A Critique of Concert Culture
As you’ve hopefully understood by now, I’ve been around the block when it comes to concerts. Yes, the overwhelming majority are pop-centric (sigh), but let’s just say I know a good crowd when I see one. After spending much of my free time in London working gigs and music venues, I can confirm this with utmost certainty: AMERICAN CROWDS ARE THE WORST.
I’m sorry. I hate to be the bearer of bad news, fellow Americans. Give me a chance to explain. Let’s take a trip back in time to Indio, California. It was 2022 and Coachella was back! After two years without influencers, models, and untouchables flocking the desert, the most coveted music event was returning to small screens!
In anticipation of two notable headliners, Harry Styles and The Weeknd, fans camped out to get a front-row seat. When I say “camped out,” I mean squatting for multiple days in the California desert. I’ve gone far, but seriously, people! Where are your morals? This herd of nomads raced to the stage on a mission to get the best video for their social accounts. These crowds went viral for actually being the most quiet, uninteresting crowds for headliners in Coachella history. Funny how that works.
While in London, I was lucky to experience true concert etiquette firsthand at The 1975’s day-long festival, as well as Harry Styles’ headlining show in Wembley Stadium. I showed up to both of them after the openers took the stage, wasn’t overwhelmed with pressure for the closest spot, and didn’t suffer all that comes with pushy sweaty people. When my boyfriend and I arrived at Finsbury Park, I saw something completely foreign to me: clusters of people lying down on the grass far back from the stage, unfazed, drinking, and actually enjoying themselves. The inner American fangirl in me felt like I was running a race from the second I got in; calculating how much time it would take to get a drink, use the porta-potty, and predict the closest possible spot to the stage while making it all look effortless and casual. Due to my determined demeanor, we were approximately 10 rows back amongst a sea of 40,000 spectators.
When I looked around, I felt like I was at a concert with people who enjoyed music, not just posers who wanted to be there for the lore. I felt like I had gone back in time and it reminded me of one of my favorite live performances. For Brits, this was the standard. For me, it was a dream.
Don’t get me wrong: there were most certainly fans who camped outside Wembley Stadium to see Harry perform. The vast difference is, that when we looked down at the crowd moments before showtime, we didn’t see flocks pushing to the stage. We saw fans with enough space to dance and breathe. When he said jump, they jumped. There wasn’t silence in viral parts of songs to allow everyone to capture it in sonic clarity. Instead, it was the loudest part of the show.
It’s no secret that American crowds are inferior. Ask any person in the UK and I can assure you they’re not just saying it because there’s a sense of cultural superiority. They’re concluding this based on the fact that our largest music festival is viewed as a runway determination of who knows who and how exclusive is your social circle.
For my sake as an American, I’m hoping that we can revert from the self-absorbed, phone-attached and instead actually enjoy the shows we pay for, not just because of the Instagram appeal.