Take a photo.
Record the chorus.
Capture the confetti if you must.
Then put the phone down.
You came to see a live performance, not to produce a vertical documentary called My Forearm at the Arena.
The people behind you did not take out a small loan to watch your battery icon turn red. They wanted to see the artist, not your cracked screen, incoming notifications, and thumb repeatedly trying to find focus.
There is nothing wrong with wanting a memory.
There is something wrong with blocking the entire view while creating forty-seven minutes of footage that will sit untouched in your camera roll until the next time your phone tells you storage is full.
Your phone has seen enough.
Let your eyes have a turn.