Some people say they don't get it. That you're standing in the middle of a concert, with the world's biggest band on stage, and yet filming the whole shit on a phone you're never going to see the footage from. But maybe it's not because we're idiots. Maybe it's just because the concert was never about the music. Not anymore.
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Disclaimer: Apropos Magazine received access or a review copy. As always, we share our own impressions — unfiltered.
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We're in 2025, and the concert experience has become something different than it once was. It's not just about sound and body and community. It's about documentation. About proving. That you were there, and that others knew.
You stand with your beer in your hand and your cell phone in the other. You try to balance a story, a scream, and a look at whether someone has seen your story. And maybe that's fair. Maybe it's just the reality we've created. We experience through a screen — even when we are physically present.
The concert as content production
When Taylor Swift tours, a whole wave of TikTok videos follow. There are rules: You shell films “All Too Well”. thou shell take pictures of the bracelet. thou shell Have that one money shot for Instagram. And it's no longer fans who happen to be recording. It's small production teams disguised as audiences.
It's not about being present -- it's about being relevant. The experience becomes secondary to that, the experience can become.
Where did the intimacy go?
Many of us remember the feeling. To stand in front of a stage, hear the first beat of the big drum and feel the whole body react. Not through a camera, but completely physically. You forget what people looked like. You just remember the mood. The light. The cry.
But today there is a wall of screens. Audiences aren't filming to save anything -- they're filming to be seen. And that does something about the concert. It does something about the music. It shall view real out. It has to be split. It should be clippable, part-friendly, recognizable. And preferably not too ugly or sweaty.
Is it art's fault? Yes, a little.
Artists stage themselves as brand. And that's understandable. It is necessary. But it reinforces the illusion that the concert is an experience, you buying you into as a customer — not participating in as a human being. There is less room for error, and therefore also less room for magic.
At the same time, the venues and booking agencies have realised that the experience must be sellable onward. So there's more light coming, more confetti, more choreography. It looks like a commercial -- because it is.
What can be done then?
One might begin by asking oneself: Am I here to be here — or to showthat I was here? And yes, it is difficult. We have all become our own press photographers. It's not a morality sermon. That's a finding.
Some artists try to break that. Kevin Morby once told the audience to put the phone away and watch one song with their eyes open, not behind a screen. People became unwell. Others said thank you afterwards.
Reflection
Maybe it's not about banning cell phones. Maybe it's just about creating moments that are stronger than the urge to document them. Maybe the concert should once again be a space where we forget ourselves -- and each other -- just a little bit. Not forever. Only for three minutes and seventeen seconds.
Or it's too late. And all we can hope for is that someone films you while you film them -- so at least we have documentation that we were once human beings experiencing something. Before we became content.
