I was sat in B1 and honestly the most miserable dead crowd. I was ashamed to be sat among them. Some were okay but me and my husband were rocking right through stood for some parts dancing away, paying respect to what was the biggest and best send off of all time.

I was sat in B1, and honestly, it was the most miserable, dead crowd I’ve ever experienced at a concert. It genuinely baffled me. Here we were, witnessing what was arguably the biggest and best send-off in rock history—an emotional, electrifying, once-in-a-lifetime celebration—and the people around us looked like they’d rather be anywhere else. I was ashamed to be sat among them. I kept thinking, How can you sit there like that, stone-faced, during such an iconic moment?

Some people were okay, I’ll admit. There were a few heads nodding, a couple of claps here and there. But for the most part, B1 felt like it was filled with statues. No energy, no passion, no real connection to what was happening just meters in front of them. It felt wrong—disrespectful, even. This wasn’t just a concert. It was a farewell drenched in emotion and history. It deserved more than just polite applause and crossed arms.

Me and my husband, though, we weren’t having any of that. We were up on our feet whenever we could be, dancing away, rocking through every riff and drumbeat. We knew exactly what we were there for. This was a tribute, a celebration, a send-off for legends, and we gave it everything we had. We weren’t just watching—we were part of it, just like the performers wanted us to be.

There were moments where the music was so powerful it shook you to your core. You could feel the legacy pouring out of every note, every vocal growl, every blazing guitar solo. And while we were letting it move us, losing ourselves in it, I’d glance around and see people scrolling on their phones, or just staring blankly ahead. It was honestly infuriating. Why spend the money, make the trip, and then act like you’re watching a soundcheck?

I get it—everyone experiences music differently. But there’s a line between taking it in quietly and just flat-out not engaging. When artists pour their souls out on stage, especially for something as meaningful as this, the least we can do as a crowd is respond. Clap. Cheer. Stand. Show them we’re with them.

In spite of the dead energy around us, we didn’t let it drag us down. If anything, it made us louder, more determined to show our love and gratitude. I’ll never forget that night—not just because of what happened on stage, but because of what it reminded me: that live music isn’t just about sound. It’s about presence, emotion, connection. It’s about being there, fully.

So yeah, B1 might’ve been a letdown crowd-wise, but for me and my husband, it was unforgettable. We paid our respects the right way—with energy, with heart, and with everything we had.