Why You Should Try Going to a Concert Alone (At Least Once)
There’s something undeniably beautiful about sharing an experience with no one other than yourself. Kayla Simon tells us why it’s so important to experience a concert solo.
If I could tell my younger self that so far this year, I’ve attended 15 concerts completely alone, she would probably have some questions, including “Why on Earth would you do that?”
That is to say, she would be shocked (to say the least). After all, I used to utterly dread the thought of going to a concert without a friend. Without the promise of that second ticket saved to my Apple Wallet pass, who would I make conversation with to pass the time while waiting in line outside the venue? Who would I lock eyes with when the artist sang that one lyric that meant the world to me? Who could I possibly share this life-changing experience with?
As it turns out, there’s something undeniably beautiful in sharing the experience with no one other than myself. But I didn’t always feel that way. It was hard at first, standing in crowds staring at the floor and picking at my nails, feeling anxious and awkward. Was everyone staring at me? Could they tell I had come all by myself? Were they judging me for it? (Spoiler alert: the answer is always no, no, no.)
I still remember the first concert I went to by myself, because it changed everything for me—and it wasn’t even by choice. No, it wasn’t some empowering decision I made; it was just that my partner at the time had backed out at the last minute from seeing Chelsea Cutler with me, leaving me with a choice. I recall feeling torn—I wanted nothing less than to go to the show all by myself, but I didn’t want to miss out on seeing one of my favourite artists live. So instead of skipping the show and spending the night crying in my bedroom, I pulled myself together and did the exact opposite; I upgraded my ticket to VIP, hopped on the train from Connecticut alone, and walked from Grand Central Station up to the line outside Hammerstein Ballroom in New York City like my hands weren’t shaking.
I stood in the short VIP line, fidgeting and praying it wouldn’t be long until they opened the doors and let us in so I could disappear like a ghost into the dark room. But before that could happen, before I’d even been standing in the October sun for ten minutes, the girl standing next to me in line turned to me and paid me a compliment, so innocuous that, three years later, I can’t even recall exactly what she said. But it was that simple conversation with a girl who had also come by herself that turned into us talking for the entire hour we stood waiting outside the venue, which then turned into us chatting nonstop as we shared the barricade together right up until the moment the house lights went out and we screamed, perfectly in sync.
When Chelsea Cutler finally walked on stage, it turned out I did have someone else I could turn and lock eyes with while screaming my favourite lyrics, knowing that she would understand them too. And I hadn’t even known her six hours ago. That’s the beauty of fandom; it can turn strangers into friends simply through the shared experience of knowing you both showed up to see an artist who’s changed both of your lives in different ways—or maybe in unknowingly similar ways.
It was this first show I attended alone that helped me realise it might actually be easier than expected to make friends, even while attending a show solo. Despite what my brain had told me, I wasn’t, in fact, the only person who had shown up without a friend or significant other to stand with.
If you come to a show alone, the odds are pretty good that you’ll meet someone else who also came alone, and is more than willing to share their experience with you. Or you’ll meet a friend group who pulls you in like you’ve known them forever, or a sweet older couple who chats with you before the opening act, or a security guard who wants to know all about why you love the artist so much (all real experiences I’ve had while going to shows solo!)
That being said, I don’t make friends at every show I go to solo. But there’s a freedom in being truly alone at a concert that I’ve come to appreciate. Yes, sometimes it really is just me and my thoughts, but I’ve grown to love those shows just as much. It’s been such a rewarding journey to discover the beauty in spending time by myself. To experience live the songs I’ve broken down to in the front seat of my car, the songs I’ve danced to unabashedly around my apartment, the songs that have soundtracked my life in moments where it’s been just me, and songs that have helped me get through those moments. It feels special to be fully in the moment, fully present with myself and the artist and a room full of people who may not know me, but who are also singing along to the same lyrics I’ve memorised.
I used to worry about what everyone around me thought, but surprise: it turns out other people aren’t thinking about you as much as they think they are. And even if they are looking at you, who cares? You’re probably never going to see them again, so you may as well just focus on you and enjoy yourself!
Plus, on a more practical note, going alone means you can stand wherever you want in the venue. Sometimes it’s easier to get a better view when it’s just one person manoeuvring their way through the crowd instead of two!
So, this is your sign—if there’s an artist you really want to see live but you don’t know who you’d go to the show with, buy one ticket and just go solo. I promise you, it’s easier than you’d think to make a friend to sing along with if that’s what you’re worried about. My personal favourite tactic is to turn to the person next to me and ask them what song they’re most excited to hear live, or tell them how much I love their concert outfit. More often than not, this becomes merely the first interaction of a whole conversation carried throughout the night.
Or, simply revel in the experience of experiencing an artist you love live. Stand wherever you want, take it all, be as loud or as quiet as your heart desires and focus on the real reason you’re here, why everyone in that crowd is here—the music. Without anyone else to distract you, it becomes easy to really take it all in, to truly memorise the moment.
These days, I’ll go to shows alone completely on purpose, not even trying to find anyone else to go with me – something I never could have imagined doing a few years ago.
I love the potential of the night, wondering what other fans I’ll meet and knowing I’ll have fun either way, because I’ve done it so many times before and it’s always been fun. To me, there’s a certain kind of magic in attending concerts alone, and I hope this inspires you to seek out the magic, too.
