It should be said straight away: What works best digitally is the intimate, heartfelt, more stripped down music experiences. Like when Sarah Klang enters barefoot on stage only in the company of her guitarist. Her incredible voice - strong and fragile at the same time - undoubtedly reaches out to the laptop crowd all the way from Smygehuk to Karesuando.
It is as strong as calming and soothing, as a cradle for adults, especially for all of us with corona concerns. A kind of music that most people still enjoy in peace and quiet - which works fine virtual.
The rougher bands , on the other hand, like Graveyard, make it clear that one element is missing: Namely, the audience. Especially the gang at the front like head bangs, screams, have fists in the air, mosh pits.
But what works the least is the pre-recorded concerts from the small stage. No shadow over the country / American phenomenon Brother Gunnar Jansson - he is incredible. But even though we cannot be there physically, it is vital that it is just live - because that is all this is about.
Just as we share the experience of being in the middle of a pandemic with everything it entails, in the same way we need to share the concert at this very moment, even though we cannot share the location or the spatial experience.
The 36-hour mini-festival from Studio Ingrid in Stockholm corresponds to the feeling of being heard, at least for us who have started to feel the effects of sitting at home weekend after weekend.
In the evening, DJs like Nadja Chatti, Axel Boman and Kornél Kovacs play. In the morning, just log in again for some nice jazz from the Jazz Agency or psychedelic pop from Tussilago - like that friend who keeps his mood up all weekend through the weekend.
A big plus at the edge for Ingrid was the group chat where we in the audience were able to share the experience with each other, which creates the community that you would otherwise not get at online concerts.
Of course, some of the state of emergency rests over the digital gigs, and of course most of us would rather have gone out on a Saturday night than sit inside and glow on a screen. But right now, streaming concerts are a kind of campfire, a blast of community and solidarity, and not least: a way to hopefully make live music survive in the post-pandemic era.