I don’t make music for eyes, I make music for ears.
– Adele, singer and songwriter
IMAGINE this: your favourite international artist announces a concert tour to Malaysia. The air is filled with electric anticipation, the fans buzzing with excitement at the possibility of finally seeing their idols in the flesh. It’s the experience of a lifetime. But there is a catch. The battleground isn’t the mosh pit or the front row; it’s the ticket sales.
I’ve been there, in the hot seat, just like so many other fans. The countdown begins, and you’re seated anxiously in front of your computer screen, fingers poised over the keyboard, eyes glued to the countdown timer on the ticket sales website. You’ve practised the routine in your head – the moment the clock hits zero, you’ll pounce. And then, it happens.
You click ‘buy’ faster than you ever thought humanly possible, only to be greeted by the digital equivalent of a brick wall – a glaring, red ‘sold out’ message. The heartbreak is immediate, your dreams of singing along with your idols fading away into a hollow echo. The concert that you’ve fantasised about, planned for, and lost sleep over seems to evaporate into thin air.
But then, like a beacon in the darkness, you see a ray of hope. A string of posts on aftermarket websites show tickets for sale. However, this glimmer of hope is quickly shrouded by a fog of disbelief as you notice the prices. A ticket, originally sold for RM1,288 by the concert organiser, is now marked up to an eye-watering RM7,000. It’s a punch to the gut. You’re caught between Scylla and Charybdis – shelling out an exorbitant sum of money or missing out on the concert altogether.
How did we get to this point? Well, it’s all a game of economics.
Scalping, the practice of reselling tickets at grossly inflated prices, might seem exploitative or even predatory at first glance. However, it operates on the principles of supply and demand and serves an economic function. A scalper’s modus operandi is dependent on two significant factors.
Firstly, the supply of concert tickets is fixed. There is a finite number of seats, and once they’re gone, they’re gone. Secondly, the ticket price chosen by the concert organiser is often lower than what some ardent fans are willing to pay. This pricing discrepancy allows scalpers to swoop in, buy tickets, and resell them at a hefty profit.
Yet, you might wonder, if the market can bear a price tag of RM7,000 for a ticket, why doesn’t the concert organiser set the ticket price at RM7,000? Or even at a lesser, yet higher-than-normal price, say RM5,000? There are a couple of reasons for this.
Primarily, lower ticket prices attract a larger audience. A fully packed venue not only creates a vibrant atmosphere but also serves as its own form of free publicity. Secondly, there’s the ever-present fear of backlash.
The court of public opinion often has a notion of a ‘fair’ price for a concert ticket. By respecting this sentiment and keeping prices lower, concert organisers avoid the risk of inciting a public uproar.
Therefore, the scalpers often bear the brunt of the public’s ire for setting market-clearing prices. It’s a curious system of rationing where those willing and able to pay the higher prices secure the tickets.
While this system might seem skewed in favour of the wealthier fans, it also opens up entrepreneurial opportunities. Individuals with a bit of patience, some time on their hands, and a modest amount of capital could potentially buy a ticket and make a significant profit by reselling it.
There’s another method of rationing that operates differently than the price-driven market: non-price rationing. It operates based on the principle of “first-come, first-served”, the notion of camping out the night before at the venue.
Another approach could be favouritism, where those connected to or favoured by the organisers receive special privileges. An example of this could be a pre-sale event exclusively opened for CIMB cardholders. These methods aren’t dependent on the ability to pay higher prices but instead prioritise time, effort, or connections.
However, it’s worth noting that scalping isn’t a sure-fire bet. If demand for a concert is lower than expected, scalpers might find themselves stuck with tickets they can’t offload, even at a loss. It’s a risky game to play.
Recently, Minister of Communications and Multimedia Fahmi Fadzil, the man responsible for ensuring that our televisions, computers, and all the super cool internet things functioned properly, stepped up in front of the press. With a commanding voice, he declared, “I have a plan! We’re going to stop those naughty ticket scalpers with a new Act!”
His plan seemed a bit like a little kid’s solution to a big grown-up problem. You know how when you’re building a sandcastle and a wave comes and washes it away? And you think, “I’ll just build a wall around it!” But then another wave comes and just knocks it over again? Well, that’s kind of how I saw Fahmi’s plan.
The thing about grown-up problems is that they’re a lot like tangled up headphone cords. They can be a bit complicated and tricky to unravel. So, sometimes, you need to think a bit harder and find a solution that’s not just about stopping the waves, but understanding why the waves are knocking down your castle in the first place.
It is absolutely unnecessary for politicians to intervene in the economics of ticket sales and resales. After all, we are not talking about life and death. We are talking about the price of having one’s eardrums blown out at a concert.
The views expressed here are those of the columnist and do not necessarily represent the views of New Sarawak Tribune.
