“I would really like to know… many promoters want you to work for free! Me nah work for free so pay me!”
That statement, raw and unapologetic, is not new. It is the voice of frustration, yes—but also the voice of reality for many reggae and dancehall artists across Canada. It is a chorus that has echoed for decades, from rehearsal rooms in Toronto to small stages across the GTA.
I know that voice well—because I have been that voice.
As an artist who has spent over 40 years in the trenches, both in Jamaica and Canada, I have said those same words. I have felt that same frustration. But time, experience, and hard-earned lessons have reshaped my understanding of what it truly takes to build a lasting career in music. Sacrifice, whether we like it or not, has always been part of the journey.
Growing up in Jamaica, I had the privilege of being around some of reggae’s most respected figures. I listened as they shared stories—not of instant fame, but of years of struggle. Years of performing with little or nothing to show financially. Yet almost all of them agreed on one thing: those unpaid shows, those sacrifices, were not wasted. They were preparation. Because when the opportunity came—they were ready.
My own journey followed a similar path. In the mid-1980s, I toured Canada with my band Crucial Vibes. A few years later, I made the decision to migrate. The very next day after arriving, I was already making calls, reconnecting with musicians I knew. Within weeks, the band Tatix was born.
Our first major performance? A Jamaica Day event at Club Paradise. We performed for free.
Not because we were undervaluing ourselves—but because nobody knew us. We had no brand, no following, no proven ability to draw a crowd. What we needed was exposure, not ego. That performance—and many that followed—were part of introducing ourselves to the public. And yes, there were many unpaid shows after that. But that was nothing new to me. In Jamaica, that was part of the growing pains of becoming an artist.
By the 1990s, Tatix had become a recognized name in Canada. We were nominated for a JUNO Award, won a Canadian Reggae Music Award, and were featured on MuchMusic. We were in demand.
But none of that came overnight.
Let me be clear: I am not saying artists should perform for free. That choice belongs to each individual, based on their goals and circumstances.
What I am saying is this—music is not just art. It is business.
And in business, value is not determined by how talented you think you are. It is determined by your ability to bring people through the door.
Promoters operate on risk. They invest money to make money. If an artist cannot demonstrate “pulling power”—the ability to attract patrons—then the promoter cannot justify paying premium fees. That is why established artists from Jamaica often command higher payouts in Canada. They have a proven track record of filling venues. You may not like it—but you can understand it.
Recording songs does not automatically make you a star. Releasing music does not guarantee demand. And demanding high fees without building your audience is a fast way to be overlooked.
I learned a long time ago that if I wanted to command a certain price, I had to build myself to that level.
That means:
- Creating a recognizable brand
- Making music that connects
- Delivering unforgettable performances
- Building and maintaining a loyal fan base
- Staying consistent over time
Over the years, I have worked to sharpen my craft, release meaningful music, tour internationally, and build a solid support system. Step by step, that work has increased my value. And I am still building.
Look at artists like Steele, Exco Levi, Ammoye, Kirk Diamond, Jay Douglas, and Nana McLean to name a few. These are individuals who have paid their dues. They have made sacrifices, invested in their careers, and built reputations that make promoters confident in booking them.
Veterans like Nana McLean and Jay Douglas have paved the way through decades of consistency and dedication. Artists like Exco Levi, with multiple JUNO wins, and Ammoye, with international tours and nominations, have expanded their reach beyond borders. Kirk Diamond continues to elevate his brand, while Steele has taken initiative by creating his own platform, growing a loyal audience that shows up time and time again.
That is how value is built.
So, in 2026, while the tools may have changed—social media, streaming platforms, global access—the principle remains the same: Your worth in this business is tied to your visibility, your consistency, and your ability to draw a crowd.
I am not naïve about my value. I will not pretend to be worth more than I am. Instead, I continue to build—refining my craft, increasing my visibility, and strengthening my brand.
Because when the time comes for a promoter to say yes to my asking price, I want that decision to be easy.
Not emotional.
Not personal.
Just good business.