STAY INSIDE Ferried Away (Self-Released) — Ferried Away, the sophomore album from Brooklyn-based bashers Stay Inside, calls out to ghosts. The band draws inspiration from the story of Steeplechase Park, a Coney Island amusement park that burned to the ground in the first decade of the twentieth century. They imagined the space as a purgatory where spirits can reckon with unfinished tasks and dedicate each track on the album to a different loved one, making the release a sort of Lincoln in the Bardo for the left end of the radio dial. If that sounds like heady stuff, Ferried Away is far from stuffy. Stay Inside delivers a set of songs that are grounded in fertile indie rock and electrified by punk fierceness. “A Backyard” is like vintage Modest Mouse, which gives a good sense of the overall sturdiness of this material that bends and warps without every breaking. “Learn to Float” is like a malfunctioning spring transmogrified into a sleekly caustic tune, and “Nothing Like” is gripping with its clockwork rhythms. The plaintive horns, moody melody, and wailed vocals of “An Invitation” make it seem like the track the National would come up with after gorging on classic hardcore for a couple spins around the sun. A spiritual way station never sounded so good. Pay the ferryman his asking price to give a listen to “Bon Z’s,” “My Fault,” “When’s the Last Time?,” and “Sweet Stripe!”

MANNEQUIN PUSSY I Got Heaven (Epitaph) — There’s certainly no reason to believe a band that has wholeheartedly committed to the name Mannequin Pussy is going to be demure in their delivery. Even so, it’s the equivalent of a skyscraper plummet to hear lead singer Marisa Dabice belt out lyrics such as “And what if we stopped spinning?/ And what if we’re just flat?/ And what if Jesus himself ate my fucking snatch?” (on the slambang “Loud Bark”) without an ounce of reticence. I Got Heaven, the Philadelphia band’s fourth full-length, roars and resonates, adding some disarming stylistic swerves to keep moshing acolytes on their antsy toes. Sure, they can still go loud and louche, whether with the strafing attack of “OK? OK! OK? OK!” or the headlong punk furor found on “Of Her.” Working with seasoned producer John Congleton, fresh off Sleater-Kinney’s latest, and seamlessly added new guitarist Maxine Steen to the fray, Mannequin Pussy flashes plenty of range on the album. The juicy, poppy “Nothing Like” definitely flips the coin. It’s arguably most impressive when the band plays several angles within a single cut, as with the title song, which reminiscent of the way Hole could merge clattery noise with disarming tunefulness, and “Sometimes” where gleaming pop swerves into abrasion and back again. Spend some heavenly time with the following tracks: “I Don’t Know You,” “Softly,” and “Split Me Open.”