OPINION: Venue Food Prices Are Out of Control (And We’re Still Hungry)

I have a shirt idea!:

“I wanted to see Devin Townsend, and all I got was debt from pizza and beer.”

Okay look, I’m not blind to what’s going on in the world today. Inflation is on the rise, and everything—from groceries to artery-killer foods—are becoming more and more expensive. I know this. I work in news broadcasting, afterall...

… That being said, if I wanted to spend $32 on beer, I would’ve bought a six-pack from the LCBO.

This isn’t some exaggerated story either—it actually happened when I went to see Devin Townsend this past May with my buddy Collin (Thrashers Paradise, Influencers of Metal). We’d just finished a day of podcast recording and wanted to get there early enough to snag a good spot on the floor—ideally right up near the stage. So we hopped on the train without eating. No time for a drive-thru, and I hadn’t done groceries yet.

But hey, no big deal. We got to the Queen Elizabeth Theatre, found a solid spot, grabbed some Devin Townsend merch—and hit the concession stand for food and drink. The lovely folks running it were offering up tall cans of beer and what looked like fresh-made pizza for us meatheads waiting to mosh to prog.

…Two cans of Belgian beer: $32.

Two slices of pizza: $20.

And these weren’t mega-slices either—think "barely above frozen pizza" territory.

In total, $52 for concessions. And we were still kinda hungry.

That’s not even counting the $55 each we dropped on t-shirts.

To be clear, this isn’t a knock on the staff. And I’m not saying the venue sucked because of this—honestly, I’d go back if the band’s worth it. But high concession prices at bigger concert venues and theaters have been a thing for years, even before inflation became the headliner.

I’ll admit—I went into this expecting to rant, whine, and verbally suplex these venues over a cash register. (And I still might.) But I also used to work at a movie theater, so I get the basic logic behind expensive concessions.

It’s a cocktail of operating costs, staffing, licensing, and in some cases, deliberately jacking up alcohol prices to avoid having 20 wasted metalheads spinning in circles in the pit. And those are fair reasons, to a point.

But let’s not pretend that’s the whole story.

Some of it is just greedy price-gouging. In most large venues, you have very few refreshment options. Sports stadiums might give you a few stands if you’re willing to walk, but they’re still limited to the brands sponsoring the space. If you’re at the Rogers Centre seeing Metallica, congrats—you’re drinking whatever beer Molson paid to be there.

In theaters, it’s worse. Usually one lonely concession stand and maybe a small bar. No competing options. No advertised sponsorships. And definitely no outside food allowed.

That last one sucks especially hard. Even small local venues sometimes ban outside food, usually for sanitary reasons. (That was the policy at the theater I worked at—we didn’t know what people were bringing in, and allergies or contamination could be an issue.) Fair enough. But the side effect is a captive audience being charged $10 for a sad pretzel.

From a business perspective, I get it. You gotta keep the lights on, pay your staff, cover maintenance… fine. But when you start selling beer at triple its actual value and offer food that wouldn't pass a gas station health inspection, you’re not just covering costs—you’re squeezing fans dry. And that’s what kills the vibe for a lot of people.

Will this ever change? Probably not. As long as fans keep filling pits and singing along at the top of their lungs, venues will find ways to profit off the essentials.

And to be clear—if you love a venue, support it! But support it smartly. Don’t let them play you like a fool with overpriced pepperoni.

But if you want to avoid paying an arm and a leg to not have your stomach growl louder than the singer, here’s my advice:

Eat before you go. Not to sneak it in—just plan ahead. Leave earlier, hit a nearby Tim Hortons or burrito spot, fill up, then head to the venue. If Collin and I had done that, we wouldn’t have dropped $52 on glorified party food, and we’d have had more cash for the merch table.

And if you’re on a tight budget and really want to see Blind Guardian without selling a kidney? Eat at home. Hydrate before you leave. Accept that you might not be drinking at the show, but hey—you’ll still remember it the next day.

But don’t let the prices get too stupid. Charging $20 for two thin, burnt slices of pizza? Feels like a declaration of war on fat guys everywhere.