I went to see Post Malone in Indianapolis, and I left hoarse, happy, and a little sticky from spilled beer. Worth it. If you want the blow-by-blow, my full recap lives right here. I’ll tell you what happened, what I loved, and what bugged me just a bit. You know what? It felt like the whole city sang with him.
Getting there, Indy style
We parked in the garage off Pennsylvania, a short walk to Gainbridge Fieldhouse. It was warm out, and the air smelled like pretzels and rain. Pacers banners flapped a little. People wore black tees and big smiles. A kid near us had “Posty” drawn on his cheek in sharpie. Cute. For anyone driving in, the Fieldhouse posts detailed directions and parking options on its site that can save you an extra loop around the block.
We had seats in Section 114, row 11. Good angle. Not floor, but honestly, I’m short. I like seeing the stage without playing peek-a-boo with tall folks.
The vibe before the first note
Merch line? Long. The black tour tee was $45. My friend grabbed a hat anyway. I went for a soft pretzel and water. Security moved fast but checked bags. Clear bag rules, so don’t bring a big purse. If you’re unsure, the arena’s official What to Know Before You Go page spells out every policy. The ushers were kind, like “Hoosier nice.” One even joked, “You ready to lose your voice?” Yes. Yes I was.
When the lights dropped
The crowd popped. Like, full-body cheer. Post walked out with his guitar, all smiles, and said, “I love you, Indy.” Corny? Maybe. Did we scream anyway? Oh yeah.
- He opened with “Wow.” Big bass. My seat shook.
- Then “Circles.” The whole arena lit up with phone lights. It looked like a soft snowstorm, but warm and slow.
- “Chemical” hit harder live than I expected. It felt bright and punchy, like a late summer drive with the windows down.
- He did “Stay” with just the guitar and a single spotlight. Did I cry a tiny bit? A tiny bit.
- “Sunflower” turned into a massive sing-along. Even the guy who said he “doesn’t really sing” sang.
- He closed strong with “Congratulations.” Confetti, hands up, pure joy.
He also played “White Iverson,” and you could feel the floor sway. A guy behind me rapped every word and still somehow didn’t spit on my neck. Bless him.
Little moments that stuck
He stopped mid-song and asked security to check on a girl in the pit. He waited till she gave a thumbs-up. That felt good. He signed a fan’s boot near the front. He tossed guitar picks into the crowd like tiny yellow birds. He kept saying thanks, like he meant it. The only other show that left me this buoyant was P!nk’s stop downtown—I went to that one too and I’m still humming.
How it sounded (and felt)
The sound was loud, but not muddy. Vocals sat clean on top. I could hear his little cracks and rasps, and I liked that. Real voice, real breath. The drums rattled my chest during “Rockstar.” There were flames for a few songs; you could feel the heat on your cheeks. My hair felt dry after. Indy gets humid, but fire wins.
What I loved
- Song flow. No dead space. He kept us moving and grinning.
- His talk with the crowd. Short, sweet, grateful.
- The mix of hits and softer songs. It balanced my heart and my feet.
- The people around us. A mom, her teen, and her dad in a Pacers cap. Three generations, same beat. Kinda sweet, right?
Side note: the pretzel was oddly perfect. Warm, salty, and gone in six bites.
What bugged me (a little)
- Parking after the show took a while. We inched, we waited, we sighed. Maybe pick a garage farther north next time.
- Beer lines were a mess. If you want a drink, go before the opener ends.
- Floor sight lines looked rough for short folks. If you’re under 5'4", seats may be better.
- Merch prices, man. I get it, but still.
If you’re going next time
Before you even lace up your concert sneakers, skimming through this straightforward concert-day cheat sheet can save you from parking headaches and merch-line meltdowns.
- Bring a clear bag and a small wallet.
- Wear comfy shoes. You’ll stand a lot.
- Show up early for parking and less stress.
- If it’s summer, bring a light layer. The arena AC can get chilly.
- Eat nearby first. Pearl Street pizza or St. Elmo’s if you’re feeling fancy (the shrimp cocktail will clear your soul).
- Record a few clips, but live in it. The best parts aren’t on your camera anyway.
One tiny gripe I changed my mind about
I thought the autotune on one song would bug me. On record, it sometimes does. Live, though? It felt like a color, not a crutch. It fit the mood and the lights. Funny how that works.
Final take
Post Malone in Indianapolis felt warm and honest and big. I left with ringing ears, a sore throat, and a grin that stuck till morning. On the ride home, we played “Chemical” and rolled the windows down, even though it was midnight. Silly? Maybe. But it matched the night. And if you’re more into Broadway than bass drops, catching Wicked at the Murat shows how magical Indy can feel even without pyrotechnics.
Would I go again? Yep. In a heartbeat. And I’ll bring cash for that hat I talked myself out of, then wanted the second I got home.
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And hey, if Posty’s tour bus eventually rumbles through Pennsylvania and you find yourself crashing just south of Wilkes-Barre with post-concert adrenaline to burn, this ultra-specific local guide to DoubleList Hazleton breaks down which sections of the platform are hottest, how to craft an opener that actually gets replies, and the safest late-night coffee spots for a first meet-up, so you can turn that show-night high into real-world conversation without wasting time on dead-end swipes.