"When I do a concert and people put their hands in the air, they're doing it on their own"
About this Quote
There’s a deceptively radical modesty in Ronnie Spector’s line: a pop star refusing the fantasy that she “makes” people move. In an industry built on control (the stage as command center, the crowd as mass), she frames the concert as consent, not conquest. Hands in the air aren’t proof of her power so much as evidence of the audience’s agency: they choose joy, abandon, participation. She’s describing a feedback loop, not a hierarchy.
The subtext lands harder when you remember who Spector was and what she survived. As the voice of the Ronettes, she helped define the ecstatic architecture of girl-group pop, then spent years in a private nightmare shaped by possession and coercion. Against that history, “they’re doing it on their own” reads like more than crowd commentary; it’s an ethic. She’s drawing a bright line between performance and ownership, between influence and control. It’s a small sentence that quietly rejects the abusive logic that artists (or men, or fame, or producers) get to claim your body.
It also punctures a common rock-and-pop mythology: the frontperson as puppet master, “I had them in the palm of my hand.” Spector flips the brag into a tribute. The crowd’s gesture becomes self-authored, a kind of everyday liberation enacted in public. In a concert hall, with the lights and the volume and the communal rush, she’s insisting the most important force isn’t the star’s charisma. It’s the audience’s choice to meet it.
The subtext lands harder when you remember who Spector was and what she survived. As the voice of the Ronettes, she helped define the ecstatic architecture of girl-group pop, then spent years in a private nightmare shaped by possession and coercion. Against that history, “they’re doing it on their own” reads like more than crowd commentary; it’s an ethic. She’s drawing a bright line between performance and ownership, between influence and control. It’s a small sentence that quietly rejects the abusive logic that artists (or men, or fame, or producers) get to claim your body.
It also punctures a common rock-and-pop mythology: the frontperson as puppet master, “I had them in the palm of my hand.” Spector flips the brag into a tribute. The crowd’s gesture becomes self-authored, a kind of everyday liberation enacted in public. In a concert hall, with the lights and the volume and the communal rush, she’s insisting the most important force isn’t the star’s charisma. It’s the audience’s choice to meet it.
Quote Details
| Topic | Music |
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