Cheese-laden, not-insignificantly political, and otherwise a tarpit of several strong contradictions, Heaven 17 remains, both in memory and during its lifespan, precisely as promised: a band tripped up in a web of aesthetic dreamworlds and commerce, a light smear of subversion fronted by silky accessibility, and a small universe in which appearances played premiere. Vexed class consciousness dialogues built inside music the equivalent of a cocktail party.