Labels

This post is part of our program, The Story of Kendrick, an in-depth, 10-part look at the life and music of Kendrick Lamar. Sound cool and want to receive the other installments in your inbox? Go here. Already signed up and enjoying it? Help us get the word out and share on Facebook, Twitter, or with this link. Your friends will thank you.For many, good kid, m.A.A.d. city was their entry point to Kendrick Lamar, and it was one of the greatest revelations in hip-hop this decade. Tracks such as “Money Trees” and “Bitch, Don’t Kill My Vibe” pare the vulnerability and earned spirituality of a trauma survivor with the heft of a master technician, while his intricate raps carry a conceptual framework that revealed the full weight of the post-millennial American collapse—the dead homies, the dead-end jobs, the deadened interpersonal relationships. Released one week before that album dropped, and in conjunction with this “making of” article published by Complex, this playlist—in Kendrick’s own words—captures “some of the records that inspire me to this day.” It’s predictably diverse. The first two tracks veer from the hardscrabble pathos of DMX’s “Slippin’” (“Im possessed by the darker side, livin the cruddy life”) to the haunting atmospheric grumbling of Portishead’s trip-hop trailblazer “Roads,” before eventually settling into the G-funk (DJ Quik’s “I Don’t Want to Party Wit U,” MC Eiht’s “Straight Up Menace”) that provided the soundtrack to Kendrick’s youth.This playlist comes with a minor caveat: As of 2017, it contains only nine tracks. Probably, at some point, it contained more tracks; and, at some point in the future, it will contain fewer. Spotify either lost rights to certain tracks on the playlist, or else the labels redelivered them in different versions. This Dowsers is a site dedicated to looking at playlists as artistic/critical artifacts, and this is both one of that medium’s charm and vulnerabilities: It’s ephemeral, susceptible to the vagrancies of anonymous digital-music content-operation teams. Like graffiti—which is itself vulnerable to time, weather and gentrification—this doesnt make it any less of an artform, but it’s important to understand.

While self-seriousness tends to rule both mainstream EDM and underground dance music alike, Stockholms Studio Barnhus label follows more lighthearted impulses, with a playful streak of gentle absurdism informs twinkling deep house tunes sourced from sentimental disco, R&B, and easy listening. Founded in 2010 by Axel Boman, Kornél Kovács, and Petter Nordkvist, Barnhus taps a similar vibe as DJ Kozes Pampa label (which might not be surprising, since Boman has recorded some of his best work for Pampa). Bright colors, squirrelly melodies, and unusual textures are the order of the day, and although an undercurrent of melancholy runs beneath even its most whimsical releases, theres no one style or sound to sum up all the labels output; the catalog runs from swirly sampledelia to convoluted synth jams, and from lo-fi tone poems to double-time footwork jams.More than 16 hours long, this frequently updated playlist gathers the labels entire catalog, from a debut EP (Good Children Make Bad Grown Ups) drenched in soul and big-band jazz to Kornél Kovács debut album, The Bells, one of 2016s finest house long-players. For best results, select shuffle mode, and spend the rest of your day flipping between day-dream reveries and delirious rug-cutting—all of it with a giddy smile pasted from ear to ear.

Photograph: Misha Vladimirskiy/FilterlessBrainfeeder got its start in 2008 as an imprint for the landmark LA producer/DJ Flying Lotus. And while it took a few years to find it’s footing, it’s now home to some of music’s most progressive artists. From the hazy lo-fi beat experiments of Teebs and Lapalux to the rich jazz fusion of Kamasi Washington, the label’s sound is constantly expanding and changing, but there are some clear through-lines: a tendency towards jerky rhythms overlaid by ambient textures, an abiding belief in the idea (if not always the sound) of free jazz, and a relentless pursuit of turning over the next musical stone.

As one of the stalwart holdovers from the early ‘90s indie boom, Drag City has released consistently lovable and knotty music for over two decades. While other labels of their kind built their names on too-cool-for-school slackerdom, Drag City have always been overachievers, putting out music that consistently redefines whatever genre or idiom they are working within. It’s country music that rejects tradition, punk music with a sense of dignity, and avant-experimentalism that feels more like hanging out with your buds than begrudgingly doing your homework. Above all, Drag City are the torchbearers for the concept that challenging, willfully elusive art should always remember to keep it fun, and this playlist is our token of gratitude for all the great sounds they’ve shared with us over the years.Note: The Drag City catalog is not available on streaming services, but can and should be purchased on iTunes, Amazon, or, better yet, your favorite record store.

Founded in the late ’00s, Glasgow’s Optimo Music is the quintessential Scottish label, and that’s exactly the way JD Twitch wants it. The producer, DJ, promoter, remixer, and proud Scot has amassed a catalog that directly mirrors the freely flowing exchange between DIY, anything-goes rock and cutting-edge dance music that has long defined the country’s underground. After all, Scottish artists were some of the very first on the planet to (1) blend punk and discoid propulsion (see Fire Engines’ 1980 landmark “Get Up and Use Me”), (2) fold alt-rock into house/techno (Primal Scream, of course), and (3) pioneer ’00s dance rock (the crazy prescient Yummy Fur did it a decade ahead of schedule).Among the slew of vinyl Twitch released in 2016 (including those sides on the Optimo Trax and Optimo Music Disco Plate sub-labels), it’s on The Pussy Mothers’ The Number 1 EP, MR TC’s Surf and Destroy, and Junto Club’s Warm Me Up that these deliciously anarchic qualities are most in your face. Surf and Destroy is especially telling: the title track is a throbbing orgy of acid squelch, post-punk atmosphere, and psychedelic guitar wash.In contrast, these qualities become more subtle on those records that (at first blush, at least) tilt more toward orthodox dancefloor groove. A track like “In Turbine,” from Underspreche’s Invito Alla Danza Part 1, is minimal, electroacoustic drone rock (complete with warm organ hum) from a duo who are no strangers to pounding club jams. Noo is another revealing example: Their Optimo Music Disco Plate Five is all about 21st-century Italo awesomeness filtered through a scrappy, slacker basement vibe. Noo, it has to be noted, was founded by Christophe “Daze” Dasen and Sami Liuski, who hail from Switzerland and Finland respectively. You see, that’s a part of Twitch’s curatorial genius; he possesses a knack for teaming up with artists who, while they may not hail from the Scottish underground, create music that totally reflects its unique sensibility.Note: while my playlist is stacked with tracks from Optimo Music’s 2016 releases, listeners will also discover a handful of older gems. Truth be told, the label’s full catalog is never far from my turntable. For example, I probably jam Golden Teacher’s Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night — a boisterous collision of future punk, acid, and all manner of tribal funkery released in 2013 — at least once a month. Like most underground music from Scotland, this stuff simply doesn’t age.

Click here to subscribe to the Spotify playlist.In an era where singles carry the industry, and albums are just collected singles, and mixtapes are albums, TDE in 2016 approached their releases like Def Jam in 1998 — stuffing them to the gills. Each album featured the patented TDE approach of Two Songs For One, pioneered on Kendricks "Sing About Me, Im Dying of Thirst, the 12-minute capper on Good Kid, Maad City and followed by the seven-minute "Prescription/Oxymoron" on Schoolboy Qs Oxymoron. Check the track totals and album lengths this year:Ab-Soul, Do What Thou Wilt.: 16 songs, 77 minutesIsaiah Rashad, The Song’s Tirade: 17 songs, 63 minutesSchoolboy Q, Blank Face: 17 songs, 72 minutesKendrick Lamar, untitled unmastered: 8 songs, 34 minutesHaving the patience to make it past 10-12 songs in one sitting for any music fan is trying. TDEs position is its better to have more and not need it than to not have enough. Long gone are the days of GZAs philosophy of making albums "brief son, half short and twice as strong.” Blank Face would be a top 3 album if it closed with the title track, and Ab-Souls fascination with Lupe and Eminem would be better served in under 40 minutes.This would be a deterrent if not for the artists themselves choosing to eschew the pop charts they so clearly had their eyes on in the aftermath of Kendricks breakthrough Good Kid four years ago. Schoolboys Blank Face was a popcorn movie of an album, action-packed, fun, violent, and full of beloved heroes like Tha Dogg Pound, Jadakiss, and E-40. Isaiah Rashads The Suns Tirade was breezy and introspective, more than capable of soundtracking cookouts for the next 5 years. Ab-Soul doubled down on his Conspiracy Brother impulses on his third album Do What Thou Wilt, becoming the millennial Ras Kass in the process. And Kendricks untitled unmastered, while sloppy in parts, was an interesting bookend to Pimp a Butterfly — 34 minutes of outtakes and "How the hell was THAT not a single?" moments jampacked into 8 songs.This playlist is the easiest way to enjoy the high points from TDEs best overall year top to bottom without having to take on too much Netflix truther documentary talk from Ab-Soul, nihilistic glee from Schoolboy, unfinished jazzy ruminations from Kendrick, or mumble mouthed charm from Isaiah.

Growing up in the South during the 90s, Factory Records was always the music of older cousins and cooler friends. Dont get me wrong, I have had hard musical crushes on acts like Durutti Column, Happy Mondays, Joy Division, and New Order, but it never seemed entirely mine either. It was the soundtrack for lives that I made guest appearances in, humming in the background as a bit of anglophile ennui.This playlist is from Spotify user Coco Baker. (S)he isnt a professional curator (as far as I know), and the playlist does have some factual slights (that Cabaret Voltaire track was released on Rough Trade and not Factory Records), but its still a pretty good overview of the scene. Too often, user generated playlist have no sense of rhythm. People will line up multiple tracks by the same artists, and there will be giant stylistic leaps from track to track, but this does seem to have a perspective and flow, so well excuse the factual lapses.

If you’re into art-scarred, synth-driven, post-industrial music made in Brooklyn, you’re probably a fan of the Sacred Bones label. From the assaultive noise of Pharmakon to the jerky, tattered nihilism of Jenny Hval, they’ve formed an aesthetic that captures a certain post-Trump anxiety. It’s the sort of music that you want when shit goes down, and, via their Facebook page, Sacred Bones release a playlist of music they listen to when their own shit goes down. It’s mood-board music that oscillates between the sad neu-antiquity of Karen Dalton, the kitschy gothic folk of Current 93, and a genocidal dirge from Big Star. Play after the funeral (or the apocalypse).

Drake OvO Sound may effectively be a vanity imprint for its biggest star, but there’s something to admire in their stylistic consistency and aesthetic continuity. It speaks to Drake’s overall impact on culture, and also the partnership that Drake has formed with his core set of producers (40 and Boi-1da). There’s a clear through-line from the sound those developed on solo Drake releases and the sonic nooks that PARTYNEXTDOOR or dvsn are currently exploring. This playlist, curated by Drake, features some of the labels best tracks. Though the music is at times vibrant and it’s well worth a listen, this at times feels like a boilerplate marketing/PR playlist, and the inclusion of Drake on at least 2/3rds of the tracks feels slightly distasteful.

Germany’s DJ Koze makes the type of sweeping, kaleidoscopic electronic that sheds easy genre definitions or quick reference points. When he released his 2013 masterpiece Amyglda, some positioned it next to Daft Punk’s album from that year, Random Access Memories, as the go-to electronic release of that year. Coming from a hip-hop background, I detected the influence of Madlib in Koze’s whimsical, slightly stoned collages, and that sense of playfulness and culture spelunking extends to the artists on Koze’s Pampa label. Philip has captured the “pleasure of small surprises” that is essential to label’s charm. It’s an amazing, frequently silly and always surprising collection.