Everyone suddenly owns a turntable they don't know how to use, and somehow we've convinced ourselves spinning a record is a personality trait.

Ticket prices have become unhinged, parking costs more than your drink, and somehow the opener is still going on at 11 p.m. — but sure, let's keep acting like concert culture is thriving.

I've waited 45 minutes to pee at three different venues this month, and I'm convinced we're living in a concert infrastructure crisis that's worse than anyone admits.

That TikTok of the fan rushing the stage during last week's arena show? It wasn't a security failure. It was art. And I'm tired of pretending we didn't all feel it.

After years of streaming-induced hibernation, people are actually leaving their homes to hear bands play in sweaty rooms again—and honestly, it's the best thing happening to culture right now.

Mid-size concert venues are disappearing faster than my will to live, and nobody seems to care enough to actually do something about it.

Theaters designed for Shakespeare are hosting 500-person indie rock shows, and honestly? It's the best thing that's happened to live music since people figured out you could stand the whole time.

Lawn chairs have become weapons. Blankets are territorial disputes. And don't even get me started on the people who arrive 90 minutes early to "save" six spots.

Every music festival now looks identical, costs $400, and features the same six indie bands. When did live events become a subscription service we don't want?

Everyone's too busy filming the opening song to notice the band stopped trying three songs ago. Here's why the phone-up revolution needs to end before it kills the thing we love.

Your favorite band isn't really performing from their living room, and the $40 ticket you just bought is definitely not legitimate.

Every festival this summer looks identical—and that's not an accident. We're experiencing the most aggressively mediocre concert season in modern history, and honestly? I'm tired.