I’ve spent this year tuning my antenna inward and turning the volume down on the mainstream feed. Not because I’m enlightened. Because the math stopped mathing.

Stocks at all-time highs. Headlines screaming resilience. Group chats quietly admitting stress. Rent still rude. Groceries still flirting with triple digits. The vibe mismatch felt… aggressive.

I’ve always been a skeptic. Not the tinfoil-hat kind. The “something here smells off and I’d like to know why” kind. We’ve gotten way too comfortable outsourcing our thinking to sources that are compromised, conflicted, or chasing clicks. At some point, common sense has to re-enter the chat.

So I started leaning harder on proxy indicators. Not charts. Not CPI prints. Real-world signals. The stuff people don’t lie about because they’re not trying to signal anything at all.

That’s how I landed on my favorite one.

Growing up, I always found concert attendance fascinating as a socioeconomic tell. Not just going, but needing to be there. The outfit. The merch. The social proof. Missing the show was social death.

Same energy as staying up till midnight for the new Harry Potter release back in the day. Different decade, same psychology.

Over the years, no artist has provided a cleaner read on discretionary spending than Beyoncé. Post-Destiny’s Child, she became less of a musician and more of an economic instrument. Every woman I knew had an affinity for her in some form. That affinity turned into demand. That demand turned into tour dominance.

Let’s talk numbers for a second, because vibes are great, but receipts matter.

• The Renaissance World Tour grossed $579M+ across 56 shows.

• Average ticket prices pushed $215–$300, with premium seats clearing four figures.

• Cities sold out back-to-back nights.

• Instagram feeds looked like Fashion Week with better lighting.

Now here’s where the indicator started flashing yellow.

When the transition from Renaissance to Cowboy Carter happened, the signal changed.

Fewer concert-fit posts.
Fewer Stories from nosebleeds where Beyoncé looked like a stylish microbe in Section 2049.
Less “I don’t care what it costs” energy.

Same fanbase. Same cultural gravity. Different behavior.

That delta matters.

Layer on top the Ticketmaster dynamic pricing model, which quietly turns demand spikes into real-time financial stress tests. When prices float upward instantly, you’re no longer guessing what people say they can afford. You’re watching what they actually pay.

When that enthusiasm cools, it’s not fandom fading. It’s wallets tightening.

That’s when I officially coined it: The Beyoncé Economic Yield Index, or B.E.Y. Index.

One of several personal gauges I use to block out the noise and stay objective, especially when Crypto Twitter is screaming in all caps.

Crypto has a unique problem.
It’s early. It’s global. And it’s addicted to narratives.

Markets get propped up. Liquidity gets massaged. Influencers talk their bags. Family members repeat headlines they barely understand. None of that helps you understand what’s actually happening.

Proxy indicators cut through that.

They don’t trend on X.
They don’t come with referral links.
They don’t care about your thesis.

They just exist.

This one’s more personal.

I didn’t get my first console until junior year of high school. Because of that, I’ve always clocked how emotionally attached people are to their PlayStation 5 or Xbox. For a lot of guys, it’s their most prized non-productive asset.

Recently, I’ve seen six separate posts on Facebook Marketplace selling PS5s. I’ve seen Gen Z listing full PC rigs. Not pawn shops. Not forced liquidations. Casual posts. Clean photos. Light explanations.

Sure, there are innocent reasons.

• Downsizing

• Upgrading

• Making space

But patterns matter more than excuses.

In my experience, people don’t sell their escapes unless they have to. When discretionary joy assets hit the market in clusters, that’s friction showing up quietly.

Not a recession call. Not a panic signal. Just another yellow light.

This isn’t about Beyoncé. Or consoles. Or flex culture.

It’s about paying attention.

Everyone should have a few personal proxy indicators. Things you understand deeply enough to notice when behavior shifts. Industries you know. Communities you’re part of. Signals you trust more than a chart printed by someone with an agenda.

Crypto rewards conviction.
Conviction requires clarity.
Clarity comes from cutting through noise.

Markets might be engineered. Narratives might be curated. But your proxy indicators don’t lie. They don’t spin. They don’t tweet.

So when Crypto Twitter is euphoric, mainstream news is soothing, and something in your gut feels off, listen to the boring signals—the unsexy ones. The real-life tells hiding in plain sight.

You probably know more than you think.

I’ve spent this year tuning my antenna inward and turning the volume down on the mainstream feed. Not because I’m enlightened. Because the math stopped mathing.

Stocks at all-time highs. Headlines screaming resilience. Group chats quietly admitting stress. Rent still rude. Groceries still flirting with triple digits. The vibe mismatch felt… aggressive.

I’ve always been a skeptic. Not the tinfoil-hat kind. The “something here smells off and I’d like to know why” kind. We’ve gotten way too comfortable outsourcing our thinking to sources that are compromised, conflicted, or chasing clicks. At some point, common sense has to re-enter the chat.

So I started leaning harder on proxy indicators. Not charts. Not CPI prints. Real-world signals. The stuff people don’t lie about because they’re not trying to signal anything at all.

That’s how I landed on my favorite one.

Growing up, I always found concert attendance fascinating as a socioeconomic tell. Not just going, but needing to be there. The outfit. The merch. The social proof. Missing the show was social death.

Same energy as staying up till midnight for the new Harry Potter release back in the day. Different decade, same psychology.

Over the years, no artist has provided a cleaner read on discretionary spending than Beyoncé. Post-Destiny’s Child, she became less of a musician and more of an economic instrument. Every woman I knew had an affinity for her in some form. That affinity turned into demand. That demand turned into tour dominance.

Let’s talk numbers for a second, because vibes are great, but receipts matter.

• The Renaissance World Tour grossed $579M+ across 56 shows.

• Average ticket prices pushed $215–$300, with premium seats clearing four figures.

• Cities sold out back-to-back nights.

• Instagram feeds looked like Fashion Week with better lighting.

Now here’s where the indicator started flashing yellow.

When the transition from Renaissance to Cowboy Carter happened, the signal changed.

Fewer concert-fit posts.
Fewer Stories from nosebleeds where Beyoncé looked like a stylish microbe in Section 2049.
Less “I don’t care what it costs” energy.

Same fanbase. Same cultural gravity. Different behavior.

That delta matters.

Layer on top the Ticketmaster dynamic pricing model, which quietly turns demand spikes into real-time financial stress tests. When prices float upward instantly, you’re no longer guessing what people say they can afford. You’re watching what they actually pay.

When that enthusiasm cools, it’s not fandom fading. It’s wallets tightening.

That’s when I officially coined it: The Beyoncé Economic Yield Index, or B.E.Y. Index.

One of several personal gauges I use to block out the noise and stay objective, especially when Crypto Twitter is screaming in all caps.

Crypto has a unique problem.
It’s early. It’s global. And it’s addicted to narratives.

Markets get propped up. Liquidity gets massaged. Influencers talk their bags. Family members repeat headlines they barely understand. None of that helps you understand what’s actually happening.

Proxy indicators cut through that.

They don’t trend on X.
They don’t come with referral links.
They don’t care about your thesis.

They just exist.

This one’s more personal.

I didn’t get my first console until junior year of high school. Because of that, I’ve always clocked how emotionally attached people are to their PlayStation 5 or Xbox. For a lot of guys, it’s their most prized non-productive asset.

Recently, I’ve seen six separate posts on Facebook Marketplace selling PS5s. I’ve seen Gen Z listing full PC rigs. Not pawn shops. Not forced liquidations. Casual posts. Clean photos. Light explanations.

Sure, there are innocent reasons.

• Downsizing

• Upgrading

• Making space

But patterns matter more than excuses.

In my experience, people don’t sell their escapes unless they have to. When discretionary joy assets hit the market in clusters, that’s friction showing up quietly.

Not a recession call. Not a panic signal. Just another yellow light.

This isn’t about Beyoncé. Or consoles. Or flex culture.

It’s about paying attention.

Everyone should have a few personal proxy indicators. Things you understand deeply enough to notice when behavior shifts. Industries you know. Communities you’re part of. Signals you trust more than a chart printed by someone with an agenda.

Crypto rewards conviction.
Conviction requires clarity.
Clarity comes from cutting through noise.

Markets might be engineered. Narratives might be curated. But your proxy indicators don’t lie. They don’t spin. They don’t tweet.

So when Crypto Twitter is euphoric, mainstream news is soothing, and something in your gut feels off, listen to the boring signals—the unsexy ones. The real-life tells hiding in plain sight.

You probably know more than you think.