Last night, while I circled around Climate Pledge Arena looking for parking, Nina Simone’s “For Myself” came on my shuffled Spotify. “For myself / I must learn for myself / Not from what someone else / Has said or done” she coos. With some mild disappointment that I was by myself, this became my mantra throughout the night. I am trying to embrace going to concerts alone. And, considering that I’ve only ever listened to Maggie Rogers in private, this one seemed particularly appropriate to attend as a party of one.

Rogers’ sound occupies the purgatory between pop and indie music. Her music doesn’t quite fit in on Top 40 radio, yet it’s a bit too polished to be embraced by college stations. Until this week, I had never knowingly met a Maggie Rogers fan. Surely they’re everywhere—I mean, she booked a 17,200-seat arena—but perhaps her fan base is an introverted bunch. After all, her sound is the perfect music to dance alone to.  

One thing about being alone anywhere is that it’s helpful to have a beverage in hand to sip when you don't know what else to do. I walked up to the arena bar and ordered the signature cocktail of the night: the Don’t Forget Me—named after Rogers’s latest album. It was Jack Daniels, lemon-lime soda, grenadine, and a maraschino cherry (basically a spiked Shirley Temple). The bartender gave me two cherries, which I chose to believe was a good omen. 

After Ryan Beatty played a tight eight-song set perched on top of a tree stump, Rogers rose from the stage floor in a thick cloud of fog donning a glittering silver cape like Samantha in the ‘60s sitcom Bewitched. The Maraschino Cherry Omen was right: As she ran around the stage belting “That’s Where I Am” from her 2022 album Surrender, I was immediately struck by her command of the stage. Her presence is somewhere between stadium concert king Bruce Springsteen and that video of Miley Cyrus singing Bikini Kill’s “Rebel Girl” while running on a treadmill, and I’m here for all of it. 

At the risk of being cyberbullied by Maggie Rogers fans, I will admit that I only ever listen to one of her songs at a time. The consistent belting throughout her songs—despite being beautiful and impressive—can sometimes leave me feeling fatigued by the end of an album. But her raw vocals and magnetism shine brightest in a live setting. This could be the reason that she’s been touring consistently for eight years. 

Halfway through the set, Rogers tucked into the piano while her band took a break. She lit some incense and took a sip of whiskey. “Did anyone here see me at the Triple Door in 2016?” she asked the crowd. “Turn on your phone flashlight if you did—I want to see you!” About a dozen lights twinkled around the arena. 

Her acoustic solo songs were the highlight of the night, showcasing a vocal range that can go from the ethereal mezzo-soprano tone of Sarah McLachlan to the operatic rock power of Ann Wilson in a single breath. Other highlights from the setlist included a stunning slowed-down jazz-vocal rendition of her 2019 song “Say It” and an energetic cover of Roberta Flack’s “Killing Me Softly.” As she closed out the set with one of her most popular songs, “Light On,” Rogers waved the crowd goodbye and ran off stage while catching confetti in her palm like falling snowflakes. 

We all knew that wasn’t actually the end, right? Thanks to setlist.fm, most audiences know when to expect an encore. She sang the album’s title track “Don’t Forget Me.”  I fished out the cherries from the bottom of my cup. Maraschino cherries are kind of disgusting, but I paid $23 for this drink, so I had to make it count.