I go to a lot of gigs, both for work and play. Last year, I saw everyone from British pop legends Take That and emo heroes 30 Seconds to Mars to upstarts like Gaelic rappers Kneecap, Indonesian metallers Voice of Baceprot and all-girl Japanese hardcore trio Otoboke Beaver. As you can imagine, the crowds for each of these acts have been wildly different – but one thing never changes.
The moment the band comes on stage, I experience a rush of adrenaline and anticipation… only to find that I can't see a damned thing for the first ten minutes, besides a sea of camera phones dumbly held aloft.
Don't get me wrong. In my time, I've taken the odd shot of a band from the audience. Partly to have something to upload to socials ("If it's not on Insta, it didn't happen"). Partly as a souvenir to look back on in old age (I'm way past the days of collecting ticket stubs and programs in a cardboard box). And partly, well, just because it's fun to take photos (as central to a night out as donning a nice outfit or grabbing a takeout on the way home).
But in the mid-2020s, it's no longer the odd snap that audience members are taking. I'm seeing more and more people filming, and often streaming, the entire thing. Which not only means that they're spending the full show staring at their phone, rather than the stage, it means I am too. It's just so distracting.
Why musicians hate it
From my discussion with musicians, they hate this as well. Who wants to walk on stage to hundreds of emotionless automatons, mechanically raising their phones aloft with a dull expression on their face?
Traditionally, it was the energy of the crowd that helped keep the band members going through a frenzied, two-hour-plus set. Nowadays, that crowd is too often dull as ditchwater, focused as intently on their screens as teenagers on a bus.
Plus, of course, there's the whole legal aspect of it. Now that fans don't buy physical records any more, and get to stream any music they want for free, it's increasingly tough for groups to get by. Some of my favorite bands, such as Rolo Tomassi, have day jobs rather than living the millionaire rockstar lifestyles they deserve.
And while bootlegging a concert and putting it on YouTube may not be grand larceny, it's still copyright infringement.
Common decency
That said, I'm a libertarian at heart, and I'm instinctively against government bans of any kind. I was even unhappy about the UK's smoking ban because, while cigarette puffing may have reduced the visibility at gigs, it did at least mask the smell of teenage BO.
But at the same time, if I went to a dinner party and the hosts asked me not to smoke, I'd always respect their wishes: that's just common decency. And I think the same should apply to gigs.
So sure; if there are musicians out there who love nothing better than to stare at a sea of phones, they should certainly have the right to allow it. But if you're in a band that hates it just as much as me, then I beg of you: please ban phones at your own gigs, and make it clear that anyone trying to film will be thrown out.
That might sound impossible to enforce, but you might be surprised. For instance, I didn't see a single bloke pee in the hedge at Glastonbury this year, after the organisers made it clear this was forbidden.
You won't even be the first to do so: Jack White, Bob Dylan, John Mayer and Adele have all implemented phone bans at their gigs. So I urge you to follow their lead. You'll make me happy. You'll make yourself happy. And, who knows, maybe the kind of people who instinctively film everything on their phone will wake up and realize that actually, real life is much more fun to watch than a 6.8-inch screen.
You might also like…
If you're interested in how to photograph live music properly, check out the best lenses for concert photography and Christie Goodwin's guide to how to get started in live music photography.
