In this entry: Notes from one of the greatest concert experiences of my entire life!

Phoebe Bridgers Makes Magic Happen With Latest Tour ✨🤳

Her trick? She made all phones disappear.

It was finally happening. After being away from the spotlight for a little over two years, which is forever by today's standards for an album release and tour cycle, the indie rock singer-songwriter, Phoebe Bridgers, was making her return in the summer of 2026. I was beyond ready.

An artist that I first discovered, as much of the relative world did, during lockdown, Phoebe's second solo record, Punisher, quickly became a hit in my room in 2020. As someone who loves to sit in the melancholy of it all, her music and overall disposition was right up my alley. I was also primed to like her artistic style as she was a friend and frequent collaborator of one of my favorite bands, The National. Not to mention the general vibe of the difficult pandemic year(s). Her music came at the right time for me. Because when most would rather turn to uplifting songs and stories when their current reality is already, well, sad and on the negative side, I'd rather face the music. Help explain it all, my feelings and thoughts, through immersion. I think I've always had that bent. And since her lyrics spoke acute, deep truths, I was all in.

Punisher • Phoebe Bridgers

DVD Menu • Phoebe Bridgers

PREVIEW

In 2021, my fandom deepened. I saw Phoebe live twice, back-to-back—she played an Austin City Limits Fest Nights spinoff show, with Gracie Abrams opening, then I saw them both the next day at the actual festival—and she also started popping up in my Spotify Wrapped.

Seeing Phoebe for the second time at ACL in 2021.

Since that initial discovery and those first shows, I've seen her play three more times: when she returned to Austin still making the rounds touring Punisher; in Dallas, with her alternative supergroup, boygenius, as they toured their debut album, The Record; and then finally at The Eras Tour in Massachusetts, where she again played after Gracie Abrams and warmed up the crowd for Taylor Swift. That final show, specifically, was special—my holy trinity, all in one night, for what was becoming the biggest tour of all time. A momentous peak.

But then this year, in May 2026, the soft launch of Phoebe's return began when physical posters started popping up around Roswell, New Mexico for an unexpected show. There weren't any social posts, no official press release. The flyer was it. Back to the basics, you could say. Nearby fans could physically go to the box office for first-come, first-serve cheap tickets, but with one stipulation: everyone had to give up their devices at the show. When word started circulating around online, I knew it had to be because she was playing new music. There couldn't be any unwanted leaks. Understandable.

The same guerrilla rollout continued for a handful of other shows. In June, she finally posted her announcement for an arena tour, then shared the name, artwork, and release date for her third solo album, Lost Weekend. The prodigal son returns. I was ready to party.

However, what was surprising from the tour announcement was her caption: "I'm going on tour no phones." She would continue to deny fans access to their devices during her shows—no longer at little random pop-ups, but across an arena tour. I was very intrigued.

Before the Show

At the airport, as I waited for my flight from San Antonio to Milwaukee to stay with one of my best friends from college, Hugh, who had kindly gifted me a ticket to The Lost Tour for my 30th birthday (we'd planned a fun weekend for my first visit to his new city, which included the drive to Chicago for the tour's fifth show), I had started seeing some posts of praise for the premise. Fans were sharing insights from their initial show nights—that they were so glad to have had that specific experience, to be forced to give up their phones. They were thankful, and hoped more artists adopted the ban. I was already sold, but I started becoming more and more convinced that something special would be happening.

The idea to give up phones for events isn't a new phenomenon. Comedians had started to implement the use of Yondr pouches—bags to hold small electronics that could only be unlocked by a special magnetic key—at their events, seemingly, during the pandemic. Some of their reasoning was also to not let their latest set material leak, but for a lot of them it was to have a thinly veiled assurance that they wouldn't get into trouble online for any stupid shit they said.

But I hadn't heard of the idea being used at concerts before. Obviously my take is rather anecdotal, but I do have a comparatively large sample size of concert experiences—from small rock bands and country singers in dive bars all the way up to the biggest pop girlies in arenas and stadiums across the country. Throughout all of my past shows, the closest entirely no-phones moment I had was earlier in June 2026. I had seen rising pop artist, Audrey Hobert, at her first-ever show in Austin, TX, and for her last song—the second time she played her banger "Sue me"—she asked everyone to put their phones away and just dance and enjoy the finale. People complied until the very end, and I thought that was something. As someone who frequents shows, it was neat. A rarity.

Initially, Hugh and I both thought that Phoebe Bridgers was taking on the idea to bring something different to her concerts. To make her shows unique. Because, lately, everyone has to have something that makes their concerts stand out. Surprise songs and unexpected mash-ups originated as a big thing at Taylor Swift's shows. Role Model would bring out a different "Sally" to dance with him on stage. A rotation of stars would do the TikTok-originated "Apple" dance at Charli xcx's shows. Sabrina Carpenter would have various people "arrested" with fluffy pink handcuffs for a bit during her recent tour (I volunteer as tribute). And on and on the novel ideas go. Not so much as to be a gimmick, but to have something that might generate a viral moment online through a clip, or give people a reason to tune in for any fan's livestream of the show. So we thought Phoebe's thinking was that her "thing" would be solely to have people unplug and be fully in the moment for an entire show—a beautiful ironic twist from an artist who's a digital native, but a welcomed plan especially in the age of the "anti-social century," with double digit screen times, the AI and brainrot slop takeover, and the attempted normalization of cameras recording everything on our street corners and through hidden lenses on creepy glasses. A very Phoebe-coded punk move for the times, no doubt. One that made us even more excited to experience the fresh idea going into the show.

Notes From the Show

As a writer trying to get back to analog, and also generally someone who doesn't want to pull out my phone every time I need to take down a note, I try to always have a notebook with me. Something small, easy to carry. I knew I especially needed one for Phoebe's concert, to do the Doc Martens boots-on-the-ground reporting that Cristian's Commonplace readers deserve.

As we escaped the rain and made our way into the United Center, our tickets were scanned and printed for us right there at the doors. As Hugh handed me my ticket, I felt a need to snap some last-second pictures. For proof of the night in the camera roll. What could I say? It's a habit, at this point. So, I took a few as we trudged through the dense lines. Then, after we fully entered the bright entrance hall and reached security, I was handed the Yondr bag for my phone and smartwatch. I locked them up and out came my pocket notebook and pen.

My first time at any venue is always exciting. The United Center seemed fairly new, or at least appeared to be remodeled. As we walked around, we eventually found the first of a few scattered stations, which appeared to be spaces with a staff person in possession of a Yondr key, where people were permitted to use their devices within the little boundary. Of course, some people might've had to check their phones for valid reasons back home. But I thought it was generally funny because the spaces felt like designated smoking areas. Get your quick hit of drags across screens during the rushed scroll breaks.

As the opener began playing—someone I wasn't too eager to see anyways—Hugh wanted to get a shirt from the merch stand, so we tried locating one of the shortest lines that was close to our section. It was difficult determining which line we were even in at first, having tried a few, but we eventually decided to just stick with one. Hugh started pretending to scroll over the phone bag's plastic casing. It was the first of many phone-addicted bits throughout the night. After a while, we started chatting with our line neighbors, who were also confused about the assembly and trying to calculate how long it'd take. Hugh kept us updated with the time because he smartly brought a regular watch.

Then, with the itchy Yondr lanyard around my neck, I looked around. I immediately found it interesting, watching everyone pass us by. Eager fans, ready for the night ahead. High off the initial energy of the experience, anticipation brewing with every second, I enjoyed seeing everyone's faces. It seemed all too tragically rare to see people looking up as they walked. No craned necks. No bump-ins or distracted clashes. Just people, moving about. I saw the light of people's eyes, not the glow reflecting from screens. Which also meant they could see mine.

The line inched along. I needed to use the restroom and get a water. After peeing, I walked into the closest spot for snacks and drinks: an Amazon automatic checkout area. I inserted my card before the gates swung open to allow me to enter, grabbed my water, and then walked out as the cameras above and the surrounding sensors picked up what I selected and instantaneously charged my card. The tech struck me as ironic. Futuristic, but it got me thinking. The juxtaposition of it all.

By the time I got back to the merch line, Hugh was approaching the counter. He made his purchase and we headed to our seats. We were at the very front of the first level of the arena, right over the tunnel that opened to the floor, where a sea of people who had GA admission stood. Hugh absolutely cooked with the ticket selection.

The opener (thankfully) closed out his final few songs, then as the roadies did changeover, Hugh and I used my pocket notebook to play some games to bide the time until Phoebe's set. Hangman. Tic-tac-toe. A story crafting game. I sketched the crowd and stage design. Hugh drew a selfie of the two of us and a fake phone to tap at. Later, the crowd also started a wave that went around the stands a few times. It was simple fun.

As I looked around, it was hard to place, but everything felt familiar yet distant. The way how, in dreams and memories, movies and shows, you rarely see people on their phones. Like the best of what we capture and retain is actually opposed to our current reality. In front of me were 23,000 other people—waiting and giddy. I couldn't remember the last time I had seen a collective of that many people without devices—if ever. It was uncanny. Should it have been? There was a complicated aching to it all. A longing, a yearning. Because, in that space, we began to feel a semblance of a united freedom. Even though it wasn't the first show of the tour, we were all going to actually experience the concert for the first time. Nothing had been seen or spoiled online. The night would truly be unique. It was reserved for only us. We had gotten tickets to Phoebe's manifestation of a portal that took us back in time. And as the lights shut off and her show began, we went along for the ride.

Reflections of the Journey

The night was truly magical. A once-in-a-lifetime kind of experience. Even though I had seen Phoebe five times prior, along with plenty of other artists, this show has immediately launched to the top of my concert rankings. So much came together to make it all so damn incredible. I remember feeling hopeful, that everything was going to be okay beyond those few short hours, as I sang along to some of my favorite songs. I now understand what those other fans were talking about when they posted the desire for more shows like this one. And I was also thrilled to eventually start seeing others share the art and notes from their own shows, as more and more people have caught on to the concept of taking notebooks to these specific shows.

And I understood how, with what came as a surprise to our original thinking, Phoebe made the decision to have no phones on the tour. Because her album, Lost Weekend, is primarily about grief. On stage, she said how it's discomforting and dystopian to be a performer, feeling all these things and pouring your heart and soul out through your art and music, then to have all these cameras capturing it. I totally understand. That's become a norm, but it doesn't have to be.

Lost Weekend • Phoebe Bridge...

The Outside • Phoebe Bridger...

PREVIEW

To conclude, there were two especially surreal moments from the show:

First, as the arena lights went full ablaze during "Scott Street," everyone sang along, their hands waving back and forth with the melody. It was my Woodstock. I felt so much.

Secondly, there was something really special that happened as Phoebe exited at the end of the show and passed under the tunnel beneath us. It was a moment that would absolutely not have happened had my phone been in my face, a pixelated barrier between me and the world. And you know what, I think I want to keep the specifics of that moment private. Because as I was reminded throughout this extraordinary experience, not everything has to be captured or shared. Some things can simply just be mine.