Dizgo Taught Me More About Business Than Bands—And Not in a Good Way

Dizgo's Manager Had Me Thrown Out of the Pickle Barrel for this (never before seen photo)

My friend Justin said I'd never get upstairs at the Pickle Barrel Nightclub.....

or I'd of not tried

I mean they sold like 15 tickets, I'm not saying that's because of their manager ignoring my epic organic strategy........

But before all this?

I being hired by Dizgo's investor, I had already written two pretty epic blogs for the band—both tied to their Dharma Bums event. For free and for fun.

And guess what?

Those blogs?
They sold tickets.
A lot of tickets.

It wasn’t theory.
It wasn’t “vibes.”
It was proof of concept.

Fans showed up.
Merch sold out.
The event buzzed harder than most campaigns they’d tried before.

That’s when their investor reached out to me personally.

Wanted more writing.
Wanted more strategy.
And he was all in on what I’d built.

We talked.
He nodded along.
Told me he was excited.
Then?

He passed me off to the same manager who couldn’t pick up a call if it came gift-wrapped in VIP passes.

All that strategy.
All that momentum.
Handed to a gatekeeper who couldn’t gatekeep their inbox, never mind their brand.

What Nef Taught Me About Gatekeeping—and My New List of Hard No’s

This was the moment Nef’s hip hop lessons smacked me sideways.

In the hip hop world, gatekeepers can make or break you.
But the smart ones open the door strategically.
The bad ones?
They lock it, lose the key, and forget the address.

Dizgo’s management?
Textbook bad gatekeeper.

They wasted the work.
They ghosted the strategy.
They fumbled the asset flywheel before it even had a chance to spin.

But I walked away with a stack of lessons and a list of hard no’s:

• No more working with teams who don’t control their own doors.

• No more chasing down managers who can’t handle a breakfast meeting.

• No more handing playbooks to leaders who don’t respect the time, the data, or the mission.

Dizgo’s music might still be flawless.
But their business?
It taught me exactly who I will not work with again.

And that’s the kind of clarity that no band, no jam, no investor can ever buy.

Dizgo?
One of the most talented, hardworking, fan-loving bands I’ve ever been around.

Their sound? Flawless.
Their crowd work? Generous.
Their shows? Built like machines.

But what they taught me?
Had nothing to do with the stage.

It had everything to do with the business behind the band.

And it damn near made me quit working with artists altogether.

You Can’t Outplay Bad Management

It started at the same Brooklyn Bowl Philly show where I first crossed paths with Dogs in a Pile.

That was the night I saw Dizgo for the first time.
That was the night I decided I was all in.

I followed them for five shows straight.
I wrote about it.
I studied them.
I pulled together a 10+ page digital asset strategy.
Laid out how they could retarget their fans, convert merch in smarter ways, own their list, and stop giving Ticketmaster and algorithms the keys to their fanbase.

I built the entire backend playbook to turn their road hustle into a sustainable, scalable asset empire.

They had an investor.
They had hungry artists ready to build.
They had me in the wings.

But they also had a manager who couldn’t return a text.
Wouldn’t show up to breakfast.
Wouldn’t even pretend to follow through.

Ball after ball dropped.

And that, my friends, is when the real lesson punched me in the throat:

You can have the most talented team in the world.
But if the person holding the keys is a clown, the whole circus burns down.

The Real Dizgo Lesson: Guard the Gate—and the Gatekeeper

That’s when I made a decision that reshaped how I do business to this day:

If I wouldn’t let you in my house, I’m sure as hell not letting you into my business.

I’ve done the decks.
I’ve written the blogs.
I’ve crafted the emails.
I’ve sent the texts.

All that strategy?
It’s still sitting in my files.
Never used.
Never responded to.

You can reference the work:

• The tour marketing breakdown, where I mapped out their touring flywheel

• The SEO-first fan funnel plan that laid out how they could turn live footage into a 24/7 merch machine
  All of it—ghosted.

What I Learned (And Why I Won’t Make That Mistake Again)

Dizgo taught me the hard way:

• If the gatekeeper is weak, the castle falls.

• You can’t build assets for people who don’t value the work.

• No strategy will save you if the leadership refuses to pick up the phone.

That’s why today?
I don’t chase anymore.
I don’t write decks for ghosts.
I don’t build systems for artists who don’t respect the work, the data, or the people.

If your manager’s a liability?
I’m out.
Because I’ve seen what happens when a bad manager kills a band’s future before the crowd even knows the difference.

And for those reading this thinking “Damn, Mark sounds bitter.”
Nah.
I’m grateful.

Because Dizgo taught me a lesson most business owners pay millions to learn too late:

Your biggest risk isn’t the market.
It’s the person you let answer the phone.