I was at the Coldplay concert where everyone else was on their phones

Coldplay concerts are one of those culturally significant events where if you miss out, believe me, you will be filled with a wild sense of FOMO, fan or not. I consider myself somewhere in between. No, I didn’t buy tickets because I was afraid of missing out; this was an experience I’d always looked forward to. Like most of my peers, Coldplay was a significant part of my college life—‘Yellow’ was my Roman Empire. ‘Paradise’ was my escape when I felt too overwhelmed, and ‘Fix You’—and I know this is a cliche—truly fixed something in me. So naturally, when Coldplay announced their concert in India, I just knew I had to be there. 

I can still remember the sheer chaos of the ticket war—a brutal exercise in patience and luck, to say the least. But somehow, I managed to snag tickets, and that victory alone felt like a small miracle. I knew the concert was still months away, but the anticipation made every day feel like a countdown to something extraordinary. And not just for me, my friends too. We spent weeks planning every detail of that day: the outfits, our plans before and after the concert, how we’d make it to the venue, you get the gist. Cut to January 21 when I finally walked into that stadium. The energy was palpable—thousands of people packed into one space, united by the promise of a magical night. The crowd was a mix of die-hard fans, casual listeners, and, of course, those who were there purely for the Instagram-worthy experience. The internet had already predicted this; debates about FOMO filling stadiums had been swirling for weeks, and they turned out to be painfully accurate.

There were die-hard fans who sang their hearts out and soaked in every second of Coldplay magic, and then there were those who were simply there for the ‘Gram. And my experience was bombarded with constant camera flashes, and phone screens blocking my view. Look, I get it—you’re at one of the coolest concerts ever, and capturing moments is a part of the fun. I may have snapped a few shots and videos with my friends. But honestly, I can’t imagine recording every single moment of the show on my phone. At this point, it was just me watching the show on hundreds of tiny screens in front of me. And when Chris Martin sang, “Lights will guide you home,” I remember hysterically thinking if those lights were the blinding flashlights of a thousand phones trying to capture the moment instead of simply living it. 

One of the things I was looking forward to at Coldplay was the shared experience—the singing, the dancing, and basically participation. And while parts of the stadium did come alive with energy—euphoric jumps during ‘Paradise’ and swaying hands in unison during ‘Fix You’—the tepid reaction from the other half of the crowd, particularly those in my section, was disheartening, to say the least. They simply stood still, phones in hand, documenting nearly every minute of their attendance rather than engaging with the music. The magic I had dreamt of for months felt too diluted, almost stolen, by this divide between those who were present and those (some truly deserving) who weren’t.

Don’t get me wrong, the band was incredible! Chris Martin and his team gave us a performance that was every bit as soulful as I had imagined. Martin’s stage presence was magnetic; his energy and charisma almost made up for the lack of reciprocation from the crowd. And his hilarious quips—I mean, did you even see the Jasprit Bumrah bit? But the cherry on top had to be every time Martin spoke in Hindi and Marathi. Hearing him say “Dhanyavad” or “Tumhi kasa aahat?” to the crowd was so wholesome; it felt like he genuinely cared about embracing the local culture. It was moments like these that helped me understand why Coldplay is loved across the globe, and why their concerts truly are a once-in-a-lifetime experience. But here’s the thing, music concerts are just as much about the crowd as they are about the artists. And the lack of participation sort of feels like a missed opportunity for something truly magical.

As for me, when the night came to a close, I felt a bittersweet mix of emotions. I had finally seen Coldplay live—a dream come true. And let me tell you, the fireworks at the end felt truly transcendent. It felt like a fitting close, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that something had been missing. The energy, the connection, the collective euphoria that makes live music so powerful—it was all dampened by a culture of performance, not for the stage, but for social media.

So, were you even at Coldplay if you didn’t have your phone out? Maybe. But honestly, I’d say you weren’t really there if you were more focused on the screen than on the music. For me, the magic of Coldplay isn’t just in the songs—it’s in that shared moment of feeling totally alive with everyone around you. And that’s something no video or Instagram Story can really capture.

Lead image credit: IMDb

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