Some men got made to feel unwelcome at a Last Dinner Party gig? Now you know how the rest of us feel

Picture yourself at a concert, a music festival, or a club, only to be interrogated about your knowledge of the artists' songs. Picture being looked down upon and made to feel like you don’t belong. Imagine the discomfort of feeling intimidated, alone, and judged for your presence at the event. Now think about the anxiety of feeling unsafe while you're simply there to enjoy your favorite musician.

Every person of color, as well as every woman, transgender, non-binary, and queer individual, can relate to this experience: the belief that if you aren't the typical white male fan, you must somehow be out of place at a music event. In 2008, the introduction of Form 696 officially recognized racial profiling at music events in London. Even though it was removed in 2017, discrimination against fans of color persists. Fans from diverse backgrounds attending indie, rock, or metal concerts—anything other than rap or R&B—often face surprise or hostility. Women frequently find themselves having to prove their knowledge of a band to justify their presence, and some experience sexual assault. The societal violence faced by LGBTQ+ and gender non-conforming individuals doesn’t simply stop once you pass through the entrance.

Several men experienced this firsthand due to excessive security measures at a Last Dinner Party concert at the Engine Shed in Lincoln over the weekend. Three individuals shared on X that they were accused of being "perverts just for being alone," "interrogated and searched," and questioned about their favorite song by the band. The venue later issued an apology, acknowledging that they had overreacted after security was informed about previous incidents at the band's shows. The Last Dinner Party has always emphasized the importance of creating safe environments for all their fans. They stated that they were not involved in the development of these security policies, which they believe do not align with their values, and expressed their shock and disappointment that anyone felt uncomfortable.

The guys didn't deserve for their evening to turn out like this. Similarly, the level of public attention surrounding this story—covered by outlets like the Guardian, the Independent, the Mirror, Metro, NME, the BBC, Sky News and others, and heavily debated online—seems completely exaggerated compared to what actually happened. If every instance of women or minority fans being treated poorly at concerts received similar media coverage, every news outlet would require a team of special reporters just to cover those incidents.

Awareness of behavior at live events has reached unprecedented levels. Activist groups like Safe Gigs for Women are gaining prominence, and many venues have personnel trained in the Ask for Angela initiative, which originated in Lincolnshire. Particularly within DIY scenes, it has become common to display guidelines promoting respect, inclusivity, and tolerance throughout venues. Additionally, a growing number of musicians are openly expressing their expectations for audience conduct. (Even mosh pits are now more welcoming than they used to be.) These movements have gained traction over the past ten years, coinciding with an increased awareness of gender and racial issues within music culture. However, such efforts are not entirely new: since the late 1980s, Ian MacKaye of Fugazi has been calling out fans for violent and disruptive behavior and has written songs about sexual assault to encourage male audience members to empathize with women. Kurt Cobain also took a stand during Nirvana concerts, halting performances to confront and remove anyone engaging in sexual harassment. He made it clear that “sexist, racist, homophobic” fans were not welcome in their community. Similarly, Kathleen Hanna championed the phrase “girls to the front” at Bikini Kill shows, a rallying cry that became a core element of the riot grrrl movement and sparked backlash from men upset by the idea.

These efforts have certainly enhanced the experiences of concertgoers. There's a certain reassurance in knowing that anyone who misbehaves can be removed if reported. Ideally, this has also prompted men to be more mindful of how they use a shared space and interact with others, as well as to hold their friends accountable if they cross any lines. However, issues still exist. There are clear acts of misconduct, like unwanted touching or invasive attention, as well as subtler yet troubling behaviors, like lone men who spend the entire concert fixated on the female singer through their outdated digital cameras, snapping countless photos for reasons that remain unclear—this kind of unsettling behavior has come up in my discussions with female musicians multiple times. Recently, I experienced a condescending attitude from a man at a festival that was so typical and predictable, I felt it wasn't worth my time to confront him—but it left me feeling down for the rest of the day.

The Engine Shed should not have jumped to the conclusion that individual men attending the Last Dinner Party show had bad intentions. While the security measures taken were aimed at ensuring the safety of concertgoers – a concern that remains valid – they ended up being counterproductive, both during the event and in terms of the unnecessary and distracting conversations that followed. Monitoring concerts can be quite challenging; it's not just about keeping order in dimly lit, crowded spaces, but also about maintaining the sense of freedom that should be fundamental to any live music event. Approaching entry like it's the highly exclusive Berlin club Berghain and viewing every attendee as a potential threat can create an atmosphere of suspicion that undermines the sense of community. A true sense of unity among the audience can only arise from recognizing that everyone present is part of a temporary group, connected by at least this shared experience.

I can see how attending a concert alone as a 50-year-old man might feel stressful, especially given the stereotypes he might face. However, I hope he grasps the heightened sense of vigilance that women and fans from marginalized groups often experience at most live music events and that he does his part to help ease that tension. (And seriously, he should put away his camera.) If this strange incident in Lincoln has any value, it should remind us how ridiculous it is that anyone should feel uncomfortable at a concert – yet, unfortunately, it's something that's still all too common. This troubling reality seems to be accepted without the strong outrage it truly deserves.