Barrett Holsapple ’26

by Barrett Holsapple ’26 on February 26, 2026

I’ll never forget the summer after fifth grade when my mom made us show up hours early to the Imagine Dragons concert. I didn’t understand why we would do that. Sure, I absolutely loved the band at that age, but the concert started at 7 p.m., so why would we show up at 3 p.m.? After endless hours of 11-year-old me sitting against the brick wall at the Prudential Center in Newark, the doors finally opened, and the long General Admission line was ushered through security and out to the stage.

It wasn’t until the concert began and my little hands were gripping the barricade railing as I stared directly into lead singer Dan Reynolds’ eyes, that I understood why my mom insisted on getting there so early. My mom truly created a monster that day.

 Though I’m not an Imagine Dragons fan anymore, that night still influences how I approach concerts. In my opinion, there is nothing more euphoric than being at the barricade for your favorite artist. There’s no worrying about what song comes next in the setlist, because no matter what it is, you’ll know every lyric. The atmosphere, especially in the pit, can foster a surprisingly loving environment. Everyone is there for the same reason: they love the music and the person performing it.

 That shared passion can make it very easy to bond with the people around you. I’ve found that many fans will have each other’s backs when it comes to enjoying the show, whether this means saving spots for strangers, using the bathroom, or even defending others against disrespectful fans who are ruining the experience. Recent trends like themed outfits, DIY clothing pieces, and homemade beaded bracelets have only strengthened that sense of connection. A show isn’t just a performance anymore; it’s a shared experience.

But over the past few years, with the rise of resale platforms and skyrocketing demand, the culture and the market have changed significantly. Getting tickets, let alone securing a spot close to the stage, has become increasingly difficult. It’s now normal to skip class or work just to sit in an online waiting room for hours, placed into a queue, and hoping that when your turn finally comes, tickets are still available.

And if you do manage to get through, you’re left deciding whether hundreds of dollars is worth a few hours of music. Price gouging has made concerts practically unaffordable for the average person. For major mainstream artists, it’s even become common for fans to camp outside venues days before the show just to secure a spot in the General Admission line. Somewhere along the way, concerts stopped being just about music. 

Social media has also blurred the line between artist and audience. With constant access to livestreams, interviews, behind-the-scenes content, and curated glimpses into artists’ personal lives, it’s easy for fans to feel deeply connected to someone they’ve never met. While parasocial relationships aren’t new, they’ve intensified in the digital age. For some fans, attending one show isn’t enough. Somehow, small groups of fans manage to follow artists across the country, attending multiple shows on the same tour in different cities. The performance becomes less about the music and more about proximity. And for some, that feeling of closeness is powerful enough to justify extreme measures.

Live music culture will continue to evolve, as it always has. The pit will likely always hold that same chaotic, euphoric energy that hooked me at 11 years old. But as ticket prices rise and fandoms intensify, the real question isn’t whether the magic will disappear, it’s how far people will have to go to experience it.

I’ll always chase the barricade. Not just for the view, but for the whole experience: the hours on the pavement, the strangers who become friends, the split second when the lights go down and it all feels worth it. I just hope that experience doesn’t become something fewer and fewer people get to understand.