No phones, only immaterial memories.

Phoebe Bridgers is creating a phone-free environment for the international tour of her third studio album Lost Weekend, released this past August.

The Lost Tour requires all attendees to secure their smart phones, watches, or recording devices in provided Yondr pouches upon entrance.

In the age of mass surveillance, fragile attention spans, and dopamine-saturated distractions, this experience of existing in an objectively present manner was exciting and stimulated muscles that have laid dormant in me for months or years. I’ll be reminiscing on the boredom felt while waiting alone in the merchandise line as my friend went to find our seats in the 300s; my elated gaze scanning the walls determined to find

an analog clock for the time once Alex G. closed his opening set; the giddy chatter between my friend and I once we jailed our zombifying gadgets; the expressions, features, styles, and individuality of collective peers as we cheer on an exceptional artist; and the unparalleled creativity throughout Phoebe’s setlist that I’m transported back to as replay her candid retelling of life in the past couple years.