Heterogeneity in the Crowd

I was once invited to a large concert at the Pepsi Center in September of 2013. The venue stands large and imposing in the heart of Denver, intimidating and exciting my young teenage mind. Once inside the venue, it was easy to become lost in the crowd. People pushed and shoved their way to the front, (or to whatever they perceived as the optimal vantage point) uncaring who they upset or blocked in their mission. The band was Muse. They had recently had a huge influx in their following due to their presence on the new Twilight soundtrack and the crowd was full of twittering preteens and their reluctant parents.

The band itself was disconnected from the crowd. They played on their individual platforms on a large stage that dominated the venue. Strobe lights turned their movements into a collage of images and the sound rarely deviated from the studio produced tracks that we were so familiar with. The crowd was kept 20 feet away from the stage by ominous security guards who wore grimaces and beeping walky-talkies. Away from the general admission crowd on the floor, the rest of the audience watched silently from the thousands of seats surrounding the stage; looking for all the world like silent and ghostly specters.

For my 20^th birthday I went to a The Pretty Reckless concert at the Ogden. The crowd flowed with the music and took turns carrying people to the front. I was picked up by complete strangers and surfed the crowd to the stage where I shook hands with the lead singer. The security guards carefully lowered me to the floor where I was easily absorbed back into the crowd. The band talked to the audience, praising Denver and sharing their music with us. Their music was organic and played with obvious enjoyment, the drummer breaking his drumsticks and the guitarist constructing complicated solos and intricate melodies that we hadn’t heard before.

The crowd found a connection in the music and the realization that we were all there for the release from the tedium of daily life; the release that live music gives us. There is a sense of anonymity in a crowd. The insight that though you are surrounded by people you are also completely alone, absorbed as everyone is in the music and the atmosphere. The collective attention on the performance is freeing, a kind of exhilarating awareness that allows you a freedom that cannot be found elsewhere.