produced raze last_night i was going through a few precarious piles of cds on top of one of my more robust shelves. things i never bothered to put away that kept accumulating until they grew into a multi-part mess that touched the ceiling. near the bottom of one stack of plastic packed with glossy paper was an album i produced for another local artist. it's the last thing of it's kind i'll ever do. i ended up playing most of the instruments myself because the guy's band couldn't be bothered to show up for him when he was broke. he called these people his friends. he still does. i told him i'd record and clothe his songs for free. i meant it. the only reason i got paid anything was because he managed to get a grant from the city. he lied about when the songs were written to weasel his way into a different grant that went straight into his pocket. this music was going to reach people who had no idea who i was. i thought it might lead to some pretty exciting opportunities. past that, i was proud of the work i'd done. i even handled the cover art and graphic design side of things when another one of his supposed friends blew him off, transcribing his lyrics by ear because he couldn't be bothered to tell me what they were. before i could get the art files to a printing place, the pandemic hit and he farted out a different set of songs in a few weeks. he hopped on the same virtue signalling bandwagon everyone else was humping at the time, and he gave the big promotional push to a bunch of hot garbage he recorded on his phone. turns out there's a reason he surrounds himself with opportunists who throw him away when he's served his purpose. he's just like them. as for the album i gave three years of my life to, he buried it like a bad seed. good_luck finding it now. the only copy in existence is right here in my bedroom. 240502 what's it to you? who go blather from