Head of communication and ticketing at La Maroquinerie, Léa Gutton doesn’t come from a family of record store owners. Her earliest memories involve a turntable left by her grandfather in a basement, afternoons listening to Claude François with her sister, then the soundtracks of Marie-Antoinette and Into the Wild played on repeat. She held a guitar for a year in middle school, no more.
She discovered the scene in ninth grade during an internship at Rock School Barbey in Bordeaux. Then came the Enlace Records label in Lille, À Gauche de la Lune, where she learned discipline, then the independent label Délicieuse Musique, where she was the first employee. A stint at Krakatoa, a contemporary music venue near Bordeaux, preceded three years at Pedro Booking in Paris as head of communication and ticketing. There she encountered rap tours and large venues, up to La Fève at the Adidas Arena.
Today, she carries the image of a venue hosting nearly 280 shows per year, with February sometimes seeing 25 concerts in 28 days. In this episode of Tales, Léa details a job where ticketing is increasingly important, how to tell the story of a place that also lives through its bar and terrace, the fragility of discovery concerts and the concentration of the sector. She also tells about a Deki Alem concert with no phones raised, and the Danish venue in Ebeltoft, funded by its residents, that makes her dream.
Léa Gutton - Head of communication and ticketing at La Maroquinerie
The Tales interview
If you go back as far as possible, what are your earliest musical memories?
My earliest memories are quite scattered. Looking back, I realize it’s all connected. My grandfather, who passed away, had left a turntable in my grandmother’s basement. My sister and I spent hours listening, mostly to Claude François.
There are also soundtracks that really marked me. The soundtrack of Marie-Antoinette by Sofia Coppola, for example, I bought it and listened to it on repeat. And Into the Wild by Eddie Vedder as well.
Was your family environment musical?
My parents listened to albums, yes, but nothing more. I remember Playing the Angel by Depeche Mode, or Manu Chao. But it wasn’t a house full of records, nor a very present musical culture day to day. Even at my grandparents’, it wasn’t a topic.
How did your path build from those memories to today?
My first ninth-grade internship was at Rock School Barbey, a bit by chance. It was my first experience in this scene, and for a middle schooler, it was super exciting to discover behind the scenes. I think I fantasized a lot about this world at that age.
Then I did an internship thanks to Joffrey Mirou, who had the Enlace Records label in Lille. It was quite free, quite fun, without too many constraints. My first real structuring experience was at À Gauche de la Lune, with Perrine Chevalon as mentor. There, I learned discipline and doing a job well.
After that, I joined Délicieuse Musique for my final internship. Since it’s an independent label, you quickly have to be very versatile. I was lucky to be the first employee, which allowed me to touch many things: publishing, management, distribution.
Then there was Krakatoa, where I spent a very intense year on a human level. I really found a family there, with a focus on the audience. Then I joined Pedro Booking in Paris, which was a real springboard and an extremely formative experience.
You moved around a lot geographically.
Yes, a bit. Bordeaux, Lille, Paris… I also spent some time in Budapest thanks to Délicieuse Musique, working remotely. That’s part of the journey.
When did you realize music would become more than a passion?
I think it really became clear at Délicieuse Musique. I felt naturally in my place, surrounded by people with whom I shared the same values and musical tastes.
At À Gauche de la Lune, it was a bit harder, because it was my first real experience. You arrive less prepared, often in small teams, with a heavy workload. It’s a first test to see if you’re cut out for it or not.
Did you play music yourself?
I played guitar for a year in eighth grade, and I stopped very quickly.
In music, personal and professional life are often closely linked. What’s your take on that?
In this scene, you quickly become friends with the people you work with. That can be very positive, but also a bit risky, because the boundary between work and personal life disappears.
I was lucky that it went pretty well, and that it was a real support. But I think it’s important to also keep relationships outside this scene, so you don’t stay in a permanent in-group.
At Pedro Booking, what was your role?
I was communications and ticketing manager for three years. My job was to define communication strategies for the tours and dates we produced, but also to defend the image of the organization.
You were in direct contact with the artists?
Yes, either directly with them, or very often with their managers, depending on their level of support.
Today, at La Maroquinerie, what are your responsibilities?
I am in charge of communications and ticketing. Ticketing takes up an increasingly important part: sales launches, stock monitoring, quota management. I also support the producers, especially those who are not always comfortable with sales tools.
The specificity of La Maroquinerie is that there are a lot of rentals: the producers are quite autonomous. So my role is also to support them on communication when the attendance is struggling, and to defend the venue's image within the ecosystem.
La Maroquinerie is an iconic venue. How do you work on this heritage?
It is primarily the work of the programmer, Xavier Decleire. On my side, I focus on continuing to convey this image through communication, especially on social media and on the visual aspect.
It's a big project. The graphic charter, for example, deserves to be reconsidered to be more in line with the spirit of the place. There is also work to be done on the posters, without plastering the whole city, but by being more visible.
What does communicating for a venue today mean?
It means telling the story of the atmosphere and the people who bring the place to life. La Maroquinerie is not just a concert hall. There is the bar-restaurant, the terrace, the people who arrive early, who stay after, who talk about the concert.
There is no rush. It is a meeting place, supported by a team very involved in hospitality. It is all these people who give the place a soul.
What is your view on venue attendance today?
It is quite particular. Some artists fill venues in seconds thanks to their community. However, the discovery part has become more complicated. People know more and more precisely what they want to see.
At La Maroquinerie, there are always regulars, but many audiences come primarily for a specific artist. For more discovery-oriented formats, like the Nuits de l'Alligator festival, attendance drops are observed, especially among younger audiences.
Are there fewer bands and more solo artists?
I don't fully agree. At La Maroquinerie, I don't see a disappearance of bands. However, rap has taken a huge place in recent years, and it is a world where solo projects are more numerous, even if some then develop very well-constructed live shows.
What has changed the most in how artists are discovered?
The tools have evolved a lot, especially with social media and TikTok. When I arrived in this field, TikTok did not exist. I really felt a generation gap working with younger people, especially at Pedro Booking.
It was very enriching because they brought new ideas and real complementarity. But TikTok does not work for all profiles. In rap, it is very effective. In rock or pop aesthetics, you need a very strong identity, otherwise you just follow trends without building a real community.
How do you see the evolution of the Parisian nightlife and current music?
Attendance remains good, depending on the styles. However, more discovery concerts are harder to fill. We also observe a drop in subsidies in SMACs and a concentration of the sector, with groups like Live Nation or AEG taking up a lot of space.
This makes survival more complicated for independent producers.
After seeing so many concerts, do you get tired of it?
I wouldn't say you get tired, but you become more demanding. The magic is rarer, but when it happens, it is all the stronger. You become aware of all the work behind a concert: the scenography, sound, lighting.
A live moment that recently struck you?
Deki Alem at La Maroquinerie, in December. What struck me was an audience dancing, moshing, without phones held up. Just raw energy and a real exchange between the artists and the venue. It did me a lot of good.
People were dancing, moshing, really watching the artists. There was raw energy, a very strong exchange between the stage and the audience. It did me a lot of good.
I'm not against keeping memories, and I understand that it is part of today's habits, but I find it important to also preserve those moments when you accept to record nothing, just be there, fully. That's often when the magic really happens.
If you could become communications director of any venue in the world?
Ebeltoft, in Denmark, at the Maltfabriken. The locals financed the place through a huge crowdfunding, there are artist residencies facing the sea, concerts, a participatory brewery. It's a living ecosystem, driven by very strong values.
And an artist you'd go on tour with?
Sad Night Dynamite. Their world is very polished, very coherent. I think it must be really fun to work with them on the road.
