Text by Sohrab Saadat Ladjevardi
I really got annoyed by what happened to the pianist Andy Costello at the Cornelia Street Cafe, Sunday March 26, 2013. And I believe what Adam Tendler and Marina Kifferstein were saying in their blogs (read below) must be true. Why? Because being a musician myself I have had to deal with club owners or their managers or so called curators for many, many years. Not all are mean but some of them can be really mean or unfair. Especially those ones who work in established or famous clubs. Business makes them forget that musicians need the same respect like any other working person.
I have never had any problems with the clubs in NY because I know their business mentality. Believe me I’m not willing to adjust to their policies. In fact I take care of my own business trying my best to get as many people to my shows. And you know why? Because I have to pay my band no matter what happens. After any show no club owner or manager can complain to me that I didn’t draw enough people to the concert.
And here is another reason why I’m not afraid of clubs: I belong to New York’s musicians’ union Local 802. When I’m trouble I make them go to fight for me. So my advice to Andy, Adam and Marina is please go to Local 802 a.s.a.p.!!! – even if you’re not a member they will welcome you and listen to your complain. Make your voices heard through the power and intelligence of the union! At least they can get an apology from CSA and they might invite Andy back.
I think in the February issue of the jazz magazine DOWNBEAT selected the Cornelia Street Cafe as one of “the 150 GREAT JAZZ VENUES!” in the country. I don’t think that’s true anymore.
Open Letter To Cornelia Street Cafe by Adam Tendler
“Awful.” “Shitty” “Shocking” “Horrifying.” “Gross.” ”Unbelievable.” “Outrageous.” “Disgusting.” “Despicable.”
Those are some comments already posted on my various social media platforms after I informed my friends and followers about last night’s experience at Cornelia Street Cafe, where I witnessed a performer humiliated onstage by a manager who then proceeded to verbally assault a fellow audience member and me. [Correction: Cornelia informed me via email that he is in fact a “curator,” not a manager, though when we asked a bartender at the time if he was the “manager,” she said yes.]
Let me continue: “That really sucks.” “Yelp here I come!” “Good to know.” “They don’t realize how fast word gets around.” “Insulting.” “The owner would be ashamed…” “A fucking nightmare.” “What?!” “Retweeting.” “Sharing this now.”
Okay, you get the point.
I’ve frequented Cornelia for years, and even visited multiple times last week for various concerts and a CD release party. I have no personal bone to pick with Cornelia Street Cafe. But after seeing Andy Costello, who came from Montreal to perform his 6pm recital Sunday evening, humiliated onstage by your manager because of a poor turnout and an apparently confounding program, and then, after being forced to cut his set short—he had two pieces left, 15 minutes, and this man insisted he “make it ten” because “they needed the room” (the next performance was in an hour-and-a-half)—guilt-tripped even further for having not drawn a crowd and lectured about how much money was lost… well, I was stunned. I’ve never seen anything like it in my life. Never.
When I brought up the fact that I paid a full price, plus drinks, for the performance, and would have liked to have heard the whole program, this manager dismissed the objection, saying “he didn’t give a shit.” Wow. Okay. As one of my friends said: “Good to know.”
Does Cornelia, as a venue, not understand the risk in presenting music in New York City (especially a modern program at 6pm on a Sunday)? The New York classical music scene is either like high school, dominated by popular cliques, or like conservatory, where friends come to their friends’ recitals in solidarity. It’s mostly the latter, honestly—every performance I’ve attended at Cornelia has been populated mainly by acquaintances of the performers—and mostly a New York phenomenon. Someone can sell out a show out of town, have a following on the West Coast, and then play to an empty room in New York because they don’t have a devoted following of local friends. It’s reality, and it’s unfortunate, but most of all, it seems to be news to you! Anyway, Andy did his best. He marketed online (that’s how I heard about the show) and spent over a hundred dollars on physical press materials, which he spent fifty dollars sending to the venue. Where were they? Not in the front window, to be sure.
As a performer who has sold out venues nationwide but who has also suffered the misfortune of playing to virtually empty halls, I urged the manager to understand that these things happen, that it’s no one’s fault, but that interrupting a recital and tossing out a paying audience (of any size) is unacceptable and an unwise move for a presenter. His response, again, that he “doesn’t give a shit,” came as a shock from which I’ve still not totally recovered. Maybe it’s just that I’m not used to being cursed at, especially by a host at a restaurant where I just paid a bunch of money. The fact that my friend wasn’t paid his cut of the door (it would’ve been $20, but who cares, right?) only adds insult to injury. So my money, for this catastrophic experience, went straight to Cornelia and to no one else. I couldn’t be less pleased.[Cornelia has informed me via email that in a performer’s contract, it states “the first eight covers go to the house.”]
But at least I learned something. I learned that if a small audience attends a Cornelia Street Concert, Cornelia pockets all the cash, pays the performer nothing, and audiences are asked to leave early with no refund on their ticket. Got it. It goes without saying, but I also learned that Cornelia Street Cafe “doesn’t give a shit” if its patrons have a good night or not, or if performing artists have a pleasant experiencing presenting work in their space. It’s about money, after all—performers bring their friends to deliver revenue to Cornelia Street Cafe—and if that means ejecting an audience and humiliating the performer to teach us this lesson, so be it. Andy, a real class act, behaved graciously throughout, even though inside he had to have been crumbling, or fuming, or regretting having ever stepped foot in your establishment. I know I was.
It’s my duty as an artist to inform people about this experience. I think it’s very interesting, honestly. My friends and allies in the arts community, as you’ve seen, continue to find other, more imaginative words.
Yours,
