A Tiny Blur

I’m no scrooge when it comes to smartphones. I’m as consumed by staring into my tiny screen as everyone else. Before I begin almost any activity, I have to decide if I shouldn’t first spend a few more minutes or hours scrolling and scrolling, checking the feeds (Facebook, Twitter, Instagram), going through emails, seeing how many steps I’ve taken in a given day.

What am I looking for? What is there that is so interesting? I have no idea. Nor do I really care. I’m just acting on what has become a basic instinct of human beings in our modern age — staring intently into this small device as text and images float by.

You might think a concert would be different. There are actual people — talented musicians — performing for you, right in front of you. Yet as I sat recently in the balcony of the Cadillac Palace in Chicago watching John Legend play and sing his heart out at the piano, I did so thru the prism of the tiny screens held up in front of me.

Some were taking one indistinguishable photograph after another — a fuzzy blur of lights and the vague pixelated resemblance of a person on stage. Some were tweeting about their presence at the concert or recording what would later become an unbearably low-quality YouTube. And the rest were texting.

It ruined the moment. It just did.

Legend was doing this very intimate, stripped down acoustic set — just him and the piano, and occasionally some strings. It was the kind of thing you just wanted to soak in. Just sit there quietly and listen. But you couldn’t because of the constant distraction of all those tiny blurs watching the concert for you.

I can understand taking a couple of shots so you have something to post on social media and say you were there. But why do you need hundreds? Why the non-stop flurry of people taking the same bad photo for two hours? Why not just watch, enjoy and actually remember the live talent you’ve come to see?