I spent the first five years of the millennium on a therapist’s couch: a noisy, brown leather one that always left my ass damp from sweat. When I told Dr. S that I’d been molested, survived it sane, vanquished my molester, and written a musical about it, she didn’t bat an eye. “What better way to deal with really difficult material than to soften it with levity and music?” she quipped.
It made perfect sense to her just as it had made perfect sense to me when I wrote it. Happy or sad or angry, or peaceful, we usually choose a soundtrack to help us channel those emotions, or to soften their blow. That’s why there are break up songs and mix tapes.
That’s what I’ve done with Damages. I’ve used the operatic style of 13 mostly lesser-known Queen songs to convey some of the best and worst days of my life. In fact, the bounciest song in the soundtrack is sung at easily the darkest and most crucial moments. It’s not just irony, it is the remedy of light into darkness that placed it there; it’s also that contrast that makes it rightfully disturbing.