Tim Hecker - Ravedeath, 1972 (Kranky)

Haunting emotions flow throughout Tim Hecker's new release.

Released Mar 28th, 2011 via Kranky / By Peter Clark
Tim Hecker - Ravedeath, 1972 (Kranky) There’s a moment in time, maybe once during the day if you’re lucky, or whenever you really need it, when all things become obsolete, when there’s not a sound to bother you, nothing to distract you, and you become acutely aware that this is not the life you want to live for yourself. If that moment were extended into an all knowing 52 minute piece, the accompanying soundtrack would be Ravedeath, 1972.

Tim Hecker’s fifth release is not as pretentious as this “arty” type of music is generally made out to be. While a lot of musicians can create elongated alienating pieces of work, the harrowing chimes and aching desolation on display here acts as more of a caressing wind coursing through you, leaving you alert and refreshed.

Recorded in a church in Reykjavik, Iceland, Hecker uses an organ as the main source for his creativity, although at times it feels very much like an orchestra, which is never more engrossing than on ‘Studio Suicide, 1980’. People may throw words like abstract and minimalist at this record as a way to pass off something they perhaps don’t understand, but sometimes is best just to close your eyes, steal a moment for yourself, turn the volume up loud, and let the music become part of you.

Ravedeath, 1972 is a record filled with emotions rather than songs; genuine movements. And that is ultimately the aim of Hecker’s music, something with which you can feel and not just listen to. When the world seems to be one step ahead of you, and kicking you with the other foot, grasp your moment in time with Ravedeath, 1972, then get back out into that race, and show them what you’re made of.