Editor: Maira Hammad
Early in October, I was lucky enough to attend a dream concert of mine–Phoebe Bridgers–at the Scotiabank Arena in Toronto. For years, I’d dreamed about what seeing Phoebe live would be like. What Instagram-worthy outfit would I wear? Which songs would I capture on video? Which songs were worth ditching my phone for to enjoy the moment?
After securing my tickets earlier this year and discovering that Phoebe Bridgers’ Lost Tour was “phone-free,” many of these futile questions faded away. Upon entering the venue, phones of attendees were immediately placed into Yondr pouches by event staff, alongside all other electronics (which even included my Fitbit!). Although The Lost Tour has largely popularized the Yondr pouch, these magnetic-locking fabric pouches have been creating phone-free environments for years.
Many social media users have been resistant to Bridgers’ phone-free approach, worrying that personal emergencies might require phone use; however, “unlocking stations” located near exits on every level of seating ensure complete safety during Bridgers’ shows.
The pre-show buzz of fans talking with their neighbours, the absolute darkness of the room, the resonance of the lighting, and everyone singing and dancing their hearts out made me feel as though I were transported back in time. I called my dad after the concert to report back on the experience, and told him how astonishing it was to see fans holding lighters up in the air during Bridgers’ hits such as “Scott Street” or “Moon Song.” He laughed it off, telling me this was typical of concerts before cellphones were shipped with integrated flashlights.
This interaction got me thinking about how omnipresent our cellphones really are.
How many times have you recorded footage or taken photos to curate an Instagram story, only to never revisit them in the depths of your camera roll? How many moments have been occluded because we’ve been too distracted trying to capture the most aesthetic angle?
My intention in writing this is not to join the never-ending stream of people harping that “phones are ruining our lives”; rather, I want people to open their camera roll and reconsider the storage being taken up uselessly by concerts. All the effort wasted when you could have been singing your heart out instead.
My screen time is no better than yours, but I think events like this—where attendees are forced to put their phones away and appreciate both the moment and each other—might be what our social-media-curated culture needs to reinforce genuine reconnection. I, and many of Bridgers’ fans, are so happy to have been able to experience this special tour, and the experience was only strengthened by our collective disconnect.
There may not be a single pixel of footage from the night, but I don’t need a video to remind me of how I felt holding hands with my best friend while singing our hearts out to “Graceland Too.”
The next time you’re torn between capturing a moment in film or feeling it fully in a way no one could ever know, I recommend the latter (and I promise you, someone else will have recorded your favourite song for your viewing on TikTok anyways). :)