gutted raze it's the mundane dreams that'll get you. in this one, which isn't much of a dream at all, i'm listening to "music from big pink" in the car. only it isn't the same album that bit into me the year i turned twenty. all the richard manuel songs are gone. there's no "lonesome suzie". no "tears of rage". no "in a station" or "i shall be released". without those thick, urgent piano chords and that impossible falsetto, the whole heart of the thing drops right out of its sagging stomach. i have to turn it off. it isn't a nightmare, but it's not right. you don't do that to a stratford man who gave his soul to rock and roll and snapped his own neck when the music left him. 240603 what's it to you? who go blather from