob story about how their loud, out-of-tune, unoriginal, boring set really warrants the price of a side of fries at Burgerville. Bullshit! You realize most of that money is going to the door person! It’s all a great big pyramid scheme, and you get nothing in return! Am I to believe this crisp Hamilton is going to a good cause when I give it to the door person? What? Am I funding some burgeoning talent at the beginning of their career? Am I supporting some starving, underrated artist? Am I contributing to a community of performing arts that has the possibility to flourish! Hell no! Those greedy, untalented posers taking up a corner in the basement are just going to spend that money on strippers and cocaine. Why should I support bad habits? I’m just trying to enjoy a ten-dollar cocktail without it being interrupted by a band playing too loud.

Come to think of it—these so-called bands should be paying me to watch them perform. We all know they’re just a bunch of immature narcissists who need an audience to tell them they’re special. Why should I subsidize shitty parenting?! It’s not just!

Look, not to sound like some boomer pining for the good ol’ days, but let’s face it...before the pandemic, it was the golden age for us Portland music fans that make the scene what it is. Whatever happened to the sliding scale? What happened to "donations appreciated?" What happened to the fucking tip jar in front of the stage, with some dumb joke duct-taped onto it? Seriously, why should I pay upfront at the door for bands if I don’t know what they sound like? They should earn their wage. Like a stripper or a blackjack dealer. Do I pay for my meal at a restaurant upfront? No! If the waitress didn’t respond to my flirting enthusiastically enough, then I refuse to pay. And naturally, that bitch doesn’t get a tip either. Why should musicians be treated any differently?

Pre-pandemic, most shows were free anyway because the bands knew no one wanted to see their sorry ass in the first place. Or, with their pitiful sliding scale requests, you could usually get away with giving the doorman three sweaty pocket dollars. That, or use the ol’ "I’m with the band" trick to get in for free.

These lazy, entitled brats just used the pandemic like every other greedy business owner as an excuse to shaft us. Ten whole dollars to get into a dive bar? What is this, Studio 54? No! It’s the same mediocre bands from before the pandemic. This isn’t due to supply chain disruption or labor shortages. It’s just the pure, unfettered greed of your local "talent."

It won’t stop here. We gotta fight like hell, fellow music consumers! Before you know it, they’ll start charging twenty dollars for their t-shirts and thirty dollars for their shitty vinyl vanity press! When does it end? What more do these money-grubbing frauds want from us, common people? I say we rise up and storm the door. Knock over that pretentious door person before he can even ask for the band’s blood money. Cover charges are theft! We will break through the entrance to stand in front of the stage with our arms crossed and a blank expression on our faces! Only together can we overcome this tyranny. Who’s with me?

Sincerely,

The Guy Who Just Sits At The Bar At The Strip Club

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