But something interesting has happened. Business for many artists is running smoother, and for many, the changes clarified some sneaky cash in handers, shaky hobby statuses and a whole lot of dodgy doings that finally were dealt with. A good thing.

Since 1 July 2026, we’ve seen artists reconsider how they operate their music businesses. Some sole traders have moved to partnerships, trusts or companies, following advice from their accountants about the structure that best suits their commercial arrangements.

For bands operating as a shared business, this has prompted some overdue conversations. Who owns the Music Brand? Who signs contracts? Who receives the income? Who pays the performers? Who is responsible for the administration? Questions that should probably have been answered before the third rehearsal and the first argument about the drummer’s girlfriend.

Of course, changing your taxable entity doesn’t automatically remove Superannuation Guarantee obligations. The legislation looks at the actual engagement and payment arrangements, not simply the name on the ABN. But choosing the right business structure, with professional advice, can make the responsibilities considerably clearer.

And that’s progress.

Another interesting development has been the number of artists discovering the joys of accounting software. Platforms such as Xero, HNRY and QuickBooks are helping musicians better manage their income, invoices, expenses and business records. Depending on the platform and subscription, artists can also streamline supplier records, contractor payments and the administration associated with their shows.

Instead of searching through old text messages for somebody’s bank account details every Friday afternoon, they can keep their records in one place. Contractors can be recorded. Payments can be tracked. Expenses can be allocated. And the accountant doesn’t have to reconstruct an entire financial year from a shoebox and a vague recollection of what happened in March.

Who would have thought a superannuation shake-up might finally help music to mean more business? A really good thing.

And it is worth noting that some artists have taken a different approach. Rather than changing their taxable entity, they’ve worked with their accountants to examine the actual commercial costs of delivering their shows. Because a live show isn’t necessarily just a musician turning up with an instrument and collecting a fee. There may be equipment, production, insurance, transport, accommodation, marketing, additional performers, technical crew and other legitimate costs involved in delivering the entertainment product.

Pushworth has developed a Show Delivery Declaration (click here to access) for sole trader ABN holders to document those costs and have their accountant assess the labour component and relevant superannuation obligations. Under the general contractor labour test, whether a contract is principally for personal labour can be relevant to the SG assessment.

However, performers are also subject to specific provisions under section 12(8) of the Superannuation Guarantee (Administration) Act 1992. A labour component below 50%, or a letter from your accountant, does not automatically establish an exemption from superannuation for a performance engagement. The accountant needs to assess the actual contract, payment arrangements, applicable legislation and supporting records. The declaration provides a structured way to document the position.

Pushworth has developed a dedicated Super Artist Guide (click here to access) explaining how the superannuation arrangements work and what information you need to provide.

Here’s what to do:

1. Activate your Pushworth Live Portal access.

2. Open your supplier profile.

3. Enter your superannuation fund details.

4. Make sure you’ve selected or entered the correct registered Super Fund name. (Many funds bear the same brand name but have very different funds so add the correct one)

5. Check your membership number and any other required fund information.

6. Save your details.

Check your fund statement or member portal for the correct details, including the fund’s ABN and Unique Superannuation Identifier (USI), where applicable. If you operate a Self-Managed Super Fund, additional information will be required.

And if your business structure has changed, make sure you update it in the Portal to reflect the correct legal entity and ABN.

The introduction of PayDay Super has exposed something that has been sitting beneath the Australian live music industry for decades. Many musicians are running commercial businesses without the systems, structures or records normally associated with running a business. Because for years, the administration could be informal, the arrangements were familiar, and creative beings like musicians always find a way to make things work. New compliance requirements have made some of those informal arrangements harder to maintain.

The good news is that the vast majority have adapted and are no longer spending hours managing their music business. They’re talking to accountants. Reviewing their business structures. Setting up accounting software. Recording their costs. Formalising their band arrangements. And getting excited about all the opportunities around the business behind their Music Brands.

So now with fewer conversations about superannuation in the green room, there is time to focus more on the music, creating new shows and being seen by new audiences.

Don’t you just love it when music means business :-)

Nichola Burton is the co-founder and CEO of The Pushworth Group, with more than 35 years navigating the business behind Australian live entertainment. She founded Musoverse to give independent artists the business knowledge, practical tools and commercial confidence to build sustainable careers, protect their Music Brands and take control of their own success. Through straight-talking industry insight, education and real-world experience, Musoverse helps musicians become as capable behind the business as they are on stage. After four months at the coalface of PayDay Super, she’s still standing, still asking questions, and still convinced musicians should spend more time making music than managing paperwork. Copyright 2026

Eventually, the band became a business.

Maybe its time to set up your Band Agreement before someone leaves with the trailer and the Facebook password becomes a bargaining chip?

As bands formalise their trading arrangements, an internal agreement needs to address two connected questions:

How are we operating this business together?

How are we protecting what we’re building?

The accountant needs clear answers about the money. The people contributing their time, skills, equipment and ideas deserve clear answers about their investment.

The trading structure needs to reflect the actual business.

For bands choosing a partnership, that means identifying who the partners are, how the business operates and how its income and losses are shared. An ordinary partnership has its own ABN and tax file number and lodges a partnership tax return. The partnership generally doesn’t pay income tax itself; each partner reports their share of partnership income in their own return.

That gives the band a framework for trading. There are still decisions to make.

Who can accept a booking? Who approves expenditure? What happens when a show loses money? How much stays in the account to fund the next campaign?

A general partnership also carries personal exposure: partners have unlimited liability for its debts and obligations. Choosing that structure deserves proper advice and a clear understanding of the commitments involved.

“Let’s get a partnership ABN” should be the beginning of a business conversation.

So the goal here is for everyone on stage to understand their place in the business.

A band might have founding owners, a Music Brand Manager, regular performers and occasional substitutes. Those people can have different roles, responsibilities and liabilities.

Someone might receive an agreed performance fee. Someone might have an ownership interest. Someone might lend the business money or equipment. Another person might be paid separately for managing bookings and marketing. So take the time to outline those arrangements.

Playing the same show doesn’t explain who owns the business. Receiving the client payment doesn’t explain who is entitled to keep it. An internal agreement should make the relationships understandable to everyone involved, including the person joining next month.

The plan is obviously for the brand to keep growing between gigs. The audience sees the show. Behind it sits the work that makes the show bookable. The consistent presentation. The current promotional assets. The reliable communication. The rehearsed substitute who can step in without turning the night into an experiment.

Then there is the reputation built one successful booking at a time. And there is a value for that. An agreement captures that value.

If one member spends six hours a week administering the business, agree how that contribution is treated. If someone funds a recording, document whether the money is a loan, an expense or an agreed investment. If the group develops a show together, discuss ownership and permissions while everyone can still remember who contributed what.

And never forget about money; it changes everything. Start with an audit of payment for performing, managing, repayment of money and the ownership of assets as each will need their own explanation.

And start to ask these questions: Which people or entity own the name? Who owns the logo, recordings, arrangements, costumes and promotional material? Who has permission to use them? What happens to that permission when a member leaves?

Put the answers in an asset register and have the relevant terms checked. Include digital assets: domains, websites, social accounts, advertising accounts, mailing lists and booking records. Record authorised access and the handover process. To establish business continuity, consider setting up a band google drive where access is mapped out and easy to find when needed.

Songwriting and recording interests also need separate attention. A performance payment formula won’t answer every question about creative ownership or future income.

Start with the client payment and follow it through. Record the approved deductions, production costs, travel, accommodation, performer payments and any amount retained by the business. Explain who invoices, who receives the funds and when statements and payments are issued. Agree how additional expenditure is approved. Include cancelled shows, unpaid invoices and losses. A system that only explains the profitable nights leaves some expensive gaps.

The aim is simple: each person should be able to understand their payment without conducting an investigation.

Pay Day Super started this conversation, making contracting and payment chain particularly important.

Who is engaged by the client? Who engages the performers? Who is liable to pay them? Who maintains the records and administers any required contributions? Have those arrangements assessed. Australian SG rules include specific provisions covering paid performers, so the analysis needs to consider the actual engagement.

An agreement records responsibilities. Calling someone a partner or contractor cannot, by itself, settle their legal position or create an SG exemption.

And factor in an exit plan. People change direction. Health changes. Family commitments change. Sometimes the musical relationship simply runs its course. Agree what happens to confirmed gigs, outstanding payments, member loans, equipment, account access and use of the name. Discuss any buyout method before someone needs a valuation.

A clear departure process gives the leaving member a path out and the remaining business a path forward. It also helps protect the other people relying on the show: clients, crew, agents and audiences.

Sit down together and work through the business you are actually operating. Record the decisions. Identify the disagreements. Take both to your accountant and lawyer.

The Pushworth Internal Music Brand Agreement Checklist and Fact Sheet (Click on each to download a copy.) provide a practical starting point across the 12 areas covered in this Musoverse Substack Inside the Band.

You’ve already invested the rehearsals, the money, the weekends and the work.

Give that investment an agreement everyone understands.

General information for Australian music businesses. Obtain legal and accounting advice about your own structure, agreements and obligations.

Nichola Burton is co-founder and CEO of The Pushworth Group and the voice behind Musoverse. A performer turned music business operator, she writes about what it takes to build a show, run the business and protect the work behind it. Copyright 2026

So it’s time to retire the urban legend of what a hospitality rider actually is.

Having spent more than three decades working with artists on tour around Australia, I’ve collected some ripper backstage rider stories. Most are incredibly humble and gracious. A small percentage of artists are quite ridiculous, and there are some memorable moments where the long suffering hospitality staff exhibited a degree of patience normally reserved for negotiating with toddlers.

The hospitality rider emerged alongside the growth of international touring in the 1960s and 1970s. Its original purpose was to make sure that musicians and crews travelling from city to city had access to food, water, somewhere to change and somewhere to recover between shows. The technical rider specified what was needed to deliver the performance. The hospitality rider specified what was needed to look after the people delivering it.

Van Halen famously demanded a bowl of M&Ms with all the brown ones removed. David Lee Roth later explained it was a test to see whether promoters had read the band’s complicated technical requirements. While Iggy Pop’s rider famously requested a Bob Hope impersonator, other artists requested increasingly elaborate backstage comforts. The rider had become part of the mythology of rock and roll. Not just what you needed, but what you could get away with asking for.

And for some artists, it became the ultimate confirmation that they’d made it.

Cue one emerging international band, hot on the heels of their first number-one hit. We had booked their first Brisbane concert at the Entertainment Centre. One minute, they were young, hopeful up-and-comers. The next, their song, was sitting at number one, and they were embarking on a world tour. The transition had taken months, not years. A whirlwind of interviews, airplay, screaming fans and instant adulation. They’d gone from dreaming about fame to living it before they’d had much time to work out what it actually meant. And somewhere in that whirlwind, the vocalist apparently decided that the appropriate response to sandwiches arriving backstage with their crusts still attached was to slap the caterer. Hard. It was an extraordinary display of bad manners from someone who had apparently mistaken a hit record for a diplomatic passport.

But what fascinated me was the psychology behind it. To these young artists, the hospitality rider wasn’t simply a list of practical requirements. It had become a measure of their newfound power and value. The backstage treatment. The special requests. The people running around making everything happen. They’d made it. And the rider was proof. What they hadn’t yet worked out was how the business actually operated, or that the people delivering their sandwiches were professionals doing their jobs, not servants attending to royalty.

Interestingly, as their career progressed, so did their manners. The demands became more reasonable. The behaviour settled down. They gradually grew into the professional responsibilities that came with their success. Experience eventually caught up. And while the band may have moved on from that unfortunate afternoon, those of us standing backstage never forgot it.

Then there was a very famous Australian act. One enormous number-one hit that kept them in the public consciousness for decades. They didn’t perform very often. When they did, it was something of a reunion. The players got together, the old mates turned up, and memories and drinks flowed in equal measure. The green room inevitably filled with friends, acquaintances and the sort of hangers-on who can smell complimentary alcohol from three suburbs away.

And the hospitality rider? Well, apparently that was a community resource. We’d regularly hear from promoters afterwards. Not only had the entourage consumed the rider, but some had helped themselves to the stock behind the green room bar. Backstage at their concerts became known as an all-inclusive reunion package with the promoter being expected to simply absorb the cost.

It was a fascinating example of how something provided as hospitality could quietly become entitled ownership.

Those two experiences stayed with me over the years because they illustrated two different attitudes to success. One act was learning how to handle fame. The other had become rather comfortable with its privileges. Neither story was really about food or alcohol. It was about expectation and entitlement.

And all the while, the Australian hospitality industry was transitioning; the days of leaving several cartons of beer and a couple of bottles of spirits backstage and hoping for the best had become slightly more complicated.

In Queensland, licensed venues operate under the Liquor Act 1992 and the oversight of the Office of Liquor and Gaming Regulation. Responsible Service of Alcohol isn’t optional. Neither is compliance with the Work Health and Safety Act 2011. Musicians working as independent contractors are still workers for WHS purposes. Which means venues have to consider what happens when somebody who’s been enjoying the hospitality rider starts operating electrical equipment, navigating stage cables or dealing with an enthusiastic audience.

The venue also has to consider its licence conditions, insurance exposure and the other small administrative inconveniences involved in operating a legal business. None of this means a venue can’t provide complimentary alcohol. It can, subject to the applicable rules. It just means that “But it’s on our rider” isn’t a particularly compelling response to a liquor licensing inspector.

So here we are. The hospitality rider has survived rock and roll excess, the rise of responsible service legislation and several generations of questionable backstage behaviour. And yet we’re still weathering complaints about complimentary drinks.

Commercial arrangements for hospitality vary from promoter to promoter. Some offer meals. Some offer drink vouchers. Some provide water and soft drinks. Some negotiate comprehensive hospitality arrangements. Others provide exactly what was agreed in the booking contract. Yet unfortunately there are still occasions when an artist throws a tantrum when offered post-mix lemonade as though the venue has personally insulted their artistic legacy. Or demand free meals for themselves and their family, the odd vodka, lime and soda or a sneaky six-pack backstage.

We need to bring the whole Riders conversation back to business.

50% of show contracts will include hospitality riders. 50% won’t. I think it’s important to note that riders are not wish lists or standard industry arrangements. A touring act travelling hundreds of kilometres with a crew and a twelve-hour production schedule will have legitimate catering requirements. These will be negotiated in advance with the promoter signing off on their rider agreement. A local soloist driving twenty minutes to play a three-hour show may have a very different commercial arrangement in place.

Each independent music business negotiates the costs of delivering their show. Travel. Accommodation. Production. Hospitality. Tech. The promoter then decides whether those terms work for its business. If you are lucky enough to be employed by a producer or a promoter under the Live Performance Award, they may provide meals and other entitlements. However, the majority of independent contractors are subject to negotiation for rider arrangements as governed by liquor licensing and workplace safety obligations.

So in 2026, for the most part, the industry has traded the backstage free-for-all for contracts, compliance, commercial negotiations and the occasional complimentary chicken parmigiana. The hospitality rider still has its place. If you’re touring, negotiate what you need. If you’re playing locally, know what’s included. Agree before the gig, not during a spirited debate with the bar manager halfway through your second set. And when a venue offers a little extra hospitality, show your gratitude. Be gracious.

And next time somebody offers you a complimentary lemonade, remember: the rider might be rock and roll, but somebody still has to pay the bar bill.

Nichola Burton is the CEO and co-founder of The Pushworth Group, with more than three decades navigating the wonderfully ridiculous business of Australian live entertainment. Through Musoverse, she’s building a practical business education hub for independent Australian musicians, turning decades of industry experience into accessible knowledge, guides, tools and resources. The mission? Help artists move beyond simply playing gigs to building professional, profitable and sustainable music businesses. Less guesswork, more business nous, and plenty of backstage stories along the way. Preferably without slapping the caterer. Copyright 2026

Betty (my mother-in-law) played piano for Palings in Brisbane City in the 1940s. Her job was to sit at the keys in the store and play the latest songs from the sheet music arriving on the shelves. Someone would hear a song they recognised. Someone else would stop to listen. A customer might imagine how wonderful that piano would sound in their own living room. Before long, somebody was reaching for their purse.

Live music has always made people feel good. Back then, it made them curious. It encouraged them to linger. It created an atmosphere that transformed an ordinary retail transaction into an experience. And experiences sell products.

Meanwhile, fifty years earlier, in Port Macquarie, another young girl was seated at a piano. Eva (my great-grandmother) grew up in her mum’s pubs on the central New South Wales coast. A gifted musician, Eva had perfect pitch, an extraordinary musical memory and the ability to reproduce songs after hearing them played just once. My grandmother shared with me how Eva loved hanging out in the temporary showrooms in pubs around Port Mac that were set up by Palings for pianists to demo the latest sheet music and instruments. (Like Betty did fifty years later)

Eva listened. Remembered. Then went home, sat at the piano and played note for note what she’d heard. Eva didn’t just play piano. She recruited musicians, put them together into bands and organised them to perform in the family pubs. And when the bands played, the customers came. People gathered. Danced. Socialised. Bought drinks and stayed longer. The pub always did better business when Eva and her bands performed. She instinctively understood the relationship between live entertainment and increased turnover. She wasn’t merely entertaining customers. She was helping build the family business and was doing it with musical skills that many professionally trained musicians would envy.

Because while women like Eva and Betty were living examples of the commercial power of music, another group of people were plotting a new way to make money from it.

Up until 1800, one piano existed in the colony. In 1888, French music writer Oscar Comettant calculated that about 700,000 pianos had entered or been built in Australia, a figure supported by modern cultural historians like Michael Atherton in A Coveted Possession: The Rise and Fall of the Piano in Australia. So by the early twentieth century, a thriving music retail and publishing industry had emerged.

Music wasn’t an optional little luxury. It was woven into everyday Aussie life. People sang at home, gathered around pianos, attended dances, joined bands, played in churches and filled theatres and pubs. A piano was a pretty huge household purchase. And sheet music was the vehicle for families to bring the latest popular songs into their homes. Music retailers weren’t simply selling products. They were selling participation in a cultural experience.

Businesses such as Allans, Palings, Nicholsons and J. Albert & Son had built substantial commercial operations around that demand. They sold instruments. Published music. Arranged distribution. Developed relationships with overseas publishers. Acquired and administered copyrights. Some employed musicians to showcase their pianos. Just like Betty did a couple of decades later. Others sent reps into regional Australia to find customers who couldn’t visit a capital-city music emporium where kids like Eva could pick up the latest hit.

Australia was a burgeoning economy trying to find its feet. Before any sort of technology, it was music that connected its people. And that music was fast becoming a valuable commercial asset. And it is at this point that official public radio broadcasting in Australia began on 23 November 1923 at exactly 8:00 pm, when Sydney station 2SB went on the air in this once convict colonised backwater.

Imagine you’re a successful music publisher in the 1920s. For decades, you’ve made money selling printed music and instruments to people who want to enjoy their favourite songs. Then this new technology arrives. Radio. And suddenly, people can hear music without buying the sheet music, attending a performance or purchasing an instrument. A single broadcast can reach thousands of listeners.

For music lovers, this is fantastic. For established music publishers, it creates panic. But because, although listeners no longer need to purchase a printed copy to hear a song, the copyright in the composition still exists; therefore, copyright law provided rights holders with legal control over certain uses of that music, including public performance. And so the panic upgraded into opportunity.

Australia’s Copyright Act 1912 had already established the legal framework for protecting those rights. The publishers didn’t need to invent copyright. They needed to work out how to enforce and monetise it in a rapidly changing market. And pursuing every broadcaster, dance hall and hotel individually wasn’t exactly an efficient way to run a business. So they did something rather unexpected and got together to form a collective.

As history demonstrates, on 11 January 1926, six music publishers gathered for the first board meeting of the Australasian Performing Right Association. The businesses identified in APRA’s founding history were: Allans. Chappell & Co. E.W. Cole. J. Albert & Son. Nicholsons. Palings. APRA’s original Memorandum of Association, dated 23 December 1925, actually records nine signatories. Alongside those six were L.F. Collin, D. Davis & Company and Sam Fox Publishing.

So while the story of six publishers at the first board meeting is part of APRA’s centenary history, the original constitutional documents reveal a wider group involved in establishing the organisation formally incorporated on 4 January 1926 as a company limited by guarantee.

And it is important to remember that APRA was not a government department. Not a statutory authority created to administer Australian music. It was a private organisation. Established by music publishing interests with a very clear purpose to stay in business. (Oh, and administer and license performing rights collectively.)

The publishers already held or administered valuable rights in musical compositions. APRA’s structure enabled performing rights to be acquired through assignments or other arrangements and licensed through a central organisation. Instead of a radio station negotiating separately with numerous publishers, it could obtain a licence covering a substantial repertoire. Instead of individual rights holders chasing businesses for payment, APRA could collect licence fees and distribute royalties under its rules.

From an administrative perspective, there were obvious advantages. But from a commercial perspective?

Well.

Businesses that might otherwise have negotiated independently now had a collective licensing organisation representing their rights. And you can’t have a radio station without music. Right? As an emerging industry, music was one of radio’s greatest attractions. People wanted to hear songs. Broadcasters wanted listeners. Advertisers wanted audiences. Sound familiar? E. W. Cole (APRA founder) hiring a live orchestra and brass band at Cole’s Book Arcade Collection drawing massive crowds and creating a festive atmosphere. Jacques Albert, (another APRA founder) playing the violin to entertain customers in his small watch repair shop. Eva, playing piano in her mum’s pub. Betty, playing piano in the Brisbane city Palings store.

Each one of them knew that music attracts people and people attract money.

So now, in Australia, in 1926, there was one new business in the middle of the music, the people and the money.

APRA’s collective licensing model meant broadcasters could obtain access to represented repertoire through a central licence. It also meant the organisation possessed considerable bargaining power. And boys, were those broadcasters pissed about the terms! So much so that only a few years after APRA’s establishment, the relationship between the collective licensing organisation and Australia’s broadcasters had become so toxic that it had become a matter for a well documented Royal Commission on Performing Rights in 1932–33.

Astonishingly, at this time in history, music was already an international business. Quite remarkable when you consider the distinct lack of technology for these businesses to stay connected. APRA developed reciprocal arrangements with international performing-rights organisations, enabling it to represent overseas repertoire in Australia while Australian repertoire could be represented abroad. British and American songs travelled through publishing agreements, sheet music distribution and eventually broadcasting.

APRA didn’t own every song in the world. It had become the licensing authority over an increasingly extensive repertoire. Once an organisation represents a substantial proportion of the music people want to hear, the question for music users is no longer simply whether they like the licensing arrangement.

It’s whether they have a viable alternative.

It’s important to remember that APRA was established by publishing interests. Not by a gathering of independent songwriters sitting around somebody’s kitchen table, wondering how to collect their radio royalties. Publishers had long acquired or administered copyright through commercial agreements with composers. Some songwriters received royalties under those agreements. Others may have assigned particular rights for fixed payments or on terms that proved less favourable as new technologies emerged. The precise arrangements varied. But the commercial relationship between the person who created the composition and the business controlling its publishing rights was not necessarily equal.

And the early APRA structure reflected the influence of publishers over the songwriters. Over subsequent decades, songwriters gained direct membership, representation and royalty distribution arrangements. APRA’s centenary history records writer membership beginning in the 1930s and direct payments to writers beginning in the 1940s. Today, APRA has a board comprising elected writer and publisher directors.

A hundred years after APRA was established, the underlying commercial relationship hasn’t changed that much. Music still brings people together. It still makes customers stay longer. It still fills pubs, clubs, restaurants, theatres and festivals. It still sells drinks, meals, tickets and experiences. I know because I’ve spent much of my working life in the music business. I’ve seen the difference between a room with music and a room without it. I’ve watched audiences walk through the door because a musician was playing. I’ve seen hospitality businesses build loyal customers around regular entertainment. And I’ve spent enough time dealing with the commercial and administrative machinery of this industry to appreciate that making music happen involves considerably more than simply plugging in an amplifier.

But when I think about the origins of this story, I don’t picture six businessmen sitting around a table.

I picture two girls at their pianos.

And somebody, somewhere, collecting another royalty.

Historical Sources and Further Reading

1. Australian music retail: Commerce and Culture: Music Emporia and Modernity in Late Nineteenth-Century Australia (2025).

2. Founding documents: APRA Constitution and Memorandum of Association.

3. Incorporation: APRA Certificate of Incorporation, 4 January 1926.

4. Organisational history: APRA: A Century of Song.

5. Royal Commission: Royal Commission on Performing Rights, 1932–33, Parliamentary Papers 1932–34, Vol. IV, pp. 1163–1220.

6. Competition oversight: ACCC — Re-authorisation of APRA’s collective administration arrangements, 2006.

7. Current dispute resolution: Copyright Tribunal of Australia.

8. Industry governance: Code of Conduct for Copyright Collecting Societies.

9. Story Source: The Women Played. The Men Got Paid.

Nichola Burton is co-founder and CEO of The Pushworth Group and the voice behind Musoverse and has spent more than 35 years in the Australian music business, building businesses, challenging conventions and discovering that the official version of history isn’t always the whole story. Copyright 2026

You can record every note yourself and still need permission to use the song in a promotional video. The recording and the underlying composition involve separate rights.

This guide explains how Australian cover shows can prepare a promotional MP4, check the permissions they need and upload it to YouTube.

1. Choose five or six songs

Recommended showreel format:

• One promotional video.

• Five or six songs demonstrating your show’s appeal.

• Up to 15 seconds of each song.

• A short opening identifying your show.

• A closing frame with your booking contact details.

Choose sections that show your strongest vocals, musicianship and stage presence. Give the viewer enough time to hear the performance before cutting to the next song.

The 15-second limit is an editing guideline—not a copyright exemption. Even a few seconds of protected material can create copyright issues without permission.

2. Identify the songwriters and publishers

Create a record for every song you intend to include.

Song Title:

Songwriter/Lyricist:

Original Album and Year:

Record Label/Master Owner:

Publishing Rights:

Live Show Licence: Public Performance Licence under One Music Australia

Google can help you locate the appropriate information.

3. Record your own performance

Record your own vocals and instrumentation. Never use the original artist’s master recording.

Check the entire soundtrack for:

• Original recordings used during introductions or transitions.

• Samples taken from commercial tracks.

• Karaoke or third-party backing tracks.

• Venue background music captured before or after your performance.

A backing track needs permission appropriate to its use in a promotional video. Buying or downloading it does not automatically grant those rights.

Confirm recording ownership and promotional permissions with your musicians, producer and videographer.

Record your own performance. Using your own vocals and instruments avoids using the original master recording.

❌ Do not use any piece of the original artist’s backing track or studio audio.

❌ Do not use clips from the official music video or copyrighted live concerts.

Your own recording removes one clearance problem. It does not remove the songwriter’s rights.

4. Keep the proposed use clear

Show the publisher exactly what you intend to create.

If you plan to change lyrics, translate the song, combine songs into a mashup or substantially rewrite the music, disclose that and request the appropriate permission.

Straightforward cover performances are easier to describe and assess. They still require clearance for commercial video use.

5. Export your MP4

Recommended production settings:

• Format: MP4.

• Video codec: H.264.

• Resolution: 1920 × 1080 where the source footage supports it.

• Orientation: Landscape, 16:9.

• Frame rate: Match the recorded footage.

• Audio: AAC-LC, stereo, 48 kHz.

MP4, H.264 and AAC-LC are supported by YouTube’s recommended upload settings.

Check the finished file for balanced sound, clear vocals, readable contact details and abrupt edits. Give venues a fair representation of the performance they are booking.

6. Add accurate credits and a rights notice

Credits acknowledge the creators. They do not replace permission. Statements such as “we do not own the song” or “no infringement intended” do not authorise its use.

Use this description template, adapting it to your actual recording and licence terms:

ABOUT THIS SHOWREEL

[SHOW NAME] performs live/studio cover versions of the songs listed below. This promotional showreel showcases our own recorded performances.

PERFORMED BY

[SHOW NAME]
[PERFORMER CREDITS]

BOOKING ENQUIRIES

[BOOKING LINK OR CONTACT]

ORIGINAL SONG CREDITS

Repeat for each song:

[VIDEO TIMESTAMP] — [SONG TITLE]
Songwriters and lyricists: [ALL VERIFIED WRITERS]
Originally performed/popularised by: [ARTIST]
Original album and year: [IF APPLICABLE]
Publisher or administrator: [VERIFIED DETAILS]

RECORDING AND VIDEO CREDITS

Cover recording: [OWNER / PRODUCER]
Video: [OWNER / VIDEOGRAPHER]

RIGHTS NOTICE

The underlying musical compositions remain the copyright of their respective rights holders. No original artist master recordings are used in this video.

Include that final sentence only if it is true. Add any credit wording required by your permissions. State that synchronisation permission has been obtained only when you hold the relevant approvals.

Keep full licence documents in your business records.

7. Upload and review YouTube checks

Once permissions are in place:

1. Open YouTube Studio and select Create → Upload videos.

2. Upload your MP4.

3. Add the title, description, credits and thumbnail.

4. Select Private while reviewing the upload.

5. Allow processing and copyright checks to finish.

6. Inspect any restrictions and identify the claimant and affected excerpt.

7. Resolve issues before changing visibility to Public or Unlisted.

Private or unlisted uploads are useful for reviewing the finished video. They are not a licensing workaround.

YouTube warns that copyright check results are not final: later claims and removal requests can still affect the video. A clean check is therefore not proof of permission.

8. Understand claims and strikes

A Content ID claim can result in advertising revenue going to a rights holder, viewing restrictions or a block. A claim does not itself create a copyright strike.

A copyright removal request, if valid, can remove the video and result in a strike.

Some eligible cover videos can share advertising revenue with publishers. Monetisation outcomes depend on eligibility and the rights holder’s policy; they are not universally the same.

Do not dispute a claim simply because you performed the song yourself, credited the writers or used a short excerpt. Dispute only when you have a valid basis and supporting evidence.

Before you publish

• Five or six songs selected, with excerpts of up to 15 seconds each.

• Writers and publishers verified.

• Written permissions cover the intended commercial promotion.

• Every audio recording and video element is owned or appropriately licensed.

• Credits and any required licence wording are included.

• No unsupported claim of original artist endorsement appears.

• MP4 reviewed for picture, sound and accurate booking details.

• YouTube checks are reviewed, and any restrictions are addressed.

• Permissions, expiry dates and the final MP4 retained.

The showreel earns attention. The permissions protect the asset you have paid to create.

Nichola Burton is co-founder and CEO of The Pushworth Group and the voice behind Musoverse. With more than three decades connecting live shows with audiences, she helps artists turn their talent into a business—and navigate the fine print that applause doesn’t cover.

More cowbell.

They try again. More cowbell. Again. Still not enough cowbell. Until finally, “Guess what? I got a fever, and the only prescription is more cowbell!”

Weird how I only heard ‘cowbell’ while reading Queensland’s new Nightlife Economy Action Plan 2026–2032?

Queensland needs a stronger nightlife economy. Venues are struggling. Audiences have changed. People are buying tickets later. Hospitality costs have risen. Touring is expensive. Live entertainment is competing with Netflix, sport, gaming, restaurants and the increasingly seductive proposition of staying home in your jammies.

And bless JC in his submitted plan prescribing more opportunities, support slots, touring pathways, promotion and support for local and grassroots artists - all simply the equivalent of adding more cowbell to a market struggling.

But, um, there is one key person missing from JC’s strategy.

The customer.

The reality check is that Queensland doesn’t have a shortage of musicians or songs or bands wanting gigs. There is an abundance of supply.

What we’re running short of is the audient – the customer purchasing, meals, drinks and tickets. The market gap is the humans prepared to get dressed, leave home, drive somewhere, park, buy a ticket, buy dinner, buy a drink and spend several hours experiencing live entertainment when they could remain horizontally committed to the sofa.

The bottom line here is that you cannot solve a demand problem by creating more supply. You cannot solve an audience problem by creating more things for the audience not to buy.

Let’s start here. Artist development is not market development. Supporting artists is legitimate cultural policy. Art doesn’t have to turn a profit to have value. But this document isn’t called the Queensland Let’s Give Musicians a Hand Action Plan. It’s the Nightlife Economy Action Plan. (A)

An economy requires a market. A market requires a customer. And customers don’t read funding guidelines or care which genre has been designated culturally desirable this financial year. They simply ask, ‘Do I want to go to this?’

Meet Bec. Apparently no one asked her. She is 48. Lives in Carindale. Has a job, a mortgage, two kids and a husband she’s quite fond of, plus three mates from high school that she keeps promising to catch up with.

The best part is that Bec has $200.00 to spend on Saturday night.

So what will it take for Bec to open the group chat and type, “Girls? You in?”

It could be Brisbane’s second-best covers band, a Fleetwood Mac tribute show, an emerging Queensland singer-songwriter, Jimmy Barnes, or a DJ playing the hits that Bec danced to in 1992 while making several spectacularly poor romantic decisions.

Bec doesn’t know it yet, but by leaving the house and choosing a venue to spend the night with her mates, she is participating in Queensland’s cultural economy. Multiply her by 500 and suddenly we’ve got ticket revenue, bar revenue, meals, Ubers, hotel rooms, technicians, security staff, musicians and a venue that wants to do it again next month.

Perhaps we should ask Bec what she wants? 🙂

The Queensland Greens have proposed spending $6 million every year bringing live music into 50 Brisbane community venues, leading to almost 2,400 original performances every year. (B)

What if 40 people turn up for the original music gigs that the Greens think should be heard, and 500 Bec’s head somewhere else to party to a 90s DJ instead? Are we building a live music economy? Or providing musicians with government-funded opportunities to add another gig to their resume?

Original music is part of the market. But it isn’t the entire market.

Bec doesn’t decide to go out to spend that $200.00 and party with her mates to support live music. She is headed out to party, to listen to her soundtrack and to seek out music that will become her time machine for a few hours.

So if we’re genuinely talking about a nightlife economy, we kinda have to factor Bec into the mix because ultimately she owes us nothing.

So let’s discover the ultimate Bec. Map the venues, capacities, audiences, age, geography, genre preferences, ticket price tolerances, travel patterns and historical sales. Track what works in Cairns, Toowoomba, Gold Coast or Ipswich. What gets 500 people into a regional club? What gets Bec and the girls into an Uber?

It’s time to follow the audience as a matter of priority. Don’t just count artists receiving opportunities. Let’s count how many heads, tickets sold, venues expanding, hospitality spending, regional travel, repeat attendance, and commercially sustainable shows.

A thriving healthy nightlife economy needs to offer more reasons for people to go out and experience it. So let’s make it count and ask, “What would make Queenslanders want to go out tonight?”

And before anybody reaches for another artist-development programme to fix an audience-development problem, for god’s sake, put down that bloody cowbell.

References

(A) https://www.housing.qld.gov.au/__data/assets/pdf_file/0017/92105/qld-nightlife-economy-action-plan.pdf

(B) https://greens.org.au/qld/bcc/ban-pokies

Nichola Burton has spent more than three decades in Australia’s live music industry, connecting artists, venues and audiences. She writes Musoverse from the unfashionable end of the telescope: the customer. Because without an audience, there is no music business — just a lot of cowbell. Copyright 2026

Great. Do they buy tickets? Where do they live? How old are they? How far will they travel? When do they buy? And can you prove it?

Because followers are not a target market. A tribute show needs several hundred people in one geographic area to choose your show, your venue, your date — and pay for it. That makes knowing exactly who buys your tickets one of the most valuable assets your music brand can own.

Most tribute shows are pitching venues with photographs, posters, biographies and a showreel. But imagine adding:

Our primary ticket buyer is 45–64. Sixty-eight per cent of our previous buyers came from within 30 kilometres of the venue. Facebook generated the highest-converting traffic. Forty-two per cent of tickets were purchased in the final ten days. Our strongest secondary market is women aged 35–44.

Now we are having a completely different conversation with the prospective pub or club who wants to book your show. It’s not just about what happens on stage but who is likely to be standing in front of it.

Let us kill off one particularly persistent piece of music-industry mythology.

10,000 followers does not mean 10,000 customers.

For a promoter, club, hotel, theatre or entertainment venue, the valuable questions are: Who buys? Where do they live? How much will they pay? How far will they travel? How early do they buy? What makes them click? And where can we find more people like them?

That is your Target Demographic Data.

Music brands presenting tribute shows have something original artists don’t always have. A pre-existing cultural market. The audience already knows Queen, Fleetwood Mac, ABBA, Pink Floyd, INXS, Taylor Swift, Elvis, Cold Chisel and whatever artist, catalogue or era your show celebrates.

Your task isn’t to convince somebody that the music is good. The original artist already did that. Your commercial job is to identify which part of that enormous fan universe is most likely to buy your particular live experience, in this particular market, at this particular price.

And did you know that Eventbrite’s Australian 2026 trends research reported that paid tickets for retro-decade events celebrating the 60s, 70s, 80s and 90s increased 8.5% in 2025? It also reported that 64% of organisers believed consumers would seek more niche events in 2027.

Step One - the ticket buyer. Not likes, views, follows or shares. Credit Card or Cash transactions.

So make it a habit, after every ticketed show, ask the promoter, venue or ticketing company for whatever aggregated sales information they can legitimately provide. At a minimum, establish:

• tickets sold

• venue capacity

• average ticket price

• buyer postcode or geographic area

• sales timeline

• ticket type

• referral or campaign source where available

• buyer demographic information where legitimately collected and shareable.

Ticketing systems increasingly provide exactly this kind of intelligence to analyse attendee location, promotional channels, ticket types, traffic and conversion, and export event reports. And postcode information can become incredibly powerful.

Suppose you discover this after five Queensland performances:

EXAMPLE — WHERE OUR BUYERS COME FROM

Brisbane / Inner Metro
████████████████████████████ 42%

Outer Metro
██████████████████ 27%

Regional within 100km
██████████ 16%

100km+
██████ 9%

Other
████ 6%

Illustrative example — replace with your actual ticketing data.

Suddenly you know something commercially useful. Your show doesn’t merely have “Brisbane fans”. It has a measurable catchment area. And that gives the next promoter somewhere sensible to spend advertising money. Calculating your pulling radius is one of the best stats a tribute show can develop.

If you start to plot buyer postcodes against each venue, over time you may discover:

72% of our ticket buyers typically come from within 35km of the performance venue.

Or:

Regional performances regularly attract approximately 20% of buyers from more than 50km away.

Those are two very different products. One is strongly local. The other may have genuine destination-event potential. Neither is inherently better.

Knowing which one you are selling is the valuable bit.

Step Two - Your next job is to build an age profile. Don’t assume that because you perform 1980s music, your audience consists exclusively of people who were teenagers in 1985. Music travels through generations. Parents introduce children. TikTok resurrects old catalogues. Films and television create new audiences. Fashion recycles eras. A younger audience may experience your catalogue as nostalgia for a period they never actually lived through.

So measure it.

EXAMPLE — TICKET BUYERS BY AGE

18–24
████ 6%

25–34
███████ 11%

35–44
████████████ 19%

45–54
██████████████████████ 34%

55–64
████████████████ 25%

65+
███ 5%

Illustrative data only.

Now the venue knows something extremely important. This is primarily a 45–64 market. That affects everything from advertising channels to imagery, media buying, database segmentation, ticket pricing, food and beverage strategy and even what time the performance should start.

Step Three - Gender data can expose purchasing patterns.

Perhaps your audience is 61% women / 37% men / 2% other or undisclosed.

Useful. But the next question is more interesting. Who is actually initiating the purchase?

One person buying six tickets is commercially different from six people buying individually. That person may be the group’s social organiser. Find her — or him — and you’ve potentially found the most important customer in your entire marketing funnel.

The useful metric isn’t: Women like our show. It is: Women aged 45–59 represent our strongest purchasing cohort and frequently purchase multiple tickets per transaction.

Now a promoter can build a campaign around group behaviour, not crude demographic stereotypes.

Step Four - Find out when they buy.

This is another number promoters need. Track ticket sales from announcement to show day. Your curve might look something like this:

EXAMPLE — WHEN TICKETS SELL

First 48 hours
███████████████ 24%

Middle campaign
██████████████████████ 36%

Final 14 days
████████████████ 26%

Final 72 hours
█████████ 14%

Illustrative example.

Now compare that pattern across ten performances. You may discover that your audience has one of these three drivers - announcement driven, early-planning driven or last-minute driven.

If 40% of your market habitually buys in the final fortnight, a promoter shouldn’t panic six weeks out and start discounting the bloody thing into oblivion. Your historical data may be telling them. “Your buyers simply haven’t arrived yet.”

Step Five – Review your Digital Brand Touchpoints.

Why? The Aussie consumer is researching before they buy. Eventbrite’s Australian music-fan research found 74% of music-goers actively researched an event before purchasing a ticket. The information they most commonly sought included the event date, ticket price and venue. Social media was also important for discovery: 41% said social media was where they heard about music events, followed by word of mouth at 22% and direct email from promoters, artists or organisers at 11%.

That research is older — 2019 — so factor that into today’s definitive Australian market profile because the behavioural principle remains useful. Discovery and purchase are not necessarily the same event. Someone may see your Facebook ad. Google the show. Watch your YouTube showreel. Return to your website. Talk to friends. Then buy four tickets three days later.

Your job is to understand that journey.

Step Six - Set up your Website as an Intelligence Centre.

Install Google Analytics 4. Not because Google Analytics will magically identify every human who visits your website. It won’t. Privacy controls, consent settings and reporting thresholds mean demographic information can be incomplete. Google specifically applies thresholds to demographic reporting where small datasets could risk identifying individuals. But GA4 can still help you understand:

• geographic location

• acquisition channels

• landing pages

• returning visitors

• devices

• campaign performance

• events

• outbound ticket-link clicks

• user journeys.

Most importantly, configure an event for BUY TICKETS, and then track it.

Step Seven – Set up your Tracking Links.

Instead of posting the identical ticketing URL everywhere, use trackable campaign links. Create separate URLs for:

• Facebook

• Instagram

• TikTok

• YouTube

• Email

• Venue website

• Artist website

• QR posters

• Google advertising

• Local media.

Now you can begin answering, “What actually sends people towards the ticket purchase?”

Eventbrite, for example, offers traffic/conversion and tracking-link reporting specifically designed to show which channels and links are generating event traffic and registrations. There is a huge difference between Facebook-generated 48,000 impressions. and Facebook generated 62% of tracked ticket-page traffic.

The first number sounds big. The second helps somebody make a decision.

Step Eight - Know your Facebook and Instagram Audience

Meta Business Suite can help you understand your social audience and content performance. Look for patterns in:

• age cohorts

• location

• reach

• engagement

• video performance

• link clicks

• content format.

But don’t automatically declare Facebook your “main market” because that’s where you have the most followers. Compare social behaviour against ticket behaviour. If Facebook contains 70% of your followers but Instagram produces more ticket-link traffic, that’s useful. If neither converts, but your venue’s email database sells half the room? That’s even more useful.

The objective isn’t to prove that your social media strategy is brilliant. The objective is to discover what is true.

Step Nine - Know your Tik Tok Audience

TikTok can expose your show to younger audiences and generate extraordinary reach. Great. Track it. But don’t confuse discovery with commercial conversion. A 21-year-old watching 15 seconds of your Fleetwood Mac tribute is not automatically equivalent to a 52-year-old purchasing four $69 tickets. Both matter. They occupy different positions in the funnel. So record:

Views → Profile Visits → Link Clicks → Ticket Page → Purchase

The closer somebody moves towards the right-hand side, the more commercially valuable the behaviour becomes.

Step Ten - Spend some quality time in your You Tube Channel.

For tribute shows, YouTube may be your secret weapon. Why? Because audiences want proof. “Can these people actually deliver the experience I think I’m buying?” Your showreel answers that.

YouTube Analytics can show audience age, gender, country or region, watch behaviour, new versus returning viewers and other audience information, although Google warns that some demographic and geographic data may be limited where there isn’t sufficient data.

Pay particular attention to: Top Geographies and Watch Time. A thousand people watching three seconds isn’t particularly exciting. Four hundred people in your target market watching most of a three-minute live showreel? Now you’ve got my attention.

Step Eleven - Build your Audience Profile over Time

One performance gives you information. Ten performances give you patterns. Thirty performances give you business intelligence. That is why you need to record this information after every show. Your spreadsheet should eventually tell you:

THE AUDIENCE

• Primary age

• Secondary age

• Gender composition

• Group purchasing behaviour

THE GEOGRAPHY

• Top suburbs

• Top postcodes

• Typical travelling distance

• Regional versus metropolitan differences

THE PURCHASE

• Average ticket price

• Tickets per transaction

• Sales velocity

• Launch-period sales

• Final-14-day sales

• Final-72-hour sales

THE DISCOVERY

• Facebook

• Instagram

• TikTok

• YouTube

• Google

• Email

• Venue database

• Word of mouth

THE DIGITAL INTENT

• Website visitors

• Showreel views

• Watch time

• Ticket-link clicks

• Click-through rate

• Campaign conversion

THE RESULT

• Capacity

• Tickets sold

• Sell-through percentage

• Gross ticket revenue

• Average ticket yield.

That is your audience asset that we pitch to the market to sell your show.

Step Twelve - Create your Demographic Cheat Sheet

Turn all that information into one page like this.

And make sure you don’t cherry-pick the numbers. Don’t manipulate your numbers to make the pitch prettier. Use them to make the business smarter. Data is useful precisely because it occasionally tells you something you don’t want to hear. Perhaps you thought your market was 35–44. It’s actually 55–64. Perhaps you’ve spent thousands building Instagram while 67% of attributable sales are coming from venue email databases. Perhaps your regional shows outperform metropolitan shows. Now you know.

Once you have established your Demographic Cheat Sheet, it may be time to retire the old Show Pitch for something that says:

• This is the show.

• This is the experience.

• This is who buys it.

• This is where they live.

• This is what they pay.

• This is when they buy.

• This is where we find them.

• This is what has happened in comparable markets.

• And this is how we recommend we sell your room.

You’re no longer walking into the market asking, “Please book our show.” You are walking in saying, “Here is the audience opportunity.”

Nichola Burton has spent more than three decades in Australia’s live music industry, connecting artists, venues and audiences. Through Musoverse, she cuts through the mythology of the music business to explore what actually builds a sustainable music brand — understanding your market, creating value and turning an audience into a business.

Apparently, everybody in the Australian live music industry, from artists to national bodies to venues to lawyers and accountants, all failed to read the same memo for 34 years. And the government bodies responsible for implementing it seem not to have noticed that almost none of the commercial systems operating across grassroots live music reflected it.

I am kinda curious about how a government passed legislation affecting an entire industry it did not properly understand, failed to connect that legislation to the systems through which the industry actually operated, provided inadequate practical guidance, and then left everyone to discover the consequences more than three decades later just in time for Payday Super.

To understand this failure, we need to time travel back to 1 July 1992, when under the Keating Government, Treasurer John Dawkins introduced a national system intended to expand retirement savings beyond the workers already covered by industrial awards.

The social objective was understandable enough. But sitting inside the legislation was section 12(8), which expressly deemed certain people paid to perform or participate in music, entertainment, sport, promotional activity, film, television, and related services to be employees for Superannuation Guarantee purposes. Yet, in the standard industrial sense, under commercial contracts, under OHS legislation, and in every other area in law, these people are not employees.

First question, “Why?”

Over the next 34 years, the Australian live music market overwhelmingly continued to operate as business-to-business commerce where artists controlled their repertoire, personnel, equipment, presentation, and delivery under contracts that were written around results.

My next question is “How could an entire industry ecosystem get it wrong?”

On 17 July 1991, I was awarded my Queensland Private Employment Agent licence. I joined the PEA Association, attended meetings with other agencies, and was invited to participate in a variety of national industry consultations over the decades where superannuation was never mentioned, and when I personally raised the matter, I was shut down immediately with a firm '“Agents issue Results Based Contracts”.

Lawyers, Accountants and Industry Advisors all noted that the Queensland private-employment-agent framework recognised that an agent who could negotiate contract work for performers, administer those result based contracts, and arrange payments under them. That model distinguishes an employment agent from a business supplying its own workers and carrying the obligations owed to those workers. The licensed performance agent facilitated a transaction between a customer buying a live show and a supplier delivering a live show offer. Industry-wide, contracts reflected that structure. Business to business.

So while this practice reflects the Australian music industry from 1992 up until 2026, I am interested in understanding how a law materially affects an entire commercial sector, leaves a collection of words on a government website, and waits for 34 years for everybody to trip over them. For the Keating Government to pass this legislation, wouldn’t it have required a concise understanding of the market being regulated? Therefore, wouldn’t it have required consultation, industry-specific guidance, the identification of existing contracting structures, clarity about who carries which obligation, and systems capable of administering the law? And wouldn’t someone be required to notice that an entire industry continued operating in a way that bears almost no resemblance to the statutory model?

So what happened? And how did it happen? Where is the missing bridge?

Let’s start here. A live show is not three hours of labor. One human does not simply arrive at 7 pm and apply its labor until 10 pm and then go home. The show contracted by the venue purchases includes but is not limited to the act’s name and brand, audience recognition, repertoire, intellectual property, rehearsal and preparation, instruments and equipment, transport and freight, production, public liability insurance, administration, promotional photography, video, social media reach, marketing obligations, ticket-selling capacity, audience-drawing power, and the subcontracting of additional musicians and the performance itself.

The show that is purchased exists way before anybody steps onto the stage.

Two acts can perform for exactly three hours and charge completely different fees because the customer is not merely purchasing three hours of physical labor. They are purchasing commercial value. One act may bring no audience. Another may fill the room, sell tickets, increase food and beverage revenue, and give customers a reason to return. The show is the delivery mechanism. So which proportion of the total commercial fee represents qualifying earnings?

The direct labor component of delivering a show may represent less than half the total cost to the venue. The rest may reflect equipment, production, travel, administration, marketing, insurance, rehearsal, intellectual property, brand value, and the cost of engaging other performers.

If the government consulted with this sector prior to the legislation in 1992, how does this clause assume the entire performance fee is simply payment for personal labor? I mean, if some fictional person turns up alone, owns nothing, risks nothing, promotes nothing, supplies nothing, manages nobody, and creates no commercial value beyond their physical presence on stage to deliver a show, then sure, it makes sense if you are a karaoke host employed by the venue to work 5 nights a week. But this is not reflective of the Australian music industry. Not in 2026 and not in 1992.

Queensland’s Work Health and Safety framework adds another layer of contradiction. A venue and an entertainment supplier may both be persons conducting a business. Their duties are concurrent with each party managing safety for the audience to the extent that it can influence or control the relevant matter. The venue controls the premises, access, emergency systems, patron environment, and many physical risks. The artist business controls its personnel, equipment, stage activity, and aspects of the performance. WHS law therefore recognizes the venue and supplier as operating businesses with their own expertise, control, and legal duties.

I would love to know the identity of the so-called industry consultants in 1992 who declared that an independent supplier under the performance contract can be a PCBU carrying non-transferable safety duties, the operator of an entertainment brand, a contractor engaging other subcontractors, a marketer responsible for promoting the show, and a deemed employee for SG purposes.

How did music-industry organizations fail to embed section 12(8) into standard contracts and professional guidance? How did venue associations fail to warn hospitality operators? How did accountants process artist invoices for decades without routinely identifying SG obligations? How did lawyers approve results-based performance contracts without consistently addressing the separate deemed-employee provision? How did booking agencies administer millions of engagements through accounts-payable systems rather than payroll? How did artists operate as independent suppliers without being told to provide superannuation details? And how did government regulators watch an entire market operate this way?

Until 1 July 2022, the $450 monthly threshold probably concealed much of the practical problem. A performer might receive one payment from a particular purchaser during the month and remain below the threshold. In 2022, this market, still in active recovery after the COVID lockdowns, was focused on rebuilding the market. Accountants were still processing Job Seeker and Keeper payments, and an industry operating model where contracts were results-based, with terms and conditions operated in compliance by applying standard contract law and the ATO’s own established guidelines. Agents operated under a standard tripartite (three-party) agency mode, being a licensed intermediary facilitating a business-to-business deal, with terms legally binding the artist to handle their own business affairs.

What changed on 1 July 2026 was not the industry model but a massive legislative and regulatory shift by the High Court and the ATO that effectively dismantled the “all-inclusive invoice” practice for independent contractors.

Interestingly, in October 2025, the Tax Institute wrote to the ATO about the administration of SG for performers, entertainers, and related service providers. It reported “considerable uncertainty” and a general lack of awareness about section 12(8). It provided eleven ordinary examples demonstrating the difficulty industry practitioners faced in applying the provision to common commercial transactions.

Thirty-three years after the legislation commenced, tax professionals were still asking the ATO to explain how it applied in practice. And so were many other industry companies.

The reality is that Payday Super finally turned the lights on and showed an industry caught with its collective pants down asking all those same questions while seated beside a government body that never built the machinery through which answers to those questions could be obtained.

So sure. Go ahead. Create a special statutory rule for performers. But then why not also integrate that rule with the commercial structures operating across their sector?

Here’s a thought. Maybe reconcile Commonwealth SG law with state-regulated agency models? Provide guidance for how the rule is applied to whole-act contracts. Resolve the intermediary payment chain. Capture the distinction between a performer’s labor and the composite commercial product being supplied. Account for marketing, brand value, production, and audience draw. Create practical systems for intermittent, high-volume engagements. Ensure professional advisers (lawyers and accountants) understand the provision consistently. Ensure industry bodies educate the market.

A New Approach (ANA): Australia’s federal, state, and territory governments combined historically commit between $5 billion and $7 billion annually toward arts and culture. Over a roughly 30-year span (1992–2025), total combined public funding allocated across the entire cultural and creative sector accumulates to an estimated $130 billion to $160 billion.

So my question for Australia’s federal, state, and territory governments is this.

How did you fund this sector between $130 and $160 billion dollars between 1992 and 2025 and not notice that the sector continued operating as B2B commerce?

Here’s the bottom line.

The government’s failure to bridge between their legislation in 1992 and the B2B commercial market practice does not suspend the current legislative requirements of Pay Day Super.

I mean, wouldn’t it be great if they were able to explain the policy foundations of section 12(8), disclose the consultation and evidence behind it, address its interaction with state agency legislation, provide workable rules for bandleaders and subcontracted musicians, establish credible apportionment standards, recognise the composite commercial nature of a live show and model the effect on purchasing behaviour, and review the law if its assumptions no longer fit the market?

And while we chuckle uneasily to ourselves muttering, “And pigs might fly,” perhaps the best thing for all music industry practitioners to do, is get back to business, obtain accounting and legal advice to clarify their own business structures, separate labor and non-labor costs properly, and continue to build the value of their music brands and show offers to reflect their value in this market.

Because, while this industry has inherited a retrofit of 1992 legislation into a commercial market that it simply does not fit, it should not necessarily follow that this market should dissolve into a civil war between musicians, venues, festivals, and agents.

Just because the government failed to get its act together doesn’t mean we shouldn’t.

Nichola Burton is the co-founder and CEO of The Pushworth Group, an Australian live-music agency established in 1991. After 35 years negotiating and administering performance contracts between artists and venues, she writes from inside the machinery of the industry—where legislation, commercial reality, and common sense do not always share the same stage.

So no. Everyone hasn’t suddenly decided to stay home. What has changed is when they’re prepared to hand over the money. And if you’re selling tickets, that’s now your problem to solve.

Creative Australia found 60% of Australians say ticket or entry cost is a barrier, and 55% missed something they actually wanted to attend because of cost. This isn’t necessarily a demand problem. It’s a conversion problem.

When money feels tight, buying a ticket six weeks ahead means giving up cash for something you don’t need today. Why do that if you can wait? Wait until payday. Wait until the mortgage comes out. Wait to see who else is going. Wait to check the weather. Wait until you’ve paid the electricity bill and discovered whether the car needs four new tyres.

And remember, your “$45 ticket” isn’t necessarily a $45 decision. Two tickets. Booking fees. Dinner. Drinks. Uber. Babysitter. There’s your $200 night. So they wait to buy their tickets. Kinda makes sense.

The challenge here is that we have an entire industry model expecting the audience to behave differently but without giving them a reason to. Three weeks out with bugger-all presales, repeatedly posting the same show tile with: DON’T MISS THIS AMAZING SHOW!, is not a marketing strategy. Neither is blaming the economy.

Audiences have limited discretionary money and a ridiculous number of things competing for it. And your business is based around encouraging them to buy YOUR ticket above everything else.

So number one, let’s look at the offer.

Nobody needs a four-piece band. Or a tribute show. Two hours of comedy. An orchestra. People are buying a visceral feeling in their bodies, hearts and minds. They are buying an experience.

This is why nostalgia is so commercially powerful. Fleetwood Mac isn’t simply a catalogue of songs. It’s being 25 again. It’s your sister. Your first boyfriend. The road trip. The divorce. The song you screamed into a hairbrush in 1987. It’s your best mate holding your hair back while you call god on that big white phone as Rhiannon plays in the background.

The product that you are selling tickets for, is the memory. So stop leading with: “Queensland’s premier seven-piece tribute featuring some of Australia’s finest musicians.” Nobody outside the band meeting cares. Tell me what kind of night out I’m buying.

Can you answer this next question, number two, “Why should I buy NOW?”

We put a show on sale eight weeks out. Same ticket price today. Same ticket price next month. Same seat. Plenty of capacity. Definitely tickets at the door. Then we’re mystified that people wait.

Of course they wait.

If you want early commitment, give early buyers something worth committing for. Best seats. Reserved tables. Priority entry. Dinner package. Drink inclusion. Merch. Limited allocation. Not necessarily a discount. In fact, be careful with discounts. If you routinely panic three days out and start flogging two-for-ones, congratulations. You’ve successfully taught your customer: Never buy early. These people crack eventually.

Number three consideration is where is the FOMO element in your campaign strategy? Creative Australia’s live-music research found 72% of engaged audiences saved money specifically to attend major live-music events.

Same economy. Same grocery prices. Same mortgages. But suddenly they found the money. Why? Because missing that particular experience mattered more.

That’s the psychology you need to create.

One night only. Only Brisbane show. Final 30 tickets. Limited tables. Special guest. Something that genuinely makes waiting risky. But it needs to be true. A SELLING FAST 🔥🔥🔥 graphic when you’ve shifted 42 tickets just makes everyone look ridiculous.

If you want people to buy tickets, change the offer. “A band playing Saturday night” is something I might check out if I have nothing better to do. “One Night of the Greatest Australian Anthems of the 80s” sounds like something I organise my mates for.

Same room. Possibly some of the same musicians. Definitely many of the same songs. Completely different offer. The key is to psychologically frame your offer as an EVENT instead of a GIG.

Australia has spent decades teaching pub and club audiences that live music is free. Turn up. Band’s playing. Buy a beer. A half decent Parmy. A little flutter on the pokies. Game of pool. Catch up with your mates.

Isn’t it insane that we put a ticket link in front of the same customer, and expect them to behave like a Broadway subscriber, when the offer, marketing and psychological approach is exactly the same?

The Australian audience hasn’t gone tits up. They’re just being choosier about where their money goes. Stop asking: Why aren’t people buying tickets? Instead ask: Why would someone buy THIS ticket TODAY?

If you can’t answer that in one sentence, don’t blame the punter. Fix the offer. Because your customer doesn’t owe the live music industry their support. They don’t have to buy a ticket because Artists need work, venues are struggling, production costs have increased or we’d all really like them to keep music live.

They’re customers.

Give them something they want badly enough to pay for.

Then give them a reason not to wait.

Statistics referenced in this article are drawn from Creative Australia’s 2025 National Arts Participation Survey and live-music audience research, and Live Performance Australia’s 2024 Ticket Attendance and Revenue Report. The broader analysis is drawn from the 2026 white paper, The Psychology of Ticket-Buying in Australian Live Entertainment, by Nichola Burton, A Little Pitchy.

References & Sources

1. Creative Australia — Creative Transformations: National Arts Participation Survey 2025
Creative Australia, 2026.
Nationally representative research involving 9,065 Australians aged 15+. Key findings cited include:

• 74% of Australians attended a live arts event or festival in 2025.

• Approximately 15.4 million Australians attended.

• Attendance was the highest recorded since the survey began in 2009.

• 60% cited ticket or entry cost as a barrier.

• 55% missed an arts event they wanted to attend because of cost.

Creative Australia — Creative Transformations

2. Creative Australia — Strong audience demand for live music lives on despite cost-of-living pressures
Creative Australia. Research into Australian live-music participation, motivations and barriers. Statistics cited include:

• 92% of music-engaged Australians say live music has a big or very big impact on their wellbeing and happiness.

• 72% saved money to attend one or more major live-music events.

• Cost remains the primary barrier to attendance.

• FOMO is an important purchasing driver, particularly for major and international artists.

• Audiences are increasingly purchasing tickets closer to the event.

Creative Australia — Live Music Audience Research

3. Live Performance Australia — Ticket Attendance and Revenue Report 2024
Live Performance Australia, 2025. National ticketing and attendance data cited include:

• 31.45 million total live-performance attendances.

• $3.354 billion total ticket revenue.

• $115.12 average paid ticket price.

• Contemporary music generated approximately $1.811 billion.

• Contemporary music attracted approximately 14.08 million attendances.

• Contemporary music represented 54% of industry revenue and approximately 44.8% of attendance.

Live Performance Australia — Ticket Attendance and Revenue Report 2024

4. Creative Australia — Soundcheck: Insights into Australia’s Music Festival Sector
Creative Australia, 2024. Used particularly in examining younger consumers and late purchasing behaviour. The research identified younger audiences as particularly likely to make last-minute ticket purchases and examined affordability, changing consumer behaviour and festival attendance.

Creative Australia — Soundcheck research

5. Creative Australia — Listening In: Australia’s Live Music Audiences
Creative Australia. Research into where Australians experience live music and changes in attendance behaviour, including the distinction between major venues/events and live music presented in pubs and clubs.

Creative Australia — Listening research series

6. Roy Morgan — ANZ-Roy Morgan Consumer Confidence, 25 August 2026
Used for the discussion of Australian household financial confidence and the economic environment surrounding discretionary purchasing.

Figures cited include:

• Consumer Confidence of 77.5 in late August 2026.

• Confidence remained 8.5 points below the comparable period a year earlier.

• 17% of Australians said their families were financially better off than a year earlier.

• 49% said they were worse off.

• 21% expected their family to be financially better off in a year’s time.

• 37% expected to be worse off.

Roy Morgan — Consumer Confidence, August 2026

7. Roy Morgan — Inflation Expectations / Consumer Confidence Update, August 2026
Used for the reference to Australian inflation expectations reaching approximately 6.1% in late August 2026.

Roy Morgan — August 2026 update

8. A Little Pitchy — The Psychology of Ticket-Buying in Australian Live Entertainment Nichola Burton, 2026. White paper commissioned by A Little Pitchy for the Musoverse. Download Here

The white paper synthesises Australian live-performance participation, ticketing, household spending, consumer confidence and international audience research to examine:

• advance purchase versus walk-up behaviour;

• financial optionality;

• FOMO and scarcity;

• price sensitivity;

• total experience cost;

• audience segmentation;

• destination-venue behaviour;

• the shortening commitment horizon;

• and implications for venues, promoters, agents and Artists.

Research note: Statistics in this article are drawn from the sources above. Observations about financial optionality, familiarity reducing purchase risk, destination venues, eventisation, scarcity and the distinction between demand and commitment are the author’s analysis of those findings and more than three decades working within the Australian live entertainment market. Australia does not currently publish comprehensive national data showing exact ticket-purchase lead times across every live-performance sector, so no such figures have been inferred or invented.

Nichola Burton is a Strategic Brand Architect and Co-Founder of The Pushworth Group, with 35 years inside Australia’s live entertainment market. She works at the intersection of audience behaviour, entertainment, hospitality and business strategy — looking past what the industry wants to sell to understand what customers actually want to buy. Through Musoverse, she writes about the business behind the music, because great entertainment is only half the job. The other half is getting someone to pay for it.

We don’t know what your guarantee is. We don’t know what your Agent charges. We don’t know how many rehearsals you did, what your insurance costs, whether the Venue supplied production or why somebody is currently furious about the load-in. We probably don’t know how many followers you have either. And, with respect, we don’t really care.

We came out tonight for us. We have been working all week. We’ve dealt with bosses, staff, kids, parents, traffic, bills, grocery prices, relationships, deadlines and a phone that apparently believes we should be contactable by everybody we’ve ever met for 24 hours a day. We’re tired and friggin over it.

We could have stayed home. Home is actually pretty good these days. We have streaming services. Food delivery. Big televisions. Music on demand. A comfortable couch. Wine in the fridge.

You are competing with all of that.

So if we’ve showered, found something to wear, rounded up our mates, organised the kids, booked an Uber, driven across town, found a park, walked through the door and handed over our money… please understand what we’ve paid for.

We are not funding your labour. We are buying an experience.

Take us somewhere. Please. We want you to make us feel something. Make us dance. Make us laugh. Make us sing. Make us forget ourselves for a while. Play the song that takes us straight back to the summer we were nineteen and thought we knew absolutely everything. Give us the chorus that makes an entire room turn around and grin at complete strangers. Give Dad the song he played in the car when we were kids. Give Mum her favourite Fleetwood Mac song. Give us AC/DC so loud we temporarily forget our knees aren’t what they used to be. Give us some Bruno and Foo Fighters. Cotton Eye Joe. Horses. A little Bon Jovi. Spice Girls. Greenday. A bit of Kylie. The Angels. Pauly and Fat Pizza. Some chick trying to belt out Mr Brightside. A DJ who knows exactly when to drop the song everybody has been waiting for. And throw in some Alex Warren.

Read the room. Notice us. Talk to us. Feel when you’ve got us and know when you’re losing us. Don’t perform at us for three hours. Bring us with you. Because the great entertainers understand something that technically brilliant performers sometimes don’t.

The gig isn’t happening on the stage. It’s happening in the space between you and us. That’s where the magic is.

And Please Don’t Tell Us What We Should Value. This is where things get a little awkward. We hear a lot about what live music should be worth. What musicians should be paid. What Venues should spend. What tickets should cost. Which music should receive support. We understand everybody needs to make a living. So do we.

And we’re the ones reaching for our wallets.

You can calculate what something needs to cost. But you can’t calculate what we will value. We’ll tell you that. We tell you every weekend. We tell you when tickets fly out the door. We tell you when nobody buys them. We tell you when the dance floor fills. We tell you when the bar empties halfway through the second set. We tell you when we bring twelve friends next time. We tell you when we never come back. We tell you when a show becomes something we talk about for weeks.

That is market feedback. It isn’t always fair. It certainly isn’t always sophisticated. But it’s real. And if you’re running a music business, you need to listen to it.

Give Us Somewhere Worth Going. Now let’s talk about Venues. We don’t particularly need another building with beer in it. There are plenty of those. Give us somewhere that means something. Become the place we go on Sunday afternoon because the music is always great. Become the room that gets the brilliant tribute shows. Become the pub where everybody dances on Friday night. Become the home of country. Or rock. Or comedy. Or karaoke. Become the place where we know we’ll find our people.

Give us a reason to say: “Let’s go there.”

That’s when a Venue becomes more than a Venue. It becomes a destination where we want to be. We don’t have to investigate what’s on every weekend because we trust you. We know what you do. We know how it feels. We know there’s a good chance we’ll have a great night. So we come back. And we bring people with us.

Signed your Audience.

These notes came from a conversation I had with a group of mates last night as we shared a few hours in front of live band. They brought me down to earth with their observations.

“Nic, you have an audience looking for an experience, a Venue looking for an audience and an entertainer with something to offer. We are guessing that this is where you guys come in?”

Yes. This is the bit of the live music business most people never see. And probably shouldn’t have to. Between an entertainer creating a show and an audience standing in front of it is an entire marketplace. That is where businesses like Pushworth operate. Not on the stage. Not in the audience.

But in the middle.

The muso says: This is what I’ve got. The Venue says: This is the audience I’m trying to build. The market says: This is what people are currently responding to and what they’re prepared to pay. Businesses like Pushworth work between them.

Cue the daily questions that build any booking day. What is the offer? Who is likely to buy it? Where does it belong? What sort of room suits it? What price can the market tolerate? How should it be positioned? Can it tour? Is there demand? Are the promotional assets actually selling the experience? Does the Venue have the right audience for it? Can we take something an Artist has created and turn it into an offer a buyer can understand and an audience will want?

Know what this is? Translating the offer into the market.

Often that translation involves saying something an Artist doesn’t particularly want to hear. The price isn’t working. The offer isn’t clear. The show is good but you’re pitching it to the wrong market. The artwork tells us nothing. The Venue isn’t right. The audience for this isn’t where you think it is. Or the hardest one of all. People aren’t buying it.

And this is valid and important information. What the Artist does with that information is where the business begins.

Follow the Money and You Find the Audience. Where does the money actually enter this ecosystem? Ultimately, it comes from the audience. The tickets that they buy. The beers. The meals. Their night out. Their decision to leave home. One person spends $80. Another spends $180. A couple makes a night of it and spends $400. Multiply that across a room. Across a weekend. Across hundreds of Venues. Across Queensland. Across Australia.

And that money is paying for bar staff, security, artists, musicians, DJs, sound engineers, lighting operators, crew, management, ticketing companies, promoters, graphic designers, photographers and PAs. The booking systems, accountants, insurers, marketers, transport operators and all the other businesses attached to this strange little ecosystem get their slice. Then those people go home and spend their money somewhere else.

All this economic activity started because somebody decided to go out.

That is why the audience cannot be an afterthought in conversations about supporting live music. They are the source of its commercial vitality and stand in the centre of the musoverse.

As an artist, you are not there to perform songs. You are creating the reason somebody came. That’s a much bigger job. It means understanding the room. Understanding the audience. Understanding what you’re promising when somebody sees your poster. Understanding that the person buying a ticket doesn’t owe you their attention simply because you worked hard.

You have to win them. And then keep them. The extraordinary entertainers know how to do this. I’ve watched them walk into rooms full of people who barely know who they are and own the place twenty minutes later. Not because they’re necessarily the best musician in the room. But because they totally get punters.

They know when to push. When to pull back. When to talk. When to shut up and play the bloody song. They understand that entertainment is an energy exchange. And when that exchange works, audiences become advocates. They tell their friends. They buy another ticket. Venues want the Artist back. Agents can sell more dates. Shows become tours. Businesses grow.

We spend a lot of time asking how the industry can support Artists. But I think there’s another one we should be asking much more often.

How do we create experiences audiences can’t wait to buy?

Get that right and the energy moves through the entire ecosystem. The Artist creates the offer. The Agent takes it to market. The Venue gives it a home and builds a destination around it. The audience buys the experience. And that money flows back through hundreds of businesses and thousands of people who make live entertainment possible.

Then everybody gets to do it again next weekend. And the week after. And the week after that.

That’s a healthy music market! Not one where everybody is fighting over their piece of a shrinking pie. One where we’re giving the audience enough reasons to make the pie bigger.

So perhaps before we decide what live music needs next, we could ask the people standing in front of the stage?

Nichola Burton has spent 35 years in the Australian live entertainment market as co-founder and CEO of The Pushworth Group. She writes about the business behind the music — audiences, Artists, Venues, Agents and the market forces that determine what actually gets booked, bought and built. Through The Musoverse, she cuts through industry mythology to explore what makes live entertainment commercially sustainable. Because loving the music is one thing. Understanding the business that keeps it playing is another.

And before everyone starts throwing violin bows at each other, I am curious that there may be another conversation we need to have. Because I absolutely believe we should keep music live. I’ve spent most of my working life in live music. But there is something pretty important missing from this debate.

The market.

Companies generally don’t remove expensive components from productions because somebody woke up one morning and thought: You know what would be fun? Employing fewer musicians.

They are dealing with budgets. Venue Hires. Freight. Travel. Accommodation. Production. Wages. Insurance. Ticket sales. And the increasingly uncomfortable question facing every single corner of the Australian live entertainment industry: How much will the audience actually pay?

The Australian Ballet says its use of recorded music on regional touring is driven by logistics and the physical limitations of some venues. That’s reasonable.

The economic reality sitting underneath the entire performing arts sector is that all productions have to be financially viable. You can calculate what something needs to cost until the cows come home. The market does not care about your spreadsheet.

It will pay what it believes the experience is worth.

So what is it that we are actually selling here? Well, most people buying a ticket to The Australian Ballet are primarily buying, well… the ballet. The dancers. The choreography. The costumes. The spectacle. The story. The Australian Ballet itself.

The orchestra is an extraordinary part of that experience. But does the average ticket buyer understand just how extraordinary?

Because if audiences don’t understand the difference between ballet performed with a live orchestra and ballet performed to a recording, demanding that companies carry the additional cost of musicians won’t help. We have to inspire the audience to want the orchestra. Not because they have been lectured about protecting musicians’ jobs. Because the live orchestra makes the experience better.

A live orchestra forms an integral part of the live experience ecosystem.

A recording is fixed. A live orchestra breathes. Musicians respond to conductors. Conductors respond to dancers. Tempo can move. Energy can shift. A phrase can stretch. A moment can hang in the room fractionally longer.

Then there is something else happening that is much harder to put on a balance sheet. Human beings respond differently to live performance. Research has found measurable physiological changes associated with attending live concerts, including changes consistent with reduced biological stress. More recent research comparing audiences experiencing musicians live with audiences watching the same performance via livestream found those physically present with the musicians reported greater appreciation, stronger emotional responses and greater positive affect.

In other words: Live is different.

Thanks to the COVID lockdowns and the thousands of digital shows that followed, we viscerally know the difference. Science tells us why. It is why 2,000 strangers can walk into a room individually and, two hours later, feel as though they have experienced something together. Music is social glue. Live music adds another living organism to the room.

Which is precisely why we shouldn’t market the orchestra as an employment obligation. Instead, we should market it as part of the premium experience.

Here is where I think Keep Music Live could become genuinely powerful.

Don’t simply campaign to companies. Instead campaign to audiences. Don’t hide the orchestra in the pit. Make the orchestra visible. Put the conductor in the marketing. Introduce the musicians. Show rehearsals between dancers and orchestra. Film what happens when a conductor adjusts to movement on stage. Explain why tonight’s performance can never be precisely replicated tomorrow night. Give audiences behind-the-scenes access. Create pre-show talks. Create orchestra experiences for children. Create short social content around individual instruments. Let audiences meet the people making the sound.

Sell the experience of live ballet with a live orchestra.

Not every touring production necessarily needs the same model. Could regional productions use smaller ensembles? Could arrangements be specifically commissioned for 10 or 15 musicians rather than 40? Could local professional musicians supplement touring musicians? Could conservatoriums and professional orchestras collaborate? Could selected performances carry a live orchestra while others use recorded accompaniment, with the difference clearly marketed? Could audiences pay a modest premium for the live-orchestra performance? Could sponsors underwrite the orchestra?

Imagine: Tonight’s Orchestra proudly presented by [Sponsor]. There’s a sponsorship asset sitting right there. Could government support specifically fund regional live-music components rather than underwriting an entire production? Could audiences contribute through a Keep This Orchestra Live ticket option? Could schools attending ballet performances meet the musicians beforehand? Could an orchestra rehearsal become a separately ticketed experience?

There are dozens of possibilities once we stop treating this as a binary choice between 40 musicians or a recording.

Test What The Market Values.

Same ballet. Same venue. Two performances. One with recorded orchestral accompaniment. One with a live orchestra. Clearly identify the difference. Then measure it. Which sells first? What premium will audiences tolerate? Does live music increase conversion? Does it increase repeat attendance? Does it attract different demographics? Does behind-the-scenes orchestra content improve ticket sales? Does introducing audiences to musicians increase perceived value? Does sponsorship work?

Adding dozens of touring musicians means adding substantial cost somewhere. So before declaring that every production should carry that cost, we need to know: Will audiences buy it? And if they won’t yet, our job is to figure out how to inspire them to want to.

Someone is always talking about live music as though its survival depends entirely upon protecting supply. Musicians need jobs. Venues need support. Orchestras need funding. Artists need grants.

All true.

But sustainable industries aren’t built only by protecting supply. They are built by creating demand.

Inspire more Australians to buy tickets to experience live musicians. Teach children what an orchestra feels like. Make audiences understand what happens between a dancer and a conductor. Show them the human beings behind the sound. Turn musicians into part of the story. Build experiences around them. Make the difference visible. Make it desirable. Make it worth paying for. And then something interesting happens.

Companies don’t need to be told to employ musicians. Employing musicians helps them sell tickets. That is a completely different economic proposition.

Keep Music Live. Absolutely. But let’s not stop at protecting the job. Let’s build the market that pays for it. Because the strongest protection any musician can have isn’t a petition demanding somebody employ them. It is an audience saying: Hang on. Where’s the orchestra?

Nichola Burton has spent 35 years in the Australian live music industry as co-founder and CEO of The Pushworth Group. Agent, music business strategist and professional stirrer of comfortable assumptions, she writes about the business behind live entertainment — where artists, venues, audiences and economics collide. Her view is simple: if we want to keep music live, we need to give audiences a bloody good reason to buy the ticket.

In between incredulous tears, I have been asking myself why that is.

There are some people in this world whose presence quietly makes the world feel safer.

He was one of them.

I recently wrote about bullying in the Australian music industry. About the aggression. The egos. The power plays. The people who mistake intimidation for authority and bad behaviour for strength.

But, every now and again, you meet someone who is none of those things. And he was one of them.

A true gentleman. A consummate professional. An extraordinary resource for the artists he managed over many years. Someone who fully grasped the business, understood people and, perhaps most importantly, completely fathomed the psychology of what all of us were dealing with every day.

He would call the office and, if I happened to answer the phone, whatever we were supposed to be talking about could wait. There would be a good twenty-minute chinwag first. Grandchildren. Ageing parents. Health. Politics. The industry. The latest madness. Life.

He was one of those rare humans who made you feel safe around him. And safe working with him. In an industry where so many people spend their energy establishing how important they are, he never seemed to need to. His professionalism spoke for him.

But there was one experience we shared that cemented my respect for him forever.

My children were very young and still at school. One day, I received a text message. “I know where your children go to school.” It included specific threats against their lives.

That moment - I will never forget. Terror. Rage. Horror.

The police were called. An investigation began. The message had been sent from a burner phone, but eventually the person responsible was tracked, located and charged.

The circumstances surrounding it were desperately sad and complicated. We had been booking an act whose work had begun to dry up because venues were repeatedly refusing to have them back due to a series of incidents. There were serious substance abuse and mental health issues involved and, ultimately, tragedy struck. It was just awful for everyone involved.

I could understand grief. And anger. And someone desperately needing somebody to blame. But threatening children? That crossed a line that could never be crossed.

From the first phone call, through the investigations and out the other side, there was a car sitting outside our house. It stayed there for weeks. Protection for our family.

He had organised it.

He didn’t make a performance of helping us. He didn’t need applause for it. He just saw that a mother was terrified and he did something about it. I will never forget that. He helped make my family feel safe again.

Perhaps that is why today’s news of his loss has shocked me to the core.

Over decades in this industry, you accumulate thousands of conversations. Contracts. Deals. Arguments. Shows. Tours. Problems. Victories. Disasters. People arrive loudly and disappear just as loudly.

And then there are the quiet constants. The people whose phone number appears on the screen and you’re genuinely pleased to see it. The people you trust. The people you know will behave decently when things become indecent. The people who don’t have to tell you they have your back. They just do.

He was one of those people. And there aren’t enough of them.

Today I keep thinking about all those twenty-minute phone calls that probably should have been five.

I am thinking about his family, whom he spoke about so often and loved so deeply.

I am thinking about all the artists whose careers were steadier because he was standing beside them.

And I’m thinking about a car sitting quietly outside our family home many years ago, placed there by a man who decided that our safety mattered to him.

There are people who leave behind careers. There are people who leave behind achievements. And there are a rare few who leave behind something much more difficult to measure. The memory of how safe you felt when they were in the world.

Today, the world feels heavier without him.

And, for me at least, a little less safe.

Rest in Peace now Sir. Thank you. I will never forget you.

love, Nic xx

When we started our agency in 1991, a high profile agent in Sydney rang the office and violently tore strips off me. It was brutal. I had never worked with him. I barely knew who he was. And it turned out to be a case of mistaken identity. He never apologised. The truth wasn’t particularly important to him. The power play was. I remained polite and professional throughout the call because that was what women were taught to do. Don’t antagonise him. Don’t make it worse. Keep your composure.

Unfortunately, to a serial bully, politeness can look remarkably like permission.

Years later, a young inexperienced Queensland agent tried the same routine. I listened to him rant for a while and then asked him whether he needed a hug. What followed was a volcanic eruption of language that would have made a wharfie blush. Again, the issue had nothing to do with me. It was theatre. Intimidation dressed up as authority. A few years later, he went bankrupt and disappeared from the market. Karma.

I believe that the Australian music industry has a problem.

The 2022 Raising Their Voices review put numbers around something many of us had been witnessing for decades. Nearly 80% of survey participants reported experiencing some form of bullying during their careers. More than half reported experiencing sexual harassment or sexual harm. Only a tiny proportion formally reported what happened.

That isn’t because Australian women suddenly forgot how to speak. It tells us something about the environments in which they were working.

Music has traditionally operated through extraordinary concentrations of power. One person controls the booking. Another controls the recording. Someone controls the tour. Someone else controls access to the artist. One central source controls the publicity. Another controls the money. A long line of someone’s controlling whether the phone rings again.

And when your income, opportunity and reputation depend upon a relatively small group of gatekeepers, saying no will of course be an economic decision.

I know what this looks like first hand. When I recorded my second album, I worked with a producer I won’t name. His methodology was very old school. First came the seedy, suggestive language. I ignored it. Then came the subtle bullying evolving into full scale narcissistic abuse. At the time, I didn’t have the language or the resources to understand the dynamic. I knew something was wrong, but I didn’t understand the mechanism. So I endured it. Like countless women before and after me, I got hooked into someone else’s power play. But I never forgot.

And over the years, female artists have shared their versions of that story again and again. Different faces. Different names. Same script. All playing out in dressing rooms, studios, offices, green rooms, flights, taxi’s and hotel rooms across the country.

The recent revelation about one of Australia’s high profile Agents and Managers should make every woman in this industry reconsider their business plans. Found guilty of two counts of rape and one count of sexual assault against a former employee and subsequently sentenced to six years’ imprisonment, this former influential entertainment manager, whose roster included many of Australia’s most successful artists, is poised to become one of our industry’s greatest cautionary tales. He is not the whole story. He is the part of the iceberg we can now see.

Because somewhere in Australia right now, there will be a woman reading about a convicted man and simultaneously talking herself out of recognising what is happening in her own professional life. “My boss isn’t like that.” “He’s just difficult.” “That’s just how this industry works.” “I need the gig.” “I don’t want to cause trouble.” “Maybe I misunderstood.”

“It’s not that bad.”

That last sentence alone has protected an extraordinary amount of bad behaviour.

Abuse of power rarely introduces itself with a business card. It can be the manager who humiliates you in front of everyone. The producer whose sexual jokes become hostility when you don’t respond. The promoter who suddenly stops booking you after you reject an advance. The executive who controls access, information and opportunity. The person who alternates praise and punishment until you start managing their emotional state instead of your own career. The person who convinces you that without them, you’re finished.

And because the behaviour often sits below the threshold of something obviously criminal, women minimise it. Until eventually they don’t know where the professional relationship ends and the psychological one begins.

In 2022, a young female musician that we worked with at the time, publicly spoke about her experiences as a young performer, including feeling pressured to have sex with venue managers or risk not being booked again.

The transaction for so many Artists like her is less about sex and more about power. Someone controlled access to income and attached another condition to it. And when a young artist speaks publicly about an experience like that, we tend to focus on her bravery. But what about what we are asking her to carry? She has to reopen the experience again and again. She has to tell strangers, feel wrongly placed shame, anticipate disbelief and has to wonder what future employers, venues and promoters will think. She has to expose herself professionally in order to warn the next woman.

Me too.

As a young performing artist, I endured years of sexual harassment. Venue managers. Duty managers. Bar staff. Security. Punters. Back then, it was treated as part of the job. My male bandmates would sometimes tell me: “Just be careful how you say no. We don’t want to lose the gig because of you.”

Read that again. Not:” Are you okay?” Not: “We’ll deal with him.” But: “Don’t cost us the gig.”

So I got creative. I learned to read rooms. Avoidance. Distracting humour. I learned how to reject someone without humiliating them. Where to stand. Who to stay near. When to leave. How much friendliness was safe. How much firmness might cost us money. Women of my generation became extraordinarily good at this. We called it professionalism but in truth it was actually threat management.

When I started the agency, I had one goal. Music Means Business. It was never just a marketing line. I wanted the business to create healthier boundaries. Business asks: “What is the agreement? What are the deliverables? What is the fee? Who has authority? Who owns what? What happens when something goes wrong? Where is it documented? What is the professional relationship between these people?”

Why? Because ambiguity is where manipulators thrive.

Take the conversation out of the hotel room and put it into the contract. Take it out of the late-night drinking session and put it into an email. Take it out of trust me and put it into agreed deliverables. Take it out of personality and instead measure performance against business metrics. And for God’s sake, stop believing that access to someone powerful requires access to you.

Your body is not part of the deal. Your emotional compliance is not part of the deal. Your silence is not part of the deal.

If you watched the recent interview with Tina Arena and Kate Miller Heidke, like me, you may have noticed something critical that Tina said. “Make sure you’re safe with the people around you.”

100%. But I think we need to go one step further.

Artists routinely parentify the people around them. Managers. Agents. Publicists. Tour managers. Producers. Crew. Someone becomes the protector. Someone becomes the fixer. Someone becomes Mum. Someone becomes Dad. Someone knows everything. Someone handles everything. Someone makes the scary decisions. And slowly, a commercial relationship becomes something else.

That is quite the slippery slope.

Your manager is not your parent. Your agent is not your parent. Your publicist is not your parent. Your producer is certainly not your parent. These are professionals providing services within a business relationship. If you feel the need to shower them with praise. Don’t. Simply be professional and pay your invoice. If you feel the need to unload your emotional day. Don’t. Take a breath and call your therapist.

Because when Tina speaks about safety, this includes you. Get to know who YOU are. Your triggers. Your boundaries. And everything in between. You cannot outsource this job. It’s on you and you alone.

Recognise what happens to you when someone intimidates you. Do you freeze? Appease? Become excessively polite? Try to make them like you? Avoid conflict? Hand over decision-making? Second-guess yourself? Stay because leaving feels more frightening? Flirt to distract? Those responses aren’t business strategies. They’re triggers. Know yours.

Build your professional systems around them. Have people outside the commercial relationship whom you trust. Have your own advisers. Understand your contracts. Understand your money. Keep your own records. Maintain your own relationships. Protect your independence.

And build a self-care practice strong enough that somebody else’s emotional volatility doesn’t become the weather system governing your career.

The cold hard fact here is that live music contains an inherent commercial imbalance. Artists need places to perform. Venues take financial risks putting entertainment into their rooms. Promoters control opportunities. Managers and agents can influence access to markets. Record companies invest capital. Those relationships will always contain different forms of leverage. Leverage itself isn’t abuse. And it needs to be said clearly that in my experience, the overwhelming majority of venue managers, promoters and music professionals we work with conduct themselves professionally.

This is not an indictment of men. It isn’t an indictment of venues. And it isn’t an indictment of the entire Australian music industry. It is an indictment of people who exploit power when they discover they have it.

Because it only takes one. One producer. One manager. One promoter. One record executive. One agent. One venue manager. One person who discovers that another person’s livelihood gives them leverage — and decides to use it.

Legislation matters. Reporting mechanisms matter. Codes of conduct matter. Accountability matters. But none of those things will magically remove narcissism, entitlement, predatory behaviour or plain old-fashioned bullying from human beings.

Which means women need something else as well. Agency. Not the music-business kind. Your own. Tina Arena expressed it beautifully: “We can no longer be seduced by the fantasy of show business, because we will be fucked by the reality of it.”

There it is.

The Australian music industry doesn’t need women to become harder. It needs women to become clearer. Know your business. Know your money. Know your contract. Know your boundaries. Know your triggers. Know who has access to you and why. And never mistake someone’s ability to open a door for ownership of what happens once you walk through it.

Make sure you’re safe with the people around you. And make damn sure one of those people is you.

Nichola Burton has spent more than three decades inside the Australian live music industry as an artist, agent and business owner. She has seen what happens when power, access and livelihoods collide — and what women learn to tolerate when saying no might cost them the gig. She writes about the industry from the place she knows best: inside it, with the receipts.

Then I read: “Strengthen the live music ecosystem through incentives for local artist exposure.” And I thought, here we go. Which local artists? Because if we are going to spend the next six years strengthening the live music ecosystem, can we please make sure we are talking about the whole ecosystem?

There is an enormous workforce sitting in plain sight that has been consistently overlooked in these conversations. I call them Soundtrackers. These are the soloists, duos, bands, DJs, tribute acts and working musicians who play in Queensland pubs, clubs, hotels, RSLs, resorts, breweries, festivals and regional venues every week. They play the songs people know.

But apparently, that makes them less interesting in some parts of the music industry. It certainly shouldn’t make them less important. Because these musicians do something incredibly valuable. They build audiences that Queensland on Tour will need to tap into.

Audiences don’t just magically materialise because somebody releases an original song. People develop habits. They know there is music at their local on Friday night, so they meet their friends there. Sunday afternoon there is a band in the beer garden. They stay for dinner. Have a drink. Hear a song. Follow an act. Come back next week. Do that often enough and you have a music culture. Soundtrackers do this week in and week out. They tune audiences to live music. And that audience is incredibly important to every other part of the music market.

Because where exactly do we think the audience for original music comes from? Where do we think people develop the habit of buying tickets, following bands and going out to see live entertainment? There seems to be an odd idea that soundtrack music and original music exist on opposite sides of some cultural fence. They don’t. The same musicians often work in both. The guitarist playing covers at a hotel on Friday may be recording an original project on Monday. And the money from Friday’s gig may very well be paying for Monday’s recording session.

That’s the actual music economy.

Hospitality venues are not arts organisations. They are businesses. They have wages, food costs, insurance, electricity, compliance, rent and a fairly spectacular collection of other expenses before someone suggests adding a band to Friday night. So entertainment has to work. When it does, the venue books again. One regular Friday gig creates 52 performances a year. Add Saturday and Sunday and suddenly one venue is providing more than 150 performance opportunities. Multiply that across Queensland.

That’s a serious market force. I won’t call it an industry because “spoiler alert” I do not believe there is one. There are lots of different music markets and sectors with completely different economics, customers and challenges. Pretending they are all the same is partly how we got here.

A fairly confronting experience during the COVID shutdowns left its mark on me. I was endlessly sourcing funding opportunities for musicians whose work had disappeared overnight. These weren’t people who had lost a couple of original gigs. For many of them, their entire annual income vanished in a second. I hounded Local, State and Federal MPs and vigourously campaigned State and Federal bodies to find whatever funding was available. One Queensland State Body mentioned that Arts Queensland had a packet of funding not yet allocated. I made a submission providing them with decades of data and metrics to support my case. Their response shocked me. Sound Tracker musicians, the ones that work week in and week out, were virtually invisible to these funding organisations. There was no understanding of the workforce size, their invaluable contributions to a healthy local hospitality bottom line and , honestly, no interest in the value at all. They would rather hand out $5000.00 each to original artists living in other countries than the actual Queensland artists who built the local scene to accommodate those original artists when they toured once in a blue moon.

Pre COVID lockdowns, we ran a label, curated releases, managed a small roster of original artists and toured a number of well known Australian recording artists across the country. We also worked closely with hospitality chains and promoters to book a consistent high standard of local sound tracking artists to build those business bottom lines. There was also a noticeable frostiness when it became apparent that we represented soundtrack acts as well as original artists - who ironically also sound tracked as it supported their original brand business.

There are no words…….

These musicians weren’t somehow less professional because they played songs people already knew. They were working musicians who had just lost their businesses. So when I now read about “targeted live music incentives”, my immediate question is: What data are we targeting them with? Do we actually know how many musicians are working every week in Queensland? How many gigs? Where? What are venues paying? Which markets are growing? Which are disappearing? Why are venues dropping entertainment? What stops a venue putting music on another night? What does it cost to keep a professional band on the road? How many musicians use soundtrack work to finance original projects? What happens to a regional music market when one key venue closes?

These aren’t academic questions. They determine whether an incentive actually grows something or simply pays for something until the funding runs out.

Which brings me to Queensland on Tour. I love the sound of this. Queensland absolutely should have stronger touring circuits. But putting venues on a map doesn’t create a touring circuit. A healthy local market does. If Townsville, Cairns, Mackay, Rockhampton, Bundaberg or Toowoomba has venues employing musicians every week, audiences become accustomed to consuming live entertainment.

Local musicians grow brands. Production develops. Venues learn what works. Audiences become more adventurous. Then you have somewhere meaningful to send a touring show. A touring circuit is only as healthy as the local markets it connects. And those little local gigs matter far more than they are given credit for. Because something else grows out of them.

Soundtrackers develop Queensland’s roster of touring Feature Tribute Shows. Metrics demonstrate very clearly that in 90% of cases, audiences prefer them to emerging artist shows. I know this because I have spent 35 years tracking what audiences will actually buy. Not what we think they should buy.

People want to hear the soundtrack to their lives. The song they fell in love to. The album they flogged to death when they were 19. The band they saw at Festival Hall. The song their dad played in the car. The one that instantly takes them back to somewhere they had forgotten existed.

There is nothing culturally inferior about that response. Music is memory. And memory sells a lot of tickets. A good Feature Tribute Show takes that relationship and turns it into a live experience. I don’t mean someone in a dodgy wig standing in front of a banner. I mean properly developed, beautifully produced Feature Shows performed by exceptional musicians who understand the material and know how to deliver it.

Those shows take years to build. They start with working musicians. Someone has an idea. They find the players. They test the repertoire. Some of it works. Some of it bombs. They change the arrangements. They work out what the audience actually wants. They improve the production. They design art that connects. They build a brand. Eventually, if they are good enough and commercially smart enough, they have a touring product.

That is the artist development that sound trackers self finance week after week and year after year.

When people arrive in Queensland for the Olympic and Paralympic Games, they aren’t only going to want to experience what Queensland sounds like in 2032. There is an extraordinary Queensland and Australian musical history sitting behind us. By 2032, many of the legacy artists who created that soundtrack may not be touring. Some won’t want to. Some won’t be able to. Some will no longer be with us. But people will still want to hear those songs.

Why wouldn’t Queensland start developing the shows capable of celebrating that history now?

Imagine high-quality Queensland productions celebrating different eras and stories of our music, touring Brisbane and regional Queensland during the Olympic period. Our musicians. Our producers. Our crews. Our venues. Our music history. And visitors from around the world experiencing it.

But we need to sow those seeds today. Not in 2031.

A Feature Show starting development today has six years before the Olympics. Six years to find its feet. To play some terrible gigs. To discover what doesn’t work. To get better. To build an audience. To develop the production. To tour regional Queensland. To work out the economics. To build the brand. To become genuinely bloody good.

This is where I think “incentives for local artist exposure” could become much more interesting. Don’t simply fund another gig. Build capacity into the musicians who are already working. Help them develop stronger music businesses. Help with production. Marketing. Touring costs. Digital assets. Business systems. Audience development. Professional standards. Insurance.

Help venues take chances on new Feature Shows and give those shows somewhere to develop. And please collect the data while we’re doing it. Find out what works. Find out what audiences buy. Find out what creates another 20 gigs rather than one subsidised gig. Then invest again.

As Queensland starts implementing this Action Plan, please make sure the people designing the future of the live music economy understand the people already keeping it alive. Talk to Soundtrackers. Talk to the venues that employ them. Look at their metrics. Understand how they work. Understand how many of them also create original music. Understand how local acts become Feature Shows and how Feature Shows become touring businesses. Understand what audiences are actually buying. Then decide where the incentives should go.

Because we don’t have six years to spend rediscovering a workforce that has been standing in front of us for decades. Queensland already has the musicians. We already have the venues. We already have audiences who love live music. And buried inside thousands of ordinary gigs happening across this state are probably some extraordinary shows that don’t exist yet.

2032 gives us a reason to start growing them now.

Reference:

https://www.nlec.qld.gov.au/

Nichola Burton has spent 35 years at the coalface of Queensland’s live music economy as co-founder and CEO of The Pushworth Group, working across thousands of gigs, tours, venues, artists and music brands. Now through Musoverse, she is turning that market knowledge towards the future: exploring how better data, stronger business skills and smarter systems can build capacity in the musicians who keep our venues playing week after week. She celebrates the Soundtrackers — the working musicians who build audiences, grow local markets and create the conditions from which great shows emerge. Because music culture isn’t built from the top down. It starts with the gig happening tonight.

It worked. Until it didn’t.

Today, running a professional Music Brand means much more than turning up and playing great shows. It means everyone understands their role, their responsibilities and how the business operates.

An Internal Music Brand Agreement isn’t about distrust. It’s about removing assumptions before they become disputes.

Here’s what every professional Music Brand should be documenting.

1. Purpose

Every agreement should begin with one simple question:

What business are we actually operating together?

An Internal Music Brand Agreement records how the members work together to deliver a professional entertainment product under a shared Music Brand.

It establishes expectations before the first disagreement ever happens.

2. The Relationship

This agreement defines the commercial relationship between:

• the Music Brand

• the Music Brand Manager

• the performers delivering the show

It explains who is responsible for what. It doesn’t replace Australian law. It records how the parties intend to operate together.

3. Delivering the Show

Every performer is engaged to help deliver one outcome. A professional entertainment experience. That includes far more than simply playing the right notes. Professional delivery includes:

• learning the show

• arriving prepared

• presenting professionally

• supporting the production

• protecting the reputation of the Music Brand

4. Roles and Responsibilities

Every successful Music Brand has clearly defined responsibilities.

Who:

• books the gigs?

• manages clients?

• runs marketing?

• updates the website?

• maintains equipment?

• handles production?

• manages finances?

When everyone owns their role, the business becomes scalable.

5. The Brand

The Music Brand is one of the business’s most valuable assets. The agreement should clearly explain:

• ownership of the show name

• logos

• artwork

• costumes

• promotional assets

• social media

• recordings

• intellectual property

Everyone should know what belongs to the brand and what belongs to individual members.

6. Financial Expectations

Money causes more band break-ups than bad music. Your agreement should clearly explain:

• how show fees are distributed

• when payments occur

• who invoices

• how expenses are handled

• travel costs

• accommodation

• production expenses

• merchandise income

Transparency builds trust.

7. Superannuation and Business Responsibilities

PayDay Super has highlighted the importance of documenting business responsibilities. An Internal Music Brand Agreement should identify:

• who contracts with clients

• who invoices

• who receives payments

• each performer’s business obligations

• how the Music Brand intends to administer its engagements

While an agreement cannot determine whether Superannuation Guarantee applies under Australian law, it provides important context about how the Music Brand operates and how responsibilities have been allocated between the parties. Check out this stack for information about how many bands are dealing with this.

8. Availability

Professional brands protect their reputation. That means members should:

• provide unavailable dates early

• communicate conflicts immediately

• support substitute performers where required

The client booked the show. The audience expects the show. The agreement helps make sure the show still happens.

9. Professional Standards

Every member represents the brand. Professional standards should include:

• punctuality

• presentation

• communication

• rehearsals

• audience interaction

• venue etiquette

• safety

• confidentiality

A single poor performance affects everyone’s reputation.

10. Marketing the Brand

Marketing works best when everyone rows in the same direction. Your agreement should outline expectations around:

• social media

• photography

• video content

• promotional appearances

• sharing campaigns

• protecting brand consistency

Every post either strengthens the brand—or weakens it.

11. Decision Making

Not every decision requires a committee meeting. Professional Music Brands work best when everyone understands:

• who makes creative decisions

• who makes commercial decisions

• how disputes are resolved

• when consultation is required

Clarity prevents conflict.

12. Protecting the Business

Every agreement should include provisions covering:

• confidentiality

• client information

• intellectual property

• reputation

• legal compliance

• termination of membership

These aren’t signs of mistrust. They’re signs of a professionally managed business.

The Musoverse Take

The best bands aren’t just great musicians. They’re well-run businesses. PayDay Super has reminded the industry that informal arrangements often create formal problems. An Internal Music Brand Agreement won’t solve every disagreement. But it will answer many questions before they become expensive ones.

Because professional Music Brands don’t rely on memory. They build systems. And great systems create great businesses.

Nichola Burton is the CEO of The Pushworth Group and has spent more than 36 years helping musicians build sustainable careers beyond the stage. She believes the most successful artists think like business owners as well as performers—understanding contracts, protecting their brands and building structures that support long-term success. Through Musoverse and the Music Means Business philosophy, she encourages artists to make informed decisions, seek professional accounting and legal advice where needed, and build businesses that are as strong behind the scenes as they are under the lights. Copyright 2026 All Rights Reserved

Not so anymore.

Today, every artist is running a digital ecosystem with their Insta, Facebook, Tik Tok, You Tube, Spotify, Link Tree, LinkedIn, Bands in Town, Merch Store, Gig Guide, Booking Profile, EPK and Website. And you need to look at them like one single brand instead of separate marketing channels.

I saw this great act last Saturday night at a local pub. Got their name from the Bar Manager and then stumbled across a disappointing spaghetti of different digital profiles when I tried to find them. I wasnt even sure if they were all the same Artist?

This industry moves fast. A gig offer comes in and everyone starts to scroll and skim. Recognition happens in milliseconds. But if someone has to stop and wonder, you’ve already lost attention.

So it may be time for you to do a little house cleaning with your Music Brand. First rule of thumb has to be that each platform reinforces the last one.

Let’s start with the foundations. Everything begins with five simple elements.

Your Brand Name

Spell it the same way. Everywhere. No abbreviations. No different capitalisation. No extra words.

If your act name is I ROCK, and your digital domain names range from I Rockt, I_Rock, I Rock Band, I Rock Official, how much more time will it take to find you and book you?

Consistency in your digital ecosystem is the key.

Logo or Wordmark

Choose one. Use it everywhere. Your audience should recognise it before they read a single word.

Your Hero Image

Your hero image tells your story before anyone presses play. What does it say about your genre, the emotion you are selling and most importantly would a venue book you based on this image alone considering that it will be loaded up into all the big screens across their property.

Professional photography isn’t a luxury. And you do not need to pay thousands of dollars. Check out Take Your Best Shot for curating your photo shoot and capturing the shots that will in essence become your calling card and shop front.

Your Story

Can someone understand your offer in one sentence? Some examples below:

Original Artist - Brisbane indie-rock storytellers blending driving guitars with cinematic melodies.

Cover Band - Australia’s ultimate 90s rock party, delivering the biggest sing-alongs from one unforgettable decade.

Simple. Clear. Memorable. And unless you want to be the laughing stock of the venue lunch room, there is seriously no place for a “Best Band in Brisbane.”

Build your own personalised Visual Ecosystem

Your brand isn’t one photo. It is part of a complex biome designed for one purpose in your business.

Profile Picture

Use exactly the same high-resolution logo or artist photo across every platform. No exceptions. And add a date to your Google Calendar to update all platforms with a new one every three months.

Colour Palette

Choose two or three colours. Stick to them. People begin recognising colours before they recognise names. Coolors is a great place to start if you get stuck.

Typography

Use the same fonts across your posters, graphics, posts, videos, EPKs, assets and your website. Your audience shouldn’t feel like they’re looking at a different business every week.

Google Fonts give you access to a ton of interesting typography for free.

Banners

This is the fun part. And you have access to even more free resources with Canva or Poster My Wall to create these. Whether it is your Facebook Page or Event, You Tube Header, Spotify Canvas or Website, update these every three months and use them to promote something big coming up.

If you’re touring, feature the tour. New music coming out? Promote the release.

Don’t leave Christmas 2024 sitting there in August 2026.

Your Bio Is Marketing

Write it once. Adapt it slightly for each platform. Don’t reinvent yourself every time. Your bio should answer three questions: Who are you? What do you sound like? What’s special about your offer? Tips here in detail.

One Link. One Destination.

Don’t send people hunting. Use one Link-in-Bio page that connects everything. Music. Tickets. Merch. Gig Guide. Mailing list. (Yes you really should have one of those)

Make saying “book me” effortless.

Your Voice Is Part of Your Brand

Some of the artists we have booked over the years are incredibly funny. Some are super mysterious. Some are serious educators. Some are pure delicious chaos. Whatever your personality is, make it part of your digital footprint.

Keep it recognisable. Consistency builds familiarity. Familiarity builds loyalty.

Don’t Ignore The People Already Watching

The algorithm notices engagement. Venues that want to book you or even better, your fans notice it even more.

Reply to DMs

Aim for within 24 hours. People remember who replies.

Reply to Comments

Even a ❤️ or 🙌 tells someone: “I saw you and thank you.”

That tiny interaction often creates lifelong supporters.

Check Your Notifications

Daily.

Momentum doesn’t happen by accident. It happens conversation by conversation.

Make it count.

The Musoverse Audit

Ok, let’s open every platform you own and check for:

✅ Same profile photo

✅ Same logo

✅ Same colours

✅ Same bio

✅ Same story

✅ Same links

✅ Same tone

If the answer is “mostly”, well then you have some work to do. Do it. Enjoy the fruits of your labour. 😀

The biggest artists in the world don’t leave recognition to chance and neither should you. Your buyers and audience shouldn’t have to work out whether they’re looking at the same artist. Venue bookers shouldn’t wonder if your website belongs to the same act they found on Instagram.

Every platform should reinforce the next. Every post should strengthen your identity. Every interaction should build trust.

Because the strongest brands don’t shout louder.

They become instantly recognisable and even more bookable.

Nichola Burton is the CEO of The Pushworth Group and has spent more than 36 years helping musicians build sustainable careers beyond the stage. She believes the most successful artists think like business owners as well as performers—understanding contracts, protecting their brands and building structures that support long-term success. Through Musoverse and the Music Means Business philosophy, she encourages artists to make informed decisions, seek professional accounting and legal advice where needed, and build businesses that are as strong behind the scenes as they are under the lights. Copyright 2026 All Rights Reserved

But there’s one question we hear regularly: “Can I record myself performing someone else’s song and upload it?”

The answer depends on how and where you’re using it.

Here’s a practical guide to working with the working resources that Aussie Musos already have access to.

If you’re performing cover songs at licensed venues or promoted events, you do not need permission from the songwriter or publisher. The venue’s APRA AMCOS licence covers the live public performance.

There is one important responsibility: Submit your Performance Reports.

Every cover song you perform should appear on your set list so the original songwriters receive the royalties they’ve earned.

Submit Performance Reports here:
https://www.apraamcos.com.au/resources/get-paid/performance-reports

A part of a music brand marketing stratehy, some artists will release their cover as an audio recording.

If you release this in CDs or Vinyl, you’ll generally need an AMCOS Audio Manufacture Licence (AML) unless your manufacturer or record label already holds one.

This ensures the original writers receive their mechanical royalties.

If you’re releasing through Spotify, Apple Music, Amazon Music and other major digital services in Australia or New Zealand:

You generally do not need to obtain permission from the songwriter to release the audio recording.

These services are already licensed by AMCOS, and royalties are collected and paid to the original writers.

Most independent artists distribute through digital aggregators such as DistroKid, CD Baby, TuneCore or similar, who handle the delivery to these services.

If your cover recording is being commercially released into the United States, an additional mechanical licence is required.

Many digital distributors arrange this for you, but if not, licences are available through organisations including:

• Mechanical Licensing Collective (MLC)

• Harry Fox Agency

• Audio Network Licensing

So what about Showreels and Promo videos of you on stage or in your studio? This is where many artists become confused. If you’re creating a commercial promotional video featuring someone else’s song, different rules apply. A promotional showreel is considered part of your business marketing. That means you’re synchronising music with video — known as sync rights.

For commercial promotional videos, it’s a good idea to obtain permission from the copyright owner or music publisher before using the song. You can easily search publishers and copyright owners using the APRA AMCOS Works Search.

Now its a little different on Social Media Platforms such as Facebook, You Tube, Tik Tok and Instagram. These operate under licences that generally allow users to synchronise cover performances with video for personal, user-generated content. However that licence does not automatically extend to commercial marketing use.

If your video is primarily promoting your business, your show, or generating commercial bookings, different licensing considerations may apply.

A professionally produced showreel remains one of the smartest investments a working cover act can make. Venues buy confidence before they buy entertainment. But professionalism isn’t just about how your show looks. It’s also about respecting the creators whose songs helped build your career.

Knowing where the licensing boundaries sit protects your business, supports the songwriting community, and gives venue clients confidence they’re working with professionals who understand the industry.

Build the brand. Respect the songs. Understand the rules. Preserve the Industry.

Resource: This article is general information only and is based on guidance published by APRA AMCOS. Licensing requirements vary depending on how and where your music is used. For specific circumstances, always refer to the OG - APRA AMCOS or obtain independent legal advice.

Further reading:
https://www.apraamcos.com.au/music-creation/copyright/covers-and-remixes

Nichola Burton is the CEO of The Pushworth Group and has spent more than 36 years helping musicians build sustainable careers beyond the stage. She believes the most successful artists think like business owners as well as performers—understanding contracts, protecting their brands and building structures that support long-term success. Through Musoverse and the Music Means Business philosophy, she encourages artists to make informed decisions, seek professional accounting and legal advice where needed, and build businesses that are as strong behind the scenes as they are under the lights. Copyright 2026 All Rights Reserved

If you’re the person contracting with venues under your Sole Trader ABN, this stack is for you. You may book the shows. Negotiate the fees. Invoice for the show. Sub Contract the musicians. Arrange rehearsals. Provide equipment. Promote the gigs. Pay your subcontractors. Manage cancellations. Find replacements when someone gets sick. And ultimately make sure the show is delivered.

That’s not just playing music. That’s running quite a complex business.

When a venue books your show, unless otherwise stipulated, it is contracting with your business. It is not contracting every individual performer standing on stage. Likewise, the agent is facilitating the contract with your business, with you as the sole trader ABN holder. Neither the venue nor the booking agent is a party to the private commercial arrangements you have with the musicians you engage to help deliver your shows. Those arrangements sit inside your business.

Just as they would for a plumber employing an apprentice or a builder engaging subcontractors. Your internal arrangements are exactly that. Internal.

The music industry has never operated with a single business model. Neither should you. What we’re seeing across the industry is that artists are choosing different solutions depending on how their own businesses are set up and operate.

For example, some Sole Traders are setting up their own SuperStream clearing arrangements so they can administer Superannuation Guarantee payments to the musicians they ub contract within their own businesses. This keeps administration within the business that actually manages those performer relationships.

Others are reviewing the labour component of their contracts as the ATO (1) states that Super may apply where an independent contractor is engaged under a contract that is mainly for their labour, meaning more than half the dollar value of the contract relates to labour. For some businesses who deliver shows, the contract price also includes significant business costs such as: production, sound equipment, lighting, transport, insurance, advertising, administration, rehearsal space, subcontracted performers and other operating expenses.

Some artists are therefore working with their accountants to properly identify, receipt and document those business costs so their invoices accurately reflect the commercial nature of their business.

And others are reviewing their business structure entirely by consulting their accountant about whether a different business structure better reflects the way they actually operate. Depending on individual circumstances, that may include: Partnership, Trust or Company. The right structure depends on your own business, income, risk profile and long-term objectives. Every business is different. Professional advice is essential.

However you choose to manage your own business, simply communicate with your booking agent. If your business structure changes, your contracts should reflect that change. So should your invoices. So should your ABN details. Keeping everyone informed makes administration significantly easier.

Don’t Forget your internal Band Agreement. This might be the most important part of all. Many bands have operated for years on handshakes. Until something goes wrong. If you’re sub contracting other musicians, now is an excellent time to have a written agreement covering things such as: payments, IP, Brand, Ownership, Split, Permissions, SG, Tax, Substitute Engagements, Cancellations, Production Costs, Division of Labour, Division of Profit and Dispute Resolution pathways.

Solid agreements don’t create problems. They prevent them.

For years we’ve encouraged artists to think beyond the next gig. Build your brand. Protect your reputation. Know your contracts. Understand your numbers. Operate professionally. The current Superannuation changes haven’t altered that philosophy. If anything, they’ve reinforced it. Because whether you remain a Sole Trader, establish your own SuperStream arrangements, document your business costs more comprehensively or adopt a different business structure altogether, the decision is yours. Because after all it is your business.

So talk to your accountant. Understand your obligations. Choose the structure that best suits your business. Then let your booking agent know how you wish to be contracted. Because every successful music career eventually reaches the same conclusion.

Music doesn’t stop being art because it’s also a business. And if you’re running the business, make sure it’s structured like one and that your music means business.

(1) https://www.ato.gov.au/businesses-and-organisations/super-for-employers/work-out-if-you-have-to-pay-super/super-for-independent-contractors

Nichola Burton is the CEO of The Pushworth Group and has spent more than 36 years helping musicians build sustainable careers beyond the stage. She believes the most successful artists think like business owners as well as performers—understanding contracts, protecting their brands and building structures that support long-term success. Through Musoverse and the Music Means Business philosophy, she encourages artists to make informed decisions, seek professional accounting and legal advice where needed, and build businesses that are as strong behind the scenes as they are under the lights. Copyright 2026 All Rights Reserved

“Why isn’t my super 12% of my fee?”

Closely followed by... “Can I just charge it on top?”

The short answer? Yes.

The longer answer is where everyone seems to disappear down an accounting rabbit hole.

Before 1 July, life was pretty simple. The venue had an entertainment budget. The agent rang you. “We’ve got $800 for Saturday night.”

You had three choices. “Yep.” “Nope.” or “Make it $900.”

If everyone agreed, you turned up, played the gig, invoiced under your ABN and, as every agency contract terms and conditions reminded you, you were responsible for your own tax and your own super.

That commercial negotiation hasn’t changed. Venues still have budgets. Bookers still negotiate. Artists still decide what they’re prepared to work for. The only new kid in the green room is Superannuation Guarantee. And every venue is handling it differently.

Some are paying it on top. Some are asking for it to come within the entertainment budget they’ve already allocated. Neither is right. Neither is wrong. It’s simply how that venue has chosen to structure its entertainment spend. As it always has.

So what If your contract is $800, why isn’t your super $96? Because that’s not how the maths works. If the total contract value is $800, the earnings have to be separated from the super first. Like this. Contract Total: $800 First, remove the super component. $800 ÷ 1.12 = $714.29 Now calculate the super. 12% of $714.29 = $85.71

So the breakdown becomes:

🎤 Performance Earnings: $714.29

🎸 Superannuation: $85.71

💰 Total Contract: $800

The super is 12% of your earnings, not 12% of the final amount after the super has already been included.

As the supplier of the service that you contract with each venue, you absolutely are free to quote whatever your performance is worth. When a Booker extends a Gig Offer, you accept or negotiate. The venue then decides whether your offer fits inside their entertainment budget. Exactly the same way they’ve always decided whether your fee fits inside their entertainment budget.

Nothing magical happened on 1 July that suddenly made every venue’s entertainment budget bigger. Some venues have increased their budgets. Some haven’t. Some simply can’t. That’s commercial reality.

Your fee has never been determined by an accountant. It’s determined by the result that the venue is seeking and the value you bring. Can you fill a room? Keep people there longer? Sell more meals? Sell more drinks? Create the kind of night that has patrons booking tables for next month?

That’s your value. That’s your brand. And that’s what venues are buying.

The paperwork may have changed to now show the SG. But the negotiation hasn’t.

Know what you’re worth. Quote accordingly. And then go and play a cracking show. Because audiences still go out to pubs to hear great music.

Superannuation hasn’t changed your value as a performer. It hasn’t made your music worth more or less. What determines your fee is exactly what has always determined it: the quality of your show, the strength of your reputation, the audience you attract and the experience you create for the venue and its patrons.

Know your number. Quote with confidence. If you want Superannuation paid on top of your performance fee, ask for it. If a venue has a fixed entertainment budget, you’ll need to decide whether the offer works for your business. Every booking is still a commercial negotiation between two businesses.

The legislation may have changed. The fundamentals haven’t. Your music is your product. Your performance is your brand. Your fee is simply the price the market is prepared to pay for the value you bring to the stage.

Nichola Burton is the CEO and co-founder of The Pushworth Group, one of Australia's longest-established live entertainment agencies. For more than three decades she has worked at the intersection of artists, venues and the business of live music. Through Musoverse, she unpacks the contracts, legislation and industry changes that affect working musicians, translating complexity into plain English so artists can make informed business decisions and focus on what they do best—creating great live music. Copyright 2026 All Rights Reserved.

Do you click every link and read the information? Or do you simply rely on the spectrum of urban myths instead?

Since 1 July, inboxes across the country have been overflowing with questions like: “Why has my fee been reduced?” “Where did my super go?” “Who’s my employer?” “Why is my contract different?” “Why wasn’t it done this way before?” “Why is everyone telling me something different?”

Before 1 July 2026, if you were operating as an independent contractor under a Sole Trader ABN, you were running a business that might have consisted of one person and a guitar or six musicians, a lighting rig, backing tracks and a van.

It didn’t matter. You invoiced. You were paid. You managed your own taxation. Your own GST (where applicable). Your own superannuation.Any other performers you may have sub contracted in your show.

Post 1 July 2026, the current legislation now places responsibility on the customer engaging eligible entertainers to ensure Superannuation Guarantee is paid. If a venue books your show through a marketplace or agency, that marketplace or agency will often administer the payment of Superannuation Guarantee on the venue’s behalf.

That’s the one administrative change. Not your value. Not your talent. Not necessarily your overall engagement value. Just the pathway the money takes. The money is still yours it’s just that now one of the destinations changed. The ownership didn’t.

The biggest revelation of the past month has been that not every booker operates the same way. A few operate under a Private Employment Agent Licence. Most don’t. Some require every supplier to register and onboard before accepting work. Others don’t. Some provide comprehensive Terms and Conditions. Supplier Codes. FAQs. Privacy Policies. Contracts for every show booking. Clear explanations of how they operate. And others that operate with considerably less documentation.

Neither approach automatically makes one business right and another wrong. But the difference is much clearer post 1 July.

Whether you perform once a month or five nights a week, you’re not just a muso. You are a business owner. And this means that understanding your agreements is just as important as your set list.

I reckon that the past few weeks haven’t actually been about Superannuation at all. They have been about business literacy.

So tonight, instead of learning another song, consider spending thirty minutes learning all about your own business. Visit the websites of the agencies, marketplaces and businesses you work with. Read their Terms and Conditions. Read their FAQs. Find their Supplier Code of Conduct or Code of Practice. Then take a closer look at your Show contracts. Understand who is responsible for what. If you work with several different bookers, don’t assume they all operate the same way. They almost certainly do not. Every agreement creates a different commercial relationship. And every commercial relationship creates different rights, responsibilities and obligations.

Bottom line - when music means business, it’s not just what happens under the lights. It’s what happens before the first note is played—understanding your contracts, your obligations and the business you’re running every time you step onto a stage.

Nichola Burton is an author, music industry executive and systems thinker with an incurable habit of asking awkward questions. After more than three decades working behind the scenes of Australia's live music industry, she's learned that the biggest challenges rarely happen on stage—they happen in the paperwork, policies and systems that most people never read. Through A Little Pitchy, she translates complex industry issues into plain English, encouraging musicians to think not just as performers, but as business owners. Because talent gets you the gig. Understanding the business helps you build a career. Copyright 2026 All rights reserved.