Matthias spent most of his life believing musicians were born with two talents: playing their instrument and getting ripped off. He didn’t mind the small stuff. The promoter forgetting drink tickets. The guitarist “borrowing” a pedal until the end of time. These were usual. But Hamilton one night went beyond the usual. He played a hole in the wall with a dressing room that smelled like apologies. Matteo, the promoter, claimed the ticket machine “glitched,” the bartender claimed no one bought drinks, and the sound guy claimed amnesia. Matthias walked to the van feeling mugged by committee. The anger began to boil as he drove home. The slow kind that bubbles all night and kills sleep. By morning, Matthias invented ten different revenge fantasies, including one with arson. But went to the piano and a riff came, jangly, then a lyric. Corny, but promising. Within an hour he had a finished song: part blues, part courtroom testimony.

He recorded it in his kitchen using a PZM microphone that cost less than the amount he’d been stiffed. He added a background vocal track composed entirely of sarcastic “mm-hmm”s. When he uploaded it, he didn’t expect much. Maybe a few musicians clicking “like” while remembering their own fiscal betrayal incidents. The song took off. Many shared it. Promoters shared it. Even journalists picked it up, “the unofficial national anthem of being screwed over” they wrote. The Ontario Arts Council used it in their festival application video.

Two months later, Matthias returned to the Hammer, this time at a better venue. When he walked on, they yelled for the song. And when he played it, the place roared every time he sang the line, “Pay me what you owe me, or I’ll write you into history.”
The best part was afterward when a sheepish man approached him, sweating, carrying a folded envelope. Matteo handed the envelope over, “I heard the song. I, uh… figured I should square up.” Matthias opened it. Inside, the exact amount he’d been owed, plus a little extra. The magical power of public embarrassment. Matthias tucked it into his jacket, and said, “Don’t worry. You’re only in the bridge, not the chorus.” He walked away feeling lighter than he had in months. Sometimes revenge is a really catchy hook.