Scenes

From Motown to Eminem, Detroit has long been a music city. For a certain, electronically minded type of music lover, though, Detroit will forever mean techno, a genre that (with apologies to Kraftwerk) originated in the Motor City around the turn of the ‘80s. Even now, seeing “Detroit” alongside a DJ’s name on a club line-up is like a guarantee of quality for techno fans, who recognize the city’s unparalleled history in tough, danceable electronic music.THE ORIGINATORSFor all its panoply of talent, Detroit techno will always be associated with the Belleville Three, a.k.a. the three Belleville High School friends—Juan Atkins, Kevin Saunderson, and Derrick May—who helped give birth to techno with their groundbreaking electronic productions and DJ skills. Today, all three are still among the most respected DJs and producers in the global electronic-music community and, in 2017, formally began working together officially under the Belleville Three moniker, playing at the Movement festival in Detroit.And yet the history of Detroit techno goes back even further—Derrick May once compared the music to "George Clinton and Kraftwerk caught in an elevator.” Another key influence could be found closer to home: Richard Davis, a Vietnam vet from Detroit who produced the stunning electronic soundscape “Methane Sea” in 1978.Atkins met Davis in 1980 and the duo formed Cybotron, whose 1981 debut single “Alleys of Your Mind” is sometimes referred to as the first techno record, in one of those late-night arguments that is unlikely to be resolved any time soon. (“Shari Vari” by Detroit electro group A Number of Names is another popular contender.) Cybotron’s third single, 1983’s “Clear,” is their classic cut and has been widely sampled, most notably by Missy Elliott on “Lose Control.” Atkins left Cybotron in 1985 over musical differences: Davis wanted to pursue a rock direction, while Atkins wanted to further develop Cybotron’s electro sound, a direction that was evident on Atkins’ first solo release, the brilliantly dark drive-time thrust of “No UFO’s” under the Model 500 name.Atkins may have been the first of the Belleville Three to release a record but it was (arguably) Derrick May who first produced something we would recognize as techno today, with Atkins’ productions hewing closer to electro. May’s debut as Rhythim Is Rhythim, “Nude Photo” (a collaboration with Thomas Barnett), was a hugely sophisticated record that sounded a step removed from anything else coming out of Detroit thanks to its jazzy syncopation. But it was Rhythim Is Rhythims second record, the yearning, iconic “Strings of Life,” that really lifted the lid on Detroit techno internationally. “Strings of Life” is still regarded by many as one of the greatest techno tracks of all time.Saunderson, meanwhile, is known for two very different aspects of his productions: The classic sound of Inner City, which married techno-influenced production to house vocals, and the harder-edged sound of his various Reese/E-Dancer/Tronik House productions, whose tough bassline style influenced the nascent jungle and rave scenes in the UK.

THE SECOND WAVEThe Belleville Three (alongside Blake Baxter, Eddie "Flashin" Fowlkes, and Chez Damier) were the key names in the first wave of Detroit techno, which ruled the late 1980s. The new decade then saw the emergence of the second wave of Detroit techno, which would be dominated by Underground Resistance (and its various constituent members) and Derrick May protege Carl Craig. Suburban Knight, a.k.a. James Pennington, was the link between the two waves. His first record, 1987’s “The Groove,” was released on Derrick May’s Transmat label, as was his classic “The Art of Stalking,” a lurching, rock-hard extraterrestrial groove still capable of slaying dance floors to this day. He later joined Underground Resistance.Carl Craig, Stacey Pullen, and Octave One aside, the Underground Resistance collective would at one time play host to pretty much all the key artists and DJs of Detroit’s second wave. UR was formed in the late 1980s by Jeff Mills and former studio musician "Mad" Mike Banks, and its members included James Stinson and Gerald Donald (later of Drexciya and, respectively, The Other People Place and Dopplereffekt), Robert Hood, DJ Rolando, and Claude Young.UR’s own music, released largely on the Underground Resistance and Red Planet labels under a variety of names, manages to mix seat-of-your pants insurrectionary techno (see: “The Seawolf”) with sky-scraping electronics (“Inspiration,” or The Martian’s “Star Dancer”), barn-storming gospel house (Galaxy 2 Galaxy’s “First Galactic Baptist Church”), and jazz (Galaxy 2 Galaxy’s “Hi-Tech Jazz,” a song that does more than any other in the history of electronic music to rehabilitate the saxophone solo). In a neat squaring of the circle, Underground Resistance would later remix Kraftwerk’s 1999 single “Expo 2000,” which evolved into “Planet of Visions,” a song that would be a staple of Kraftwerk’s live set in years to come.UR’s former members’ work also demands to be explored. Jeff Mills remains one of the biggest names in techno thanks to his thundering, loop-based productions and occasional excursions into theoretical ambience, as well as his exhilarating chop-and-change DJ skills. (He would also work with Mike Banks and Robert Hood as X-101.) Drexciya’s mixture of aquatic electro, vocal hooks, and Afrofuturist mythology has made them one of the most revered names in electronic music (with their career tragically curtailed in 2002 when James Stinson died). Robert Hood essentially invented minimal techno with his ground-breaking 1994 release Minimal Nation, a record that still sounds menacingly futuristic over two decades later. And DJ Rolando (as The Aztec Mystic) would give UR a global hit record in 1999 with the I’m-not-crying-it’s-just-dry-ice-under-my-contact-lenses, string-led revelry of “Knights Of The Jaguar.”For all that, if there is one artist that sums up the brilliant, emotive technological innovation of second-wave Detroit it is probably Carl Craig, an artist, DJ, and label boss who has produced everything from Kraftwerk-ian synth classics (“Science Fiction”) to chilling ambience (Psyche’s “Neurotic Behavior”) to screaming house bangers (Paperclip People’s “Throw”) to breakbeat elegance (69’s “Desire”) to proto drum ‘n’ bass (Innerzone Orchestra’s “Bug in the Bass Bin”).

THE NEXT GENERATIONDetroit’s influence is such that its classic artists continue to dominate the techno landscape today. But this hasn’t stopped a new generation of local producers coming through, post-second wave. The best known of these are probably Moodymann and Theo Parrish, although neither are exactly new, having debuted in the ’90s, while much of their work nods more towards deep house, disco, and jazz than straight-up techno.New generations of talent continue to emerge from Detroit, sometimes springing, quite literally, from the loins of the pioneers: Robert Hood is now working with his daughter, Lyric, in the wonderful Floorplan, while Kevin Saunderson’s sons Dantiez and DaMarii Saunderson DJ as The Saunderson Brothers, alongside their solo careers. Elsewhere, the raw, funked-up techno of Omar-S, the UK bass-leaning Kyle Hall, and the wonky jazz productions of Jay Daniel give further proof of the incredible wellspring of electronic-music talent in the Motor City.SaveSave

Justin Peroff is the drummer for Toronto indie-rockestra Broken Social Scene. Hes also the manager for Harrison and McCallaman, two artists at the forefront of the citys avant-R&B/future-funk movement. For his Dowsers playlist, Peroff shines a light on the beatmakers, MCs, and art-pop savants who comprise the citys current musical vanguard.

"I love Toronto. Lately, the source of my citys inspiration comes from the young music communities whose members average birth year is 1995. That also happens to be the year I left the burbs for the city and officially called Toronto my home. This playlist is an example of that inspiration." — Justin Peroff

Home to international stars like Hugh Masekela, Ladysmith Black Mambazo, and, um, Die Antwoord, South Africa has always been known for its music. Even during the days of apartheid, this country of 55 million people was a hotbed for pop, jazz, choral, and dance music. While Paul Simon worked with South African musicians back in the 1980s to make his career-defining album Graceland, these days it’s artists and label heads like Kode9 who are looking to the country amid the rising global popularity of gqom, the moody, broken-beat take on South African house that was first divined with the help of cracked Fruity Loops setups in the coastal city of Durban.Piotr Orlov, a writer for NPR, the New York Times, and The Guardian among others, has done an admirable job at offering an overview to a scene that is still largely unfamiliar to American audiences. A former editorial lead for now-defunct MTV streaming service Urge, Piotr intimately understands the playlist format, mixing a DJ’s ear for flow and sequencing with a musicologist’s vast knowledge and a critic’s natural discernment. Compiled after a recent trip to the country, the resulting playlist is illuminating, enjoyable, and erudite, and offers a glimpse at some of the best music coming out today.Highlights from the 24-track, 2.5 hour playlist (titled after the Xhosa word for South Africa) include Floyd Lavine’s smooth house jam “Saint Bondon” and Big Nuz’s kwaito party banger “Tsege Tsege”—the latter of which evokes pure sex with its shaking, moving, plucking, and pumping beat. There’s also more out-of-the-box fare, like Gumz’s unbelievably funky “Yoruba Brass” as well as “B U,” a cut from Okzharp & Manthe Ribana’s well-received Tell Your Vision EP, released last year on Hyperdub.Mzansi: Now! is bracketed by two tracks from the award-winning songwriter Thandiswa Mazwai, who began her career in the late ’90s as frontwoman of the kwaito pioneers Bongo Maffin. Just as nice is “Anonymous in New York,” a Mingus-y composition by the emerging jazz combo Skyjack. Alas, not every track on the collection is a winner—Thor Rixon and Alice Phoebe Lou’s twee electro-pop number “Death Pt II” lacks the charm of Rixon’s wonderfully weird “Fuk Bread” from 2015, for example.Still, there’s enough good stuff here to keep you engaged, and send you digging for more. And, ultimately, that’s the goal of a playlist that surveys scenes still largely foreign to its target audience. Mzansi: Now! makes a great case for both modern South African music and the professional curator class.

Australian singer Juanita Stein has fronted the acclaimed rock-noir outfit Howling Bells since 2004. She releases her rootsy debut solo album, America, on July 28, 2017. To mark the occasion, shes produced this special playlist for The Dowsers of her favorite acts from Down Under. Here, Juanita explains what unites her selections: "Dirty and desolate: Aussie artists have a knack for beautifully capturing the dust settling, whether it be the psychedelic grit of King Gizzard or the delicate twilight of Julia Jacklin. These songs best capture my love of recent and (some) classic Australian bands."Watch the video for Juanita Steins recent single, "Dark Horse," here:

This post is part of our Psych 101 program, an in-depth, 14-part series that looks at the impact of psychedelia on modern music. Want to sign up to receive the other installments in your inbox? Go here. Already signed up and enjoying it? Help us get the word out by sharing it on Facebook, Twitter or just sending your friends this link. Theyll thank you. We thank you.Los Angeles’ beat scene was always loose by design. Though it had a very specific and physical home—Low End Theory, a club night that still happens every Wednesday at The Airliner in L.A.—the music is more mercurial, with innumerable sub-genres flourishing and swiftly fading. The architects of the scene understood that tying themselves to any one sound meant desertion when the wave inevitably crashed. So, the music was omnivorous, encompassing rap, IDM, psychedelia, turntablism, dance music, trap, jazz, ambient, trip-hop, and spiritual music.The resulting milieu produced a body of work that is nearly unparalleled in hip-hop and modern electronic music, and you can hear the beat scene’s influence in everyone from Thom Yorke and Erykah Badu to Odd Future, Kendrick Lamar,Drake, and Kid Cudi. It transformed L.A. from an electronic-music backwater to a hub of indigenous electronic music culture. And while even casual electronic music fans know its commercial lodestars—Flying Lotus, Thundercat, TOKiMONSTA, Daedelus, et al.—the scene has a deep bench, a psychedelic assortment of mad scientists, Afrofuturists, and avant garde tinkerers that seem like characters ripped out of comic books.The Dowsers has partnered up with The Passion of the Weiss to present an exhaustive look at this scene—complete with an accompanying playlist of definitive tracks. Head here to check out their list of the Top 20 albums, and check out our remix of their list below, which focuses on the 10 artists who defined the movement.

AN ORIGIN STORY, OF SORTSNearly 10 years removed from its release, Flying Lotus’ 2008 album Los Angeles still feels like an anomaly. Most L.A. music evokes sunshine, but FlyLo used techno, bass music, jazz, and hip-hop to sketch a picture of stoned weirdoes marauding through the city’s endless expanse. African percussion collided with IDM sub-frequencies, and Moog licks bounced off record static, conjuring strange, shamanistic imagery. It’s unsurprising that its Afrofuturist grit earned full-throated endorsements from the electronic-music press; the “black Aphex Twin” headlines wrote themselves.And yet despite its electronic bona fides, Los Angeles is hip-hop to the core. Released during a half-decade death spiral of rap’s ’90s generation, and during the South’s ringtone rap phase, Los Angeles didn’t fit. What it did, however, was inspire misfits, both global and local. The irreverent beat science of Odd Future pointed directly to Los Angeles, while Detroit’s Danny Brown calculated what it’d take to rap over music this weird. Soon, an entire scene of blunted beatmakers sprung up both around Low End Theory (Lotus’ performance space of choice) and the internet (where his music was consumed). We’re a decade removed from cloud rap, half a decade from Yeezus, and two years from Future’s DS2, and while we don’t know for sure if Clams Casino, Kanye, or Future heard Los Angeles, the album was the butterfly whose wings indirectly started a rap hurricane where harsh electronic productions became an acceptable canvas over which to brag about sexcapades and Gucci brand footwear.Listen to key tracks from Los Angeles alongside the music that inspired it:

INTO A DARK SILENCENosaj Thing was one of the earliest members of the beat scene, but where his contemporaries tended to produce more fleshed-out sounds, often with a heavy hip-hop influence, Nosaj Thing created a canvas shaded as much by silence as by noise. On his debut album, 2009’s Drift, the beats are dark and exploratory, and, while he couldnt have known it at the time, it has a lot in common with "the drift" of Guillermo del Toros Pacific Rim. In both instances, the drift is a process by which two active participants bond over synchronized brain waves to form a more perfect whole. While del Toro had a specific, mechanical process in mind, Nosaj Thing found a far more organic approach, realizing that (re)creation wasn’t about moving away from the original source as much as it was about moving toward a new one.Listen to key tracks from Drift alongside the music that inspired it:

THE WANDERERGonjasufi has the voice of a man who’s been through the gutter and back. An ancient, rusted-out croon, it’s by turns manic and tender, evoking many days lost in the wilderness, and many more spent re-aligning the chakras. His 2010 release, A Sufi and a Killer, feels like an epic trek, as producers Gaslamp Killer, Mainframe, and Flying Lotus sample a global list of artists to forge soulful, psychedelic beats. The vibe is dirty, and the thunder and rain that comes in at the tail end of “Love of Reign” makes the voyage that much more unnerving. Still, Sufi navigates the landscape with confidence, unleashing a crisp poetry that lays his contradictions bare in an allegorical track about a lion that wishes he were a sheep. When the singer finally finds redemption in “Made”—whose lyrics find a parallel between the coming of spring and the arrival of a paycheck—his voice is feather-light and full of relief.Listen to key tracks from A Sufi and a Killer alongside the music that inspired it:

HEARING IS BELIEVINGTo see The Gaslamp Killer is to believe in The Gaslamp Killer. The Low End Theory co-founder/resident DJ’s wide-ranging sets reside on the brink of chaos, mixing hip-hop, rock, electronic, and all points in between. On stage, he resembles the waving, inflatable man outside of a car dealership, yet the rhythmic flailing isn’t a substitute for pyrotechnics or pre-planned drops. It’s genuine, and he connects without a shred of self-consciousness, guiding audiences with shamanistic conviction.His Brainfeeder debut, 2012’s Breakthrough, captures the intimate, heartfelt lunacy of his live sets. It is the circadian rhythm compressed, shuttling you at breakneck speed from a psychedelic midnight to lucid dawn. “Holy Mt Washington” (with Computer Jay) tempers eviscerating low-end bounce with buoyant, Morricone-inspired whistling. “Peasants, Cripples, & Retards” (with Samiyam) moves from industrial, intergalactic funk to Jamaican dub. The emotive plucking of the yiali tambur by Jogger’s Amir Yaghmai on “Nissim” is backed by Gaslamp’s breakbeat barrage. It remains the standout, a reminder that not every song from the beat scene needed to rattle your body in order to touch your soul.

THE AFROCENTRIC FROM ALPHA CENTAURIRas G is the beat scene’s answer to Sun Ra. His music is an attempt to commune with the constellations, drawing equally from the electronic and analogue. His 2008 album, Brotha From Anotha Planet, is prime headphone listening, a solitary exploration of the soul in twilight hours. Ras G’s willingness to pull back between banging beats, to tie everything together with these oddly comforting intergalactic sound collages, is brilliant. It’s in these moments that we reflect, reminding ourselves of that a celestial experience is visceral as well as cerebral, and attempt to find our place in the universe.

THE FUTURE AT 90 BPMTeebs’ balancing act between subtly and bombast not only served as the M.O. for his 2010 debut, Ardour, but as a mission statement for the beat scene. While early Los Angeles electro used the sparseness of drum machines to rock the party, and DJ Shadow pushed crate digging to its first extremes, Teebs pulls both traditions toward the center, balancing the psychedelic quality of the music with a palpable sonic immediacy. It’s hard to disassociate the somatic contrast between weight and weightlessness from New Yorker Teebs’ adopted sunshine state. Rick Rubin’s beats were born of boomboxes on trains, Detroit techno’s future jazz filled the mechanical void left by shut-down factories, and Ardour was brought to you by dispensary-bought weed cookies and 90 bpm hip-hop records.

AN ALCHEMYShlohmo (a.k.a. Henry Laufer) has a gift for building tension by mining the space between wonder and terror. On 2011’s Bad Vibes, his intricate, skeletal rhythms invite close inspection, and the natural sounds and white noise textures have all the warmth of a down comforter, but the booby-trapped funk of “Just Us”—opening on a thread of light, blurpy synths and then boiling over in a wash of phantom electronics—makes you question just how safe this world really is. Laufer said that he was going through a rough patch when making this album, yet Bad Vibes reflects deeper, more ingrained burdens. Some are consumed by pain, fear, and insecurity, but Shlohmo transformed it into something beautiful.

RAZOR BLADE BEATSIf you stumbled into Low End Theory between 2008 and 2012, you felt Samiyam’s bass hit you so hard that it felt like you had a razor blade in your throat. The Ann Arbor transplant twisted synths into shrapnel, while his drums signaled an imminent sonic destruction. Samiyam’s 2011 release, Sam Baker’s Album, is an instrumental suite that is alternately gorgeous and gargoyle-heavy. Its innately infused with Samiyams grit and filth, and plucks diamonds from dirt, stars in soot, breathing artesian oxygen and then descending into a valley of smog. It reminds you that the beat scene was as far away from Hollywood as it was Hanoi.

JAZZ MUTATIONSThe influence of jazz on the beat scene is more spiritual than aesthetic. Before Kamasi Washington (who came later, and orbited the periphery), the scene produced only one true jazz artist —the young piano prodigy Austin Peralta. Peralta had a reputation as a live performer, and the recordings that have surfaced since his 2012 passing have taken on a near-mythical dimension. They are full of exuberance and wonder, with every chord revealing new avenues of sound. This willingness to push boundaries provides a through-line that connects Peralta to the larger beat scene.But experimentation is hollow without a handle on the fundamentals, and while Peralta’s live sets reached the farthest edges, his most important studio work, Endless Planets, is comparatively conservative. The piano and rhythm section do the bulk of the work, staying comfortably in pocket, with only a sparse smattering of electronics and a few ambient flourishes revealing the album’s progressive modernity. Endless Planets’ relatively reserved approach provides a launching pad for Peralta’s mutations, and established a link between the beat scene and a larger jazz tradition.

8-BIT BOOM RAPThough producer Jonwayne declares that Nintendo DS game Animal Crossing gave him the only semblance of structure in his life—understandable for a guy who used to work at Gamestop—he is first and foremost a hip-hop aficionado. He established his crate-digging bonafides by exalting criminally overlooked Pasadena crew Mad Kap, and he’s a devout follower of the cult of Busta. Still, it’s remarkable how nicely Jonwayne’s two obsessions dovetailed on his 2011 debut, Bowser. The eerie, descending keyboards of “Bowser I (Sigma Head)” evoke a King Koopa rampaging like Ice Cube’s dad in “Down for Whatever,” drunk and threatening to turn the party out, while “Beady Bablo”’s woozy, chiptune interpolation of “Freek-A-Leek” proves that Petey Pablo could have a second career stealing princesses from castles.SaveSaveSaveSave

In the late ‘60s and early ‘70s, the historic British town of Canterbury became the breeding ground for an idiosyncratic music scene that could have been called a movement if its avatars weren’t quite so unassuming in their demeanor. The Canterbury scene grew up around Soft Machine, which started out blending post-psychedelic weirdness with jazz influences before shifting into straight-up jazz-rock fusion in the ‘70s. Early Soft Machine and the bands that became part of their family tree (Caravan, Hatfield & The North, Egg, etc.) shared a quirky, very British sense of humor and a knack for blending jazzy jams into an offbeat but breezy brand of prog rock that boasted a much lighter touch than that of King Crimson, ELP, et al.

Straight from the decrepit basements of Memphis comes one of the most distinctive, experimental, and otherworldly communities in all of hip-hop, where hissy cassettes, mutilated R&B samples, punishing 808s, and MCs firing off at breakneck speeds are only the beginning. Obsessed with satanic possession, graphic depictions of murder, and turning rap music into a kind of sonic and atmospheric purging, the movement first gained prominence in the ‘90s with Three 6 Mafia, and grew to comprise a vast network of interconnected crews and producers. These beats may be dusty, but beyond their low fidelity lies a surprisingly prophetic vision of rap music to come: stuttering hi-hats, pounding bass, and rhythms that are so aggressive and upbeat that one can’t help but hear the delirious sounds of modern trap laced within the sludge. This is by no means a “Memphis Rap Greatest Hits” — the genre is endless, and many of its most crucial gems are buried within the hallowed corridors of YouTube. But if you’ve never known “horrorcore” to apply to anything outside of ICP, hit that play button and let Satan be your guide.

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.

Chance the Rapper owned hip-hop in 2016. He provided the musical backbone of Kanye’s Life of Pablo, partied with Beyonce at the VMAs, hung out with Obama at the White House, headlined his own festival, and released the groundbreaking mixtape/album Coloring Book. In terms of larger cultural impact, there’s very few rappers this decade who’ve matched Chance’s 2016 run. To an extent, it seems destined that Chance the Rapper would reach this stature -- he’s been buzzed about in underground circles since his 2012 mixtape 10 Day, and he comes from the upper echelons of Chicago’s political elites: his father is currently serving as the chief of staff for Mayor Rahm Emanuel -- but his moment in the limelight is a weird by-product of a dark political and cultural moment. The joy and euphoria of his rhymes, and the mindfulness and positivity of his persona, provide an anecdote to 2016’s riots, terrorism, police shootings, and political demagogues. He embodies the way we want to see ourselves, our future and our culture. For hip-hop fans, particularly those who fashion ourselves purists of a certain variety, he also reflects how we’d like to think of the genre. And part of the joy of listening to Coloring Book is picking apart his influences and how he reflects hip-hop. The smartly euphoric uplift of “No Problems” recalls Kanye during his pop maximalism peak, while the “Blessings” channels the strands of gospel that pops up in everyone from Tupac to Anderson.Paak. Though he reps his hometown of Chicago -- and his music contains echoes of everyone from Juke legend DJ Rhashad to classic boom bap icon Common -- he’s also has omnivorous tastes, channeling LA underground absurdists Freestyle Fellowship and the sludgy H-Town hip-hop of Mike Jones. For this playlist, we trace some of those influences and try to unpack Chance’s deceptively dense masterpiece, Coloring Book. You can subscribe to the playlist here. We’ve also curated a playlist of some of our favorite interviews of the rapper. Check it out below. -- Sam Chennault

Once you get past all the decadent, gaudy squalor of Hollywood, perhaps the most defining characteristic of Los Angeles is the myriad of gentle, swaying palm trees lining the streets, standing tall and surreal against the smog-stricken sky. L.A. is an urban tropicalia muddied by human ambition and confusion, and this sensibility has seeped into some of the most prominent and experimental artists working in the city today. Whether it’s in the chime-ridden new age of Leaving Records, the sandy jam sessions of Not Not Fun, or any of the sundry attitudes that coalesce under the local community radio standard-bearer Dublab, you can hear the palm trees coming through in the forward-thinking sounds of the L.A. underground, becoming churned from an object of paradise into something caught between imagination and reality. This mix gathers some of the most exciting voices making music in Los Angeles today, and attempts to find some common ground in their scattered, psychedelic visions.