Indie

Todays tykes have no idea how easy theyve got it. If modern-day pop charts were filled with the kind of creepy, trauma-inducing fare that was commonplace when I was a child in the 70s, the FCC would be awash in lawsuits initiated by horrified parents.Though the 70s are commonly typecast as the decade when mellowness reigned supreme, radios gatekeepers thought nothing of filling the airwaves with songs of rape, murder, pedophilia, hate crimes, and other family-friendly activities. The eras artists in turn took the opportunity to let it all hang out.As a kid with a passion for pop, I would invariably have my bedside radio tuned to the local Top 40 station to help lull me into slumber. But some of the songs that slipped into my subconscious mind probably twisted my impressionable psyche for life.Clarence Carters R&B hit "Patches" concludes its wrong-side-of-the-tracks love story with—spoiler alert—a murder and consequent suicide. Rod Stewarts "The Killing of Georgie," true to its title, chronicles the murder of the homosexual title character by a bunch of gay-bashers. In Helen Reddys "Angie Baby," a young man tries to rape a mentally disturbed girl and is somehow eliminated by her supernatural abilities. Terry Jacks "Seasons in the Sun" adapts Jacques Brels "Le Moribond," in which a dying man tearfully bids farewell to each of his loved ones. And then there’s Ringo Starrs cover of "Youre Sixteen You’re Beautiful (And You’re Mine)," which ought to have been subtitled “(And Im 33).”At least Warren Zevons "Werewolves of London," with its account of little old ladies getting mutilated, was clearly played for laughs, but the bulk of these songs were unflinchingly earnest, and their 70s soft-pop trappings only made them all the more unsettling to a young mind. But go try and get a dour six-and-a-half minute song about a shipwreck where nobody survives into the Top 10 today—as Gordon Lightfoot did back in ’76—and see how far you get.

While critically maligned during its heyday at the end of the ’00s, Atlanta snap rap has always been fun and remains influential today. Musically stripped-back, with vast separations between the bass, midrange (the raps), and treble (the repetitive keyboard figures), the music sounds gigantic in the club because of all the space in the mix. It’s slow yet steady, topping out at 80 beats per minute. You can dance to it by doing a simple or complex lean-back, coupled with a snap of the fingers.The definitive snap hit is “Laffy Taffy” by D4L (pictured). Everything else is tied for second place. Many snap anthems—like BHI, Lil Jon, and K-Rab’s 2006 cut “Do It, Do It (Poole Palace)”—have actual fingersnaps in the song, and eventually the style’s sound bled into R&B when T-Pain adopted it and, to a lesser degree, The-Dream. If you have to pin it to a place, it’s an Atlanta thing, but Mississippi and Compton have made crucial contributions with David Banner’s “Play” and Quik & The Fixxers’ “Can U Werk Wit Dat,” respectively. The most creative envisioning of the music was done by Soulja Boy, who basically invented viral dance videos with his “Crank Dat,” the template for up-and-coming stars like Ayo & Teo (Soulja Boy was a product of the YouTube era; Ayo & Teo are Instagram stars).Snap rap prioritizes dancing and downplays lyrical intellectualism, and while it isn’t the first rap subgenre to embrace those concepts, it has a strong following who have set a new norm. Modern-day adherents include Young Thug and Future, Atlantans whose music has the same tempo, and DJ Mustard, whose music is faster but still has that snap feel. In the big picture, snap is another point in the ongoing hip-hop conversation between the South and the West, without any comment from New York City. Look at California’s hyphy and jerk music and Atlanta’s crunk and snap music: It’s all part of the same swirl. New York has turned up its nose the whole time.Click here to follow this playlist on Spotify.

Snoop Dogg is a rapper who will collaborate with anyone for the right price. But unlike, say, Gucci Mane, his tossed-off verses appear on more than miscellaneous cuts by random regional street rappers. Snoop’s musical promiscuity has led to surprisingly unlikely songs like “Lavender,” a track he made with Canadian jazz band BadBadNotGood and producer Kaytranada. Earlier this month, their video generated national headlines by depicting Snoop pointing a toy gun at a Donald Trump impersonator, resulting in an angry tweet from the president himself.

“Lavender” may be the most prominent example of how Snoop Dogg has extended his reach beyond the confines of urban pop. He’s delved into L.A.’s indie funk and electronic scenes by working with Dâm-Funk—on 2013’s underrated 7 Days of Funk—Adrian Younge, and Flying Lotus, appeared on Run the Jewels’ willfully bizarre remix project Meow the Jewels, and worked with adult soul veterans like Goapele and Kindred the Family Soul. On most of these tracks, the 40-something rapper genially plays the Uncle Snoop role, a celebrator of fine women and good smoke, while tactfully avoiding the vocal aggression that occasionally creeps up in his street-rap cameos (his “Lavender” verses against the president are a notable exception). He can come off as corny but he knows how to fit in, as memorable songs like his duet with Gorillaz, “Sumthin Like This Night,” prove.Among Snoop’s generation of late-‘80s/early-‘90s solo rap stars, there are precious few who still release commercially viable work: E-40, Too $hort, Dr. Dre, Nas, and JAY Z come to mind. Amidst that increasingly short list, Snoop’s role as West Coast ambassador for everyone, and not just the pop music industry in particular, is important. And the fact that he’s used his position to make intriguing digital funk gems like Flying Lotus’ “Dead Man’s Tetris” is a big plus.Click here to add to Spotify playlist!

Let’s be blunt: Southern California is the perfect place to get high. The skies are sunny year-round and the beaches are beautiful and plenty. There’s the bountiful surf of Malibu, the craggy rocks and gnarled trees of Joshua Tree, and the sweeping canyons and mellow vibes of San Diego; the landscape is the stuff of myth. Inspiration can be found all around, so perhaps it’s no surprise that so many great artists, all from the region but from different genres, sing marijuana’s praises.The list of artists is seemingly endless: In Los Angeles alone there’s The Mamas & The Papas, who were definitely thinking about lighting up when they sang “Safe In My Garden”; there’s Sublime, who made their interests obvious enough when they covered The Toyes’ reggae classic “Smoke Two Joints”; and of course there’s Cypress Hill and Snoop Dogg, the latter who has built a whole brand as the champion of weed smokers. These are just some of the obvious picks, of course, but put your finger practically anywhere on the SoCal map and you’ll find tendrils of smoke and pleasant sounds rising up, from Kyuss out in Palm Desert to Wavves’ Nathan Williams, who got his start recording tunes like “Weed Demon” at his parent’s house in San Diego.In honor of the release of Wavves’ latest album, You’re Welcome, out May 19 via Ghost Ramp, we’ve put together a playlist of SoCal stoner classics. Taking this in is sure to lighten any social engagement involving a bubbler, spliff, or vape pen, but it also offers a little slice of SoCal history and legacy through the bloodshot eyes of some of its greatest talents.Click here to follow this playlist on Spotify.

Solange Knowles’ album, A Seat at the Table, is a crisply executed R&B pop album that wooed fans and debuted atop the charts. The album blends elements of pop and electronic music with various threads of soul, adding afrofuturistic flourishes as well as guest appearances from Lil’ Wayne, Kelly Rowland, and Q-Tip. And while that sounds like a hodgepodge of sounds and personnel, the album is subtle and graceful, anchored by Solange’s soft, confident voice and down-to-earth musical sensibility. “Borderline (An Ode to Self Care)” and “Don’t Touch My Hair” champion ideas of black liberation and self-empowerment, and are powerful statements from one of pop’s most socially conscious singers. On this playlist, we look at some of the inspirations for Solange’s beautiful new album, from the woozy otherworldly hip-hop of Shabazz Palaces to the astral jazz of Alice Coltrane. -- Jordannah Elizabeth

Flutes are everywhere in hip-hop in 2017. They provided a wistful counterpoint to the grizzled trap of Future’s ubiquitous “Mask Off,” propped up Drake’s throttling “Portland” with a snaking melody, and popped up on tracks from D.R.A.M. (“Broccoli”), Gucci Mane (“Back on Road”), Kodak Black (“Tunnel Vision”), and Migos (too numerous to list off here). As trap continued to grow murkier and more psychedelic, the flute provided an otherworldly texture, a hypnotic counterpoint to hip-hop’s tougher, spare beats. This, of course, is nothing new, and this playlist from Okayplayer provides a quick history of the instrument’s use in hip-hop. The great Beatnuts used the instrument as a rhythmic counterpoint on "Watch Out Now," while the vaguely Eastern melody in 50 Cent’s “Just a Lil Bit” slithers through his teflon pimpin’ boasts. The instrument also provides a lightness to the shuffling, monochromatic beat for J Dila’s “Fuck the Police.”The playlist largely ignores the South, instead focusing on the headwrap rap heroes Okayplayer tends to champion (Mos Def, Common, A Tribe Called Quest), and, as a result, it feels quite incomplete. But it’s still an enjoyable listen, and the presence of a particular instrument provides a throughline between a lot of disparate selections. It forces the listener to lean in and pay attention to the track, and consider the ways that different artists, periods, or scenes have used the instrument. It doesn’t exactly make the case that the flute has been “hip-hop’s secret weapon,” but it does demonstrate that its been central to some amazing tracks.

2016 was bleak for lots of reasons: a giant Cheeto dumb dumb managed to ass-chat his way into the Oval Office, some other jockstraps decided to kill a bunch of innocent people in Florida and Nice, and the Zika virus stuck two fingers up to modern medicine. But its also the year during which I finally chased down, and jumped, my dream. Three years ago, after a whole lot of soul-searching and desperately trying to convince myself I loved living in London and getting shit-faced six days a week, I realized what I really wanted was a simple life. To return to the countryside, to the woods, with my beloved. So we worked and we planned, and in December 2015, we left our jobs and friends and families in the UK, and moved—cat, tortoises, and all—to the Hudson Valley, just a few hours north of New York City. People will remember this year for all its faults, but for me its the year my sister, also an NY resident, gave birth to my niece. Its the year my true love and I bought our first home, a 100-year-old wreck of a farmhouse on 12 acres of organic farmland which were in the middle of gutting and renovating with our own four hands. Its the year I started making more money writing than I do editing. It’s the year I made space for myself. The year I summoned enough courage to leap.And perhaps suitably reflective of the year itself, my soundtrack to 2016 is far stranger than expected. We did a lot of driving before we got our own place, and I listened to the radio a lot. Which meant that I was forced to listen to new(ish) mainstream music, rather than get stuck in my comfortable rabbit holes of whatever artist I was obsessed with at the time. Sure, it took me about 10 months to realize my pickup stereo has a CD player, but for the first half of the year, I ended up listening to a lot of Justin Bieber and Kiiara. A darling friend from home gifted me a Vinyl Me Please subscription as a leaving present, and so Weezer, The Books, and Fugees resurfaced unexpectedly in my life. Sometimes Im homesick, missing my mum terribly, and I turn to things that remind me of her. Nina Simone, Sade, Joan Armatrading. Sometimes Im so blissed out by the peace and quiet that all I want to do is roll up a stonking blunt, close my eyes and fall into some Tirzah, Young Thug, and Bjork. And sometimes I cant believe I moved to this country the year the Cheeto dumb dumb had the misfortune to be “elected”. Then I need Solange and Rihanna. But, odd as this mix is, it captures, in its beautiful weirdness, just how glorious this year has been.

Regardless of what you think qualitatively about Drake’s music, or his progression as an artist, his impact on culture is undeniable. He’s a pop idol in a classical, pre-pomo sense; his fans not only devour his music, they model their ideas about fashion, art, and even sports around the Toronto emcee. In ranking the songs that defined the “Drake era,” the Fader staff make note that “this is not a “Best Of” or a ranking of any sort, but an acknowledgement of the songs that represent Drake’s expanding influence in music, culture, and our lives.” It’s a subtle but interesting distinction, but nonetheless interesting: they’re not pulling their favorite songs, or even his most popular songs, but tracks that capture the Drake zeitgeist.

Click here to add to Spotify playlist!Kristen Stewart owes a king-sized thank you to Olivier Assayas for aiding her startling transformation from Twilight moper to one of our age’s most reliably edgy and surprising screen actors. The French director first guided Stewart to greatness in his 2014 drama Clouds of Sils Maria and does it again in Personal Shopper, an eminently weird and stylish thriller that hit U.S. theaters on March 10, 2017. The high-profile collaboration has brought wide attention to the former film critic-turned-auteur who’s been a hero to cinephiles since establishing his voice in the 1990s with a string of extraordinary features.Assayas’ impeccable musical taste and ability to match sound and vision have been apparent ever since he combined the image of leading lady Maggie Cheung clad in black leather with the dissonant snarl of Sonic Youth’s “Tunic (Song For Karen)” in his 1996 breakout Irma Vep. He later collaborated with the band on the score for 2002’s Demonlover and featured Kim Gordon and Thurston Moore in his 2006 music doc Noise. Gordon also has a bit part opposite Asia Argento in his 2007 thriller Boarding Gate.Indeed, like Eurocinema peers Claire Denis (who’s enjoyed a long and fruitful alliance with Tindersticks) and Leos Carax (whose roster of musical collaborators ranges from Scott Walker to Kylie), Assayas has an approach to scores and soundtracks that’s far more adventurous and sophisticated than the predictable hit parades in most Hollywood fare and the played-out, random mixtape-sensibility of Quentin Tarantino, Wes Anderson, and their legions of wannabes.This survey of music from such Assayas essentials as Clean, a drama featuring an exhilarating performance by a then-breaking Metric, and Carlos, a mini-series about Carlos the Jackal scored by Wire—originally with songs by the Feelies until they objected to being used alongside images of terrorism—includes songs that he used for highly dramatic and memorable purposes.

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.When it comes to subgenre tags, “space rock” is one of the most literal—its music intended to evoke an interstellar journey. But while theres plenty of trippy otherworldliness involved, the sound is anything but ethereal. The seeds of space rock were sown back in 1967 when Syd Barrett led Pink Floyds expeditions into the cosmos, but the real template was created in the early 70s by the likes of Gong, Hawkwind, and Nektar, who tapped into a post-psychedelic stoner vibe and combined explicitly cosmic lyrics with heavily effected guitar riffs and swooshing, burbling electronics to create the mind-expanding sound we know today as space rock.In the 90s, a new generation of aural astronauts inspired by those 70s sounds started an underground space-rock revival. The likes of Ozric Tentacles, Magnog, Farflung, Quarkspace, and Bardo Pond fused the influences of old-school space rock with a contemporary indie aesthetic to create a sound that helped to further codify the style and even edged things forward by introducing elements of ambient music and other varied flavorings. More than ever, Hawkwind is acknowledged as the center from which all things in the space-rock universe flow, and the raw, hard-rocking riffs and squiggly synth effects that defined the bands classic 70s albums became de rigueur for any new arrivals aspiring to take a tumble through the galaxy.In the new millennium, a third wave of space rockers has arrived. Wooden Shjips, Comets On Fire, White Hills, Moon Duo, and the rest have firmly dug into the fuzziest, shaggiest, beardiest riff-a-rama aspects of space rock, fetishizing its 70s roots even more so than any of their 90s predecessors. But for all their growl and grit, they never forget the stoner side of things—one of the crucial aspects on which the movement was based. After all, if youre not already high when youre listening to a space-rock record, the music should make you feel like you are.