A few weeks back, I sat with John Lutkevich as he put together his newest 7″, a run of 200 EPs reissued from the self-titled cassette he released as Soft Fangs last November. Originally released by Seagreen Records, the tape sold out in a mere few weeks—and for good reason. We all really liked it.

Walking into Disposable America HQ, I greeted John from his perch on the living room couch. Traveling from Brooklyn, he’d come to Boston before continuing to his hometown of Mansfield, MA, to celebrate the birthday of his younger sister. Excited about familial holiday, John pointed to a stack of records on a nearby chair. In his travels he’d picked up a stack of vinyl to keep and share as gifts, including Modest Mouse’s This is a Long Drive for Someone With Nothing to Think About. He’d bought two copies, and would later let me rip the shrink-wrap off one to play.

John pressed a tiny Soft Fangs stamp into red ink to start. His eyes had lit up when he pulled the stamp from a nearby coffee table, and they continued to shine as he worked through the stack of sleeves he’d eagerly placed before him. When asked about the record making process—this tangible, final part—John noted he’d only done it “just once.” He didn’t elaborate much, and instead let movement do the talking. His method was automatic. Record, track listing, album art—all slipped into a thin plastic sleeve to be garnished with a download card. His only only break came hours later in the form a sugar crash, when he inhaled a bag of skittles like a wide-eyed fiend. John has a thing for candy.

John has a thing for music, too, and has employed his passion for some time. Especially significant was his time fronting The Devil and a Penny— the first local band to make me think, “Yes,” as a musically smitten, nervous teenager introducing herself to local bands in the time of Allston house show heyday. The Devil and a Penny stood out in a sea of local acts with work like C and Repair, two gripping albums released between 2012 and 2013 respectively. Looking—or listening—back, it’s easy to hear Repair bridging Lutkevich’s time as a frontman to where he stands today—a shoegazy, subdued vibe contrasting C’s take on a louder, more abstract rock. But even with the contrasts of each record, where the heavy reverb of C grazes Repair’s breathy vocals, both incorporate Lutkevich’s vision as a dedicated artist. And both are worth playing time and time again.

After The Devil and a Penny called it quits in October of 2013, Lutkevich traveled the West Coast before settling down in the Brooklyn residency he calls home today. When not writing, recording or playing what seems like a constant slew of shows, John spends his New York minutes reaping the benefits of a candy discount through the old school sweet shop he runs in Manhattan. Not that a day job could ever hold John to routine. Just last week he was back in sunny LA, a city he just might pass through again on tour this summer.

With the Soft Fangs 7″ comes a reissue of the cassette, too, but with a treat. This time around, the tape features “Inside Joke,” a track Lutkevich deemed “a little jam” before placing a call for the pepperoni and pineapple pizza he’d wolf down mere minutes after ushering it through the door. This second reissue comes straight from Disposable America.

Spinning the new record, there’s a distance between John’s lyrics and our place as listeners. The lines he pens are vague but simple, making reflections like “better not say things you’re going to regret ” so easy to mark as our own. Last January, John sang these same lyrics at a house show in Jamaica Plain. This time, he’d blown into a crowded basement for a show alongside Horse Jumper of Love and Strange Mangers. “You’re the Best” was the final song of his set, and he launched into with a quiet breath known well to his aesthetic. A commonplace sound for John, soon turned on its head as he nearly belted out, “Half dead, but not yet/I need to get some rest/But I can’t seem to relax/when it’s so clear that you’re the best.” Standing in the basement in a heavy winter coat, the cold creeping through the bulkhead door to turn my fingers blue, I listened and thought, “Yes,” with the same wide-eyed amazement I’d felt as a teen, now a musically smitten post-grad.

John prefers aloofness as his record keeps spinning; he continues to build images of what could be his past, but also ours, too. Take the suburban haze of “Dog Park” or the faded attachment heard on “Dead Friends,” a track with just as much longing as anger. His reflections aren’t entirely definite, but not rough by any means, a tinted world of vague reverberations we hear through a wash of guitars and one exquisitely fragile voice. The combination makes for some blissful sort of gloom, the kind of songs best played on a on a rainy day or the weird in-between of late night and early morning.

In the living room, John spun records highlighting everyone from Motorama to Bob Marley while schooling me on all kinds of modern sound. In some sort of giddy, musical sugar rush, John brought up Fat/Bad History Month and stayed there for some time, deeming Dan Angel “a soldier” while noting his band to “have played some of the most mesmerizing, emotional and powerful shows I’ve ever seen.” As far as other influences, John is quick to call out one Fugazi frontman, too:

“Ian MacKaye is definitely someone I feel has influenced me in terms of his presence and commitment to art, as well as his general mentality towards the industry. Whether you like his music or not, he is a true DIY aesthete.”

John’s a true DIY artist, too. Though he’d probably blush being called one. From booking shows, to recording on his own, to the countless sleeves I watched him stuff with vinyl and album art—he does things exactly as he wants. With the help of friends, of course. John spent time tracking this album in Norwood’s Hanging Horse Studio with longtime pal Bradford Krieger, a friend he and Disposable America’s Dustin Watson lived with in a Lower Allston residence aptly named, “Friend House.” Krieger also filmed the video for Dog Park, a short in which Lutkevich takes on an Allston afternoon like a his own parade, skateboarding in parks and basketball courts—and even a bit of traffic. Watch the video below.

With the record finished and tapes done, too, John’s working with longtime friend Jenny Tuite of Dirty Dishes—a band whose spot on bass John fills often, and happily so—on a split she’s releasing under the Cloud Cover moniker. In regards to the upcoming project, John says, “me and Jenny are each contributing two songs… one each from our upcoming full lengths, and another that is exclusive to the 7″.” John’s not stopping to catch his breath after the Soft Fangs release, but planning new projects with the feverous excitement of a truly passionate musician. As with any big project, I’d guess this record had taken its toll on John, or at least prompt him to take time off from constant gigs or recording. But that’s not the case at all. When asked about his experience with this record, John stuck to his enigmatic ways, and deemed it simply, “cathartic.”

Don’t miss Soft Fangs at his show in Allston tomorrow, 3/11, alongside Willow Youth, Driftwood Miracle and Saccharine. Bring him a bag of skittles, will ya?

Soft Fangs Shows:

3/11: Allston with Willow Youth, Driftwood Miracle and Saccharine

3/12: Throne Watches, Brooklyn

3/19: Niagara, NYC

3/20: Loudonville, NY