Heathen Disco Music Reviews #0111 (July 22, 2025)

RYAN DAVIS AND THE ROADHOUSE BAND New Threats From the Soul 2xLP (Sophomore Lounge, US; Tough Love, UK)

I was gonna be good and write about this one when it came out, not months before. Now that the Wall Street Journal has had their say, and let zine-level writing hang by a rubber bracelet from those stained pages over it, the pressure’s off. So I drew myself a bath, turned the record up as loud as it would go, and threw a couple of Lush bombs in there before turning on the jacuzzi. The tub’s a loaner, but there was a life I lived, as recent as a month ago, when there would be no earthly reason to sit in the disgusting bathtub that was probably being propped up by hair clogs in a trap drain, that would never get clean no matter how hard it was scoured, or large enough to soak in without touching the sides.

You take what comes your way, and you strive to make it better, and it doesn’t always work. A lesson nobody finds any solace or money in these days is that you have to learn how to deal with disappointment. We’re back to the 1970s in terms of the seeds of solipsism dissolving like glittering pink slime in the reservoir. Self-actualization programs like EST have taken the form of chatbots and non-governmental systems that tell us exactly what we want to hear, add in something that never should’ve been considered by humanity, and will never endure the consequences. Kids are once again riding their bikes into oncoming traffic, not just because they’re blind to the outcome but because the concept of a stable reality is beyond their reach, and death might not matter as much. The notions of the communities that help shape who you become are now mostly people they’ll probably never meet and who don’t really care what happens to them, and they try to get likes from them anyway.

This is why a person needs a good, vigorous soak. It’s always been why. That soft reset, the time to enjoy it, the room to stretch out. It could fix everything if only everybody could do it. Smaller global cultures make sure this is part of the regular rhythms of life. They know of the benefits. Smaller civic circles, with only a handful of hubs going in small rotations in the right spots across this world, make this whole music thing we read about here possible by connecting the loose dots of activity and action, of living an affordable life of the arts you never hear about. The people thanked in the inner gatefold of Ryan Davis’ new opus New Threats From the Soul, you might not know, but they represent what happens when these circles touch – you get a connection, a body of work that goes beyond one person’s output, and something deeper than community. I’ve only met this guy twice but he’s made sure I saw what he was doing from 2013 on, and it’s not been more than a good use of my time to figure out how much better it’s gotten as he’s found more people on the same wavelength to work with and help get out there: Ned Collette, Bill Direen, Grace Rogers, DAR, Flanger Magazine, Styrofoam Winos, and on and on. MJ Lenderman, on his rapid ascent, brought Davis and the band along for extensive global touring in 2024, and while I can’t confirm it I am positive Lenderman took inspiration from how this person operates outside his band, and how to open those circles.

You would be hard pressed to discount Davis’ works – over 150 records and tapes, mostly of others’ music, released on his own label, Sophomore Lounge, for small but attentive audiences; the work he did in setting up Louisville’s Cropped Out festival, which attendees are still talking about; his own music as Roadhouse, in State Champion and Tropical Trash against the works with the Roadhouse Band of now. But he presents a true boomerang arc, where most people grind themselves into paste trying to figure out what to do in six months what they had previously a lifetime to put together. New Threats does the exact same thing 2023’s Dancing on the Edge did, but it’s that much more accomplished, a style that rolls up elements of Americana like a katamari, with an active, curious mind at the center that keeps adding lines to the story that resonate so deeply you might miss the next one, but which go on long enough that you’ll discover a new one next time. 

All the elements of country music are here, sometimes buffeted by electronics, as he and the 21+ conspirators on this new one (counting Will Oldham, Myriam Gendron, and many of the other folks mentioned upstream) use this strategy to make time stand still, like those lost hours spent scrolling but with the balm of wisdom instead of the yawning, darksided chasm of everything you’re not and grinding yourself into utility grade 40/60 long pig. The one-two of “Better If You Make Me” and “The Simple Joy” take their time to make your night. The scaries, Sunday or otherwise, fall like the scales from your eyes. It’s brilliant, and in a way reinvents the music as a vehicle to tell notebooks full of stories and clever one-liners (this past spin the one that got me was “sometimes even a white flag has its own process of weeding out”) that ring out like you’ve been waiting a lifetime to hear them said like that.

Davis is the dril/wint of the places a truck can drive between the freeway and the small town corner bar. He’s putting all these eggs in one basket, but eggs cost so much these days, and the basket is really big and propped up by people with an honest interest in being able to see him do this even bigger and better the next time out. Those of us who know, know that this time it’s gonna work out for someone who couldn’t deserve it more, and how all ships rise, just like the water from the arced faucet in that tub when the jets get turned on. This music, listening to it, feeling it, is something you do for yourself, that helps you see beyond the disappointments to the next truly good time among those who understand you. They’re out there. Be good to yourself and find them.

— Doug M