Get in any photo pit. Go ahead. You’ll see. The same super wide angles from the same darn spot. The same awkward portrait poses. And oh god, the edit trends! Everyone jumps on the same Instagram filter like it’s some kind of holy grail for three months, then on to the next one.

And why? Why are we doing this? Part of it, yeah, is the industry pressure. It’s incessant. Everything’s gotta be FAST. Photographers are squeezed for crazy quick turnarounds, you’ve got that stupid “three songs, no flash” rule handcuffing people, and then clients bless ’em often just want something “safe” because safe is, well, predictable. But then, you’ve also got this thing where photo trends spread like wildfire, just like in music. So everyone ends up chasing the same look. It’s a cycle.

And what are you receiving in return? Photos that, sure, prove you were on stage. Great. But are they stopping traffic as folks scroll past? Are they stirring any sort of feeling? Are they communicating anything about what makes your band unique out of the ten thousand other bands trying to get folks’ attention? Probably not.

Look, I approached it with a fairly straightforward concept: your music images ought to be as bold and individual as your music. They need to strike people, not merely check a box.

So no, I’m not just going to walk in and shove a lens in your face. First, first things? I’ve got to get your music. I mean, get it. What are you? What’s the vibe? What’s the story that you’re telling? Because if I get that, then I can start thinking about pictures that are about who you are, not what you look like with a guitar in your hand.

And I don’t have to be worrying about what’s in this week. My style? That’s derived from making actual choices in terms of how I compose a shot, how I interact with light (or, you know, not interact with it!), how I postprocess it afterwards, all in the service of communicating what we want to communicate. The mission isn’t creating pictures that scream “that’s one of my pictures!” It’s creating pictures that scream, “that’s them! That’s the band!”

And this is the doozy for me: I’m always looking for those in-between moments. The off-guard moments. The real connections. Those sparks that flash when nobody’s “on.” That’s where the gold is, man. A heck of a lot more than in some technically proficient shot that’s absent of heart.

Listen, your followers, all of them, they are bombarded with images online. Hundreds a day. If your images are going to have some thought, some heart in them, if they reveal some truth about you? They will get through. People will not scroll. They’ll remember.

And on top of that, when your visuals match your music, with your story, it just resonates with people on another level. People aren’t stupid; they can smell out BS from a mile away. When the visuals are genuine, it just provides that bond with your fans that little bit more.

This isn’t about pretty photos for your Instagram feed. This is about getting rid of a visual identity that’s 100% you. In a world where everybody’s doing so much to sound different, why on planet earth would you want to look the same?

When I’m working with bands, with artists, with their whole team, even, what I’m enthusiastic about is making it an actual collaboration. I want to understand what you need your pictures to say. What do you need to do? What is the message? Because the good stuff, the great stuff, happens when it’s not merely me taking your picture; it’s when we’re creating something together.

Every musician I work with gets something unique. Your music doesn’t come off the assembly line, so why should your photographs? If you’re more of a folk singer-songwriter type with an acoustic guitar or all-out metal band trying to blow the roof at the end of the day, the intention is always the same: take pictures that, in some way, just feel, totally, completely you.

The internet doesn’t sleep, and neither does the music industry.
Social Media Won’t Wait: Your followers are already looking at Instagram in the parking lot after your show. They have to re-live it while they’re still pumped up from doing so. Miss the moment, and you’re competing with whatever else is happening in their stream.

Press Deadlines Are Real: I’ve dealt with enough music writers to know that they’re usually writing the review with a 1 AM deadline. If you want your pictures in that story, you’d better get them over in a hurry.

Artists Are Human: Bands put everything into a show, and they care how it looks. They want to pass it along, to commemorate it, to utilise it. Stretching, waiting for photos out by three days completely kills that energy.

It isn’t magic, but just a “healthy obsession” with processes. Everything in my workflow is designed to eliminate bottlenecks and downtime.

The Pre-Show Chat: I do talk to bands before shows. Extreme concept, isn’t it? Seriously, though, I need to know what’s most important. Is this for social media? Do you need certain shots for press purposes? Are there sponsors that must be included? This isn’t small talk it affects the way I shoot and what I pay attention to when I’m editing.

Shot Lists That Work: What we talked about, I take headnotes of shots that absolutely must appear. Not a tight script, but priorities. If you mentioned that you needed to have good crowd shots, I’m getting them ready. If there is a guitar solo that always occurs, I’ve got it ready.

Gear That’s Ready to Go: My gear is organised in the style of an F1 pit crew. Several camera bodies, lenses for every possible lighting condition, batteries that are charged when I need them, memory cards that can handle the occasional rapid burst. All tested and ready before I enter the venue.

Shooting Smart, Not Hard: After doing this for so many years, I can read a room. I can sense when the energy’s building, where the good spots are, how to compensate for dreadful venue lighting. I’m not shooting blindly hoping something will work.

Moving On the Fly: In between sets or when we are in slow times, I’m already transferring photographs from cards onto my computer. It isn’t always possible, but when it is, it is a tremendous time saver.

Rating as I Go: If there’s ever any slack time at all during the show, I’m rating those shots quickly as they come in. Five stars for the keepers, one star for the easiest rejections. This saves sorting time later by probably 70%.

Culling Like a Rockstar: I do initial sorts with Photo Mechanic because it’s sodding fast with RAW files. No AI yet, just experience knowing what does and what doesn’t work. I can sort 500 photos in under 10 minutes.

Batch Everything (Except I Don’t): While many photographers rely heavily on batch editing, I rarely do. I aim to get it 90% right in-camera, so most of my final adjustments happen individually in Lightroom. Every shot gets its own attention where it matters because a killer live photo deserves more than a cookie-cutter preset.

Preset Power: I have editing presets for all standard concert lighting scenarios. Red stage wash? There’s a preset for that. Harsh white spotlights? Got it covered with a preset. These aren’t one-size-fits-all solutions, but they’re great starting points that save massive amounts of time.

Metadata on Autopilot: At the time of export, I’m applying captioning, keywords, and copyright information based on templates I’ve created. This matters for searchability and protection, but it has to be done in ways that are not time-consuming.

Equipment That Doesn’t Give Up: high-speed memory cards, pro card readers, a computer that can really process RAW files without complaining. This gear isn’t cheap, but it’s what it takes to deliver this kind of turnaround.

Software That Gets Along: my editing station is optimized for speed. Lightroom for the bulk of my corrections, Photo Mechanic for sorting through, and delivery companies that can handle uploading huge files without timing out.

Upload While You Sleep: Last galleries go online on pro sites where clients download immediately. No waiting for attachment via email or file size limitations.

What This Actually Gets You
Having images back in hours instead of days isn’t just convenient. It opens up possibilities of how you can work.

Strike While It’s Hot: Post those photos while people are still grinning because of your show. Tag the venue, opening bands, the people who were there. That immediate connection is worth so much more than polished photos posted next week.

Real-Life Press Coverage: Music blogs are quick. Feed them great photos the night of the performance, and you’re much more likely to be showcased. Wait three days, and they’ve jumped to the next show.

Keep the Momentum Going: A performance that’s worth its while isn’t done when you exit stage. Having pro-quality photos instantly available keeps that momentum going into your social media, your press kit, your next gig booking pitch.

This is my framework. This pace is not attained by scrambling and hastening the photography itself. When I am in that zone, I am producing, sensing the moment, getting the energy. The pace is realised through all else being so dialled-in that creative work can occur without technical resistance.
This only works, though, when we’re on the same page initially. If I understand what you’re going to need and when you’ll need it, I can structure everything around that. Communication before the show is what keeps things from being “pretty fast” and makes people think “holy shit, how did he do that?”

Timing is everything in music. Having your pictures at hand when folks are still buzzing about your performance isn’t nice to have; it’s a competitive edge. It lets you be in the conversation rather than struggling to catch up to it.
After years of refining this process, I can promise that you’ll have your whole gallery in three hours from the end of your set. Not because I’m cutting corners, but because I’ve stripped away all the junk that doesn’t need to be there. Your photos. Your timeline. Your flow. All protected.