The Gifts of Live Music

Last weekend my spouse and I joined nearly 80,000 others at Levi’s Stadium to see Ed Sheeran’s Loop Tour. We were closer to the stage than I had imagined, with a perfect view as a bridge extended over the crowd and Ed walked back and forth between the two stages. It made the enormous stadium somehow feel smaller and more personal.

One of the things I’ve always admired about Ed Sheeran is that he doesn’t rely on a huge band to carry the show. Much of the concert is simply him, a guitar, and his loop station, layering each musical part one at a time until an entire song comes to life before your eyes. Watching that creative process unfold live is almost as fascinating as hearing the finished songs.

One of the visuals projected onto the giant screen showed home videos of Ed as a young boy learning to play musical instruments, including the cello. It was a simple but touching reminder that every accomplished artist begins as a child trying something new. Long before stadiums and sold-out tours, there was simply a kid discovering the joy of making music.

The evening also introduced me to two new artists: Aaron Rowe from Dublin, Ireland, and Norwegian singer Sigrid, who performed with her talented band. It also provided the chance to finally see Myles Smith perform in person. I’ve shared Myles’ music here before, so that felt like an unexpected bonus.

Ed also welcomed the Irish folk band Beoga to the stage for several songs, including “Galway Girl,” filling the stadium with fiddles, accordion, bodhrán, and the kind of energy that makes it impossible not to smile.

As wonderful as the music was, what stays with me most isn’t a particular song. It’s the feeling of sharing it with so many others. Imagine standing among nearly 80,000 people as everyone sings the same lyrics in unison. During one song, Ed encouraged the entire stadium to jump together. For a few joyful moments, strangers laughed, danced, sang, and moved as one.

There was something unexpectedly moving about looking around and realizing that every person had brought their own story into that stadium, yet for those few hours we were sharing one experience. There are very few places where tens of thousands of people willingly gather to sing together. Yet there we were—people of different ages, backgrounds, and beliefs. Friends, couples, parents with children, lifelong fans, and those simply along for the adventure. For a few hours, none of that really mattered. We were simply people sharing music together.

At one point, Ed mentioned that his manager had encouraged him not to talk so much between songs. I couldn’t help but smile because, for me, the stories are part of what make his concerts special. We don’t come only to hear the music. We come to hear about the songs, to laugh, to connect, and to feel like we’re spending an evening with another human being rather than simply watching a performance.

After the concert I commented on one of Ed’s Facebook posts about that evening show:

“Keep telling your stories and talking to the audiences to your heart’s content. We’re there to connect and be part of the experience.”

In a world that can sometimes feel divided, live music reminds me how much we still have in common. During the song Camera, the giant screen displayed the lyrics, “There’s somethin’ in the way you shine.”  I couldn’t help but smile. Perhaps because those words echoed the very heart of this website. We are all meant to shine—not by standing alone, but sometimes by adding our voice to something larger than ourselves.

We all know what it’s like to love someone, to lose someone, to hope, to celebrate, to remember, and to dream. Songs have a way of helping us carry those experiences together.

For a few hours, surrounded by thousands of strangers, the crowd became something more than a crowd. It became a community. To me, that’s one of the gifts of live music. While we each have our own story, music has a remarkable way of bringing thousands of individual voices together as one. Maybe that’s why the words “…that you shine” stayed with me long after the concert ended. We don’t shine only in our individual moments. Sometimes we shine brightest when we sing, celebrate, and simply share an experience with others.