Rock music has always embraced - and even represented - rebellion, rowdiness, and a robust disdain for social... — Elizabeth Flock

Rock music has always embraced - and even represented - rebellion, rowdiness, and a robust disdain for social decorum. But along with more classical art forms like theater, opera, and the symphony, it's suffering from the distracted, smartphone-carrying audiences of the digital age.

Author: Elizabeth Flock

Insight: Rock music got its reputation precisely because it refused to sit quietly in assigned seats and follow the rules. It was supposed to be dangerous, unpredictable, thrilling—the opposite of classical concerts where you hold your breath and don't clap between movements. Yet here's the weird part: both genres now face the same enemy. That glowing rectangle in your pocket doesn't care whether you're supposed to be rowdy or reverent. It just wants your attention anyway. There's something almost poetic about rock and opera ending up in the same boat. Rock rebelled against stuffy tradition, but it also relied on something those stuffy traditions had: a captive audience genuinely present for what was happening on stage. You can't crowd-surf while checking Instagram. You can't feel the bass in your chest when you're composing a text message. The irony is that rock's whole power came from collective presence—the shared energy of people actually there—and that's exactly what digital distraction erodes. This matters beyond just entertainment. It suggests our attention crisis doesn't discriminate by genre or generation. Whether you're seeking rebellion or refined beauty, you're up against the same pull. Being fully present anywhere—at a concert, a dinner table, a protest—has become a counterculture act in itself.