soundtrack raze my life is a film. and every film needs a soundtrack. musical cues that remind you when to laugh, and when to cry, and when to see reason, and when to reject it in favour of something less sane but more poetic. not notes on a page translated by a faceless orchestra touching toes in a recording booth. a song cycle puked up by an obscure indie rock band with a pretentious but memorable name. one of those records that becomes a sought-after collector's item when the film bombs at the box office only to develop a ravenous cult following after the fact. give me a ragged sextet with an in-house string section and a singer who sounds like jackson browne after getting kneed in the nuts too many times. on second thought, scratch that. i don't want easy answers. give me the sound of airborne dirt dancing in unforgiving light. give me the subtle hiss of time passing. give me everything i ever wanted, and a little more to keep me honest. then take it all away. i don't need someone else's music to tell me what to feel. i'll make my own. 220617 what's it to you? who go blather from