Maybe my excitement for the Phoebe Bridgers concert at TD Garden in Boston stemmed from her being a constant presence in my music shuffle since I was 14. Or maybe it was because the tour as a whole has been incredibly elusive, with the details being guarded secrets, accessible only to the lucky few attending the shows.
Back in May, Bridgers began a pilgrimage across the Midwest with a series of 17 concerts in which she would announce just hours before the performance. It was the opposite of a marketing campaign, venturing to Ohio, Tennessee, West Virginia, and New Mexico. And yet, as often happens, the internet took hold of Bridgers’ project, synthesizing information about the concerts themselves and where she might appear next. Websites like www.phoebefieldlogs.com tracked her previous shows and gave fans insight into where she would likely play next within a 50-mile radius.
The project’s swan song came in early June with a concert at Madison Square Garden in New York City, where tickets were randomly distributed for just $1.
But there was a catch: each concertgoer received a Yondr pouch, a fabric pocket meant to secure phones and other devices, with a closure that only a specialized magnet could unclasp. Along with the absence of phones, Bridgers prohibited cameras, smartwatches, and other electronic devices.
As a result, no footage of the one-night-only performance appeared online, no tangible, technological proof of the night.
So what came out of it? Very little internet noise. Perhaps the opposite of what any artist would want before announcing a new album, as Bridgers did just weeks after the conclusion of the concerts for her third studio album, ”Lost Weekend.”
In the months that followed the album’s release — a tender, complex narrative about love, loss, and personal evolution — and the subsequent tour, a new kind of publicity had generated in its own right.
The 35 city tour, also following the no-tech initiative, is a triumph of Bridgers’ own vulnerability, a combination of her 3 albums that creates a multifaceted setlist that resembles a narrative similar to that of “Lost Weekend” — the story of Bridgers’ life as she parses through the fallout of past relationships, moving forward through fame, life, and finding new love.
During the concert itself, Bridgers’ unique vocals are accompanied by a dizzying array of strobe lights, unrivaled camera work, and visuals.
There was a joke online that the Lost Tour concert was indescribable, and that people who went to see it would pretentiously claim no concert like it existed—much to my chagrin, I have to agree.
Bridgers felt entirely in control, the audience hanging on to every last note. As a new instrumental kicked off the next song, the audience roared its approval. It was all classics from her previous two albums, “Motion Sickness,” “Garden Song,” “Georgia,” and“I Know the End,” in addition to most of the songs from the new album. Her signature moon motif—a backdrop to many songs—worked hand in hand with the music.
Setting aside Bridgers’ crooning her discography for the arena to hear and the unparalleled stage setup, the dynamic energy of the audience at the Garden proved to be perhaps the most unique quality of the night.
In the audience, hands were empty, no faces covered or lit up by screens; instead, they were electrified by the rainbow strobe light that glided across the area with a kind of tranquility. Friends clutched friends, tears streaming down their faces in reverence as Bridgers sang the night’s surprise song, “Killer.”
During the final song of the night, “Scott Street,” a white light illuminated the arena. As Bridgers sang the infamous lyrics “Anyway, don’t be a stranger,” the crowd swayed in unison, arms waving high across the venue.
A quiet, unshowy sense of community filled the area. It was not about the picture or the video; it was about the music, about Bridgers, about the audience’s connection to each other.
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