‘Ravedeath, 1972’ by Tim Hecker

label: Kranky

genre: classical

suitable for: melting away

To date, there has not been a bad Tim Hecker album. It’s a lot like eating Krispy Kreme donuts—some are hot off the conveyor belt, some have sat a little longer and don’t have quite the same softness, some slightly stale versions are purchased and eaten at a gas station on the Garden State Parkway. The quality varies slightly, but ultimately they are all excellent. 

“Ravedeath, 1972” (amazing title) is a flawless album, undoubtedly Hecker’s best in years. For many fans of electronic/ambient music, the phrase “recorded on pipe organ at church in Reykjavik” is enough to send them to the store to pick this one up. Any discerning fan should know that Hecker has grown dramatically as an artist, proven here by dramatic sweeps of volume, tone and color not typical of previous, more wall-of-sound style work. Opener “The Piano Drop” has the mark of Hecker’s best work, eliciting emotion with each swell of tremolo organ. But it’s the softer sounds, including passages of near silence, that pleasantly surprise. 

Visit www.sunblind.net.

‘The Feeding of the Five Thousand,’ ‘Stations of the Crass,’ and ‘Penis Envy’ (reissues) by Crass

label: Crassical Collection 

genre: old-timer punk

suitable for: anarchy…or something

Crass, the original anarcho-punks, have always been brilliant capitalists. Released in 1978, ’79 and ’81, respectively, these seminal albums sold well and have hardly ever been out of print. But here they are again, in new packaging, some added bonus tracks, etcetera (other Crass classics “Christ the Album,” “Yes Sir, I Will” and “Ten Notes On A Summer’s Day” have also been reissued or will be shortly). Fitted together, the new cover art of the six reissues will form one big picture. So, quite frankly, they’ve gotten me and I’ll buy them all. Brilliant marketers, too.

My secret hope is that these reissues, remastered with amazing clarity and packaged with new cover art and liner notes, will be less like historical documents and more like an introduction for a new generation. For old-timers, re-releasing them all at once allows us to marvel at the band’s progression from amateurish pogo-punks to noisy, avant-garde iconoclasts. Sure, it might sound a little idealistic now when Steve Ignorant sings, “Anarchy and freedom is what I want,” but the entirety of the album “Stations of the Crass,” with its fearless assault on everything, is too sincere to discount. The radical feminism of “Penis Envy,” the entirety of which is sung by Eve Libertine, might sound excessive, but it still begs to be heard, especially by younger fans still forming their own identities and opinions on authority and cultural norms. It is music that sustained a movement, that challenged people to think for themselves, that undoubtedly scared a lot of parents. Perhaps that can happen again, because frankly, there is nothing comparable in today’s musical landscape. 

“There were, and still are, ideas within the words of these Crass songs which can act as tools to choose and use for a while as you go on your own crazy, sweet way,” writes Libertine in a great essay beginning the “Penis Envy” liner notes. “When they no longer serve you, discard them.” Yes ma’am, I will. 

Visit www.myspace.com/crasscrass.

‘The Taking or the Leaving’ by Brian McGee 

label: self-released

genre: swing

suitable for: dancing with your best girl

Hailing from the mountains of Asheville, N.C., McGee can nonetheless be considered an honorary local. Due in part to his friendship with Seacoast musician Mary Dellea, he has played in the area multiple times in the past few years, delivering a humble style of country soul that smokes even in a solo setting. 

“The Taking or the Leaving,” McGee’s second solo album, is an exceptionally produced record of high-energy southern rock ’n’ roll. Formerly of Pennsylvania punk band Plow United, McGee seems to have perfectly balanced his love for old country with his desire to plug in and break a sweat. Buddy Holly, Billy Bragg, and Iggy Pop all come to mind.

Highlights include “First Kiss,” a speedy little gem that is sweet and swingin’, but is also as close to punk as anything McGee has done recently; “Fire,” which takes this even further as he matches that unique throaty howl prominent in his younger days to the song’s growing intensity; and the Springsteen-esque album closer “When My Time Comes,” which wraps a sparse arrangement around lyrics of true depth. With anything referential to music of a different age, it’s hard to sound current. But this is exactly what McGee does so effortlessly, better than anyone else. 

Visit www.brianmcgeemusic.com.

‘Cult of Youth’ by Cult of Youth

label: Sacred Bones

genre: bleak folksuitable for: domination

Fear, submit, mercy, cruelty, cold black earth—these are all words that appear at least once on this record. Founded by Sean Ragon, who sounds at times like Nick Cave and at others like an angry animal, Cult of Youth traverses the leather-bound, post-industrial underground with acoustic guitars and hand drums. They explore something ancient and sinister too, something mythical. Pagan music for modern times. 

Though this debut seems incredibly dark, any ugliness is overshadowed by moments of bliss, many of which are courtesy of violinist Christiana Key’s string arrangements and incredibly soulful playing. In fact, this album is full of contradictions. The mood shifts from dreary to bright, enraged to sentimental, soft to loud without notice, often in the same song. Closing track “Lace Up Your Boots” is a pounding and cathartic punk anthem, while the mournful “Weary” is steeped in English folk and is flat-out gorgeous. The album is so affecting partly because of these contradictions, but mainly because it contains powerful, surprisingly catchy songs that invade the mind and dwell inside like a dark mass.

Visit www.myspace.com/cultofyouthband.