Wristcutters: A Love Story – Original Motion Picture Soundtrack (2008)
Alright, let’s get this straight. This album isn’t just some random collection of tunes slapped together for a flick about dead people falling in love—that’d be too easy. Nope, Wristcutters: A Love Story’s soundtrack is like an emotional gut-punch wrapped in melancholy vibes and tied up with a ribbon of raw humanity. It's got rock, pop, folk, jazz—hell, even world music sneaks its way into the mix. And yeah, it’s all over the place genre-wise, but somehow it works. Like that one friend who shows up late to every party but still steals the show.
The whole thing was cooked up by Lakeshore Records, Edel, and a bunch of other folks you’ve probably never heard of unless you’re deep into liner notes (shoutout to Bobby Johnston on score duties). Released in 2008 across Germany and the US, this record feels like a time capsule from a moment when indie films were still kinda cool and soundtracks mattered more than Spotify playlists.
Now, let me hit you with two tracks that’ll stick in your brain like gum under a desk: “Love Will Tear Us Apart” and “You Look Exactly The Same.”
First off, “Love Will Tear Us Apart.” Yeah, I know—it’s not original; Joy Division did it first back in the day. But here’s the kicker: whoever decided to toss this cover onto the soundtrack knew exactly what they were doing. It’s haunting as hell, man. The vocals feel cracked and broken, like someone trying to hold themselves together while everything falls apart around them. That’s basically the movie summed up in three minutes. You can practically see the dusty roads and neon signs through the speakers. Every time I hear it, I wanna light a cigarette—even though I don’t smoke—and stare out a rain-streaked window. Overdramatic? Maybe. Effective? Absolutely.
Then there’s “You Look Exactly The Same,” which hits different. This track slaps harder than most modern pop-rock crap cluttering up TikTok these days. It’s punchy, raw, and unapologetically messy—kinda like life itself. There’s something about the guitar riff that grabs you by the throat and doesn’t let go until the last note fades away. Plus, the lyrics are sharp enough to cut glass. When the singer belts out lines about familiarity breeding contempt or whatever, it feels personal, like they crawled inside your head and found all the stuff you try to ignore. Brutal honesty wrapped in catchy hooks? Sign me up.
But here’s the twist: listening to this soundtrack makes you realize how weirdly hopeful it is. Sure, the movie’s about suicide and purgatory and all that heavy shit, but the music keeps pulling you back toward the light. Tracks like “We’re All Immigrants” and “Miracles” remind you that even in the darkest moments, there’s beauty lurking if you squint hard enough.
And honestly? That’s why this album sticks with you long after the credits roll. It’s not perfect—it’s messy, uneven, and occasionally pretentious—but so is life. So is love. So is death. Maybe that’s why it works so damn well.
Final thought: If you ever find yourself stuck in a rut, throw this on and crank the volume. Let it scream at you, make you uncomfortable, force you to feel something real for once. Or don’t. Your loss.
