Phoebe Bridgers’ music holds a special place in my heart; her music carried me through some of the most challenging times I’ve ever gone through. She has a way of making all of my complicated feelings somehow feel so perfectly described, even the ones I barely understood within myself. So, when she announced she was going on tour after a six-year-long hiatus, I knew I had to go.
Phoneless Shows
Phone-free concerts are on the rise this year, and the idea is something that has always interested me. I’m not a big recorder at concerts; I often find myself worrying about whether or not the picture is good, or if I have to be quiet during my favorite parts in order for my voice to not be heard in the background. I start thinking too much about what I’m filming instead of what’s actually in front of me.
I’m sure there are plenty of people who don’t have this worry about either of those things, and I don’t think it’s a bad thing. Maybe it’s a small flaw within myself. It’s nice to look back at old videos, to have your favorite part of a song recorded, or to just have proof that you were there.
But is there such a thing as too much? I noticed while attending this last ACL, there were many people more concerned with getting videos of the trending parts, only acting interested in the show when it’s a song they can film, seemingly enjoying themselves only when it’s something that can be documented. There were plenty of instances in the crowd at ACL where people would take out their phones and record themselves singing and dancing for one part of a song, and then act uninterested for the rest of the performance.
I always wondered what a concert with no phones would look like, especially Phoebe’s; would there be a difference?
There Was
Phoebe Bridgers’ show was unimaginable. The Lost Tour definitely perfectly describes the way the concert experience feels, like you’re stepping into another world and you don’t know where to go. There is no other choice but to be present, and that makes the whole concert something you can’t forget. The visuals of the tour were incredible, with lights shooting everywhere almost like shooting stars. Planets and stars move across the screen above Phoebe, like we’re all traveling through space with her.
My favorite part of the show is when she moves to the B-stage, a UFO light shines above her, and as she sings slowly, it seems like it’s capturing her. Pink and blue glitter looks like it’s raining down on her as she sits and sings heartbreaking lyrics about grief, something that looks so magical yet so tragic at the same time. You can hear plenty of people sobbing and sniffling through the slow songs, a time when everyone can come together and grieve with her.
There’s a feeling of connection that can not be replicated at a regular concert. For the night, everyone who was there experienced something that can’t ever be revisited, and there truly is something so special about it. At the end, Phoebe sings Scott Street; the lights turn a warm yellow as everyone waves their hands. It’s an endearing moment as everyone waves goodbye, smiling and singing about not being a stranger.
Everyone there was a stranger to the next person, but for the evening we all shared an experience that can’t be replicated. It all exists within that arena, with those people, and nobody else. A chance to feel all those complicated ways I felt alone in, without fear of judgment, and with people who feel them too.
Maybe it’s not strictly because of a phone-free show that we have this experience, but it is definitely a way to bring everyone there together and present. I think the magic Phoebe brings alone is undeniable, and it’s something I feel lucky I got to witness.