Sometimes in life, you have to step back and admit that you’re confused. That you don’t understand. That you straight-up don’t get something. I’m going to have to do that with this post. Tim Hecker’s Ravedeath, 1972 is too deep for me.
I guess I should have expected as much from a guy whose work has such labels as “drone” and “ambient.” Think about one of your favorite records for a second. You know that feedback heavy, distorted intro that goes on for a little too long before the catchy guitar riff on the first song kicks in? Yeah, that’s what this record is like. For 52 minutes and 18 seconds. I kept thinking, “hey, this sounds kind of cool, like something exciting is about to happen.” The only problem is that the exciting thing never materialized. It got frustrating after a while.
I only heard about this record because my main man (and stalkee) Gareth Campesinos! posted it on his Tumblr. Being the creepy and obsessive fan that I am, I had to check it out. Gareth, I’m sorry bud. I guess you’re just smarter than me. Or more willing to pretend to like bad music to appear smarter than me. I don’t know.
What I do know is that about halfway through this record, I fell into a trance of sorts. Maybe that’s what ambient music is supposed to do to you. If so, maybe this is good ambient music. And if that is true, I guess ambient music just isn’t for me. The trance was boring.
Swole Ear 
I hope you’ve snapped out of your boring trance. You make one very interesting observation.
“Gareth, I’m sorry bud. I guess you’re just smarter than me. Or more willing to pretend to like bad music to appear smarter than me. I don’t know.”
Do you think a lot of critics fall into the trap of saying they like something because they’re unwilling to admit that they don’t understand. I think whole music careers have been built on that sort of acclaim. Sometimes, no one wants to be the one to say the Emperor has no clothes — or that the music just sucks.