Published
Thu, Nov 10, 2022, 13:00
- We spoke with Nita Aviance, Ariel Zetina, NIKS and more about how the industry-wide practice impacts rising artists.
Exclusivity clauses, a contentious practice in the dance music world, are considered part and parcel of the industry. But some DJs and promoters are questioning if they're doing local artists more harm than good.
In 2014, New York-based DJ Nita Aviance was offered a gig with The Saint At Large, the former fabled Manhattan venue renowned for its opulent 4,800-square-foot dance floor and over-the-top gay parties. She was booked for the club's annual kink-centric event, Black Party, which was taking place at Roseland Ballroom that year. A young DJ at the time, she quickly recognised the importance of the gig.
"It was their big, big event of the year," she told Resident Advisor. But one caveat complicated the offer: all prospective DJs were asked to clear their bookings one month before the event.
To some extent, Aviance understood the request. But as a DJ reliant on weekly gigs to make ends meet, accepting the initial offer would have meant taking a financial risk. Ultimately, she took the gig, but only after the promoters agreed to pay her more.
"I explained to them that I was a working DJ, I had multiple gigs a week," she said. "It was how I lived and ate indoors in New York City. If I can't work for a month, you've got to cover the cost. If you want to cover the cost, then sure."
This restriction in Aviance's contract is known as an exclusivity clause. In electronic music hubs like New York, London and Berlin, professional DJs are increasingly presented with similar terms when booked to play shows in their own cities. These clauses are used by venue owners, promoters and talent buyers to ostensibly protect their investment in booked talent. The idea is to ensure there's adequate space in an artist's schedule so that as many of their fans show up to the gig as possible.
For some bookers, this could mean asking artists to leave as little as one week open in between sets. (These rules sometimes also prevent DJs from announcing another lineup too close to a gig.) Stricter clauses look something like Aviance's case, posing an issue for DJs whose livelihoods depend on regular bookings. Nearly a decade after the Black Party gig, Aviance now co-runs the successful party The Carry Nation with Will Automagic. She refuses to use exclusivity clauses.
"We're confident that our party is a good experience and that people are going to come every time," she said. "A friend of mine said radius clauses really reek of insecurity. It's like, honey, the DJ's job is to DJ. Can you not fill your club?"
Concerns over some fundamental flaws in the exclusivity clause model have become especially pressing in 2022, as consumers across the world have felt their wallets tightening due to the rising cost of living. In the US, inflation rates and rent prices have climbed relentlessly in recent months. In Europe, while Russia's war in Ukraine rages on, an energy crisis looms. And despite events returning, many artists who were without gigs from March 2020 through late 2021 are still trying to recover financially, while picking up their careers and reconnecting with their fanbases.
For this reason, some DJs prefer to keep a busy schedule over playing a few big shows a year. "In my experience, playing a bunch of little things, or playing consistently, builds up momentum for those bigger parties," said New York-based DJ Wawa, who got their start behind the decks ten years ago in San Francisco. "Consistency is something that people like and something that people are drawn to."
In New York, Mayor Rudy Giuliani's crackdown on clubbing from 1994 through 2001 left a dark stain on the city's nightlife. In order to get around the residual enforcement of the "no-dancing" Cabaret Law, many clubs during this era relied on a bottle service format that ensured patrons remained seated throughout DJ sets. But those who weren't satisfied with this cheesy and blatant commercialisation of dance music sought more underground alternatives. As a result, some of New York's first DIY venues of this period—including 285 Kent and Death by Audio—were born.
As the Cabaret Law's reign phased out, one of the first completely legal Bushwick venues to be influential in the '10s was the unassuming Bossa Nova Civic Club. As the first legitimate club in the area, there was no need for exclusivity clauses because, frankly, there was no real competition. Then in 2017, an astrology-themed bar of similar size called Mood Ring opened less than a block away.
It was around late 2018 when Bossa's owner, John Barclay, and its booker at the time, Frankie Decaiza Hutchinson, sent an email informing the club's residents they could no longer play Mood Ring and Bossa in the same week. The clause, which they discussed with Mood Ring before enacting, currently reads: "Artists are performing too frequently on Myrtle Ave and subsequently thinning out crowds for both venues. It's bad for Bossa, Mood Ring and the artist/event. Please space out bookings accordingly."
According to DJ Wawa, as other clubs popped up around Brooklyn, these new venues followed suit with their own rules, which are notoriously stricter than their precedents. "Nowadays, public records—the places with exclusivity clauses now that are most affecting people are extensions of that pocket of dance music that erupted out of that area," they said.
While this article was being written, Nowadays came up frequently in conversations about exclusivity clauses in New York venues. (Some sources said the club would stop local DJs from playing in the city for about a month.) But in a recent email to RA, Nowadays announced it was loosening its approach.
"Through conversations with a few artists and agents in our scene, in addition to advocacy from our bookers, Jada Haitoff and Kristin Malossi, we've come to the conclusion that our previous exclusivity terms went too far for local DJs," wrote co-owner Justin Carter. "Going forward our ask will be that the majority of local DJs [don't] play on the same weekend as their Nowadays gig."
Carter also said the terms for more senior local DJs, who tour occasionally, will differ slightly. These DJs will be offered higher fees and asked not to play the weekend prior to their Nowadays gig.
DJs, promoters and club owners across the world seem to agree that the healthier a scene is the more exclusivity clauses will be a factor. In New York, clubbing options are vast. This means owners and promoters aren't only competing for ticket buyers, but also for the right kind of partygoers.
"In a moment where there is increased interest in our scene, and more new people coming in without previous knowledge of the culture, it's important we have people who understand the culture in the room," said Carter. "The heads who follow local DJs won't go to every gig, so we think it's important for there to be space in between performances."
This mentality extends to some of the best clubs and venues in Europe. In the UK, fabric and The Warehouse Project are known to impose rigorous clauses, while in Berlin, playing Berghain or Tresor can mean sacrificing playing elsewhere in the city up to several weeks either side of the gig.
One DJ and promoter in Berlin sought to bypass what he considered unnecessary exclusivity clauses. When Irakli, one of three cofounders of techno party STAUB, started organising Sunday parties at ://aboutblank, his goal was to throw events without lineup announcements. All DJs, regardless of profile, would be paid around €300. Over the years, the party's growing reputation has allowed the promoters to focus on new, underrepresented talent without using exclusivity clauses.
Not announcing lineups, or delaying lineup announcements until the last minute, is a loophole that many promoters exploit when booking DJs burdened with strict exclusivity clauses. But this tactic might not work for new or less-established promoters. A party like STAUB can only thrive when a promoter or club has built up enough trust to convince droves of ravers to miss out on dozens of other parties and pay for a ticket to see a mystery lineup.
It's taken STAUB many years to reach this level of trust with its audience. In the early days, friends begged Irakli for the lineup beforehand, but now it doesn't matter as much. "Nobody asks, because they know it's not about the names, it's about the atmosphere and music," he said.
Initiatives like STAUB seem especially necessary after the Covid-19 pandemic completely upended the nightlife economy. Writing to RA over email, London-based DJ and Black Artist Database founder NIKS said she noticed an upsurge in longer exclusivity clauses in London and Berlin when she started gigging around Europe post-lockdown.
"I understand why—everyone was struggling," she wrote. "But this was unfeasible for many artists considering many had lost out over the past two years."
The longest exclusivity clause NIKS faced in London barred her from playing anywhere in the city for six weeks. In Berlin, it was as long as eight weeks. But for a DJ of her profile, these deals can be circumvented via extensive travel. A quick skim through her past events on RA show that she's played in London, Bristol, Leipzig and Manchester in only the past two months. She and her agent also work together to sort out deals that accommodate her scheduling and financial needs.
"Those of us lucky enough will have agents to protect us from these kinds of proposals, demand more, push back or politely decline," she added. This is a good example of the way exclusivity clauses often hurt the most vulnerable DJs: new, typically young DJs, who don't have agents and don't have the option to tour.
In smaller cities with fewer tourists and resources, exclusivity clauses factor less or not at all. Although Chicago-based artist Ariel Zetina is a resident DJ at smartbar, arguably the city's best club, exclusivity clauses aren't a part of her job. In some parts of the Midwest, a region with far less nightlife infrastructure than New York or Berlin, the emphasis is on greater promoter collaboration. Because there isn't as much competition, the primary goal for most promoters is to simply keep the scene alive.
"In smaller cities like Columbus, I know that all the promoters get together at the beginning of the month and because it can be so small, they're like, 'Okay, we're putting all our parties up and we know what we're all doing," Zetina said. This way, "the audience can come to all these events. I think that's a really healthy thing."
But if a DJ can just play when they want and where they want, won't their audiences be subjected to the same set over and over? Zetina countered: "there are a lot of DJs, including myself, who play very different sets all the time. If you're going to say I can't play these next three gigs after this, the payment has to reflect the fact that I won't play anywhere else."
In some parts of the world, there may be an argument in defence of exclusivity clauses. In Tokyo, tourism remains at an all-time low due to travel restrictions caused by Covid-19. Local DJ Midori Aoyama said that without the patronage of foreigners—who, pre-pandemic, often made up about 50 percent of a club's audience—Tokyo's nightlife has suffered. This, on top of the recent closing of popular clubs Sound Museum Vision, Contact and ageHa, means there are fewer gigs and smaller fees available for local DJs.
"So now Tokyo doesn't have many big venues," said Aoyama. "We have DJ bars that allow 30 to 50 people max." With the big budgets of the larger venues gone, working DJs rely on frequently playing at these smaller venues—which don't have exclusivity clauses—to make ends meet.
Like someone explaining a school maths equation, Aoyama mapped out a hypothetical situation that mirrors the current experience of many DJs in Tokyo. "If I need to get $3,000 per month, then I can get three gigs of $1000," he said. "But now, there are no big venues, so we can only get $100 per show. But I need to get the $3000. So then, I have to get about 30 gigs per month. Which means I need to DJ, logically, every day."
This high-supply, low-demand scenario is a promoter's worst nightmare. When DJs play this frequently in one city, it's impossible for their fans to make every gig, and for the DJ, it's difficult to diversify their sets. The result, Aoyama said, is thinner turnouts and less dynamic sets across the scene.
So, what's the solution? For Sean Clements, lead talent buyer at New York venue Elsewhere, exclusivity clauses work best when they're approached as a conversation, rather than as an ultimatum. Elsewhere's exclusivity and radius clauses operate on a case-by-case basis, and seem to offer newer, local DJs—who need it the most—flexibility. He used the example of a recent rooftop event.
"TSHA was a headliner for an event that was built around tours and festivals coming from the UK," he said. "So the clauses we put in for an artist like that are very different from what we would give to an opener of that same event. And understanding who that opener is, what they're typically working with and whether they're local or not, is also a big factor that we consider."
Young DJs, breakthrough DJs, DJs without agents, beloved local DJs who aren't yet touring—these are the artists who face the brunt of one-size-fits-all exclusivity clauses. The excessively long clauses effectively widen the gap between the DJs at the top—who have more agency in combating unfair proposals—and the still-rising DJs who may feel less empowered to turn down a gig. After decades in the business, Aviance believes the necessary, and radical, option for clubs and promoters is to eradicate the practice once and for all.
"We're in this new stage of the world and we really can change shit now," she told RA. "The way things have moved with diversity, with pay, with safer spaces—these big changes are necessary and they are big shifts from what they used to be. Now's the time to make the change because every change we've made so far has been positive."
Correction, November 10th: A previous version of this piece said Nita Aviance was booked to play at The Saint At Large, which shut in 1988. It was the team behind The Saint At Large that booked her to play at Roseland Ballroom.
While this article was being written, Nowadays came up frequently in conversations about exclusivity clauses in New York venues. (Some sources said the club would stop local DJs from playing in the city for about a month.) But in a recent email to RA, Nowadays announced it was loosening its approach. "Through conversations with a few artists and agents in our scene, in addition to advocacy from our bookers, Jada Haitoff and Kristin Malossi, we've come to the conclusion that our previous exclusivity terms went too far for local DJs," wrote co-owner Justin Carter. "Going forward our ask will be that the majority of local DJs [don't] play on the same weekend as their Nowadays gig." Carter also said the terms for more senior local DJs, who tour occasionally, will differ slightly. These DJs will be offered higher fees and asked not to play the weekend prior to their Nowadays gig. DJs, promoters and club owners across the world seem to agree that the healthier a scene is the more exclusivity clauses will be a factor. In New York, clubbing options are vast. This means owners and promoters aren't only competing for ticket buyers, but also for the right kind of partygoers. "In a moment where there is increased interest in our scene, and more new people coming in without previous knowledge of the culture, it's important we have people who understand the culture in the room," said Carter. "The heads who follow local DJs won't go to every gig, so we think it's important for there to be space in between performances." This mentality extends to some of the best clubs and venues in Europe. In the UK, fabric and The Warehouse Project are known to impose rigorous clauses, while in Berlin, playing Berghain or Tresor can mean sacrificing playing elsewhere in the city up to several weeks either side of the gig. One DJ and promoter in Berlin sought to bypass what he considered unnecessary exclusivity clauses. When Irakli, one of three cofounders of techno party STAUB, started organising Sunday parties at ://aboutblank, his goal was to throw events without lineup announcements. All DJs, regardless of profile, would be paid around €300. Over the years, the party's growing reputation has allowed the promoters to focus on new, underrepresented talent without using exclusivity clauses.
Not announcing lineups, or delaying lineup announcements until the last minute, is a loophole that many promoters exploit when booking DJs burdened with strict exclusivity clauses. But this tactic might not work for new or less-established promoters. A party like STAUB can only thrive when a promoter or club has built up enough trust to convince droves of ravers to miss out on dozens of other parties and pay for a ticket to see a mystery lineup. It's taken STAUB many years to reach this level of trust with its audience. In the early days, friends begged Irakli for the lineup beforehand, but now it doesn't matter as much. "Nobody asks, because they know it's not about the names, it's about the atmosphere and music," he said. Initiatives like STAUB seem especially necessary after the Covid-19 pandemic completely upended the nightlife economy. Writing to RA over email, London-based DJ and Black Artist Database founder NIKS said she noticed an upsurge in longer exclusivity clauses in London and Berlin when she started gigging around Europe post-lockdown. "I understand why—everyone was struggling," she wrote. "But this was unfeasible for many artists considering many had lost out over the past two years." The longest exclusivity clause NIKS faced in London barred her from playing anywhere in the city for six weeks. In Berlin, it was as long as eight weeks. But for a DJ of her profile, these deals can be circumvented via extensive travel. A quick skim through her past events on RA show that she's played in London, Bristol, Leipzig and Manchester in only the past two months. She and her agent also work together to sort out deals that accommodate her scheduling and financial needs. "Those of us lucky enough will have agents to protect us from these kinds of proposals, demand more, push back or politely decline," she added. This is a good example of the way exclusivity clauses often hurt the most vulnerable DJs: new, typically young DJs, who don't have agents and don't have the option to tour.
In smaller cities with fewer tourists and resources, exclusivity clauses factor less or not at all. Although Chicago-based artist Ariel Zetina is a resident DJ at smartbar, arguably the city's best club, exclusivity clauses aren't a part of her job. In some parts of the Midwest, a region with far less nightlife infrastructure than New York or Berlin, the emphasis is on greater promoter collaboration. Because there isn't as much competition, the primary goal for most promoters is to simply keep the scene alive. "In smaller cities like Columbus, I know that all the promoters get together at the beginning of the month and because it can be so small, they're like, 'Okay, we're putting all our parties up and we know what we're all doing," Zetina said. This way, "the audience can come to all these events. I think that's a really healthy thing." But if a DJ can just play when they want and where they want, won't their audiences be subjected to the same set over and over? Zetina countered: "there are a lot of DJs, including myself, who play very different sets all the time. If you're going to say I can't play these next three gigs after this, the payment has to reflect the fact that I won't play anywhere else." In some parts of the world, there may be an argument in defence of exclusivity clauses. In Tokyo, tourism remains at an all-time low due to travel restrictions caused by Covid-19. Local DJ Midori Aoyama said that without the patronage of foreigners—who, pre-pandemic, often made up about 50 percent of a club's audience—Tokyo's nightlife has suffered. This, on top of the recent closing of popular clubs Sound Museum Vision, Contact and ageHa, means there are fewer gigs and smaller fees available for local DJs. "So now Tokyo doesn't have many big venues," said Aoyama. "We have DJ bars that allow 30 to 50 people max." With the big budgets of the larger venues gone, working DJs rely on frequently playing at these smaller venues—which don't have exclusivity clauses—to make ends meet. Like someone explaining a school maths equation, Aoyama mapped out a hypothetical situation that mirrors the current experience of many DJs in Tokyo. "If I need to get $3,000 per month, then I can get three gigs of $1000," he said. "But now, there are no big venues, so we can only get $100 per show. But I need to get the $3000. So then, I have to get about 30 gigs per month. Which means I need to DJ, logically, every day." This high-supply, low-demand scenario is a promoter's worst nightmare. When DJs play this frequently in one city, it's impossible for their fans to make every gig, and for the DJ, it's difficult to diversify their sets. The result, Aoyama said, is thinner turnouts and less dynamic sets across the scene.
So, what's the solution? For Sean Clements, lead talent buyer at New York venue Elsewhere, exclusivity clauses work best when they're approached as a conversation, rather than as an ultimatum. Elsewhere's exclusivity and radius clauses operate on a case-by-case basis, and seem to offer newer, local DJs—who need it the most—flexibility. He used the example of a recent rooftop event. "TSHA was a headliner for an event that was built around tours and festivals coming from the UK," he said. "So the clauses we put in for an artist like that are very different from what we would give to an opener of that same event. And understanding who that opener is, what they're typically working with and whether they're local or not, is also a big factor that we consider." Young DJs, breakthrough DJs, DJs without agents, beloved local DJs who aren't yet touring—these are the artists who face the brunt of one-size-fits-all exclusivity clauses. The excessively long clauses effectively widen the gap between the DJs at the top—who have more agency in combating unfair proposals—and the still-rising DJs who may feel less empowered to turn down a gig. After decades in the business, Aviance believes the necessary, and radical, option for clubs and promoters is to eradicate the practice once and for all. "We're in this new stage of the world and we really can change shit now," she told RA. "The way things have moved with diversity, with pay, with safer spaces—these big changes are necessary and they are big shifts from what they used to be. Now's the time to make the change because every change we've made so far has been positive." Correction, November 10th: A previous version of this piece said Nita Aviance was booked to play at The Saint At Large, which shut in 1988. It was the team behind The Saint At Large that booked her to play at Roseland Ballroom.