The Infamous Contract Rider by George Ziemann -- October 10, 2008 A saw a story relating to contract riders and all the weird things rock stars ask for on Fark a couple of days ago and the comments people made today are pretty much unchanged from what people said about this 10 or even 25 years ago. It goes something like, "What prima donna assholes! What other reason could there possibly be to ask for M&Ms with all the brown ones picked out?" The function of the contract rider is to inform the venue a) what the band's technical requirements are; b) what they'll need for dressing rooms, etc.; and c) food. If you tour a lot, you're going to start repeating venues, but the first time you play somewhere, it's sort of a negotiation tool. The rider lets the band pre-screen the venue and the promoter. And vice versa. So here's how the concert promotion thing works and the true value of the concert rider. You want to hire a band. You talk to your booking agent, Squiggy. You tell him which act you want and Squiggy tells you if that date is available and how much it'll cost you. You fax over a "letter of offering" to Squiggy. Last I heard, there were basically six top-level agencies in the country. Squiggy ain't one of them. So he has to call the act's real agent and do the whole date check thing again and see how it works into the act's schedule and routing and all that crap. Squiggy is just the middleman because the top agencies don't want to talk to you anyway. If that all works out, the act's representative sends you a copy of the contract. If you sign and return the contract, generally with a check (wire transfer preferred) for the 50 percent advance. This is where the rider comes in. It shows up with the contract and you have to initial each page, if not individual items on the page, to acknowledge that you're agreeing to all of these things as part of the contract. The expense of providing these things is usually over and above what you are agreeing to pay the band. If there's something you don't like or just can't provide, you cross it off the list or even change it. Let's look at an easy example. Robin Williams needs a stage with 60x40 feet of "usable space." Your stage is 55x37 because your architects were from the Old Country and early adopters of the metric system. Robin is just going to have to cope, but you note it on the contract. The thing is, I've been to The Improv. The whole room probably wasn't 60x40. This is not the same rider Bud Friedman would get. Everything is Negotiable For a major act with a large stage show, the contract rider is serious business, but it's also a huge multi-level, multi-player power trip/ego contest in which the artist's ability to ask for ridiculous nonsense is directly related to their level of fame at the time the contract was signed. Those who have seen brighter days are usually much less demanding. Some of the requests which some find extreme are actually necessary. Neil Diamond asks for 11 telephone lines, including one at the mixing board with an extra-long cord, but he pays for it and even brings his own phones, the promoter just has to arrange it. One section of the rider contains the technical requirements, the things needed to put on the show. The excess is usually reserved for food and drink requirements backstage, especially the after-show party. But the bowl of M&Ms better be in the dressing room. "And this year, we only want the blue ones." If the promoter was a moron, didn't actually read the contract, and failed to provide the M&Ms, the act gets to put the promoter on defense when they walk in the door. "No blue M&Ms? So what else did you not provide? Is there a PA system?" If, on the other hand, you find a bowl of blue M&Ms, you know that case of Dom Perrignon you asked for is probably going to be there, too. It's going to be a good night.

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