Tommy Tiernan is taking us back in time by banning phones at his performances. Using a service called Yondr, which Chris Rock, Dave Chapelle and Bob Dylan have also recently adopted, the result is a phone-free experience at his Tomfoolery shows.
About three weeks before the gig I get an email that this will be a phone-free show and I’m promised that my “senses will be slightly more heightened when we lose the technology crutch”. I don’t doubt it. According to a study by Linda Henkel, we don’t actually retain memories that we watch through screens – which surely defeats the purpose. Like the culchie I am, I was at Garth Brooks last September – at least, I think I was. I don’t remember much, as I watched half of it on my phone. Being forced to hand the phone over? It would probably be a relief.
I arrive at Vicar Street on a Sunday night. We show our tickets and almost instantly our phones are taken hostage, ushered into a soft grey Yondr pouch which is locked at the top.
Many attendees hadn’t read the email. Victor from Dublin was caught unawares: “We were shocked! Taking our phones away? Oh my God. How can we live without our phones for an hour? But at the same time, we thought it would be good for us. Once the world doesn’t burn down…
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“It’s like snipping your umbilical cord, to see if you can survive without it,” he says.
“The first movie I ever remember a mobile phone in was Lethal Weapon and the phone came in a big heavy briefcase. In London back in the late 80s, it was a brick this big with an antenna on it. Good luck in trying to fit that into a little neoprene case!”
We arrange to meet the old-fashioned way by the fireplace afterwards, to see how Victor copes at the gig without his phone. “Do you think I’m going to go into detox shock? I’ll come out shaking!” he says.
Friends Emma and Janette would prefer access to their phones. “It’s all about the Instagram, you take the picture of the stage, of the name,” says Janette.
Emma is worried about missing a call in an emergency. “I’m not too comfortable with that, because we’ve kids at home,” she says.
“But I do get what you’re saying, back in our mams’ time, when they were out, they were out.”
A couple, John and Mary, think it’s brilliant. “The couples all have to talk one another other now,” says Mary. “They might find out if they actually like each other!”
We file into the venue. Feeling a little more sociable than normal, we introduce ourselves to our neighbours. There was to be no last check of the news, WhatsApp or email. I soon found myself looking down at some phantom phone in my hand, muscle memory kicking in. Maybe I am addicted? I feel a bit on edge, tapping my toe in anticipation. I have several strong urges to take a picture of the set.
Tiernan began with a few quips about The Late Late Show. He makes repeated references to the venue as a safe space. “Once the joke leaves the room, it’s impossible to defend,” he says. “But I know all your phones are in Yondr bags!”
I’m half addicted to the phone so it was lovely to have it taken off you for a few hours… forcefully
I have the urge to take a picture, to zoom in on his face as he speaks, to record the laughter for an Instagram clip. But also I felt totally drawn to him in a way I might not have with no phone, knowing there was nothing else in that moment. There is something about engaging fully with the performer, and losing that safety net.
Afterwards, the staff weave through the crowd, unlocking the Yondrs with a magnet. I bump into Mary and John. Apart from wanting to Google the support act and check the time, they fared fine without phone: “And we’re still talking, so it’s all good!”
Teacher Nicola was also a fan of the experience. “I definitely had that urge at the beginning to take out a phone. But when I was in there I didn’t miss it,” she says.
“I’m half addicted to the phone so it was lovely to have it taken off you for a few hours… forcefully!”
[ Tommy Tiernan: ‘I know that I’m a nosy bastard’Opens in new window ]
Like the old days before mobiles, Victor never turned up. Did he get lost, or forget and go home? I’ll never know. Victor, I hope you survived.
I didn’t look at my phone until I got back to the car. And the world was just fine.
So is Yondr the way of the future? Maybe we’ll start renting pouches for phone-free weekends. Sure, soon they’ll be selling us the landline again. And we’ll all sit in and make phone calls. “Ma, it’s for you!” Plus ça change.
Tommy Tiernan is performing in Vicar Street from April 13th-16th
