Most teachers — middle-school teachers anyway — listen to metal before school. It’s a nice way to remember that no matter what the kids do to upset us, or how little they have to offer in the classroom, we can all still bond over anger.  Granted, metal anger is certainly not the personification of the band or individual singing it, but it is a rebellious and often awkward sounding organism — one that is just like every strange-smelling, voice-crackled eighth-grade child who needs a chance to bellow their angst to adoring crowds.  

Here Is No Exit has been a hell of a way for me to start my mornings. This split release — four new songs and seven unreleased tracks — not only disperses the majority of my personal anger, it also scares the hell out of any child or other educator who walks into my classroom before 8:30 a.m., the official beginning to the day. My two personal favorites for turning people away are the tracks “Suicide” and “Genocide.” Since these follow each other on the album, I don’t even have to create a “big bad wolf” or “Hansel & Gretel” playlist. I can just let The Holy Mountain’s Here Is No Exit flow. I think this would also be useful for those of you who don’t like to give out candy on Halloween — or, better yet, don’t even want a child within earshot of your home. 

In all seriousness, I have no idea if teachers listen to metal in the morning or not, but I definitely recommend something in the genre. The music not only connects in mood but in lifestyle, as well. The Holy Mountain has a powerful art form cupped in their soft palms, and a magnificent album moving our way. I can’t imagine that the men behind this metal are truly full of raging malice. I bet they probably give good hugs.

What I’ve been working towards here is that this is a rare form of metal composition. Although the music is granite-hard and chiseled from the stones of a Viking tomb, it is organized with the elegance of an 18th-century concerto. My kids actually entered the room one morning while I was listening to it and continued to grab things off of my desk while coughing on me. By Will Tunstall

Here’s an interesting concept for a hip-hop album: after several years and a handful of inspired releases with Tanya Morgan, Brooklyn MC Von Pea discovered his long-lost high school journals, in which he speculated about his future rap career and what his first solo album would sound like. Fast forward to 2010, and Pea’s Gotta Have It has brought those childhood aspirations to fruition, with a refreshingly youthful take on the hip-hop dream that includes ruminations on nosy security guards, corn muffins and Arizona Iced Teas before school, lazy afternoons in class, and starry-eyed teenage ambition.

Album opener “Freestyle Live At Low Key’s” kicks things off with a crackly, nostalgic vibe and punchy, sassy one-liners like “You worked on your outfit longer than your album.” Warm, glittery beats and Kanye-like vocal inflections highlight “The Yorker” and “Ahead Of The Class,” before “I Know We’re Right” and “There U Were” hearken back to the early ‘90s with jazzy horn blasts, acoustic guitar riffs, and languid R&B guest vocals. “We Should Be Rocking” takes the album back up a notch, recalling a feel-good summertime block party, but it isn’t until the scattershot “Thank You For Your Children” that Von Pea gets back to his raw Brooklyn roots.

But even that street-wise tale can’t shake the fun-loving, Golden Age vibe of Pea’s Gotta Have It. “Good Life” and “Dreams” both shimmy through organic AM radio soul samples, “Open School” slithers along like it’s emerging from a watery underground chamber, and “New Pair” ably samples the Fresh Prince to romanticize every teenager’s fascination with sneakers. If you’re looking for hardcore, gritty raps about the horrors of the ghetto, Von Pea is not your MC. But if you’re after a hip-hop album that will put a smile on your face and remind of the good ol’ days when your next class was the most important thing on your mind, then Pea’s Gotta Have It is just for you. By Nick McGregor

Yet another experimental pop outfit from Brooklyn, NY, has emerged, this time in the form of Avey Tare, the pseudonym for Dave Porter, who is recognized for his experimental sounds at the helm of prolific electro band Animal Collective. Down There, Porter’s first solo work, is rich with layers of sound and inferences of watery animalistic traits and down-tempo darkness.

Avant-garde angular pop with dissonant vocals and noise mutterings are on tap for this record, and with a darker, swampy vibe, each track seems to swim in its own misery. “Ghost Of Books” sounds like it was recorded underwater,  “Oliver Twist” has a catchy off-kilter beat, “Cemeteries” chills in an ambient groove, “3 Umbrellas” is the most relatable track to Animal Collective with its harmonizing chants, and “Lucky 1” has an oily, post-industrial feel.

The talent and musicality of Avey Tare is certainly proficient, but is it listenable? Is it enjoyable? Eh, not really. It’s complex, interesting, dark, and creative, but not something you’d play driving in your car, at a party, on your stereo while you clean your house, on your iPod before you go for a surf, or even if you’re just feeling depressed. If it doesn’t remotely fit any of these categories, it’s difficult to imagine that many people will like or even get what Porter is trying to accomplish. Unfortunately, that might relegate Down There to relative obscurity… or to the playlists of people who think they’re better than everyone else because they listen to weird music. By Peter Viele

China may be taking over the world, but Americana nostalgia indomitably towers over indie music like Teddy Roosevelt wielding his big stick. And The Moondoggies are yet another band riding the roots music train the best they can. Whereas The Moondoggies’ debut album, Don’t Be A Stranger, was relatively unpredictable in its track list, Tidelands is consistent and deliberate and finds this Seattle-based quartet trying to refine their sound. The band moves away from the country music sound integral to its earlier work and embraces a darker brand of rock tinged with gospel on their sophomore album.

Vocal harmonies are central to The Moondoggies’ sound — as they are to roots/indie music in general. The band employs these vocal stylings throughout Tidelands, most notably on the album’s strongest songs, “What Took So Long” and “Lead Me On.” This composition technique is a common recipe for success; look no further than Americana contemporaries Fleet Foxes and Band Of Horses for proof. Where The Moondoggies fall short of its better-known, plaid-wearing, bearded contemporaries is its mastery of such a technique. On tracks like “We Can’t Be Blessed” and “Can’t Be In The Middle,” The Moondoggies fail to execute any effective harmonies capable of stirring emotion from listeners.

But despite the band’s stumbling, Tidelands offers tracks accessible to young and old listeners alike. Kevin Murphy, band frontman and primary songwriter, sings with the same raspy crone that made Neil Young a legend. The guitar and drum work on Tidelands is pretty standard, but Caleb Quick’s organ parts propel songs like “Down The Well” beyond their means. This track stays true to the vocal harmony formula, but features a distinctly more distorted and unpredictable guitar. The organ holds “Down The Well” together, issuing a constant eerie drone while Murphy roars, “Do you believe/ The strangers that you meet/ Did you receive/ The reasons that you seek?” Tidelands is a strong album, but The Moondoggies need to further develop and differentiate their sound. If the band does a better job of packaging its dark take on roots music with infectious melodies, it could become a frontrunner in the tried and true Americana movement. By Alex Lemonde-Gray