Lauryn Hill with a Yondr Pouch: Are Cell Phone Bans Fair to Fans?

Last week my friend Steph and I left our kids at home for a night out to see Ms. Lauryn Hill, whose 1998 Grammy-winning solo album changed our lives. En route to the July 21 concert at Hartford Healthcare Amphitheater in Bridgeport, Conn., I imagined how much fun we’d have dancing, belting out big hits from The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill. I also admittedly looked forward to capturing a video or two on my phone to share on Rockmommy.

But as Lauryn would say, “it’s funny how money change a situation.” The moment we made our way into the concert line, we learned there would be no videos of “Killing Me Softly” taken from our seats. Hill and her team, like a growing number of famous musicians who have the privilege of making a good living with their art, banned phones from the show. 

Hence, this would be my very first encounter with a Yondr pouch, a secure, soft-sided lockbox that sheaths your cell phone, which can only be opened when you exit the amphitheater. 

Initially, I was startled. Sure, I’d heard about phone-free concerts from stars like Jack White. But I’d never experienced a lack of access to my phone at a concert (since getting my first phone in 1999). It threw me off my game. I didn’t go to the concert to take videos, of course, but as a content creator for a music blog, I do take and post a lot of videos. Especially of musician moms like Hill, who are inspiring mother figures to Rockmommy’s readers.

Spoiler alert, the show was awesome. Lauryn Hill absolutely delivered. From the first strum of her acoustic guitar to the final curtain call, Hill’s set was fresh, fun, and inspiring.

But the whole Yondr phone experience was … strange. On the one hand, I loved the idea of the pouches and going phone-free. Seeing an audience without phones recalled memories of my bygone teenage years. I got to truly experience a 90-minute set with all the hits, showcasing Hill’s ageless neosoul vocals, wordsmithing prowess, and absolute brilliance. Hearing “Doo Wop (That Thing)” and “The Lost Ones” live gave me all the feels. As the entire amphitheater sung along, I felt transported. Not having a phone freed me up to focus on the music.

For these reasons, it’s understandable that so many high-profile musicians would choose this route. Take Jack White, who doesn’t even own a phone. It’s probably annoying to see a sea of people taking videos of “Seven Nation Army” in lieu of experiencing the set. Not just to White, either.

How many of us have stood behind that annoying person who is in the third row with his phone held up, obstructing our view of the main stage?

As musician White says in a testimonial on Yondr’s home page, “People absolutely love it. You immediately know that they are engaged. The first show you play you can tell the difference.” Donald Glover of Childish Gambino echoes these sentiments: “I want to give people an experience. Telling people to put their phones away really forces a person to be present.”

Yet at the same time, I partly resented the no-phones thing. Hill’s fans spend their hard-earned money to see her. That an artist would prevent us from capturing the moment is a little obnoxious. For better or worse, we’re addicted to our phones. Many of us feel joy in sharing videos of cool experiences. It gives us a little thrill in our ordinary lives.

I’m not the only one who feels this way. As writer Sarah Obermeyer observed in an op-ed for The Central Trend, “It’s not just about the music, it’s about being able to relive the moment when you watch the videos down the road. If it was just about the music, people would just listen to the albums. People want to remember the magical night of seeing one of their favorite artists live, and they will never have that exact experience again.”

Interestingly, only money-making artists like Hill, White, or Phoebe Bridgers — who have all benefitted from their fans listening to them on smartphones — can get away with this “no phones” thing.  It’s a privilege of elite musicians. The vast majority of indie artists spend every show hoping that fans take videos and post them to Instagram stories. How else do we spread the word about our art? It’s not like people read newspaper articles or go to record stores anymore. No one buys CDs at our shows anymore. We’ve had to tailor our entire lives to a phone-enabled world.

And it’s unfair to the people who must work real, grueling 9-to-5 jobs to afford to see an artist of Hill’s caliber. Many of us have little kids and want to be available if a babysitter calls (or we wouldn’t go out in the first place). Many of us have other responsibilities that require us to be connected at some level. Phones are bad and good, but they are nevertheless a part of modern, mainstream society.

Compounding the phone blocking is artists that don’t start on time. Like Hill. I get it, soundcheck is important. But to block cell phone use and then impose a DJ on paying fans for two hours — again, something that only an artist privileged enough to have a massive fanbase would do — erodes the collective experience.

Notably, a pair of women I stood next to kept asking what time it was throughout Hill’s set, as they couldn’t use their phones to check and needed to make the last train to Manhattan. They couldn’t buy train tickets in advance or text their friends that they were running late. These are things they’ve gotten used to doing on a regular basis.

So where do I land with the “no cell phones” rule, all things considered?

I hate to admit I felt a bit disappointed to get my phone back.  The Yondr experience made me realize how addicted I’ve become to a device. It forced me to pay attention to the music and the experience and cherish the time with my best friend.

I guess I’m OK with a cell phone ban, if it’s only a handful of superstar artists banning phones. But the idea of never being able to capture videos at a concert? That’s a hard pill to swallow.

It’s funny how technology changes a situation.

If only there were timers on phones and they would disconnect after 15 minutes of active use, or just one video. That would be the ideal middle ground. Fans would select their video moments more carefully. Until that day comes, maybe I’ll create a rule for myself that I only pull out my phone during the first song and put it away the rest of the time. Or maybe I’ll do more research in advance to know what I’m getting into.

But as I recall last night with my friend, I do have to say that having fresh, crisp, unadulterated memories is the best gift of all. And I’m not sure I would trade having a phone for that experience. 

Marisa Torrieri Bloom is the editor and founder of Rockmommy.