We threw a party and no one showed up. Okay, not a party, per se—it was an epic Hackathon designed to co-design a revolutionary initiative to change the music streaming industry.
We made the event free. Yep. Free. Even though we’re trying to raise funds for this wild project of ours. Why? Because we know everyone’s feeling the pinch right now with cost of living pressures, and we didn’t want to be the ones twisting the knife. Plus, we really do value support (even more than we value cash—well, okay, maybe just a little more).
Yes—putting on free events is risky. In our long history of running them, we’ve learned that people often don’t value what they don’t have to fork out for. Capitalism has us well trained. It's only worth something if someone else can't afford it. But we weighed that risk carefully against our hope that people would recognise this project as something different, something worth showing up for.
We did it in the spirit of cooperation, because, hey, what’s a cooperative if we’re not all in it together? And if giving up a ticket price helps us build our community, we’ll take the hit—and maybe shed a small tear over it later. We hoped that, given the opportunity, folks would see the bigger picture and approach it with a fresh perspective. Turns out, hope is a gamble.
We had 35 participants registered and ready to brainstorm and build alongside Perth’s best minds in music, tech, and business. Guess how many actually showed up?
Four.
That’s right. Four. Four people. That’s fewer than a standard band line-up. Fewer than your average trivia night team. Fewer than the fingers on one of the worst guitarists we know. And when you’re a small, not-for-profit cooperative, working tirelessly to support local musicians, that empty room feels like a gut punch. But what the hell, it was free, right?
Wrong.
Here’s what it really cost us. Over $5,000 in event expenses, money that we didn’t have just lying around. The Founders—already overworked and exhausted—personally footed the bill, dipping into funds that were meant to keep them afloat while they build a platform for unsigned, original artists. And let’s not forget the eight incredible, high-profile industry mentors who showed up—at no charge to us—to share their expertise. These people, who could have been anywhere else, chose to dedicate their Saturday to a bunch of no-shows.
And what did those no-shows miss? A day packed with free food, drinks, and networking opportunities with some of Perth’s brightest minds. We were offering an amazing, totally free experience, fully catered, fully stacked, and loaded with knowledge, learning and support. Loaded with future opportunities. All they had to do was walk in the door. Instead, with the exception of a few decent legends, they didn’t even bother to let us know they weren’t coming. Did. Not. Bother.
Now, we get it. Things come up. Maybe they woke up that morning with a serious case of Netflixitis, compelled to finish the entire second season of The Bear because, well, someone has to know what’s happening to Carmy. Or maybe there was a sudden, uncontrollable urge to colour code the sock drawer. I get it. When the going get's tough, the tough (me) reorganise the pantry.
Or perhaps it was something more serious. Like, really serious. Like, diarrhoea-level serious. We can’t compete with that. We wouldn’t want someone risking a sprint to the loos during an intense brainstorming session. And if they contracted a surprise bout of gonorrhoea (yikes!), we totally understand why solving independent musicians' streaming problems might not have been top of the list that day.
But come on, would it have been so hard to drop us a “sorry, can’t make it, explosive diarrhoea” email? No judgment. We’d totally get it. Even a quick “Sorry, I’m in a complex relationship with my couch right now” text would have sufficed. At least then we wouldn’t have sat there, triple shot lattes in hand, hopeful looks on our faces, staring at the door like lovesick puppies waiting for their humans to come home.
We sat there, waiting. We started late, hoping more would trickle in. They didn’t. So we pivoted. We changed the game. We carried on with our four brave participants, our mentors, and our Board members. And you know what? It turned into an incredible day.
We hacked. We innovated. We broke algorithms. We rewrote business models. We created new economies. We did in a day what some major organisations couldn’t dream of doing in a week. Maybe, in the end, it was a blessing to host a few passionate and intentional souls, because they brought more heart and energy to the project than a roomful of people who didn’t understand our mission ever could.
But here’s the point we’re really making: your actions matter. You might think, “Oh, it’s free, no big deal if I bail.” But it’s not free. It’s never free. It costs buckets of time, effort, emotional energy, and yes, actual money. It also costs the passion of people trying to build something new, who believe in creating opportunities for others.
Next time you sign up for an event—whether it’s a hackathon, a workshop, or a coffee catch-up with an overstretched mentor—please remember that there are real people on the other side of that commitment. People who are giving it everything they’ve got to make it worthwhile for you. If you can’t make it, just let them know. Even if it's free. Especially if it's free.
And really, what were you doing? Cancelling world hunger? Finding a cure for FOMO? Solving climate change with Excel macros? Hey, if you were off being some sort of superhero, we’re with you. But even superheroes make time to let their mates know when they can’t make it to the final punch up with Thanos.
And as for us? We’ll keep going. Because the four people who did show up - they were worth it. They were the real superheroes. And we believe that one day, more people will see the value, show up, and work with us to build a brighter future for independent musicians.
Until then, we’re hanging onto hope, a handful of rock-solid supporters, a pantry full of leftover snacks—and one hell of a catering bill.
Comments