On Sept. 14, I stepped inside Indianapolis’ Gainbridge Fieldhouse — typically a basketball arena, temporarily a concert stadium — with my friends. Together, we anxiously prepared to have our phones locked inside magnetized bags for the next six hours with no idea of what to expect. It was opening night of Phoebe Bridgers’ “Lost Tour,” and there was a palpable excitement stemming from the gathered crowd.
An indie singer-songwriter, Phoebe Bridgers gained popularity around 2019 from her songs “Motion Sickness” and “Kyoto.” Her atmospheric and visceral persona, along with her lyricism, resonated deeply with teenagers and young adults beginning to understand the world. “Kyoto,” for example, describes a dysfunctional familial relationship set to an upbeat melody, providing a catchy and identifiable theme for her listeners.
I became a fan of Bridgers as an angsty sixth grader and have even dressed as her for Halloween. When she released music with her friends and fellow artists Lucy Dacus and Julien Baker as the supergroup “boygenius,” I immediately attached myself to the music. Similarly, with the release of “Lost Weekend,” Bridgers’ newest album, I devoured the songs. I am such a huge fan.
This trip to Indianapolis was extensively planned down to our outfits for the concert. The perfect opportunity fell into our laps to execute a deep-cut reference I was sure would get attention: a Saturday Night Live (SNL) skit featuring “boygenius” dancing in matching outfits. I had spent so much time thinking about the minutiae of the concert, but had never considered how my experience would change by having my phone physically removed from the situation. I expected it to be slightly annoying, but as it was locked away, I began to notice and internalize the experience better.
Here are a few of my favorite things I noticed:
No Phones
The concept of a phone-free show felt ambitious, considering that it was also a different and new experience many in my generation have not encountered. However, the moment my phone was removed I began to feel the anxiety I have previously felt at concerts diminish. The worry of conserving my phone battery for videos of my favorite songs and safety left my mind: it was literally in a bag with no way to lose power.
We had upper-bowl seats, giving my friends and I a wide view of the stadium. From this perspective, I also began to notice the true effect that the lack of screens had on the crowd. In a cliché, almost redundant way, people started talking more. With nothing to do but wait, people discussed their predictions or talked about the stage to one another.
Similarly, during the show’s opening act — Alex G, an indie singer-songwriter — I noticed that the engagement the crowd had talking to their neighbors translated to immersing themselves in the music. Although I personally did not know many of his songs, I found myself paying closer attention to the set as well. In my experience, opening acts often seem subjected to a visible lack of respect from a distracted audience anticipating the main event — myself included — but this screenless crowd acted differently.
At previous shows I have attended where phones were allowed, concertgoers did talk with one another, but a sense of preoccupation existed within the crowd. The time spent waiting for the music to start was often spent scrolling through social media or taking pictures: physically present, yet mentally elsewhere. In the absence of technology, the community became part of my experience.
Spaceships, Lasers, and Screens
As someone with little knowledge of the technical aspects of live music, I never had much reason to pay attention to the lighting or stage design.
This show changed that fact. Before the show, my friends and I speculated on the mechanics of the stage, which included a massive, white half-dome structure. My bet was that it would split in half. Another guess was that it would rise in the air and spin, but no one in my group was entirely correct. Instead, the dome became a floating half-circle turned on its side, instantly reminiscent of a UFO. This coincides with how Bridgers frequently uses space-themed imagery in her music, merchandise and visual media. The UFO felt characteristic of her brand and established an otherworldly atmosphere within the venue that felt tangible.
Additionally, there were multi-colored lasers and mood lighting that I realized communicated their own message. The lights would change colors before each song or section of the setlist with corresponding order: bluish-green, deep red and a grayish-blue for each of Bridgers’ album covers. If I had had my phone, I might have dismissed these lights as “cool,” but instead I felt giddy from noticing the pattern and realized how special it made the arena feel.
The Performance
I frequently attend concerts and consider myself a ‘fangirl’ of many artists, meaning that shows can start to blend together in my mind. This show, however, was as special as I had imagined. I feel it offered me a sense of community I have not felt at other concerts. As the lights dimmed, I saw a group of fans a few rows down embraced in a hug as they watched the stage. It made me look back to my own friends’ overjoyed faces, seeing how music simply brings people together.
Seeing my favorite songs played live on a phone screen is nothing compared to the real thing. Because it was the opening night of the tour, there were no setlist spoilers to overanalyze or get upset over. Instead, everything felt like a surprise, and I could feel the excitement coming from those around me. She played some of my favorites from her catalogue, including “Moon Song,” “Haunted,” “Sidelines” and “I Know The End.” My show’s surprise song was “Georgia,” which was so beautiful live that I am not ashamed to say I shed a few tears.
My Favorite Part
The moment that stood out to me the most was during the last performed song of the show, “Scott Street.” It is a song about reconnecting with people and reminiscing on past actions, which I hold close to my heart. It ends with the lyrics “Anyway, don’t be a stranger.”
As the final chorus began with those lyrics, I began to see movement throughout the audience of people with their arms raised to sway slowly back and forth. Usually, this sentiment would be done with a phone flashlight, which can be pretty, but I found the audience-wide sway more genuine. With the entire arena immersed in the moment together, it felt magical.
Although I have found it hard to communicate what my experience at the “Lost Tour” has meant to me, it has allowed me to make a new commitment to myself. I want to find myself appreciating the little things more often — not just at big events — but everyday. I want to leave my phone in my pocket the next time I attend a concert or during the walks I take outside. I know the sentiment of living in the moment is overstated, but it has a weight I never understood.
I hope this is not my last time seeing Phoebe Bridgers in concert and that I am able to take what I have learned from the experience going forward. My phone has certainly influenced my appreciation of various experiences in my life and I would recommend — whether you have a chance to see the “Lost Tour” or not — that you step away from your phone for a while, just to see just how much you notice.