Picture the lights going down at the show you’ve been counting down the days to. The crowd roars, the first notes ring out, and the first thing you see is a wall of glowing rectangles. As someone who would happily spend every dollar on concert tickets, I love live music more than almost anything. But concert culture has shifted in a big way, and I can’t stop noticing it. Phones are a double-edged sword and I think it’s time we talked about it.
Artists Are Performing For Screens
Recently I saw a TikTok of Olivia Rodrigo meeting fans at the barricade, and it stuck with me. She reached for the crowd, and all she got back was a cluster of phones shoved into her face, almost knocking out a tooth. Those moments are supposed to be the best parts of a show. How lucky are you to be face-to-face with your favorite singer? Except you actually chose to be face-to-phone instead. Artists used to be able to look out at a crowd and really see the people who made their dreams a reality. Now many of them are looking at a sea of glowing blue light, like they bought obstructed view tickets to their own performance.
I can’t imagine how frustrating that must be. You pour your heart into a production, only to find that the excited faces you hoped would smile back at you are instead reduced to circular cameras, with thousands of people watching from their beds through a shaky TikTok livestream. The crowd loses something too. When you’re hunting for the perfect angle, the night becomes less about enjoying the music and more about the social media post for the next morning. Some people even take it a step further, and will set up a tripod and a ring light to film themselves singing and dancing, literally turning the concert into their content shoot.
I Love That You Know The Lyrics, But Let’s Be Mindful
Singing along is half the fun of a concert. But there’s a difference between joining in and scream-singing so loudly that nobody can hear the person they actually paid to see. With all the peace and love in the world, I didn’t spend my entire paycheck to hear your own personal rendition of the song. I’ve also noticed people shouting at the worst possible moments, like during a quiet, emotional song when the whole room is trying to feel something together. One loud, off-key comment can break that moment for everyone nearby. The same goes for when an artist is trying to have a genuine conversation with the crowd, only to be interrupted by someone shouting at them or borderline catcalling.
A BreakDown Of Basic Consideration
Every concert runs on a tiny unspoken agreement; we’re all sharing the same patch of floor, and we all want the same thing — a great night. Most of the time, the crowd keeps up its end of the deal. But in a packed room, little things add up fast: a phone held high for an entire song, a sign raised right in front of the person behind, a shove toward the barricade. I’ve even had my water bottle knocked right out of my hands by people pushing through the venue. Nobody means any harm. Everyone’s just chasing their own perfect moment, and forgetting that the person behind them is chasing one too. A venue is a home we all borrow for one night, and the nicest thing we can do is leave it feeling like everyone’s.
The mess people leave behind is just as bad. At outdoor shows especially, the ground can end up covered in cups, wrappers, and other trash once the crowd clears out, and someone has to deal with it. The venue floor is not a trash can. Walking into a show shouldn’t mean leaving basic consideration at the gate.
I’m Not A Cop
Before this turns into a lecture, I should say I’ve done my share of filming too. I’ve recorded videos at shows and posted multiple pictures on my Instagram story. If you’ve paid for a ticket, enjoy the night however you like, but be mindful of concert etiquette and why it exists in the first place: to make sure everyone can have the best experience possible. And while phones have had some negative effects on the concert experience, they aren’t a big bad villain. Social media lets fans connect in real time, share news about what’s happening at a show, and find a community of people who love the same artist. That shift toward active participation has also made concerts feel more dynamic and welcoming. People feel free to dance, sing, and have a great time without worrying about being judged. I love re-watching my videos from amazing shows and getting to relive the moment.
But the edge cuts both ways. Think about the camera roll graveyard we all have, the folder of blurry, bass-distorted chorus clips we filmed with total confidence and have never watched again. And that same real-time sharing means setlists, surprise songs, and stage secrets are often posted before the show is even over. Plenty of fans walk in already knowing exactly what’s coming. We’ve gotten so good at documenting concerts that we’re losing the mystery of them.
My First Phone-Free Show
This brings me to the phone-free Phoebe Bridgers concert I went to on Oct. 7. I remember more from that night than from any other show I’ve been to. Walking in knowing nothing was part of the thrill. I had no idea what the stage would look like or what the night would hold. It made it feel so special, like everyone in the room was in on the same secret, and the memory lives only within the people who were there to witness it.
Going phone-free also let Bridgers be vulnerable with us. Her album Lost Weekend is about grief, including the loss of her father, and at the show she could talk about that deeply personal experience without worrying that every word would be clipped and blasted across social media. That made the experience feel raw and honest, like she was confiding in a room full of people she trusted. I think artists can only open up that much when they know the room is truly theirs.
I didn’t have to worry about the perfect angle or the right lighting either, and it felt like an online detox. Instead, a lot of us brought paper and pencil to document it. We jotted down the setlist and sketched the stage design. That’s such a beautiful and cherished keepsake I get to have now, and it connected fans to each other in a way a camera roll never could. Seeing so many people’s drawings was far more special than scrolling past a hundred posts of the same photo from a hundred different angles.
The wait was different too. There was no doomscrolling before Bridgers came on. I got to sit and talk with friends I hadn’t seen in a while who go to different schools and I even met some of the fans around me. It was also just better from a visual standpoint. When you glance around a room where nobody is filming, you can see exactly how in the moment everyone is.
The Takeaway
I’m not planning to quit my phone altogether, since I’d be lying if I said I’d never take another video. But I’m going to be a lot more mindful about it. Maybe that means one quick clip of my favorite song, then the phone goes back in my pocket for the rest of the night. Maybe it means bringing a little pen and notepad to future shows.
The best souvenir from a concert might not be a perfect video, but a memory you can hold onto long after the music ends, along with a feeling that’s yours to keep forever.