It’s come to my attention that I need something from you, and I’m not sure if you have it, but if you do, I sure would like to see it.

I started a newsletter well before it was the thing to do, and it struggled and died because I was still getting good readership off of Tumblr. 2017-2019 are forgotten, horrible times, but in that era Heathen Disco was publishing sporadically off Tinyletter, a platform that I had completely forgotten about by the time they rolled up their tent and split.

Which is to say, there is a chunk of Heathen Disco content that I simply don’t have anymore, because it was written and published in a place that no longer is. However, I’ll bet that some of you have the full run of these missives tucked away in your inboxes, undeleted (maybe unread), and I want that content back.

So if you have any of this laying around your Gmail, write to me. I’m looking for a full run of the early Heathen Disco attempt, and I’ll be giving out free lifetime subscriptions to Heathen Disco and Purple Vu to whoever can send me the full run of these.

They say if you weren’t then, you aren’t now. I know some of you live in the moment and yet have no need to throw anything away. Help me out and receive the gift of Heathen D and the rest of my works.

Keep sending it in: PO Box 25717 Chicago IL 60625 USA // [email protected]

DOPE ON PLASTIC Play Fiyah 12” EP (Ruff ‘n Tuff)

A good way for me (and maybe you) to get out of a musical rut is to find some pristine example of something deep in a genre (any genre, like a decided endpoint for music instead of some fusion shit that has you questioning) and play the fuck out of it. Today, for me, it’s this Dope on Plastic EP – four tracks of ’97 certified pre-owned junglism, like a Chevy Nova discontinued in that decade, rusted and Bondo’d but moving at an incredible pace and loud, straining demeanor. Inevitable comparisons to Christoph De Babalon getting out of the way now (in that the snares wrap themselves around drones and ambient float), but don’t you want your drums and your bass to fit that primo mode? Dope on Plastic is one Luca Ettore, who hails from the US and nails the period-perfect bit crunch; if you told me there was one of those replica Amiga 500s being tortured through the paces of making this, what choice would I have but to believe? Missing the absolute harshness in favor of resolutely homemade productions, this knocks, all four times (esp. those pings and rings through “Gun Chatter”), and now I gotta find this guy’s four earlier releases.

RIBS Cold Ribs LP (Three Lobed Recordings)

Second full-length from this NC Triangle outfit, with Mike Wallace from Verity Den up at the mic and some dudes from Birds of Avalon and The White Octave in the rear view. 1997 comin atcha fast, in reverse, with a big nod towards Chris Leo in The Lapse/The Van Pelt/Breaks/Diamonds speak-sing mode, and in other moments, Shellac running off a car battery. They’re the known unknown, crumbling to dust if that’s what it takes to get these guitar runs over the line to tape, the kind of band that might’ve worn suits in the 30 years ago iteration. Old heads who were diehard indie when such a thing held meaning (if it ever did) will be reminded of every band they’ve ever loved, guys who can effortlessly rip expressive leads around another guy who is going to yell at you until you get it. The dynamism at play here is at odds with bands that only know how to do one thing, and maybe not well at that; between this and a quick listen to their debut Junk Dynasty Leaderboard the notions they represent are well-formed, somewhat severe, and clearly defined across a wide swath of intensity and feeling, bluesy and aggravated, smartassedly triumphant. It’s like a key turning in its lock.

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