The summer I heard Mind of a Savage, it was about a year after the tape actually came out (on the A.C.T.I.O.N. label). There was a decision at my old house that we weren’t going to use the air conditioning that summer (admittedly reasonable because the gas was already turned off.) We sat around in our swampy living room and played this tape over and over, drunk, sweating, screeching along to “Savage 4”- the one that goes “listen to my fan spin for me. it’s the only one that adores me.” with that menacing ice-cream-truck-esque xylophone kicking in the background.
Years later, talking to Chris Durham, after he’d moved back to Detroit from Philly; after I held forth for a while about how much I love this tape, he explained the actual context in which he wrote it, a good story that I’m not going to tell you. Maybe he’ll tell you.
The point is, the original run of this tape on A.C.T.I.O.N. was limited to 50 copies, I never had my own copy. So, we reissued it, because its a perfect summer record. (Especially now that summer means swimming in a puddle of your own ass sweat- while looking out your window at a steaming post-industrial hellscape. Summer means adding humidity stink lines over bridges that are one beam away from collapsing, perennially derailing trains, empty neighborhoods, roads pockmarked with giant potholes and flooded city centers filled with floating car husks) This tape feels specifically Detroit but also it feels like it encompasses America in the truest way. (“Buy a baseball, buy a chicken”).
Also, I wanted a copy. You’re welcome.