The collapse of California’s AB 1720 ticket resale cap bill isn’t just another legislative setback—it’s a microcosm of the broader power struggle between corporate interests and public demand. I’ve spent years watching the live music industry grapple with scalping, and this failure feels like a gut punch. Here’s why: it’s not about tickets anymore. It’s about who controls access to culture, and the answer is increasingly clear—it’s the people with the deepest pockets.
Let’s start with the obvious: StubHub’s $3.4 million lobbying blitz wasn’t just a PR move. It was a calculated effort to weaponize the very system that allows them to exist. I find it fascinating how companies like StubHub frame their existence as a ‘public service,’ yet spend millions to block reforms that would limit their ability to charge exorbitant fees. What makes this particularly galling is the irony that the bill’s original scope was broadened to target the most egregious offenders, only to be watered down by an amendment that neutered its impact. This isn’t just legislative cowardice—it’s a textbook example of how corporate lobbying can rewrite the rules of the game in real time.
Supporters of the bill, from indie venues to headlining artists, argue that scalping has turned live music into a luxury good. But what many people don’t realize is that this isn’t a new problem—it’s a symptom of a broken system. When I speak to small venue owners, they describe a vicious cycle: promoters set artificially low face values to secure big-name acts, then rely on secondary markets to recoup costs. The result? Fans pay $1,000 for a ticket that cost the venue $50. This isn’t just exploitation; it’s a structural flaw that rewards intermediaries while punishing everyone else. And yet, the loudest voices in the room are the ones profiting from the chaos.
The amendment that limited the bill to 3,000-capacity venues is a masterstroke of political engineering. By narrowing the scope, opponents effectively made the bill a non-starter for the majority of high-profile events. But here’s the kicker: even this diluted version would have forced resellers to operate within reasonable margins. What this really suggests is that the industry’s resistance isn’t about practicality—it’s about preserving a status quo where a handful of platforms dictate the terms of access. If you take a step back and think about it, this isn’t just about concerts. It’s about the commodification of shared experiences, where the emotional value of a live event is measured in profit margins.
Meanwhile, states like Maine and Vermont have shown that change is possible. Their success stories raise a deeper question: why can’t California follow suit? The answer lies in the asymmetry of influence. While artists and fans rally around the cause, the lobbying machine behind StubHub and its allies operates with surgical precision. A detail that I find especially interesting is how the bill’s failure was framed as a ‘compromise’—but compromises shouldn’t be used to justify surrender. This isn’t a partisan issue, as Haney rightly pointed out, yet the outcome feels like a capitulation to the loudest voices in the room.
Looking ahead, this isn’t the end of the fight—it’s a pivot. The music industry is already seeing grassroots movements push for blockchain-based ticketing systems, dynamic pricing models, and direct artist-to-fan platforms. What makes this particularly fascinating is the potential for technology to disrupt the existing power structures. If you imagine a future where artists control their own inventory, or where blockchain ensures tickets can’t be resold for more than face value, it’s not science fiction. It’s the next logical step in a battle that’s been brewing for decades.
In the end, the failure of AB 1720 is a reminder that progress isn’t linear. But it’s also a rallying cry. The demand for fair ticketing isn’t going away—it’s growing louder. Whether California will be the next state to act remains to be seen, but one thing is certain: the people who want to see live music won’t stop fighting until they can afford to attend it.
