And it was nearing the end of their set. I think. Who knows. Time does not exist in MGMT’s universe. They played
it. The moment Andrew said, “This song is called Siberian Breaks,” I was already emotional. They were going to play
it. My favorite song.
Last summer, as I may have mentioned before, (this is a long report, I don’t remember everything I’ve said), was
awful. I spent it stuck in the suburbs of Bakersfield working a dead end job hating life. Separated from my best friend,
my favorite place and anything that defined what my life had been, I sank into a mild state of depression. But I always
found solstice in my memories. My memories of seeing MGMT twice and then the promise of maybe seeing them again. Last
May I thought it would be years before I saw them again. Then Smokeout was in October. Ditto that until this May when
they announced their CA dates. Last summer, after work, I’d drive around Bakersfield for an hour ish before going home.
There was nobody on the road. I had only open space and my own mind to escape into a different world that only appears in
the vacant streets at night. MGMT was my soundtrack to those drives. And especially Siberian Breaks. That song changed
my life when I heard it live the first time and I hadn’t heard it since.
So when Andrew started strumming the opening chords on his acoustic guitar, I choked up a little. The moment I’d
wanted all last summer, the thing I’d pined for night after night, the thing that kept me going was in front of me and
I realized I’d been waiting for over a year for this moment. Not just the ten hours earlier that day, but months and
months. It was beautiful. Nothing else mattered but the five men in front of me, playing my favorite song. I know it
wasn’t only for me, but it felt that way. It felt as though the song was mine and only mine and even the obnoxious exclamation
by someone for Andrew to go electric during the quiet break (really? You’re gonna interrupt this beauty to yell at
Andrew?) didn’t matter.
“If you find the soul that you lost, frozen in a starry void, take it within and hope the sight of blood can will
signs of life to return, back to the way that it was long before it made a noise, to keep on quietly reminding you
what’s never created or destroyed.” Never before had that been more relevant. I looked up in the sky and I saw the pure
black sky unobscured by city lights and saw the stars. I found my soul which had been lost. I’d lost it temporarily, but
I found it again. This is why I go to shows. To find those rare moments of pure happiness where everything, if only for
one moment, is perfect.