The tech rider landed in my inbox last Thursday. Forty-three pages for a mid-tier indie band playing a 600-capacity room. I’ve seen shorter contracts for building construction.

This isn’t an isolated case. Artist riders—those documents outlining what performers need from a venue—have gone from reasonable technical requirements to elaborate wish lists that assume every Australian venue has the budget and infrastructure of Rod Laver Arena.

Something’s got to give.

What Changed?

Ten years ago, a typical rider for a touring band was maybe five pages. You’d get the stage plot, the input list for audio, some basic lighting preferences, hospitality requirements (the infamous bowl of M&Ms minus the brown ones), and maybe a few backline items they needed the venue to provide.

Now? I’m seeing riders that specify exact console models (not just equivalent), detailed ambient temperature requirements for the green room (21.5 degrees, not 21, not 22), brand-specific water (not just bottled water, but a particular imported brand), and lighting cues that would require hiring additional crew the venue hasn’t budgeted for.

The worst part? About 60% of it is copy-pasted from templates designed for American amphitheatres and European festivals. It hasn’t been adapted for Australian venues at all.

The Disconnect

Here’s what’s driving me spare: there’s a massive disconnect between what international management companies think Australian venues look like and what we actually are.

A band’s US agent sends a rider specifying a 32-channel digital console with specific plugins and wireless frequencies that aren’t even licensed for use in Australia. The catering rider demands brands we don’t stock here and preparation facilities most venues don’t have.

I get it—standardisation makes touring easier. But when your rider assumes every venue has the same kit as Madison Square Garden, you’re setting everyone up for failure.

Australian promoters are caught in the middle. They’re trying to meet unrealistic riders to secure acts while knowing the actual venues can’t deliver half of what’s being demanded. So they just say yes and hope for the best.

That’s not sustainable.

The Cost Creep

Each line item in a rider has a dollar figure attached, even if it’s not explicitly stated.

Want a specific console we don’t have? That’s a $2,000+ hire for the night. Need three additional spotlights for a specific cue? That’s crew time, equipment rental, and programming hours. Hospitality rider specifying organic, locally sourced everything? Hope you’ve got a dedicated runner and a blank cheque.

For a small to mid-sized venue operating on razor-thin margins, a demanding rider can flip a show from profitable to loss-making before the first ticket’s sold.

I know one Melbourne venue that totalled up the actual cost to fulfil a rider for a touring act at 100%. It came to $18,000 over their standard production budget. The guarantee for the band was $12,000. The maths doesn’t work.

Where the Riders Get Ridiculous

Some highlights from actual riders I’ve seen in the past three months:

A folk duo requesting a 48-channel digital console with specific outboard processing gear worth more than their nightly guarantee.

An electronic artist demanding blackout conditions in a venue with floor-to-ceiling windows facing a main road. Unless we’re installing industrial shutters for one night, that’s not happening.

A punk band—a PUNK BAND—with a hospitality rider that looked like craft services for a film shoot. Irony is dead.

Multiple acts requesting specific brands of stage monitors that literally aren’t distributed in Australia. We can get you equivalent gear that sounds identical, but no, it has to be that exact model.

And my personal favourite: a rider that specified the green room must have “natural light but no direct sunlight.” The green room is in a basement. I can’t change architecture.

The Negotiation Dance

What actually happens is venue techs and tour managers negotiate reality in the load-in.

“I know the rider says X, but can you work with Y?”

“We don’t have that specific console, but we’ve got this one which does everything you need.”

“The catering rider says organic quinoa salad, but there’s a Woolies down the road—is that going to be a problem?”

Most tour managers are reasonable humans who understand the situation. They know the rider is aspirational. But it creates this weird dynamic where everyone’s pretending to take the document seriously while knowing 40% of it won’t happen.

Why not just write realistic riders in the first place?

The Safety Issue

Here’s where it gets serious: buried in these bloated riders are actual safety requirements and genuine technical necessities. But when you pad it out with 35 pages of nonsense, venue staff start treating the whole document as negotiable.

The Australian live music industry has had serious conversations about standardising safety protocols in riders. That’s important work. But it’s undermined when the safety requirements sit alongside demands for specific brands of coconut water.

I’ve seen techs skip over critical load-bearing specifications because they’re drowning in irrelevant detail. That’s dangerous.

What Needs to Happen

First, artist management needs to create Australia-specific riders. Stop sending the same document you use for North American tours and expecting it to translate.

Second, venues need to push back harder. If a rider is unrealistic, say so during the booking negotiation, not the day of load-in.

Third—and this is controversial—we might need industry-wide standards for what Australian venues can reasonably be expected to provide at different capacity levels. A 300-capacity pub room can’t provide the same technical setup as a 2,000-capacity theatre. Stop pretending otherwise.

The Live Performance Australia could actually play a useful role here, creating tiered venue classifications with expected capabilities. It’d give everyone realistic expectations from the start.

The Path Forward

Look, I’m not saying artists shouldn’t have requirements. Professional standards matter. If you need specific technical setup to make your show work, absolutely document that.

But there’s a difference between professional standards and performative demands that serve no actual purpose except to make someone feel important.

Trim the fat. Focus on what actually matters. Understand the market you’re touring in. And maybe have a conversation with your Australian promoter before sending a rider that assumes every venue has the technical capabilities of Qudos Bank Arena.

We want to put on great shows. We want artists to have what they need. But we can’t manifest equipment that doesn’t exist or infrastructure we haven’t got the budget to build.

A bit of realism would go a long way. And honestly? The best shows I’ve seen in the past year happened at venues where the tour manager showed up, looked at what we actually had, and said “yeah, we can work with this.”

That’s the spirit that built Australian live music. Maybe it’s time we got back to it.