I don’t remember not knowing who Fugazi is. The problem was that I didn’t remember knowing exactly what they sound like, either.

This may not be entirely my fault, at least initially. Fugazi started putting out albums when I was still in grade school, and their most active years were over by the time I’d formed my full musical consciousness. But who’s at fault for my not having listened these past few years? With iTunes and Amazon in my living room, I can’t blame anyone but myself. It’s just one of those things, like reading Dostoevsky or organizing my past tax returns, that I have the best of intentions about, but never actually get around to. But when Fugazi’s compilation of their first two EPs, together titled 13 Songs, hit Amazon on a discount, it was time to take action.

To put it frankly, I can’t believe what I’ve been missing.

This album is a solid classic, instantly grabbing the ear with a timeless quality that you just don’t find every day. I get a special feeling with those rarest of rare albums; The very first time I played this one, I knew I would own it forever and listen to it often. Fugazi, you had me at “Waiting Room”, a poignant, post-punk dirge laced with six inches of irony: “I am a patient boy, I wait, I wait, I wait, I wait,” the lyrics themselves impatiently repetitive. The funky bass chords on the intro seal the deal: Show me what you’ve got, kids, because I’m in it for the long haul.

The album’s quality holds steady from there on out. “Bulldog Front” plays with traditional punk grossness: “My analysis: It’s time to harvest the crust from your eyes.” Mmm, layers of meaning and disgust in the same line. There’s no bad song here; “Burning” has a lot of drive and flavor, “Give Me The Cure” slows things down with some Clash-flavored reflections on mortality. “Suggestion” and “Margin Walker” both experiment with rhythm and guitar in an intriguing manner. I know this music is over 20 years old, but it sounds like it’s pouring out of someone’s garage down the street. You can’t fake this kind of timeless authenticity, though God knows many have tried.

“Provisional”, a later favorite of mine, slows things down in a way that you can palpably feel influencing the Get Up Kids and others down the road. But don’t think Fugazi’s gone all soft on you; “Lockdown” comes hard and fast immediately after, and they close out with “Promises”, which for all its post-rock glory (I cannot help hearing the intro to Death Cab’s “Title and Registration” when the song starts) bears a metric ton of post-breakup angst. I did not know how very, very much I needed Fugazi in my life until right now. “You will do what you do, and I will do what I do, and we will do what we do, rearrange, see it through”; yes, yes, a thousand times yes. Thanks for writing that, guys, 20 years before I knew I’d need it.

Missing Fugazi has been a serious, gaping hole in my musical education, the measure of which I didn’t know until just this week. Rest assured that I shall never miss them again. Next on my to-do list: Repeater.