I, an avid listener of all things jazz, pop, rock, indie – you name it – went to my first-ever concert this summer: Lizzy McAlpine’s “Older” Tour at the MGM Music Hall at Fenway Park in Boston. One of the most important things that I took away from that incredibly magical night was that live music is a life-altering experience which no individual should miss. I learned that although listening to music in-person may be the main propulsion to go to a concert, there is much more to experience than just the songs alone.
When it came to getting in line for general admission, I saw the wide array of not-so-varied white skirts. It may have seemed like a cult, but it weirdly felt like family to me. I began to understand how music united people from around the world. Typically, waiting in lines is mundane and feels like watching paint dry, but there was never a dull moment. Silence was a foreign language, and the crowd was buzzing with excitement, a common language. There was talk of cute outfits, surprise songs and all things Lizzy McAlpine. The concert line was a place to meet others with similar interests, where strangers became friends, bonded by shared playlists and favorite lyrics. Conversations flowed effortlessly like the concert had been a 10-year reunion. It seemed as if every person carried the same sense of nerve and anticipation, ready for the concert to begin, but savoring the family that had formed in line.
When the doors finally opened, the adrenaline became an epidemic. It was a race as my friend and I sped to the front, hand in hand. When we got there, we had instantly made new friends who were equally as ecstatic as we were. We spent the next hour and a half talking about our lives and playing “Heads Up!,” taking pictures and laughing with each other, creating a bond that was cultivated by music and maintained by camaraderie. I’d like to call it a “forever” bond. The people we met may live two hours away, but a quick weekly dive into my camera roll, reliving that night, makes it feel like the distance is much less than 100 miles. Still, after three months without seeing each other, we talk occasionally, hoping we find each other at the next concert we go to.
The stage set-up itself was a masterpiece of its own.
Constructed around a recording studio-like ambiance, I assumed that she centered the coziness of the stage to act as a safe place for her. McAlpine had commented previously that touring had been “taxing on [her] mental and physical health,” which explained the minimalistic set-up. Although many other famous artists are branded by their extravagant and energy-stimulating concerts, McAlpine’s was very subtle, yet authentic and genuine, while still invoking a special type of feeling amongst her fans. McAlpine created a space that everyone in the room would find less anxiety-inducing, helping her fans feel more connected and comfortable with her music and with each other.
Finally, what everyone had been waiting for: the artist, the band and the music.
I felt a rush of emotions come over me: an overwhelming happiness. I’m here, present, with thousands of other people who came for the same reason. Without this concert, I would never have known that there were so many other people who were just as enthralled as I was. Listening to my favorite artist not just in my headphones, but in person, erupted a feeling through our veins we never could have expected. Entrenched in awe and happiness, we lived in the moment, basking in a pool of surrealness. As we collectedly swayed and sang along to the performer onstage, the thousands of voices became one community.
My passion for all things music was shared with everyone around me. It was a festival of happy tears, people dancing arms-linked and forever friendships forming. I knew then that my heart had been forever touched by the reverberations of the crowd’s feet bouncing against the floor and the unity in scream-singing together. My first concert was an experience I needed to share with the world – one that every person should experience.