When I lived in Denver I took full advantage of living 15 minutes from Red Rocks Amphitheatre. If you’re not familiar with it, it’s one of the most famous concert venues in the US and is nestled between a few giant… red rocks.

It’s an honor and a privilege to play Red Rocks, and the bands that show up there know it. As a spectator you’re regularly treated to special set lists, pop up appearances by legends, and all kinds of magic moments that wouldn’t happen anywhere else.

And Red Rocks is where I got to know a little band that could from North Carolina called the Avett Brothers. They’d show up every year, put on one of the best live shows you’d ever seen, and no one beyond the local Red Rocks or North Carolina crowds seemed to know or care much about them. It was perfect. Our little secret summer weekend every year.

Then word got out. They had a few hits, grew a loyal following who were happy to travel to see them, and all of a sudden our annual local celebration of joy at Red Rocks was joined by crowds from all over the country and the world.

And those crowds didn’t really fit the vibe: The weekend went from one of joyful community celebration to Nashville or Vegas-like bachelor party chaos while all the visitors blew off steam.

The Avett Brothers at Red Rocks experience had jumped the shark for those of us who had been there from day one.

It’s a tale as old as time in music, just another twist on the story of your band making it big, but the pain and annoyance in that moment when you lose something that was an important staple in the rhythm of your life is real.

I’m not even being dramatic when I say I felt like there was suddenly an Avett Brothers-sized hole in the equation of my perfect summer that needed to be filled in order to make my summers work again.

We had a really, really good thing going until we didn’t.

A secret ticket to wild summer joy that no one knew about until seemingly everyone did.

It sucked. Still sucks. Ten years later and I’m still trying to fill that gap (see you in November in Florida boys! I hear St Augustine Amphitheatre is an epic outdoor venue too).

This stuff happens in business, too, by the way. Especially in marketing.

You have a really good thing going and then all of a sudden it’s not working for you any longer.

All of a sudden no one is seeing your social posts.

Or your Substack goes dead.

Or your emails stopped being opened.

Maybe you see an obvious reason like I did when the masses started to show up from out of state.

Or maybe it’s a mystery to you why something that worked yesterday stopped working today.

Maybe you blame yourself and assume you forgot how to market overnight. (you didn't).

Or maybe it’s just that whatever you were doing jumped the shark and you didn't realize it.

I talk about this a lot in an offhand way when answering questions about what you should or shouldn’t do.

Someone will mention a strategy that's stopped working and I’ll say something like “Oh yea that doesn’t really work anymore” and move on to what is working.

The other week I got called on it during a q&a and was asked “you always say that - but how do you know it doesn’t work anymore? And more importantly, how can you prepare for it?”

It was a good and valid question, so I saved it and answered it on this week’s pod: How To Get Out Before It Stops Working.​

​Take a listen here and let me help you get ahead of the curve so you’re not stuck in a bachelor party crowd at Red Rocks or not stuck circling the drains of a marketing strategy that’s jumped the shark.

And because we're headed into a holiday weekend and I want to laugh and commiserate, hit reply and tell me about a time you realized you'd lost some beloved music to the masses.

PS Have a question you want me to answer on the pod? Leave it for me here and I'll answer it on a future episode!​

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