Last week, on a random work night, I hovered for a moment over the thumbnail for Trainwreck: The Astroworld Tragedy, before selecting it as my featured presentation for the evening. Although I have firsthand memory of the news cycle surrounding the devastating events that unfolded at the Astroworld concert, in November of 2021 I was a fresh-faced 1L, mostly concerned with my upcoming finals and readjusting to life in the wake of 2020 lockdowns. Revisiting this tragedy through the lens of the documentary sent me right to my computer to analyze the culture that enables tragedy and how the music industry can evolve.
Like any person who reads the news, back in 2021 my eye was grabbed by the macabre headlines, and I was heartbroken over the loss of life at the Astroworld festival, something that should have been nothing more than a fun night out with friends for its thousands of attendees. Of course, as a frequent concertgoer myself, and as a person with an interest in music history, I knew that concert deaths and crowd crushes weren’t entirely unheard of. There were deaths at Woodstock ‘69, and ‘99, and of course at the Route 91 Harvest Music festival shooting (the deadliest mass shooting in modern history), and the terrorist attack at the Bataclan in Paris during an Eagles of Death Metal Concert. Suffice it to say, having experienced my coming-of-age years in the period that spanned from 9/11 through the 2008 financial crisis, the advent of social media (and its accompanying woes of ranging from cyber bullying to revenge porn), up through what totaled to be three Trump election cycles, the Covid-19 pandemic, and multiple ongoing foreign wars, I exhibit the typical symptoms of my generation; compassion burnout. After a few moments spent reflecting on the articles I read, I never thought much about the victims or the festival again. However, now, as a first-year associate in entertainment law, music law to be specific, watching the Netflix documentary that exposed the events leading up to the Astroworld Tragedy, and the tragedy itself, I was rocked to the core.
While my initial reactions to the story, at the time that it unfolded were “How could this happen?” my question now is “How was a culture that allowed this to happen created?” One of the prominently featured talking heads in the documentary is crowd safety specialist, Scott Davidson, who claims the event was not accidental but rather inevitable given the conditions of the event. The documentary clearly seeks to frame Live Nation, a massive events promoter and venue operator, as the “bad guy.” This is entirely different from legal culpability. A corporation is no more than a legal fiction; a nexus of contracts. Whether or not corporations can hold moral culpability is not something I can determine in this blog post. In fact- I took an entire seminar course on this very topic in my undergraduate studies (small shoutout to my professor Kenneth Silver and his paper on this very topic, which I will link in the footnotes). Further, because I am not an economist, I will not pick a premise that I like and follow the rest of this post with “suppose,” hanging on a principle of my choosing. So; rather than looking to whether we can place moral blame on Live Nation, or whether or not such blame-placing is productive, I will turn my attention to separate questions; How did we get here? What is the current state of affairs in concert safety? What can we look to in order to create positive change moving forward? How can music industry professionals pledge to be a part of the solution, not the problem?
In the Netflix special, emphasis is placed on enumerated factors believed to have contributed to the Astroworld tragedy. Namely, (1) a manufactured perception of the event as one that inspires chaos that ought to be “leaned into”, including inability to control the entrances to the event, leading to more attendees than were able to be safely accommodated,(2) failure to run models predicting crowd patterns at the main stage, and (3) a profits over people attitude held by those in power (naturally an effect, if not a by-law necessity, of a publicly held company with shareholders). These factors were not endemic to Astroworld festival alone; the same chain of events could have easily been unleashed at any number of concerts or festivals.
To address these factors in order, let’s start at the very beginning. Marketing a concert as “crazy” is not a terrible strategy, nor inherently wrong. It’s true that music festivals are meant to be a place apart from the “real world;” where barely-there outfits, crazy costumes, body glitter, diffraction goggles, and Kandi beads come out to play. Woodstock, the quintessential American festival was billed as “an Aquarian exposition”, a place meant to create “change in human consciousness which transcended mankind.” We all know Woodstock faced extreme challenges in crowd safety. . . This tradition however, of the musical festival as where the rules of society don’t apply, is worth holding onto, it’s part of what makes concerts culturally important. But just because we abandon the rules of society, does NOT mean we must throw out the rules of CIVILITY with the bath water. If event promoters sought to market Astroworld as a vibrant, crazy environment with an energy that can’t be contained; that alone shouldn’t have resulted in deaths. Young people deserved to find a space to let loose and be themselves and enjoy live music on the heels of the covid-19 lockdowns. However, rather than building a constructive narrative around excitement within bounds, the marketing around Astroworld 2021 focused on chaos, highlighting the charging of the gates in previous years, and even told event staff to “lean in” to the unruly character of their festival.
In a way, I want to defend the attempt to lean into chaos. After all, festivals and concerts are a form of organized chaos. But organized is a load-bearing word! There is a difference between celebrating the appearance of chaos and failing to contain its reality. Further, just because something may look wild to the untrained eye, does not mean it’s not strictly regulated behind the scenes or structured by a unique set of guiding principles. Punks, hardcore fans, and jam aficionados are all familiar with some elements of craziness endemic to their respective genres. Mosh pits, stage diving, crowd surfing, drug use, and parking lot loitering are not polite behaviors; but they have an established history replete with internal terms and conditions. Subcultures and countercultures often establish their own rules and traditions, expected to be followed by those who wish to participate in, and truly be accepted by the group. Surfers don’t snake, skiers know those downhill of them have the right of way and stoners know its puff puff pass (not puff, puff, puff pass). . . Rule following doesn’t have to be framed as lame; it can be re-contextualized into social, bond-forming behavior that signifies one as part of the “in-group”. Rather than creating a stand-offish environment with terms like “concert jail,” and visible, armed security, perhaps festivals would benefit from a Total Quality Control or decentralized community safety approach. I don’t think this is a change that can be accommodated overnight, and I believe that there are hard safety measures required (see my thoughts about terrorism and violence at concerts and festivals below); but let’s leave the hard safety measures for the real bad guys, and take a softer approach to kids being kids or people letting loose. While teenagers will definitely think it’s cool to climb over fences or play chicken with security guards, they’d be far more unlikely to lash out against figures they respect or look up to. Using hard security to protect against hard threats like terrorism or gun violence ought to be maintained, but a peer-led program should be implemented for other jobs typically handled by security such as ticketing or bag searching. Essentially, bum-rushing can be avoided with a fresh narrative about what is “cool,” “acceptable” concert behavior; terrorism, needless to say, requires a different approach. . .
To that point, I am not a safety expert and have no background in security. However, I can speak at least to what the public’s perception on the current state of affairs in concert safety. From outside observation alone, it seems concert safety has a focus on external threats such as terrorism. This is not misplaced emphasis. In the past ten years alone there has been an attack on the Bataclan theatre in Paris, a suicide bombing at an Ariana Grande concert in Manchester, a mass shooting at a music festival in Las Vegas, an attack on Crocus City Hall in Moscow, the cancellation of Taylor Swift’s Eras’ Tour concerts in Vienna due to a foiled terror plot, and the massacre of 364 attendees of the Nova Music festival including the taking of 40 hostages. Thus, it is prudent for event organizers to be aware of external threats like terrorism when planning for large concerts or festivals and take advantage of third parties like government agencies, private security companies, or even local legal experts with critical knowledge of the landscape in which an event is taking place. While Live Nation might just be dropping in for the weekend to pitch a circus tent and then hit the road, larger forces on the ground develop over time. Perhaps one year a particular city is a perfectly safe place to have a concert, but the same place might be totally inhospitable just a few months later because of a significant change to the surroundings. This might sound like it can only apply to countries facing active ground wars- but it actually has far broader implications. Local factors like cartels, or even areas with discriminatory legislation can present the same level of threat. An LGBTQ+ person may be perfectly safe performing and staying overnight in one town, but unsafe in a neighboring one. This very problem gets to the heart of the issue I’m seeking to highlight; dangers lurk in less obvious ways. In 2021, at the Once Upon a Time in LA (another festival), performing artist Drakeo the Ruler was ambushed by a mob of between 40 and 60 men, and fatally stabbed. This past month, in France, 150 people were injected with a mystery substance by hypodermic needle at a music festival in what may have been a gender-based violence attack leveraged against the fairer sex. These tragedies may have been more appropriately addressed by social workers or forces specifically trained in handling gang-related violence or gender-based violence.
The importance of advice from people with specialized knowledge brings me to my next point; Live Nation’s failure to run models predicting crowd patterns at the main stage. Now, once again, going to hand some points to Live Nation. In the documentary, it’s mentioned that thought was put into crowd safety and the design of the cross-sectioned GA configuration at the Travis Scott main stage. However, as is also pointed out in the documentary, no other performer played at the stage, causing it to be left empty right up until “go time”, when it would effectively be swarmed, disproportionately on one side, leading to deaths, medical emergencies and crowd crush on one side, while the other side remained a perfectly enjoyable viewing experience. With just a little more thinking or a specialized consultation team, I think this design and/or scheduling defect could have been realized and avoided.
However, more than terrorism, crowd crush, or even “bad drugs,” the effects of dehydration and heatstroke are one of the most potent dangers for concertgoers, and some of the most preventable! This brings me to point 3, the dangers of a profits over people approach to live events. Of course, as an attorney with at least a basic grasp on corporate law and its guiding principles, I understand that corporations have a duty to their shareholders to generate value (NOT good vibes). However, the emergent practice of ESG investing and the growth of B corporations prove that the general public wants to see corporations do good WHILE doing well. I think publicly traded companies like Live Nation can consider ways to implement socially responsible corporate governance from the top down and create positive impact for shareholders and stakeholders alike. In fact, perhaps a campaign showcasing initiatives to implement such policies and inviting young people to become investors could be a great way to teach music lovers and festival attendees about the music business and create a meaningful two-way relationship. Promoters service fans as costumers and fans should NOT be overlooked for their ability to sway public opinion and affect stock prices. After the great Eras Tour Ticket Panic of 2022, Live Nation stock prices dipped to their lowest levels since February 2021.
In yet another Swift-related incident in Brazil, Ana Clara Benevides died at a Taylor Swift concert where attendees were forbidden from bringing in their own water during a heat wave. These complex tragedies are hard to plan for. Water was forbidden at the Swift concert in what was intended to be a step in the right direction; a safety measure similar to that which prevents people from bringing liquids onto airplanes… But even the best intentions lead to deaths when profits are placed over people. For example, if concertgoers are banned from bringing outside food and water for safety reasons (and let’s be real, to encourage further spending on food and beverages at the venue), thrifty attendees will go without, to their own detriment. If venues are going to ban outside sustenance, they must provide free water at the very least and possibly even some tier of free food. I know that statement is going to piss some people off! Somewhere, somebody is saying to themselves, these idiots chose to spend their money on tickets to a festival and now they’re choosing not to spend their money on water once they get inside- if anything happens to them, it’s their own damn fault! I hope that sorry person never finds themselves relying on the kindness of strangers. . . That aside, I’ve taken some time to think of frameworks that could sensibly accommodate providing free water and food at live events.
Water should be a no-brainer. In-door venues should be equipped with water fountains, water stations, or filtered sink water where attendees can refill cups or bottles that they should be allowed to bring in from home. On top of this, venues or festivals can form strategic partnerships with beverage distributors. Coachella powered by Coca Cola doesn’t sound too bad to me, so long as there’s free Dasani. Similarly, a new electrolyte brand might do a great brand activation passing out packets on the festival grounds. “Free” food is another possibility. Festivals will always have room for beloved food vendors and attendees will generally line up to have crazy Instagram foods like Ramen burgers, matcha lemonades, or THC-laced baked goods. However, throwing in some more affordable vending machines where concertgoers can pick up low-cost snacks might really help out some folks attending with a lower budget. Furthermore, initiatives that trade food for labor should not be overlooked. Concerts and festivals are only possible through the hard work of a lot of helping hands. Imagine a station where in exchange for a bag of chips or a PB & J, you agree to return one trash bag full of picked-up litter, or to cover a shift needed elsewhere in the festival. While some might view these solutions as idealistic, they represent a step toward balancing profitability with attendee welfare and actually practicable. Ravers (who practice PLUR), are familiar with harm reduction teams at raves, and community-oriented events like Burning Man can serve as a leading example of what can be accomplished when experience is prioritized over profit.
The Astroworld tragedy—and the many others that have preceded and followed it—highlight the precarious balance between profit, safety, and culture in the live music industry. While chaos and freedom are part of what make concerts transformative, transcendent experiences, those feelings must be scaffolded by thoughtful planning and compassionate leadership. Industry giants like Live Nation, artists, venue owners, and local authorities all have a role to play in safeguarding the spaces where people come together to celebrate art and community. By fostering a culture of accountability, prioritizing safety through both hard and soft measures, and listening to the lived experiences of concertgoers and security experts alike, we can work toward a future where concerts are safe spaces for collective joy, not sites of tragedy. The music deserves it—and so do the people.
