On the
surface, it seemed to be a fairly benign,
straightforward press release. Dated September 17 and
sent from the offices of Fey Concerts, the announcement
(headlined "The Cranberries Forced to Cancel Remaining
Dates of Their 1996 U.S. Tour") stated that shows in St.
Louis, Kansas City, Nashville, Park City (Utah), four
California cities and Fiddler's Green in Denver would
not be taking place because Cranberries lead singer
Dolores O'Riordan was suffering from "flu and
exhaustion." But this document told only a small portion
of the story behind the act's scheduled Denver visit.
In the days and weeks before the 17th, Fey Concerts'
Barry Fey and nobody in particular presents' Doug
Kauffman--the co-promoters of the Cranberries date--were
embroiled in a tense, sometimes unpleasant negotiation
over the terms of their working relationship. And once
the concert fell through, things got much, much uglier.
The parties are now tossing back and forth angry
accusations and threats of lawsuits, in the process
unveiling intricacies of the concert business that
seldom reach the public.
Despite their rivalry, Fey and Kauffman have worked
together before; for example, they co-promoted a
sold-out Cranberries date at Red Rocks in 1995. The
reason for this teaming has everything to do with a key
element in the concert business: past history. Fey
wanted to promote the Cranberries appearance himself,
but because Kauffman had booked the band in its earlier
years, he had a connection with the group that its
management chose to honor. Hence, Fey and Kauffman split
the promoter's portion of the gate receipts. "We didn't
want to work with [Kauffman] on this," Fey concedes. "He
was forced down our throats."
Cut to the summer of 1996, when Kauffman learned that
the Cranberries were planning to tour again. He
contacted Carole Kinzel of Beverly Hills-based Creative
Artists Agency and told her that he would like to be
involved again. A letter from Kinzel to Fey Concerts
dated July 17 officially informed Pam Moore, Fey's head
buyer, that Kauffman would be a fifty-fifty partner for
the Cranberries' appearance, which was set to take place
at Fiddler's Green on September 23.
Tickets for the gig went on sale August 2, and they
didn't move quickly. Whereas the previous year's Red
Rocks show sold out in a matter of days, the Fiddler's
date was limping along; fewer than 3,000 tickets were
purchased within the first 24 hours, and subsequent days
saw sales in the hundreds--and sometimes less. (In this
regard, the event was typical of the slow summer concert
season in general; see "The Shed Spread," page 67, for
more details.) With this poor response as a backdrop,
Moore phoned Kauffman (who had never co-promoted a show
at Fiddler's before) and asked for half of the deposit
that served as a guarantee for the date. Kauffman
balked, claiming that the "house nut"--the amount of
receipts that would be going to rent at Fiddler's Green
(a venue owned by MCA, which merged with Fey Concerts
several years ago)--was too high. He sent a letter to
Moore on August 26 in which he proposed what he called
"an equitable structure for our partnership" intended to
"level the field." After this exchange, Kauffman, Moore
and Fey spoke on several occasions, with Fey Concerts
offering to cut $20,000 from its designated "break-even
point" to compensate Kauffman for the fact that he was
receiving no revenues from food and drink. To Kauffman,
the revised offer was still inequitable. As a result, he
sent a letter to Kinzel on September 13 (four days
before the cancellation) stating, "I wish not to be
involved in this date. It's an impossible situation for
me."
To say the least, the decision incensed Fey. After
revealing that only 5,528 Cranberries tickets had been
sold at the time of the cancellation, he notes, "You
don't just say, 'I'm out of it' because it's losing," he
says. "You've got to be a big boy. I asked him, 'If we'd
sold 15,000 tickets, would we even be having this
conversation?'" Answering his own question, he
continues, "Of course we wouldn't have. He's just
whining because it was a loss. If he didn't like the
deal, he should have negotiated with us before he went
to the agency and management for the date--or at least
before it went on sale. But we didn't hear a peep out of
him until Pam asked him for the money. He's just
complaining because it wasn't selling and he was going
to have to take a loss." Fey adds that Fey Concerts
spent $18,513.25 on advertising for the Cranberries
date. "He's told us he's not going to pay his share,"
says Fey. "But we sent him a letter asking him for the
money that he owes us. If he doesn't pay us half of that
total, we're going to sue him. And he'll lose. Believe
me--he'll lose."
Rather than replying to these accusations point by
point, Kauffman sent Westword a "statement" that he
asked to be printed in its entirety. The information he
imparts in the midst of his defense is fascinating. He
writes:
"The issue here has nothing to do with cancellation
costs because I was never a partner in the date, due to
the fact that we were never able to agree on how to
partner an event between myself, an outside promoter,
and Fey/MCA, who operate Fiddler's Green. When I was
informed by the agent for the Cranberries that I could
participate in the date, I was told to negotiate a
reasonable arrangement with my co-promoter, which is
precisely what I attempted to do.
"The problem was related to the fact that
amphitheaters like Fiddler's realize additional sources
of income from the shows promoted there, such as
food/beverage, T-shirt/merchandise percentages, etc.,
which can serve to offset house expenses.
"Additionally, if you purchased a Cranberries ticket
at the base price of $27.50 over the phone, you would
have had to pay an additional $11.10, comprised of a $5
service charge, $1.60 handling fee and a facility fee of
$4.50, which includes 50 cents for the Safe Summer
program. (If you walked up to an outlet to purchase a
ticket, the $5 service charge would have only been $3.75
plus the $4.50 facility fee). That's a lot of extra
money tacked onto the ticket, and God only knows how it
gets divided up.
"After negotiating back and forth, the final offer to
me came down to this: I would not share in any ancillary
revenues and $88,000 would be added to the band's
guaranteed fee to cover house costs such as rent,
stage-hands, advertising, security, police--all of the
expenses pertaining to that date--before the show was
deemed to break even, assuming ticket sales would even
cover that amount. If not, of course, the 'loss'
incurred would be split equally. While I acknowledge
that producing a show like this is not cheap, $88,000
plus the band's guaranteed fee BEFORE we as co-promoters
break even and I got paid one dime? That's $88,000 to
Fey/MCA, in addition to 100% of the merchandise and
concession percentages, with yours truly forking over
half of any deficit.
"This was unacceptable to me and I informed Fey/MCA
in writing fully six days before we knew the date was to
be canceled that I wanted no part of the event. Only an
idiot would want to be part of it. There is no upside.
I'm a concert promoter, remember? I have considerable
insight into how these deals go down and what real
expenses are likely to be. It suggests arrogance on
their part to think that I would blindly accept such a
one-sided deal. If they can produce the signed contract
whereby I agreed to such a plan, then I must be doing
business in my goddamned sleep."
Upon hearing this manifesto, Moore calls Kauffman "a
weasel" and Fey hits the ceiling. "He's playing cutie
pie," Fey fumes before disputing virtually all of
Kauffman's points. He laughs off the claim that Kauffman
was trying to "negotiate," emphasizing that no
conversations about the agreement were conducted before
the time when nobody in particular presents was asked to
put up half the deposit for the show. (He compares this
period of silence to "Nixon's eighteen-minute gap.")
Likewise, he scoffs at the implication that Kauffman
doesn't know where service-charge money is going,
disputes the $88,000 figure as inflated (he puts the
actual total at $71,420) and claims that this money
merely "covers expenses" rather than constituting "a
profit center." He also suggests that Kauffman's
statement about contracts is a red herring. "We haven't
done contracts on the last four or five things we've
done with him," Fey says. "We've settled in good
faith--which is the last time anybody's going to do that
with him. He's claiming not to have been a partner in
the show, but he was in all the ads, in newspapers and
on radio, and he sure didn't complain about that."
Kauffman contends that he and representatives from
Fey Concerts both signed a contract in relation to a
recent Smashing Pumpkins appearance the two firms
co-promoted, and he insists that nobody in particular
presents didn't appear in Cranberries advertising until
well after he began bartering with Moore. Otherwise, he
says he is satisfied to let his written statement speak
for him.
Fey is not nearly so cautious. "This is such a
ridiculous waste of time for everybody involved," he
asserts. "There's no reason for it. He should be dancing
up and down to only have to pay $9,000. If the show had
happened, I'll bet his loss would have been in the
twenties. He's being really foolish. It's only a few
thousand dollars--but if we don't get it, we're taking
him to court."
While Kauffman hasn't yet paid Fey, the City of
Denver was ordered to do so earlier this month by the
Colorado Court of Appeals. Fey claimed that the city had
no right to collect an admissions tax on tickets sold
for concerts he staged at the Denver Zoo in 1993, and a
judge agreed. As a result, the city owes Fey Concerts
over $43,000. Who needs the Cranberries with a windfall
like that?
An exclamation point was placed at the end of the
second-annual Westword Music Awards Showcase on
September 29, when nominated bands gathered at the Ogden
Theatre to find out who readers had chosen as their
favorites in various categories. (For a complete list of
winners, see page 90.) All concerned were exceedingly
gracious--really!--and those who stuck around until
evening's end witnessed a jam session featuring Hazel
Miller, Lord of Word, Sympathy F's Elizabeth Rose and
other notables. May next year's bash go just as well.
The University of Colorado at Denver is hosting a
conference linked to the International Association for
the Study of Popular Music. Participating are Robert
Walser, a UCLA professor who wrote Running With the
Devil, a book about heavy metal, and Reebee Garofalo, a
University of Massachusetts faculty member whose works
include Rock and Roll Is Here to Stay and Rockin' the
Boat. Call 556-3468 for additional details.
Okay, many of you don't like Ticketmaster--and it's
doubtful that your opinions were changed by the dollar
amounts mentioned in this column's first item. But the
company could turn out to be a favorite of the six
Colorado acts chosen to appear in the fourth annual
Ticketmaster Music Showcase Tour, Friday, October 4, at
the Mercury Cafe. The nominees this time around are
Yellow Number 5, Turnsol, Vanessa Lowe, Katoorah Jayne,
Whitney Rehr and Five52Fern, all of which will be
performing at the event.
The following bands won't be. On Friday, October 4,
Grandma Jukes shakes a tailfeather at the Cricket on the
Hill, with Bustopher Jones; Three Blue Teardrops fall on
the Hillbilly Hellcats at the Bluebird Theater; Gil
Scott-Heron appears at CU-Boulder's Glenn Miller
Ballroom; Tuscadero is in the pink at the Fox Theatre,
with Nada Surf; and Kai Kln, from San Francisco,
ventures to the 6th Avenue Rock Cafe in Aurora. On
Saturday, October 5, the Psychodelic Zombiez celebrate
the release of their new CD, S.A.C., at the Bluebird;
Westword contributor John Jesitus finds Common Grounds;
and the Modern Chamber Players appear at the Boulder
Museum of Contemporary Art as part of the institution's
challenging Perforum Series. On Sunday, October 6, the
Boulder Friends of Jazz sponsor a Dixieland jam session
at Trios, 1155 Canyon, in Boulder, and the Pietasters
sample the fare at the Mercury, with Ruder Than You and
Five Iron Frenzy. And on Wednesday, October 9, Trio
Fungus will be among us at Seven South. There's a cure
for that, you know.
--Michael Roberts
Backbeat's e-mail address is: Michael_Roberts@
westword.comMichael_Roberts@