Musically Miscallaneous

A lot of people post concert videos on their Instagram stories, but I haven’t heard about anyone talking about the behind the scenes of what it takes to get there. From the weather not being on your side (because when is it ever in the UK) to the panic when the encore is still going and your the last LNER Azuma service is about to leave, but you choose to stay still the end and take the night bus home anyway.

the thrill of exploring new cities

Being based in Durham for the last 3 years, I’ve travelled across the UK for gigs: to Newcastle, Manchester, London, even Sunderland. What started as a way to see my favourite artists became something else entirely. Gig travel has turned into a full-on hobby for me that’s shaped how I’ve experienced university, cities, and music itself. But it’s also one been of the best things I’ve done at uni, hands down.

Durham is a really small university town, so going to gigs gave me a reason to get out of that bubble. Every concert I went became an excuse to plan a mini trip. Newcastle is second nature to me now, but when I went for the first time in first year to see Kendrick Lamar, it felt out of my depth. Although later on that year, navigating Manchester city centre and trying to get to the Etihad stadium and back to my hotel pushed me even further out of my depth.

Meanwhile, being down in London involved at least one night tube and bus, ordering a Subway 6 inch at midnight, and that weird sense of feeling both very alive and very tired at the same time. Even when it was just a day trip, these mini excursions reminded me there was more going on than my set routine. 

to go with friends or go alone?

Some of my favourite experiences have been when I went with my friends. Queueing outside venues in the freezing cold or scorching heat (depending on the time of year) and waiting for the artist to come out onto the stage somehow became more bearable when you had someone to go with. But when no one else liked the artist or couldn’t make it, I just went anyway.

Going solo feels unusual at first when you see so many pairs and larger groups of people while you’re just… by yourself. 
But when you realise that nobody minds that you are, it’s the it’s the best feeling in the world. You’re surrounded by hundreds or even thousands of people, depending on whether you’re in a small, cozy venue or an arena larger than life, all united by a shared purpose. The sheer energy and vibrations filling the space are truly unparalleled.

standing tickets: the highs and lows

There’s nothing like getting to a venue early, getting barricades or the front few rows and watching it fill up behind you, and cheering as a collective when lights go down. Making eye contact with the artist, even it’s for less than 0.5 seconds, feels like winning the lottery. Especially in smaller venues, you can get close enough that you can see every detail of the stage. It’s immersive, intimate and overwhelming in the best way possible.

Plus, there’s something special about meeting people in the queue, who you can share your playlists and snacks with while waiting. You might never cross paths again, but for that one evening, you’re connected by a shared love for the artist.

At the same time, the experience of standing for a concert can also be hell. ou queue for hours in the cold or rain, only to get stuck behind a wall of tall people. By the end, you’re so tired you can barely walk. The whole time, you’re glancing at the clock, planning your escape route. I always tell myself that ‘I’m never doing this again’. Then I do it anyway.

the case for being seated

Then there are seated tickets. Seated gigs are elite in their own way. When you’re physically drained or just not in the mood to fight a crowd, being able to sit down is a blessing in disguise. You can show up later, leave your seat to use the bathroom and still get a great view. Plus, from higher up, you have a bird’s eye view of the lights, visuals, and choreography that can go over your head (literally) when you’re pressed against the barricade. Especially when you’re by yourself, seats make the logistical side of things a lot less stressful. 

post concert depression

The post-gig crash is real. One evening, you’re screaming the lyrics to your favourite songs in a packed venue. The next, you’re in bed, watching someone else’s story, wondering when your next concert will be.

When at uni, having concerts lined up gave me something to count down to. I say I’ll be sensible, but let’s be honest, if a presale drops, I am dropping everything to join the queue and secure tickets. It’s no walk in the park – with queues, waitlists, apps that crash at the worst moment possible. And when you do get through? The prices make you question everything. Getting a ticket for face value is rare due the surge in dynamic pricing. Add travel, food, and storage space for videos, and suddenly going to a single concert feels like a luxury trip.

Overall, travelling for concerts has been exhausting, expensive, and full of little mishaps. But it changed the way I saw the UK. Suddenly, train stations had their own soundtracks, and every playlist seemed to carry the scent of a different city. Music became so much more than just something in my headphones. And still, I’ll keep chasing that feeling, even if it means deleting old videos to make space for the next adventure. Those moments made every challenge feel worthwhile, stitching together memories I wouldn’t trade for anything.