A few years back, Sasha Mistlin went to see one of his favourite rappers, Earl Sweatshirt, at a venue in north London. The sound was so muddy he couldn't tell which song was playing. The setlist lurched between old and new material, doing justice to neither. A man in front filmed the entire show on a phone held above his head for an Instagram story no one would watch. With 45 minutes remaining, Mistlin wished he could leave. With 15 minutes left, he decided that making it to the nearest kebab shop before the rush mattered more than seeing the end of the set.
Gigs as endurance tests
As a culture journalist, Mistlin has attended many gigs. Most were endured rather than enjoyed. He secretly believes only the most extroverted or least self-conscious among us feel otherwise. This is the dirty secret of the music industry, which has tackled economic headwinds by transitioning from selling music to live events. This feeling has caused professional embarrassment, as he invents reasons to turn down free tickets, supposedly a main perk of the job.
According to Mistlin, audiences blame artists for things outside their control. Artists don't design the PA system, handle security, or set extortionate booking fees. They work gruellingly to a tour schedule designed to maximize revenue, not to perform at their best. The fact that more gigs aren't unlistenable is a minor miracle.
The residency model and fan exploitation
The residency model worsens the experience. Mistlin expresses contempt for artists like Harry Styles, whose 'tours' consist of turning up at mega-venues requiring fans to pay for travel and hotels on top of £200 tickets. The artist sleeps in their own bed; the audience takes time off work or school for an expensive city break. This is sold as luxury, an evolution in how gigs are supposed to work.
Audience behaviour at gigs is also deteriorating. Mistlin references a Guardian article by Simon Price, who proposed three rules to solve this. Mistlin notes the claim that gigs are about communion – a rapturous coming-together, shared grief, shared ecstasy – but he has never truly felt it. Instead, he has felt the soggy embrace of a plastic cup's contents pouring down his face, wondering if it's discarded beer or urine. Neither is ideal.
Cinema as a superior alternative
In contrast, Mistlin argues cinema has only improved in recent years. You sit down, forced to put your phone away. The screen is massive, you're in complete darkness, and the beverage of choice is Coca-Cola rather than stale lager. Nobody throws a pint over your head or drowns out the film by screaming half-remembered lyrics.
Despite his criticisms, Mistlin admits he is a typical Glastonbury bore and will do everything to get a ticket in 2027. But with the festival on a fallow year, he is secretly thrilled. Sasha Mistlin is a commissioning editor on the Guardian's Saturday magazine.
