Drift While You’re Dreaming: A Personal Review of My Favorite & Least Favorite Concert Experiences

Hi there, Kate here! I’m kicking off our latest mini-series, where we here at Music on the Move Studios reflect on our favorite (and least favorite) concert experiences! Most of all, we go over what set them apart.

I have been attending concerts and live shows regularly since I was about 14 years old, and I am fortunate enough to say that I have never had a bad concert experience. Especially not due to the band/artist or anything involved with the production or venue themselves. Even when I wasn’t a huge fan of the artist, or if there were any “problems” that may bring down the energy of the evening, I’ve always managed to come out of every show feeling pumped, inspired, and overflowing with a sense of community and belonging.

That’s the true beauty of live music: it brings people together, it brings us back to ourselves, and helps us feel electric with the joy of life. I’ve been told I shine brightest when I’m at a concert! They’re my happy place.

Narrowing down my favorite show has proven to be way more difficult than I anticipated. From seeing my queen, Stevie Nicks, to St. Vincent, Def Leppard, Gary Clark Jr., Lake Street Dive, Taking Back Sunday, or One Direction, among the many, many more, all of them have impacted me personally and creatively on some level. How could I pick just one???

Racking my brain, I realized my tastes vary too greatly to narrow it down based solely off the artist. But one concert going experience stands out among the rest for me (at least in my life so far) because it was just that: AN EXPERIENCE.

Last summer, my best friend and I went to our first ever Phish show together at Pine Knob in Michigan. We got to the venue early and wandered around the lot at the Shakedown. It was a blast checking out vendors, people watching, and making multiple friends along the way. Just before the doors opened, it down poured and we all feared the show would be cancelled! Thankfully, Phish waited it out, and after a two-hour delay, put on the best show of my life. The music was hypnotic, meticulously crafted, and performed with an ease and joy that was infectious. I have never seen a venue so full of people! We were packed like sardines…pun intended. Every single person in that crowd was dancing like mad, friendly, welcoming, and generous to a fault. It was a space where friends from all over the country came together, reminiscing and simultaneously making new memories. Yes, the music was phenomenal and brought us all together, but what made it beautiful was the earnest connections I made with the people there, and how present I felt the whole time. I was simply just living life at that show, and it was liberating! I have never felt so at home than I did at that night! It was the equivalent of a religious experience!

That being said, the main thing that has made a concert least enjoyable for me has always been the use of phones; by others and myself. I learned in my late teens, after sitting fourth row seeing the All-American Rejects, that I felt disconnected from my lived experience of the show. I had been so concerned about trying to take pictures and record every moment (so I would remember forever! *insert eyeroll*) that I couldn’t remember what most of the performance looked like outside of my grainy, blown out videos from my LG Chocolate phone screen. To top it off, I couldn’t even turn that phone on now if I tried, so most of those recordings are lost to the technology gods. Thankfully, my phone started to die and I’d been forced to put it away, just in time for Tyson Ritter to climb out into the audience and be centimeters from my face! The feeling connected to that moment made the memory much stronger and longer lasting than any phone recording could have.

My point being is that I would have made and retained many more memories if I’d allowed myself to simply be in the moment, and just kept my phone in my pocket. That’s not to say I don’t take a picture or record a moment at a show now, but I am much more conscientious of the fact that I’m missing the memory I’m trying so hard to keep, in real time. I was at a Yungblood show last night and missed most of my favorite song just trying to capture a good clip, which sealed the deal for me that my phone will be staying in my pocket at the next show I attend.

It’s so common now, as an artist myself and avid concert goer, to see more phone screens than faces in the crowd. Truthfully, it’s disheartening from both sides. For me, and most others, what makes concerts great is the connection—with the music, the artists, and the audience. In an age where we’re ever increasingly attached to some type of screen, why would we want to live so detached and vicariously through ourselves? I encourage you, just for an hour or two, let’s all put our damn phones down, be present, and let the music pulse through us, reminding us all how alive we really are!