Live Music: Adventures in Concertgoing

by Barrett Holsapple ’26 on February 26, 2026

A&E - Music

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.

Gatsby’s Green Light: Why The Great Gatsby Still Holds Up

by Sophia Caneira ’29 on February 12, 2026

A&E - Literature

April 2025 marked the 100th anniversary of F. Scott Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby. The novel, which is still a must-read in high schools, has been adapted into a handful of movies, a Broadway musical, and, more recently, a ballet. Fitzgerald’s most famous work is often remembered for its vivid imagery, poignant dialogue, convoluted characters, and captivating story. 100 years later, it is still considered one of the greatest literary works ever written.

The Great Gatsby follows Nick Carraway, an unreliable narrator who recounts a summer spent on Long Island. During his time in the nouveau-riche West Egg, he meets the mysterious figure Jay Gatsby, who seems more like an idea than a real man. Gatsby is famous for the vibrant parties he holds at his mansion, yet he rarely appears among the throngs of uninvited guests who spread rumors about their host and his hidden past. Nick eventually learns of Gatsby’s obsession with his lost love, Daisy, who is now married to the arrogant Tom Buchanan and lives across the bay in the untouchable old-money East Egg. As the events of the story unfold, Nick begins to realize the true natures of those around him. Ultimately, he finds that Gatsby is the only genuine man among a whole host of shallow, careless people.

At face value, Gatsby’s world in 1922 seems far out of reach, but his story continues to be immensely accessible in the modern day. The Great Gatsby confronts the idea of social mobility, and comments on the American Dream, questioning its validity. Does it exist? Can it really be achieved? Is there something more important? The tragic romance of Gatsby and Daisy remains an element modern audiences can empathize with.

Fitzgerald’s style of writing is itself something worth exploring. One of his greatest strengths is his constant use of subtle symbolism—from the eyes of Doctor T.J. Eckleburg, to the green light at the end of Daisy’s dock, to even the distinct colors of clothing. Every word is intentional with Fitzgerald.

There is something undeniably enchanting about Gatsby’s world; the extravagant culture of the Roaring ’20s, the reunited lovers, and the mystery surrounding the persona of Gatsby. Baz Luhrmann’s 2013 film rendition captured the pomp and circumstance readers imagine. Every shot, every costume, every set piece is glamorous—almost to the point of overstimulation in a few cases. And who better to play the romantic icon than Leonardo DiCaprio?

In its simplest form, The Great Gatsby is a story of hope. Gatsby lived on hope. He died with hope. Perhaps this answers why Gatsby is so beloved, and why the story still holds up today. Hope is something we’ve all encountered. It’s one of those universal human experiences—one that even Gatsby shares. Everyone has their own green light, their own source of hope, blinking through the darkness. It’s easy to put ourselves in Gatsby’s shoes, as readers love to do. His dream is so pure. Innocent, in a way. His preoccupation with the past is a trait many people can relate to.

“Can’t repeat the past?” Gatsby tells Nick. “Why, of course you can.”

The Great Gatsby is terribly sad, and in revisiting Luhrmann’s film, every scene carries the weight of tragedy. But there is something real within that; something very human. There’s a beautiful truth in Gatsby, one that continues to attract new generations of readers.

Every hopeless romantic loves Gatsby. But it’s ironic, isn’t it? Gatsby wasn’t a hopeless romantic at all. In fact, he was quite the opposite: he was hopeful.