"Good my lord, will you see the players well bestowed? Do you hear, let them be well used; for they are the abstract and brief chronicles of the time: after your death you were better have a bad epitaph than their ill report while you live."

I am a Wilco fan. In a recent Wilco concert, founder and singer, Jeff Tweedy, stopped the concert when somebody with a smartphone was recording him. Wilco have a very liberal attitude to recording music at their concerts. They condone the sharing of concert tapes by their fans and have released a few concerts in lieu of a charitable donation on their website. So, this wasn't a copyright or Metallica/Corrs (what a combination) plea to make more money.
What Tweedy was berating the fan for was the stealing of memories. It was the creation of a cache of memories that could be accessed easily on request. The very point of memories are that they are faulty. By the time they pass through the synapses, they get corrupted by other experiences. We argue about our experience of an event. Live music or theatre is precious because of the spontaneity of that event. Wilco's Virtuoso guitarist Nels Cline plays the solo in Impossible Germany differently each night because it depends on how the mood takes him.
When I see a concert, the experience that I have depends on the mood I am in. The text of the performance is interpreted by me and the experience is the combination of the musicians, those around me and myself. I can't fully engage if I am focused on getting the right angle on my iPhone (which I don't own).
I have to accept here that I am a hypocrite. (I am after all a teacher, and our collective mantra is 'do as I say, not as I do.) I take photographs of my children all the time. The wall in our hall has over twenty framed photographs of my two wonderfully photogenic kids. However a photograph is a kicking point into a memory and these points flood us with more memories.
I was struck by this as I watched the footage of the Dark Knight Rises slaughter in Colarado. In the midst of chaos and death, how can someone's first instinct be to reach for their phone to record it?
As Hamlet said "For murder, though it have no tongue, will speak With most miraculous organ."