ELECTRIC FEEL by MGMT. Story by Barbara Samuelson.

My cousin’s backyard, Fresno, California, Summer 2013

I didn’t mean to become the DJ.

The real DJ was my older cousin, Neil, who bailed last minute because he got a call for an “urgent freelance shoot” (which turned out to be a date). So I was handed the AUX cord, a laptop, and a silent disco headphone set-up I barely knew how to use.

It was the first time I learned what a silent disco headphone system even was — people dancing in sync, each on their own channel, no booming speakers, just glowing LED headphones and awkward footwork. I found a setup guide online to figure out how to link the transmitters to multiple channels. My heart was racing faster than the BPMs.

The party was for my cousin Rhea’s graduation — a weird mix of uncles trying to dance and kids recording everything. I had exactly three minutes to decide what song would kick it all off. I scrolled through a playlist called “Feels,” hoping for divine intervention. Then I saw it.

Electric Feel by MGMT.

That bassline. That slinky synth. That slight weirdness that somehow makes it even more danceable. I hit play.

The first few moments were awkward — nobody knew what was happening. Then one by one, people started bobbing, then swaying, then breaking into full dance mode. From the outside, it must’ve looked bizarre: thirty people jumping around in total silence. But inside those headphones? It was pure joy.

It was the first time I felt like I could control a room without saying a word.

The song played out and the energy was undeniable. I didn’t even pick the second track — someone shouted “Play that one again!” and before I knew it, I looped Electric Feel three times back-to-back. Nobody cared. It was working.

What still gets me about that moment is the clarity — not just in the headphones, but in the feeling. I wasn’t just filling in. I was making a moment. And it all started with one weird little indie-electro song that hit harder than any bass drop could.

I’ve DJ’d more parties since then, real ones — with bookings, payments, lights, crowds. But every time I cue up a set, I remember that backyard in Fresno. The smell of overcooked burgers, kids chasing each other in the dark, the glow of those silent headphones, and the beat that made me believe I belonged.

Electric Feel still hits. Always will.

Stereo Story 848

For quite a different story about an MGMT song, see Stephen Andrew’s pieces about Kids.