At the risk of iterating shopworn arguments about form and content, let me point out the discrepancy between the two, at least for this listener, when it comes to the music of the Baseball Project. When news came over the transom — or, as aficionados might have it, from the rubber — that the band’s fourth album was nearing release, I marked the calendar.

Yet while the Baseball Project’s first three volumes — “Frozen Ropes and Dying Quails,” “High and Inside,” and “3rd” — are an integral component of my music library, I don’t know a thing about baseball and remain, if not oblivious to the game’s attractions, indifferent to its appeal. Having been dragged to a single Mets game back when the stadium was still named after William Shea, I sat in the nose-bleed seats and took note of the field’s geometry and the precision by which the players maneuvered its parameters. Otherwise, my knowledge of America’s greatest pastime is nonexistent. What I do know about is punk rock.