From finding the Churches of Scientology, to taking never-ending left turns, to eating at the world's sketchiest McDonald's I’ve ever seen, my memories in Boston are always a treat. This trip with my friend Gabby would be no different; she invited me to a concert for the band Molchat Doma, a Belarusian pop-punk band. I had personally never heard of this band, nor do I speak Slavic, so I was ecstatic to experience something out of my comfort zone. 

I’ve gone to many a concert with Gabby, many of which I didn’t know the band prior, so this would be another great memory for us. We also both knew the venue like the back of our hands, so that wasn’t a concern of ours either. Something interesting always happens on each of these trips, hence the discovery of the Church of Scientology, so I could only imagine what was in store for this trip.

The way up to Boston never drags; we talk about games we enjoy, things going on in our lives, and telling her about interesting things I happen to see on the way. The churches of Scientology I have somehow spotted on every single one of our trips are always a kicker. The car is filled with talking, laughter, and the slight background noise of Slavic singing. It feels required to listen to the set list of the band you’re going to see; you want to know what to expect, and in my case, it gives me a good idea of the music I’m going to be listening to. 

Eventually, after about an hour of driving, we finally find the familiar Stop & Shop with the parking garage, and we leave the refuge of the car. We got to the venue about two hours early in the hopes that we got a good spot in line; Gabby wanted to be as close to the stage as possible, and who was I to stop her? Bundling up as we left the car, we trudged our way through the sleet to find the venue.

Seconds felt like minutes, minutes felt like hours; time felt like it passed in reverse. The wind biting at our ears and faces didn’t help to pass the time; waiting felt like centuries. The snow, now beginning to fall harder and actually stick to the cement, finally signaled the passage of time, relieving us from the time loop. The Stop & Shop sign was lighting our way to a refuge from the cold, however, we had to be cautious; We had already fought so hard for our place in line, and we weren’t willing to lose it now. Taking turns thawing from the tundra, we each grabbed a bite to eat and let the feeling return to our extremities. Taking turns seemed to work; however, I returned with a measly five minutes to go before the doors opened.

My heart pounded in my ears, the adrenaline beginning to course through my veins; I personally love going to see live music, no matter if I don’t know the band or even what they are saying. It's about the experience more than it is the knowledge of what's going on. Five minutes turned into four…three…two…one, showtime. 

The line began to creep forward, allowing security to ensure everyone's safety. Finally able to dodge the black markers from security, a rite of passage had finally been cleared; finally able to enjoy the full live music experience with no restrictions. After clearing security, we raced with the strangers around us to get to the stage and claim our spot at the barrier. We sped-walked as fast as we could so as to not get in trouble, and we were able to claim a relatively nice spot at the barrier. We had a good view of the whole stage, and Gabby even told me the band had a habit of coming down off the stage into the pit to interact with fans. Once you claim your spot, you cannot move; you will almost guaranteed lose your spot. So, while the crowd was still thin, I ran to grab a hard cider from the bar and ran back to my spot; I was going to enjoy the experience to the best of my ability. 

The lights finally began to dim, and the show was about to start. Gabby and I adjusted our earplugs and gave our full attention. While it wasn’t the main act quite yet, Sextile raised the temperature in the room. The crowd went from being still to letting the music drive their souls. Some were singing, others were bobbing up and down to the beat. Music makes people come alive, and it was evident from the instantaneous change in the crowd. Even people who had no idea who this band was, which I can only assume was a majority, were jumping, dancing, and just overall having a good time. We only got to hear about an hour of their music, but it was enlightening getting to see such a large group of people come together to make sure that these artists felt loved and have a good time themselves. I immediately opened my Spotify app and followed the band there; now I would be able to learn more about their music at a later time. 

After about twenty minutes of waiting and talking to the people around us, the lights dimmed one more. Earplugs at the ready, we leaned closer to the barrier as if that would enhance the music coming to our ears. The music started before the lights came up, yet you could see shadowy figures moving in the void in front of us.  Cheers came from the crowd, and suddenly a spotlight illuminated the bassist, then the guitarist, then the lead singer. Once the singer was illuminated, he began singing. Even in English, words are hard to make out at live events due to the earplugs, but when it was in Slavic, that was a whole new experience. Even if I could hear the words, it’s not like I could understand it anyway. Instead, I let the music flow through my body, letting the beat and harmonies carry me through the song. The bass made the room shake, and the room was so alive it felt as if an earthquake was happening just around us. The people around us pushed us into the barrier, but we paid it no mind. The songs varied in style; some were more lyrical, while others were more in the punk rock category and made you bounce and dance. Each song carried its own weight and carried its own experience. This small venue was turned into its own club for that hour, and it was a haven music lovers would never want to leave. An hour there felt like a measly five minutes, and as quickly as we arrived, it was time to go.

Even if I couldn’t understand the music, it did not matter; I was able to have just as good an experience as the fans around me. You don’t need to know the band, the songs, or hell, even the language to have a good experience with live music. Molchat Doma was the perfect example of this; as long as you keep an open mind and go to enjoy the music itself you can easily make just as good memories as everyone else.