Are live classic rock gigs at the crossroads?
[A guest blog by Peter Freer. -AC]
A Gig is a Gig
That statement is part rallying cry, mantra and coping mechanism for every working rock musician who’s ever lugged a 65-pound amp up a narrow flight of stairs into another dim watering hole where only the draft beer is colder than the crowd’s enthusiasm. Gigs are a grind, but they can also be glorious. Each promises a sweaty communion of raging guitars, ecstatic crowds, and free-flowing adrenaline. Just ignore the one guy yelling “Free Bird!” before the first set even started. Rock on!
But here’s the catch: what happens when a gig… isn’t?
Recently, this reality hit me harder than an ear-splitting soundcheck. At a recent Stratford gig, I scanned the crowd and was shocked to see most our fans’ ages were just south of 70 years. These folks weren’t just eligible for senior discounts—they’d been cashing in longer than we’ve been playing Lynyrd Skynyrd covers.
Our core audiences are aging out faster than we want to admit. By 2035, Baby Boomers—the classic rock diehard fan base—will have swapped dive bars and happy-hour cocktails for custom orthotics and Ensure shakes.
Time’s ticking. Our audience is aging. Hell… we’re aging. So, I’m wondering: is live classic rock at the crossroads?
The Soundtrack of Our Lives
Classic rock defined my generation—the last of the Boomers— those born in the late 1940’s to early 60’s. For us, the Beatles, Led Zeppelin, Queen or Aerosmith—these weren’t just rock gods; their music was an antidote for our daily grind. Every riff, drum solo and splash chord spoke to us in ways no other art could.
But today’s music, curated by algorithm software, feels more and more like a product than a revolution. Are we losing more than just live bands?
For sure, classic rock isn’t vital anymore. The last truly exhilarating rock event for me was over 20 years ago at the Toronto SARS concert in 2003. Today, the genre feels like it should have its own wing in a wax museum. That golden era of rock icons, exciting FM radio, and vinyl treasures—the mid-’60s to late ’80s—has been replaced by a corporate nostalgia machine.
Well, at least it’s our nostalgia machine.
Generational Drifters
So, what about the younger crowd? They still play, right? Gen X might be the bridge between rock’s heyday and the grunge explosion, but this group is already mostly in their 50s, with arthritis lurking and ready to pry guitars from their hands.
Ask a Millennial and they’ll call what we play “Dad Rock.” Gen Z? Try Granddad Rock. Sure, the younger generations respect the staying power of “Bohemian Rhapsody” or “Stairway to Heaven,” but 10-minute guitar solos? Pfft.
The stats don’t lie: Millennials and Gen Z combined make up only 20% of the live classic rock audience. For them, music is rap, hip-hop, EDM, and algorithm-driven playlists—music with a vibe, not a revolution. Rock operas? More like 15-second TikTok clips, if that.
The Death of the Local Scene
Ontario’s bar scene, once a fever dream of blacked-out bars, taverns, pubs, and rocking roadhouses with beer-stained floors and blistering volume, is vanishing. Take a walk up Yonge Street. Those gritty stages have been replaced by the urban blight of cannabis shops and bubble tea boutiques.
Ajax’s rock palace Drums N’ Flats? Gone. The funky Dakota Tavern? Gone. Toronto’s long-time live music venues like Rockpile and Phoenix? Mostly just hanging on, but like an ancient Fender amp plugged into a dodgy outlet. Just a matter of time.
Even surviving venues have shifted focus. DJs and karaoke nights dominate. By 11 p.m., the dance crowd takes over—twenty-somethings want beats, not bands. The Toronto music scene—once alive with Queen Street grit and MuchMusic glory—is now a shadow of itself.
Once, rock bars were temples. Now they’re Shoppers Drug Mart outlets.
There’s a Tribute for That
Here’s the surprise: while cover bands struggle, tribute bands are thriving. And they’re not all cheesy Elvis impersonators. Today’s tribute acts are polished performers with dedicated fans, some worldwide. Groups like Classic Albums Live and the UK’s Classic Rock Show sell out venues internationally, offering fans the rock-and-roll magic of AC/DC without the guarantee of tinnitus.
Classic rock fans are trading dive bars for rib fests, theatres, and microbreweries. They prefer a civilized experience, with Sweet Home Alabama, and BBQ brisket on a bun. The Practically Hip, Toronto’s long-running Tragically Hip tribute, sold out four nights at Chudleigh’s Farm. Meanwhile, municipal theatres across Ontario are cashing in—the Fergus Grand Theatre hosted 20 classic rock tribute acts in 2024 alone.
Tributes may be unlikely saviours, but in a way, they’re keeping classic rock alive by bringing an authentic rock show to a picky, aging fanbase.
For now.
Ramble On, One Last Time
Of course, nothing lasts forever. That’s where this started. Audiences will dwindle. Some of my musician peers are already pivoting—retirement homes are their final gig frontier. Sounds like a bad joke but think again. Where else are the classic rock faithful going to end up? Rocking assisted-living residences could be the next cover band business model.
Still, many of us will play on, rocking till we drop. For all the industry shifts, there’s something sacred about live music—the roar of a vintage Les Paul, the ecstatic communion of a band and audience.
But with 2035 looming, survival will require change. Venues must adapt earlier showtimes, family-friendly atmospheres, and events that bridge generations. Fans can’t take live music for granted. Every ticket purchased, every local band supported, keeps the spirit alive that much longer.
Is live, classic rock on life support? Definitely maybe. But like vinyl has,
it could come back around again. Some earnest music nerds might resurrect it, craving a pre-AI, pre-Auto-Tune, authentically musical world.
My new mantra? Play on. Start earlier, turn it down, and pass the Advil—because my back’s killing me.