How music saved the month of May

On a Friday night in October, two years ago, I joined some friends at Koto for a birthday dinner. From there we headed to the OP for some birthday drinks. When my new friend Michelle decided to leave with some other friends she had just introduced me to, she came over to say goodbye.

"We're going to head to another bar for a while, but I'll meet up with you guys later," she told me.

"Alright, I might head home soon, I'm pretty tired.... but I'll see you at my place for the party tomorrow night, right?"

"Yes!" She said, enthusiastically, "I'll see you then!"

I'm pretty sure you all know the rest of that story.

The past few weeks has been incredibly draining, for obvious reasons. The emotional toll of attending the murder trial, combined with spending time with a group of people who has not spent time with each other as a group in over a year, was intense. And on top of everything, I had Brian Rooney's face staring me down from every copy of Seven Days, in every little corner of our office.

But through it all I found one calming force. Music.

The trial's two weeks worked itself into a soundtrack of survival, and looking back over it all with a clear head, I found it interesting to look at what we chose, almost unconsciously, to listen to during that time.

For drinking in the hotel room the night before proceedings, it was Against Me! with "Pints of Guinness Make You Strong". The drives back and forth to Rutland were filled with Kanye West's "Stronger" and Wolf Parade's "You Are a Runner and I am my Father's Son", both on repeat. When Erin switched out my ipod for hers, we immediately put on Weezer with "El Scorcho". And as we drove away from the courthouse after the verdict, we flew down Route 7, screaming and listening to Ol' Dirty Bastard's "I Like it Raw". Later that night I drove circles around the beltway trying to process what had just happened while debating whether or not to accept WCAX's invitation to appear on the news. As I pondered, I played Jeff Buckley's "Hallelujah", over and over again.

The uniting factor of all those songs in all those different genres? Familiarity. And maybe that's the key when faced with an unpredictable and completely unfamiliar situation. Make it more comfortable by including things that you know.

Waiting in the hallway of the courthouse for the verdict, I visited with another woman associated with the trial, who I won't identify here for her own privacy's sake. She asked about the bands that played at the benefit I threw for Michelle's Earth Foundation, and I abashedly admitted that while Michelle would have probably preferred something a little more hardcore, we went the female folk-y route.

The woman smiled and confided, "You know Michelle learned all that hardcore stuff from me, right?"

From there she told me about how she had been a part of the original DC punk crowd. How she had dated Brian Baker from Minor Threat. How Stephen Malkmus had lived in the dorm room directly above hers in college. How she used to hang out with Dave Grohl when he was part of the DC outfit, Scream. (Seriously, click that.)

And so guess what she was listening to during her time in Vermont? A mix a friend had made of all the old DC punk bands they used to hang out with and listen to.

Because it was familiar. And in that, comforting.

"I've been out of the scene so long," the woman continued. "What do you guys listen to now, anyway?"

"Well... we still listen to some of that stuff, actually," I told her. "I mean, I own Minor Threat CDs. And I still really like Pavement."

"Bridget! That's weird!" she scolded me. "That's like me listening to bands from the fifties!"

I had to laugh at her gross exaggeration... and there it was. We were laughing. Whereas a minute earlier we had both felt like we were about to throw up from stress and anticipation. Well, that and the fact that the only food available to us came from the Rutland courthouse vending machine.

A week after the guilty verdict, a friend of mine's aunt went missing, and was later found dead. A sure reminder that despite our small victory, violence against women is still a very real and horrible issue facing us today.

But I had to remain positive. Thankful that music had somehow saved my May. And Sunday, I started June with a fresh perspective. Most of the other people who were out with us that Friday night two Octobers ago have since left town. I chose to stay. And now, with May behind us, this is a new Burlington for me.

And so I hope that now, with the help of all you local musicians, I can create a new soundtrack to go with this new town.