There’s a disproportionate amount of wretched, barf-inducing music by born-again maniacs decrying everything from being gay to a woman’s right to choose. But some of the people involved in American christianity aren’t like the psychopathic “follow us or die” nutjobs you see on television…and this gent was one of those good guys who don’t insist you drink the kool-aid.

Mark Heard had more criticism FOR the church and its self-appointed arbiters of goodness than anything else, so listening to his music isn’t the gag-fest you get when hearing albums by god-rockers Petra (who produced a great new-wave-for-jebus album if you can get past the rabid evangelistic spew) or the early intolerant albums by Steve Taylor (who also managed to plunk out a fabulous new wavey album side or two if you can overlook the narrowmindedness.)

Mark Heard had the coolness to be alt-country before there was such a thing, and he wavered back and forth between electric roof-raising and John Mellencamp-style introspection. But his album as Ideola was something else altogether.

As Ideola, Heard was an early adopter of sampling (1987!) and then-bizarre experiments in sampling used as electronic percussion (does banging on an old Chevy count as drumming? On this record it does.) This is a pop album with all the quirk of an XTC record with all the navel gazing lyrics of a record by The Church or a poppity-yet-sober-minded Elvis Costello.

Standout tracks on this include Watching the Ship Go Down, Hold Back Your Tears (Like You’ve Been Told) and Go Ask the Dead Man. I like this record for a variety of reasons–it’s got a lot of heart, it’s catchy as hell, and it pissed off the born again fundies who set themselves up as the arbiters of all that’s good in music–because this album dares to make you wanna (shudder) dance.

You can hardly find this damn thing EXCEPT on vinyl, usually in a discount bin for four or five bucks. It’s well worth it if you like funky, poppy experiments with a bit of philosophy thrown in. Get it for Watching the Ship Go Down alone, a nice moody little piece that has some Robin Hitchcockian overtones while invoking a bit of morose observational songwriting.

If Jesus were alive today, he’d be listening to this record. And trying to get Mark Mothersbaugh to record an album of standards with Trent Reznor. As for Mark Heard, he died of a heart condition in 1992 just as he was about to get his due via Bruce Cockburn’s True North label. A shame…