Eat your cake.
I have never heard the band being played on the radio. But I have had the chance to hear them on television twice; I was merely channel surfing on a lazy Saturday afternoon and stumbled upon “Slow Show” during an episode of Chuck; another time, the familiar strums to “Start a War” came on just before the credits rolled on for Friday Night Lights. Here, the songs merely took a backseat and played softly in the background; nevertheless, those close encounters left me with goosebumps, and I paid little attention to the onscreen spy couple discussing their romantic relationship and left the enthusiastic sports coach to give a high five to his winning players.
It has been six months since that one memorable day in November 2011, and every day I am reminded of the fact that while I may not have been able to locate and purchase copies of their albums from a local music store like a regular music lover would (and hardly bat an eyelid at paying additional killer shipping charges to online retailers), I have at least had the opportunity to attend one of their shows in this part of the world, although I must have undoubtedly made a fool of myself by singing along unabashedly to each and every song that they played live right before me.
But the memory of that life-changing event still lingers – there was the burning anticipation leading up to that day; the awestruck feeling of finally seeing the idols in the flesh for the first time; the thunderous applause and wild cheers that erupted all around after every song; the spent excitement and sad realisation when the hours inevitably drew to an end; the massively-moving acoustic sing-along session that made a perfect closer to the show – all that is simply enough to light up even the darkest days and leave me with a sheepish smile on my face.
The best things in life do not need to come in big and gaily-wrapped packages; they are the ones that are already yours and always available, waiting to be uncovered and cherished forever more.