I'm drinking cheap beers and listening to a playlist, trying on old leather jackets from high school while pre-partying for an Arkells show. I'm visiting my friend Sarah from way-back for the weekend, and she surprises me with a ticket. The spontaneity is my favourite kind of concert experience. I hope they'll play "Kiss Cam," and am keen to hear some new tracks, having fallen off the bandwagon since back-when.
At this hometown-harkening pre, the playlist Sarah finds on a streaming service answers these questions on behalf of the band. She's been studying it since the show was announced. It's dedicated to Arkells' current tour, cataloguing their setlist song-by-song and fact-checking on setlist.fm. Tonight, Arkells will not play "Kiss Cam," though the setlist gives me an advanced warning. A few more favourites make up for the omission, of course. Sarah wouldn't have bought the tickets without checking setlist.fm to be sure. When the band leave the stage, fans cheer for an encore — us less vehemently, trusting their hit "Leather Jacket" is to come.
Sarah's seemingly in the majority with her habit of checking setlist.fm to verify her entertainment. The wiki-like service started years ago as a community for fans to upload shows they plan to, desperately wish to, and actually got to attend. The platform hasn't changed since its early days. The same friend and I looked up a Cults setlist years ago, our teenage selves preparing to belt each track. Now 20 years later, a fan might upload the setlist by the time we're on the bus home, as they faithfully lean against the bar and type out tracklists in full.
This forum of the early 2000s lets fans trust their investment in concert tickets will be worth it, although the surprise is lost through the verified anticipation. The first moments of hearing my favourite songs live are the dopamine boosts that keep me going to shows, cheering in blissful disbelief. Setlist's spoilers minimize this high, as nice as it is to know that I'll definitely hear my song, and at precisely which point of the setlist I can expect it. Pre-reading the setlist gives the effect of watching a new movie when the plot twist was preemptively spoiled.
I express this setlist philosophy to Chris Murphy, whose band Sloan have been releasing albums since 1992. Back then, he says, setlists "were written on parchment paper." The process has evolved with the times and alongside the band. Now, their setlists take into account Sloan's expanding discography. But of course, "There are songs that we're kind of obligated to play," Murphy says.
"We have different types of sets, but in all of them, we do consider the spectrum between artistry and entertainment. We're not someone like Bob Dylan, who famously won't play any hits. Familiarity really helps win an audience over."
He continues, "At festivals, we play pretty much what we're supposed to. In front of people who aren't necessarily fans, we're playing our most-known songs that have flirted with radio."
This festival setlist default of playing the hits aligns with most major pop acts, who play the same set every time. Streaming apps have even dedicated playlists for today's pop stars, so fans can memorize the lyrics before the show. (It's also extremely useful for music journalists who happen to be reviewing a concert.)
"When you have lighting and cues and pyrotechnics, you really can't change things," Murphy says of shows much larger than the theatres and clubs of Sloan typical touring experience. "For big acts, there's not much they can do to change the setup if they have someone who's been hired to shoot a confetti cannon."
During the Eras Tour, Taylor Swift combatted predictability by introducing two surprise songs into each night, making each of her nearly 150 shows unique. Fans truly lost themselves for those two tracks, caught in the unpredictability which no superfan could ever fully prepare for. Swifties may be disappointed if the surprise song is one they don't connect with, but if they hear a favourite deep cut, it'll be an evermore treasured moment.
"When we tour a new record, we play a punishing amount of new material," Murphy jokes. "Like, truly punishing. I'm sure that if fans checked that setlist, they'd be like, 'Are you kidding me?' But, you know, we might be back through that town next summer, and we'll play different hits then."
I identify as a "self-punishing" audience member, open to the novel experience of hearing a song for the first time as a live experience. A few lagers deep, I'm present and grooving with fellow fans in my city. It's an unparalleled experience to watch a band bring their onstage charisma to a song, with the venue's soundsystem giving far more justice than my headphones ever could.
My favourite setlists are the unpredictable ones — like when Toro y Moi played at the Vogue in Vancouver, weeks before Hole Erth premiered and among the first performances since he released his Sandhills EP. The sweaty August show marked the live debut of 12 tracks, now a coveted rare setlist for longtime fans. Years ago I remember how a Sudan Archives set stood out, too, given my lack of setlist knowledge. I showed up knowing just one of the lead Natural Brown Prom Queen singles, then left with a new favourite album, having witnessed Brittney Parks shred her violin.
"If people are fans of your work, there's a chance they'll like a song they haven't heard," Murphy agrees. "I think that's a cool experience, to discover a new favourite track at the show and then go look up the setlist and check it out after."