By Jason M. Rubin

An invaluable way to see live music: one that provides funds to artists who really need it and to the smaller venues that not only deserve support but that also drive business in the local community.

Beverly MA’s Cabot Theater — it and other local venues offer intimate concert experiences.

I don’t want to tell you how and where to spend your entertainment dollars, but consider this: Post Malone doesn’t need your money. Neither do Stevie Nicks, Hozier, or Katy Perry, all of whom are coming to our local (if you can call Foxboro local) sports arenas, with ticket prices typically well in the three-figure range. Now, every commercially successful artist is welcome to their spoils, and if the market can bear it (even during a bear market), far be it from me to critique. But I am, because my entertainment dollars are few, and many a dazzling concert opportunity is passing me by purely for financial reasons (keep in mind that a concert includes parking, dinner, merch, and concessions, which can easily double the ticket price).

And yet I’m not complaining. Really, I’m not. Because rather than feel abused by the big-ticket concert system, I am enjoying my own way of seeing live music, one that provides funds to artists who really need it and to the smaller venues that not only deserve support but that also drive business in the local community.

Sure, a big concert at TD Garden means good business for shops and restaurants near North Station, but the Garden hosts two professional sports teams that reliably (though not always) make it to the postseason, providing many opportunities throughout the year to sell expensive beer in plastic cups. Other venues are not as lucky. Lynn Auditorium and Medford’s Chevalier Theater each seat about 2,000 people for concerts, compared to 19,580 at the Garden and nearly 66,000 at Gillette Stadium. If you want an even more intimate experience, consider the Cabot Theater in Beverly, which seats 850, or The Plough and Stars in Cambridge, which holds (often a bit uncomfortably) 60.

These smaller venues attract top-notch talent and are typically situated in the midst of small businesses that really see an uptick when there’s a show in town. If you want a seat at El Tacuba in Medford on a night when the Chevalier is hosting a concert, you might need to make a reservation a week or two in advance. On other nights, business isn’t as strong. (Chevalier is currently closed for a month for renovations and our server at El Tacuba admitted it has had an effect on their business.) Clearly, the Chevalier doesn’t just provide entertainment for people coming in from out of town; the venue pumps dollars into the local community as well. The Cabot is walking distance to a number of great restaurants; on a show night, the whole street is lit up and alive in a way it wouldn’t be if the Cabot was closed (as it was from 2012 to 2014).

It’s not just music, either. The 556-seat Loeb Drama Center, home of American Repertory Theater performances, benefits from being on the edge of Harvard Square, where there is always foot traffic and every eatery is packed. But just 11 miles north of there, the 350-seat Greater Boston Stage Company (née Stoneham Theater) offers exceptional entertainment for less money, and nearby restaurants like Fusion Taste and Rang’s are buzzing when there’s a show. We ate at Fusion Taste recently before seeing the hilarious The Play That Goes Wrong, and all down the row of tables in which we sat I heard someone in each party tell their waitress that they had a seven o’clock curtain to make.

I’m not saying small venues in small communities are in dire financial straits and need our charity (though the way things are going we might get there). What I’m saying is that they deserve our support BECAUSE they bring excellent shows to somewhat-out-of-the-way places and provide livelihoods to artists who have yet to make the big time or who comfortably command a crowd of 100 or less with no diminution of quality or integrity. When I go see an artist at The Plough, for example, or Sally O’Brien’s in Union Square, Somerville, I not only get a great show at an attractive price (often $0 to $15), more often than not I’m able to stride right up to the artist at set break and talk to them. No expensive VIP packages required. You’re not just a faceless blur in a crowd in a large hall where it’s dark except for the stage lights; the artist can look you in the eye, learn your name, shake your hand, and thank you for coming. I don’t know how to quantify that, but in my mind it’s a far, far better deal than seeing Post Malone — whose aptly named concert venture, “The BIG ASS Stadium Tour,” hits Gillette on May 31 — with 66,000 other people whose names he will never know.

Look, I’m 62 years old. I don’t like standing for two hours. I don’t like being in a huge crowd of potential germ-spreaders. And I don’t like shows that go until midnight. I also don’t like supporting the fee-crazed event ticket industry, which might be the last bastion of organized crime in the US. So, rather than fight it, I’m going the other way, by promoting a symbiotic arts ecosystem populated by intimate shows that are more affordable and less of a hassle to attend; where local or medium-draw artists can ply their trade and get paid for it; and where local businesses benefit from the influx of arts patrons. It’s a big win for all stakeholders.

Jason M. Rubin has been a professional writer for 40 years. He has written for The Arts Fuse since 2012. His books include Villainy Ever After (2022), a collection of classic fairy tales told from the villains’ point of view; and Ancient Tales Newly Told (2019), a pairing of two historical romances: The Grave & The Gay, based on a 17th-century English folk ballad, and King of Kings, about King Solomon and the Queen of Sheba, told primarily from the Ethiopian tradition. In addition, Jason teaches journaling workshops and is a member of the New England Indie Authors Collective. He holds a BA in Journalism from the University of Massachusetts Amherst. He can be reached at http://www.jasonmrubin.com.