It’s 12.30AM. I’m casually browsing Instagram before going to bed, when I stumble across the news I’ve been waiting months, if not years, to hear. Taylor Swift has finally announced the tour dates for the Europe leg of her Eras tour. I immediately journey on to Ticketmaster, thinking I can just choose a city and click on the seats I want and finally fulfill my teenage dream of seeing Taylor Swift in concert. Okay, so maybe teenage dream is stretching it, I think back when I was a teenager, I did not exactly think concerts would be accessible to me— living in Egypt and all— but you get my drift. Excitement. Big moment on the horizon. Life changing experience forthcoming. Turns out, the process for an Eras tour ticket is a little more complicated than that and so I spend the next 30-45 minutes or so furiously googling on my phone, trying to figure out when the tickets will actually go live (apparently it is not when they are announced) and how I can register in the city I want to see the concert in if I don’t live there. Immersed in the Swiftieverse, I do not even question if I really do want to spend this amount of money and go through this kind of effort just for a concert. Sometime after 1.20AM, I suddenly become aware that it is getting too late and that— given that the ticket sales window has not opened yet— there really is no use in my scouring the internet any further tonight, so it would be better to get some sleep. Of course, I sleep fitfully. The fact that this concert has suddenly become available to me, you know, in the hypothetical universe, troubles me. I begin counting out what it would mean for me budget-wise, if I went, and what I’d have to give up to make this happen. The next morning, I wake up with a residual bad taste in my mouth. I immediately start fretting about this whole Ticketmaster country-registering process and wondering if I can in some way combine this trip with my friend’s wedding in Spain in April (they are way too far apart). And then, I finally ask myself the question that I should have asked myself in the beginning: do I even really want to go to this concert?

When it comes to me and concerts, the question is not usually if, but when (and of course, how?). Ever since I became old enough to make my own money, and probably even before then, I have been making it a point to go to as many live music shows as possible. The idea of organizing an entire trip around attending a concert, while perhaps foolish to some, became the only way for me pretty early on. I am very serious about making live music a part of my life and seeing artists I care about performing right in front of me. The fact that I live in the same day and age as Van Morrison— my favourite artist— and might not have gotten to see him improvise and freestyle, weighs heavily on me. I would see him before he died, or before I died, no matter what, I decided long ago (and thank God I managed to). That was kind of the beginning of it all.

If you’ve never attended a live music show, let me tell you they are not all created equally. Some will blow your socks off and have you thanking every deity you believe in that you made it here to this moment, and some will leave you wishing you had cushions for ear drums (while also condemning every deity you believe in for bringing you to this show). My first real-life concert was Sean Paul in the fifth grade. I went with my friend and her dad. I can’t remember if it was by the pyramids or not, but I do have a vague memory of desert. I was not really a huge Sean Paul fan at the time (I wouldn’t say that I am one now either), but he was big and coming to Egypt, so we had to go. I don’t remember much of the concert itself, but I can tell you that it did not leave a strong impression on me. I definitely did not think “wow, I’ve been missing out on this live music thing” or “I have to repeat this experience again soon!”. Actually, the only thing I really remember about that night was how late we stayed up. I had to sleep over at my friend’s house because I think we had school in the morning and it would have been a hassle for me to go home so late and stuff. My second “real” concert was, I believe, Akon in 2009. A friend of mine asked me if I wanted to join her and I remember acquiescing. In hindsight, I didn’t actually know much of his music, so I really have no idea why I decided to go. The concert was a nightmare (as most concerts in Egypt are). We waited for hours for him to arrive. The VIP stage fell at some point. The traffic was shit. I remember my legs being so numb at the end of the night, I could barely walk and promising myself I would not go through this again. So, what flipped the switch?

To be honest, it was the local music scene that got me. Back in the early 2000s/2010s even there were a lot of up-and-coming bands and performers, especially amongst the people I knew. A friend’s cousin or a friend’s sibling or someone who had gone to camp with a friend of mine. Small bands and artists, many of them not putting out original stuff, but talented. Captivating, even. I would go to support them, and inevitably be won over by their prowess. I remember a Digla concert I went to at Sakiet El Sawy, maybe the second one I had ever attended (Digla did put out original stuff). For some reason everyone I knew was there. It was in the River Hall next to the Nile and something caught on fire, I seem to remember,(please correct me if I’m wrong) but no one cared at all because the band was so phenomenal. Their music was electrifying. Their songs were deep and moving. And the concert experience itself, super intimate, nothing at all like Akon or Sean Paul. I believe that is the actual moment I became hooked on experiencing music in this form. Knowing that these people came from a similar background as me, that they’d written and composed all of these songs themselves, that I was one of the few who got to hear them (I think this was before they released their album or on the night of) and just the fact that they were great performers struck deep somehow. I became enamoured with the fleetingness and universality stage performances. With the power of music seen and heard in a moment. With how a show could move you and transport you. And I started to seek out more experiences like this.

When you listen to an artist you love, or even an artist you don’t know but that can put on a performance, I think something chemical happens inside your brain. You connect or emote with the music, the passion, the energy. For some people, maybe it’s the atmosphere: a mixture of drinks, the crowd, and other substances. For me, it’s usually the lyrics. Sometimes, if it’s really unusual, the sound. I don’t think I really understood Hozier until I heard him sing in a small dingy lit hall in NYC. I knew he was a strong lyricist with a lot of range, but I didn’t grasp to what extent he wrote pure poetry until I stood before him, gazing at the ever-changing background, and hearing the in-depth story of where he draws his song inspiration from. To realize how complicated and deep a process like songwriting is, is to have new respect for those who do it well. Similarly, I’d never been a true Red Hot Chili Peppers fan until I heard them performing at Coachella in 2013. Hearing Californication in California, after having lived in California for the better part of a year, was an almost holy experience. I had heard this song maybe 500 times before, but it took on a whole new light that night with the sun setting on festival grounds and the entire audience singing along. I finally truly grasped what “californication” actually meant. 

My brother has frequently asked me what the point is of spending so much effort and money on going to concerts when you can hear the same music, probably recorded better, on your speakers in your room (and hence forgo the whole holding in your pee for hours so you don’t lose your spot among the viewers)? To be honest, if you’ve never done it, or never really connected with the live music thing, I’m not sure I can explain it to you. I guess, for me, there are very few moments that come around in life where I am actively aware that I am a part of history, and live music just happens to be one of those. Music is inspired by the environment it is created in, as well as the person (or persons) doing the creating. It reflects, as well as influences society. Music teaches you about life, but also— if it is really good— mirrors your life (and hence situates you in the broader Zeitgeist). Mosty, though, it connects. A few months ago, I went to the first Backstreet Boys concert to ever take place in Egypt. It was part of their DNA world tour, a tour that had been interrupted by Covid, and was perhaps the first time in a while the band had performed together. Now, if you— like me— grew up in the 90s, you know what a big deal the Backstreet Boys were. You can imagine the amount of people psyched, excited, and looking forward to this concert. I was certain it was going to be great, or at the very least nostalgic, but the show completely blew my expectations out of the water. Beyond the fact that the band still sounded amazing, and had killer dance moves, there was the homogenizing factor of the crowd. Young and old knew all of the lyrics to the band’s songs. Everyone in attendance was bedecked in glitter, 90s fashion, and the desire to bust a move. Attendees you didn’t know in real life would strike up random conversations with you or tell you intimate stories about how this one song shaped their high school love life. Everybody clearly wanted Backstreet back.

What I love about going to concerts, more so than attending a play, maybe as much or more as going to a musical, is the living memories it creates. The time you traveled to London to see your favourite singer play the London Jazz Festival in a sold-out stadium. That time your friend took you to a warehouse in Brooklyn to listen to Rapsody, but instead you discovered her magically talented opener, Saroc. That trip you and your friends took to Amsterdam, mostly to attend the Dave Matthews concert, but also to eat exorbitant amounts of food and get high (on life). That mix up with the Red Not Chili Peppers… Not every concert has been a winner, for sure, but for the most part they have all left me feeling happier, richer, and – maybe because I am lucky—deeply moved. I will never forget finally getting to listen to Billy Joel play Scenes from an Italian Restaurant on his rotating piano at Madison Square Garden or dancing to the Lumineers’ Hey Ho in shorts and bathing suit tops in Indio. I don’t know if everyone needs to adopt concert-going as a lifestyle, it is definitely an expensive, logistically challenging, one, but catching a live music show every once in a while, will undoubtedly enhance your life, and – if you’re lucky— leave you with a few good stories.

I don’t know what the future holds for me and Taylor. I alternate between thinking that I would be a fool to miss out on the tour that is especially dedicated to her various musical anthologies (and not just one specific album) and being deeply convinced that the size of this concert, along with the expenses I would incur, are really not worth it this time. If you or your loved ones have ever been to a Taylor Swift concert, please do share your opinion and personal experience. Otherwise, please hit me up with any cool shows or concerts you may have heard of. I am always looking for partners in crime 😉

Rockingly yours,

Girl With One Earring