The gig phone. Curse. Conflict. Comfort. Tool.
Tool for vanity. Tool for distraction. Tool for attention.
Some home truths, people. Home truths. You get your phone out at gigs (with one exception, which we’ll get to) because you want people who aren’t in the room to see you.
Instead of being in one place, you’re in two, middle-fingering the people who want you to be in the room. We call these people artists. A catch-all noun for folk who put some/nearly all/all of themselves out into the world, whereupon strangers devour, steal, judge, imitate, idolise, and (painfully) often ignore.
Live streaming, long clips, short clips, reels, shorts, blah blah blah, may seem to be a gesture of respect for artists’ craft. It is not, for you are distracted from the craft. From the melodies and the meaning. Someone is singing to you. Do not look away. They have not been rude to you, so do not be rude to them. Put your phone away (better still, don’t bring it) and listen.
With an exception: When the artist asks you to raise it, torch on, and sway your raised arm like it was the early 90s and you were holding a lighter. It looks good in the room. And in a print. The picture above, the one taken at a White Chapel Jak gig, is above me on the office wall. It doesn’t remind me of phones, but of the gig, and the artists on stage.
My word, White Chapel Jak are good. I may never see them again, but I can remember them. Go see them. Remember them. And don’t use your phone.
Suggested Further Reading:
