A few weeks ago, I was in New York City visiting my cousin and thought it would be nice to go to a concert. I opened SeatGeek to see which artists were in the city that weekend, and lo and behold, one of my favorite artists, Role Model, had a concert the next day! My heart literally dropped when I saw that scalpers were charging a minimum of $300 for general admission … bye bye Role Model. This got me thinking: why is it that concerts have gotten so exclusive? And if you even get the opportunity to make it to the concert, is the current concert culture one that promotes enjoyment or status?
It’s likely you’ve been to a concert in the past 3 years and noticed some concerning indicators that concerts aren’t just about music anymore. You probably entered the venue and were greeted by $85 hoodies and $40 T-shirts, followed up by some $5 water and a $12 hot dog. The concert starts and people remain seated for the opener, they hysterically cheer for the main event and pop out their phones to record the next two hours in the hopes of finding an Instagram-worthy clip; maybe you’ve bought a $85 dollar hoodie and filmed most of the show. I won’t lie, I’m guilty of purchasing the $40 T-shirt and recording the two-hour show, because if I’m paying at least $150 to be at the concert, you’re damn right everyone’s going to find out. But that’s exactly what I mean — when did concerts turn from a celebration of music to a celebration of status?
Post-COVID audiences have completely transformed the way concerts are attended, from purchasing tickets to in-concert etiquette. Notably, Ticketmaster has problematically profited immensely from the concert demand. This has led them to great controversy over their dynamic pricing and monopolistic practices, which landed them a congressional hearing about the ticketing process. Huge tours such as Taylor Swift’s The Eras Tour, Beyoncé’s Renaissance Tour and more recently Lady Gaga’s Mayhem Ball have seen unprecedented demand and have been targeted by bots and scalpers looking to sell a ticket for 10x the original price (the average price for an Eras Tour ticket in 2023 was $1,088). The disappointment in not securing a ticket in presale or general on-sale directs fans to resellers, boosting the exclusivity, prestige and elitism a single ticket holds.
If you’re lucky enough to have made it to the concert, strap in, because the experience is just beginning. If the concert has a pit or General Admission standing room, it’s likely you’ll see concert-goers lining up around the venue to camp out, sometimes even overnight, in the hopes of securing a barricade spot. This “overnight camping” culture began with Harry Styles’s “Love On Tour,” where a toxic “pit” obsession resulted in fans camping out up to two days in advance outside the venue, peeing in the pit and having fights over who was first … a fascinating phenomenon that gave us the iconic quote by influencer Tara Lynn “I finna be in the pit.”
Once the concert begins, it’s likely you’ll be met with all different kinds of concert-goers. There’s the superfans that scream all the words, desperately trying to get noticed by their favorite artist, decked out in merch; there are the people who are clip-farming for social media or just feel the need to record the entire concert; and finally, some good ol’ fans who came to enjoy the music. However innocent the intentions may be, concerts have become unsafe spaces due to fans occasionally throwing items on the stage, putting artists’ physical safety at risk (See: Bebe Rexha incident…). This obnoxious behavior in concerts and the decline in concert etiquette is partly due to an increase in parasocial relationships and fans craving an individualized experience, expecting to get noticed by the artist or have their perfect concert experience. There are rants all over social media from concert-goers complaining that the person next to them was “singing too loud” or “standing too tall” or even simply “dancing.” These seemingly normal concert behaviors can foster a selfish and heightened sense of entitlement, as any deviation from a fan’s expectations is seen as “ruining” their personal experience. and listen, I get it — if I’m breaking the bank to attend a concert, I would love to get noticed by an artist or have a perfectly unblocked view, but that’s just not what I’m paying for. Concerts are about sharing a safe haven with other music lovers, escaping reality and connecting with an artist and other fans over a joint appreciation and creating a fun and memorable experience. And while we all have that concert we never got to go to (RIP Sweat Tour), I’m holding out hope for the future of concerts where we can look out into the crowd and see people singing and dancing along — phones down, fully living in the moment.
Paulina Delgado is a freshman in the College of Arts and Sciences. She can be reached at pmd99@cornell.edu
