When I moved to Philadelphia in 2001 I was fortunate enough to have some really great roommates. I was foreign to city life in so many ways, although I was eager to fit in and to become a local. I didn't realize then how artistic the city was, Philly in particular. When I say artistic I mean it every since of the word, from glass blowing to mural painting to music and film and literature. There is something here for everyone. Needless to say I was introduced to much of it, whether I wanted to be or not. One of the things my roommates and others helped me with was musc. I learned about artists that I probably should have been listening to for years. Included in those was DJ Shadow.
On January 10 of this year (which also happened to be the date of my last post) I sat in front of my computer at work in the late afternoon and watched live coverage of the fire in my apartment building. I held out hope that the flames wouldn't spread to my side of the building, that somehow the firefighters would get control of it before much more damage was done. Two hours later I was driving over the Betsy Ross bridge, headed from work in New Jersey to the city, and I could see the smoke coming from west Philly. I knew then that things were much worse than I had been hoping. When I arrived on the scene the flames were already tearing through the roof on my side of the building and although my apartment was on the first floor, safe from fire, I imagined all of my belongings floating in pool of water from the flood being poured onto the levels above and the walls outside. Whether I was right or not remains a mystery. I haven't been into the building since. They boarded it up the next day, chained up all of the entrances and fenced in the perimeter. It's been condemned and is scheduled for demolition.
The night of the fire I signed in with the Red Cross and then walked over to the local bar. There really wasn't much else to do. In retrospect I suppose I was in a bit of shock, but at the time I felt unusually safe and secure. I had a drink with someone close who met me there to make sure I was okay, a nice lady from the neighborhood picked up my tab after hearing my story and I made arrangements to crash on a friends couch. The month since then has been a non-stop whirlwind of phone calls, apartment hunting, clothes shopping, furniture shopping, donation pickups, security deposit refunds, spring semester assignments, belated birthday celebrations, numerous social landmarks of an unrelated nature, a weekend trip to Seattle for a desperately needed getaway (and coincidental celebration of a dear friend's 30 years on earth) and insurance hula-hoops (Mom, I can't thank you enough for talking me into renter's insurance!!!).
Lost in the fire was my music collection, along with all of my other possessions. Fortunately, I had taken my ipod to work with me that day and a lot of my library was saved in digital format. But I spent the two weeks after the fire trying to get my barrings. I was sleeping (sorta) in a friends extra room in South Philly while attempting to put my life back together and music was something I simply did not have time for. That's not normal, folks. I suppose that goes along with the rest of the story. None of this is normal. I would have imagined myself in a situation like this as taking solace and asylum in music (that's how it's worked for me in the past) but it didn't happen. I had stuff playing in the car while I traveled, as I always do, but I was too busy talking on the phone, texting (I know, I know...) and thinking to get anything out of it. It wasn't until I was making the 30 minute drive to North Philly to pick up my refunded security deposit a little over two weeks after the fire that I finally Heard music again. And it was DJ Shadow's "Mutual Slump" that made me put aside everything else and nod my head. I turned up the volume and felt a lightness that I had not known since January 9.
Now, I don't know what it was about this song that managed to make me feel more congruent (I hope it's okay to use a little psychology lingo there). Perhaps it was the memory, buried deep in my mind and in this music, of where I had come from. I survived my introductory period in Philly and done so with such success that I actually like it here. In a strange way DJ Shadow played a small part in that. The song was familiar, one of the only familiar things that I had left after the fire. But maybe more than that...the drums are fantastic! I knew it was significant when I reached for the volume and decided to let the music overshadow everything else that was in my head that day. It meant that I was still me, that I could suffer yet another loss, and continue to hold onto the things that give me joy.
Over the next few weeks I was a witness to things that still give me pause and amazement to this day. If you're going to lose all your stuff and become homeless overnight, I hope you do it with friends, family and co-workers like mine. I have been deep in God's care. He has reached out his hands to me in the form of generous people, some strangers, some long time companions. Through it all I've come to a new appreciation of people, the power of "thank you" and in a small way, of music. I always knew it was a time capsule, but I've never had to dig it up and remember quite like I have this year.
DJ Shadow - Endtroducting... (1996)
