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“You can be rock ‘n’ roll and still have basic fucking decency. The two aren’t enemies, your ego is.”

When you look at the grassroots scene, the hidden hierarchy is obvious as hell. You’ve got the rich kids whose parents pay for rehearsal rooms, gear, vans, the whole path smoothed out for them. Then you’ve got everyone else who is juggling jobs, uni, families, and real life just to keep the music going.

That difference doesn’t just shape opportunities. It shapes attitudes, too. The ones who had it easy often come across entitled without even realising it. The working-class bands can develop their own sense of entitlement because they feel they’ve “earned it the hard way.” Truth is, neither side is perfect. Two different worlds are colliding in the same small scene.

The past few weeks, I’ve been thinking a lot about the last 11 years doing Northern Exposure and all the stuff I’ve learnt. I’ve written loads of these ‘guides’ over the years. I’m still not perfect at this, not by a long shot, and a big reason is that Northern Exposure has always just been a hobby for me. I’ve never relied on it financially, and I’ve got no plans to. I’ve noticed over the last few years that there have been many changes in the industry, not only behavioural, but also in the way people’s reputation develops. It is difficult to pinpoint the cause behind this, but I suppose it could be due to the rapid speed of social networking sites or the constant pressure that all of us feel at any given moment. The scramble to be “top dog” does my head in. People love turning the scene into some kind of competition, twisting narratives like it’s a sport. After more than a decade watching bands rise, fall, regroup, and grow, I’ve realised how much of it comes down to the stuff people don’t talk about, attitude, reliability, and how you carry yourself when no one’s clapping.

Your band isn’t failing because the scene is against you. It’s failing because you act like a wanker and nobody wants to work with you twice.

One thing I’ve learnt that really sticks with me is you’ve got to treat whatever you’re doing as a business and as a brand. Yeah, even if that sounds a bit corporate and you hate the word. It’s all good fun getting absolutely smashed and living that rock ‘n’ roll life, snorting lines or whatever. I’m not here to preach, I’ve never been into the drugs side myself, but it’s everywhere now, it always has been. I’m not saying don’t party. What I am saying is you need a certain level of professionalism when you’re out and about, regardless of how you live your life.

We all look up to the 90s and think we need that same attitude, that we’ve got to be this wild vehicle for rock ‘n’ roll. But the bottom line is nobody likes working with a wanker. As you get older, you realise those times were different, we’re not living in the 90s anymore, sadly, and you’ve got to think about the influence you’re putting out there. Back then, you could get away with more chaos because everything felt more offline and local.There was no stigma to mistakes made online, and the community lacked the connectivity that it does today, which means that everything you put into the community is more visible than ever before. In an age where mobile phones have become common currency and social networking sites dominate our lives, you must be mindful of the effect that your actions will have on others.

Rock ‘n’ roll and basic human decency are not mutually exclusive.

The grassroots music scene is amazing because everyone feels like your mate. However, it must be remembered that this is your project. Therefore, your brand image, personal interactions with other artists and promoters, and most importantly the way in which you treat the promoters who help get the event off the ground are all vital. Respect the promoters. The promoter has staked their time, money, and reputation on making sure that the event runs smoothly and successfully. I have witnessed firsthand how things can play out when promoters have been treated disrespectfully. I did a gig several years ago, not a large-scale event, simply a grassroots gig involving a few talented bands. One band arrived early and helped the sound technician, spoke to the bar staff, and promoted the event heavily. Guess which one I booked again? Guess which one other promoters asked me about? It wasn’t the band with the biggest sound, it was the band with the best attitude.

At the moment, it’s about playing the game to a certain point without losing who you are. I am not in any way suggesting you sell out and become something you’re not, hell no. I do believe if you want to go the route of making your own labels, staying thoroughly independent and doing it yourself, that can absolutely work. Some of the best stuff comes from people who stayed true to that DIY spirit instead of chasing the industry ladder. Whether it’s a hobby like it is for me or you’re grinding to make it your living, the principle is the same, your band is your brand. How you show up, how you talk to people, whether you’re reliable, it all adds up, or it chips away at what you’re building.

I’m not keen on that just throw it together and hope it works out vibe. It might fly when you’re starting, but it catches up. I’ve put on plenty of gigs myself over the years, and I’m not innocent in any of this. Some of them were proper last-minute lash-ups, and I made my share of mistakes. This isn’t me acting high and mighty. I’ve just been around the scene a bit, and I want to share what I’ve seen, in the hope it might help someone else avoid the same headaches.

Because in the grassroots scene, the wild grass is where the platform starts. The people there are the ones who help you reach higher levels, and you should never forget that. They’re the ones getting your name and brand out there through small gigs, word of mouth, shared bills, all that genuine support.

In the end, the music matters, but the way you carry yourself matters just as much. Rock and roll attitude is fine. Rock and roll entitlement is pathetic

The rock ‘n’ roll excess can be part of the fun, but it shouldn’t mean burning bridges just for the sake of attitude. Be someone people actually want to work with again. Turn up on time when it counts. Be respectful without being fake. Promote your own shows. Build real relationships instead of expecting chaos to sort everything. And while you’re at it, don’t go around trashing other bands or people in the scene, that shit just makes you look bitter and hurts your own name more than anyone else’s.

Once you get past a certain level, always remember who helped get you there. Stay humble, show some gratitude, keep those roots strong. The same hands that gave you the first pushes can open doors later on or quietly close them if the respect disappears.

“Attitude without respect is just expensive insecurity. The scene doesn’t need more rockstars. It needs fewer arseholes.”

If there’s one thing I hope people take from this, it’s that the small things aren’t small. Showing up on time, treating people with respect, promoting your own shows, keeping your ego in check, that’s the real groundwork. That’s the stuff that builds trust, you don’t have to be perfect, and you don’t have to pretend to be something you’re not, but you do have to show people you care about what you’re building. That’s what separates the bands who last from the ones who burn out.

In the end, whether this is your full-time dream or your late-night passion project, it deserves to be treated like it matters. Keep your fire, keep your identity, but carry yourself in a way that honours the people who’ve backed you from day one. The grassroots scene is built on relationships, on trust, on the hands that lift you up before anyone else knows your name. Look after those hands, look after your name. Because both will follow you further than any attitude and entitlement ever will.