Some agents do try to meet promoters halfway. Keira Sinclair, who co-founded POLY. Artists with Kim Oakley, says that if a promoter is unable to meet an artist’s usual fee, she asks them to help her understand why. “So, providing a detailed budget of their expected income and costs so we can try to get a deal that is fair for everyone involved,” she says. Though she qualifies that “fair” is a loaded term. “We're living in a capitalist society, so I think a lot of this isn't fair.” When deciding a fee, her and other POLY. agents consider factors like the economic situation in the city, and the type of party it is. “We try really hard to support radical and underground parties who are generally not doing this to make money, but maybe have a greater political purpose or some different intent,” Sinclair says.

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Sumner also thinks he’s been lucky because of the artists he’s worked with. “There is a very left-leaning political outlook among most, and they naturally tend to feel a level of responsibility to look after a scene that pays their wages,” he says. Even if rising artist fees have put him out of business, “it's a lot worse in other scenes,” he says, pointing toward “business techno” — a term coined by Shifted to describe the monotonous, big room sound that’s exploded in popularity. Though it’s also become a catch-all for artists who seem to prioritise money over music.

”Business techno is fully here now, and there seems to be no shame in these top-tier artists who are blowing up,” he says. “You can't really criticise them — if that's what they want to do, that's what their priorities are. We live in a capitalist structure, so it's hard to fault them for that. But it is a shame, and it is damaging the scene.”

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Sumner thinks this business-minded mentality has eroded the traditional sense of loyalty and trust between artist and promoter. When in the past a promoter took a risk on an unknown artist that later blew up, the promoter would be rewarded with affordable bookings down the road. Now, that’s not always the case, leaving small-time promoters less likely to take risks, and big promoters better able to book in-demand talent once their hype and cost reaches a certain point.

DJs and agents aren’t asking for more money out of malice. And often, not even greed drives a rise in prices. DJs need to put food on the table like everyone else. And many times, they only have three to five years to try and make something happen out of their careers. Why not make hay while the sun shines? There are no retirement packages in the arts, and artists feel like they need to plan for the end of their time in the spotlight. Being a DJ is also hard and tiring work, and it’s often much less lucrative and glamorous than it appears from the outside.

“From the people I know who are successful, they're in the studio Monday through Friday working on music, doing media, doing podcasts, figuring out what they're going to play, then traveling two or three days during the weekend, and they don't know how long their career is going to last as well,” Sinclair says. “So I do see why there's an urgency to do the best shows, to build their careers, and ultimately that relates into striving for higher fees.”