Artists

It’s a sign that Riot Grrrl’s musical—as opposed to just socio-political or feminist—legacy has begun to take root in the wider consciousness when icons of the movement besides Bikini Kill’s Kathleen Hanna are being plumbed for their take on feminist punk’s sonic legacy. Here, Bratmobile vocalist, queen zinester, and punk activist Allison Wolfe charts the nine songs that have meant the most in her life, with tracks ranging from bluegrass duo Alice Dickens and Hazel Gerrard to ‘90s Seattle pioneers The Gits. It’s no surprise that ex-NME editor Laura Snapes is behind this piece: Her features work helped change the music weekly from old-boys rag to a once-more intelligent read (before its recent nosedive, that is). Divided into five-year segments, this deeply personal mix reflects key moments in Wolfe’s life, and largely reads as a beautifully pitched homage to her activist mother, a pioneering feminist Playful in places (Bow Wow Wow) and heart-wrenching in others (Dolly Parton), it’s a refreshingly candid exploration of the importance individual songs play in our musical—and socio-political—development.

Astral folk collective Mutual Benefit is the brainchild of main member Jordan Lee, who has released 9 albums under the moniker, interchanging its members every time. On his latest effort, Thunder Follows the Light (out Sept. 21st, 2018), Brooklyn-based Lee (and co.) have captured big, sweeping orchestral sounds overtop quiet, strumming standards, making for a contemplative and emotionally charged take on a traditional genre, and one that takes its listener out of their immediate surroundings. We asked Jordan to make us a playlist, and its no surprise his focus was on a similar feeling. Check out his playlist above or right here, and see what he had to say about it below.Mutual Benefit frontman Jordan Lee explains: "Me and the Wine and the City Lights is named after a Lee Hazelwood outtake. It reminded me of a long running favorite activity which is to take long walks in the late night hours occasionally with the help of some wine poured into an opaque and inconspicuous container. I love feeling the pulse of the city and letting all the little stresses of the day gradually melt away as I become a tiny part of something bigger. I tried to give this playlist the same feeling."

Nadia Sirota is a violist who has performed with Arcade Fire, Paul Simon, Dirty Projectors, Sufjan Stevens, Nico Muhly, and Grizzly Bear, among others. Her new solo album, Tessellatum, is out Aug. 11, 2017. She also hosts WQXRs Peabody Award-winning podcast Meet the Composer, which provided the inspiration for this playlist she created specially for The Dowsers:This is a bunch of my favorite works by composers featured on all three seasons of my podcast, Meet the Composer, which looks into the brains of creative musicians via interviews and sound design. There’s a healthy dose of microtonal stuff here, which almost always makes me really happy. But more importantly, all of these composers do The Thing I Like—which is to say, combining really interesting, unexpected textures with really satisfying material and structure. All of these pieces make me feel something, and that’s really what I’m after at the end of the day.Follow Nadia Sirota on Twitter and Facebook.

Click here to subscribe to this playlistsWhen Rolling Stone asked Nas to list his 10 favorite hip-hop tracks for a feature in their May 2014 issue, he limited his selections to songs released in the late ‘80s. His choices—which comprise the first 10 tracks on this playlist*—represent a transitional era in hip-hop: the mythical Golden Age when artists like Run-D.M.C., Big Daddy Kane, and Public Enemy were shaking off the genre’s cheesier disco roots in favor of a sharpened lyrical style.But beyond the Rolling Stone list, Nas has routinely paid homage to his predecessors elsewhere, mentioning the early innovators that influenced him on songs like Hip Hop Is Deads "Where Are They Now" and Life Is Goods "Back When." With this playlist, weve supplemented Nas original Top 10 with other personal favorites, based on references the rapper has made on record and in other interviews. On "Back When," which samples MC Shan and Marley Marls 1986 track "The Bridge," Nas talks about putting up a poster of the duo in his teenage bedroom. But even though, like them, Nas hails from Queensbridge, hes praised Shans Bronx-bred rival KRS-One as "someone that artists need to study"—"The Bridge Is Over," Boogie Down Productions response to "The Bridge," may have even paved the way for Nas eventual diss records against Jay-Z.Nas hasnt just studied Golden Age rap; he was raised by it. He grew up hearing fresh voices distilling real New York life onto record through blunt lyricism, a style he would adapt and evolve on his own a few years later. Hes mentioned that Kool G Raps "Streets of New York"** was a direct influence on "N.Y. State of Mind."Most of Nas favorite rappers hailed from one of the five boroughs. But hes also acknowledged the impact of artists from outside the East Coast, citing Ice Cubes Death Certificate and Scarfaces Mr. Scarface Is Back as formative releases. Those albums preceded Illmatic by only a few years, but given that Nas was only 21 when his classic debut came out, they were still crucial to his artistic development.Unlike Redhead Kingpin and the many other forgotten legends Nas cites on “Where Are They Now,” Nas has maintained both career longevity and musical relevancy. He’s been teasing his 11th studio LP since he claimed it was finished on DJ Khaled’s “Nas Album Done” last year, and he still claims that album is coming at some point in 2017. Until then, acquaint yourself with the songs that got Nas started in the first place.* “Plug Tunin,” Nas’ choice from De La Souls 3 Feet High and Rising, isn’t on Spotify. “Me Myself & I” has been substituted in its place.**"Streets of New York" isnt on Spotify; its been replaced by "#1 With A Bullet."

When bands adopt an air of world-weary resignation, it can feel like such a pose. Have they really lived enough to earn the ennui so soon after high school? Can these sensitive souls really be saddled with such a heavy burden? For anyone who feels dubious about the extent of their anguish, one of Morrissey’s greatest lyrical putdowns seems pertinent (as they so often do): “You just haven’t earned it yet, baby.”In light of that, it feels significant that the members of The National—like LCD Soundsystem and The War on Drugs, two other revered alt-rock acts with brilliant new albums in 2017—had some road on them by the time the fates smiled in their direction. Frontman Matt Berninger and the band’s two pairs of brothers—Aaron and Bryce Dessner and Scott and Bryan Devendorf—all had played in a series of little-known bands in Cincinnati through the ‘90s before eventually convening in Brooklyn in 1999. Success was anything but an overnight phenomenon for The National either, the players maintaining their various graphic-design and personal-assistant gigs for years until the 2005 release of their third album Alligator sent the band above the proverbial parapet.All of which is to say The National do sound like they’ve earned it. And just as Berninger’s lyrics reflect on the sacrifices, compromises, regrets, and triumphs that color the experience of anyone who’s been in the world long enough to know the score, their music—whether ambitious or intimate, stately or urgent —points to a wider range of influences and elements than you’re likely to hear in musicians who’ve only just earned the right to buy their own bourbon. For this Family Tree feature, we reveal the music that helped form The National’s sound (i.e. the roots), along with songs by peers (i.e, the branches) whose artistic sensibilities also seemed to arrive fully grown. We also highlight The National’s impact on younger bands (i.e., the leaves) who are well on their way to achieving the same degree of maturity—albeit without getting prematurely tired, cynical, and dull. There is such a thing as aging gracefully, after all—hear The National’s latest album, Sleep Well Beast, for further proof.

THE ROOTS

Given Berninger’s capacity for elegant brooding, it’s hardly a surprise that masters of misery like Leonard Cohen and Nick Cave have long been his inspirations. His devotion to Tom Waits is just as evident, especially in the late-night, booze-soaked songs like Alligator’s “All the Wine.”But there’s always been more strident elements in The National’s songs—indeed, Berninger considers The Strokes the most significant band of the oughts, and songs like the early standout “Murder Me Rachael” boast a similar live-wire energy that offsets the music’s more morose tendencies. Likewise, Bryce Dessner’s background in classical music adds further unexpected and unpredictable elements, as do the electronic textures that have become more prominent over the past decade of recordings. Like R.E.M., Radiohead, and the Arcade Fire—all of whom have been cited as inspirations, too—The National have somehow managed to push themselves in artistic terms while maintaining massive followings. That feat gets trickier all the time.

THE BRANCHES

When The National emerged as one of the key American rock acts of the 2000s, they were thankfully not an outlier. In fact, they shared many of their most compelling qualities with a host of peers, many of whom had also spent the previous decade or so toiling in obscurity and waiting for the rest of the world to catch up with them. In regards to the lyrics’ more literary sensibility and the sheer scale of ambition, The National had a clear kinship with Sufjan Stevens, an artist who became a close friend and sometime collaborator. (He and Bryce Dessner are also part of the team behind the stunning Planetarium.) Okkervil River’s Will Sheff shared Berninger’s ability to thoroughly inhabit the characters in his songs. Of course, Justin Vernon’s Bon Iver emerged as a fellow inhabitant of countless long dark nights of the soul. And in the music of Grizzly Bear, Beirut, and Antlers (as well as less-celebrated faves like Crooked Fingers), there was the same fondness for the kind of creative curveballs that shatter expectations just when things threaten to become too familiar. That all makes for a new golden age of sensitive beard-wearers, this playlist’s inclusion of the mighty Sharon Van Etten notwithstanding.

THE LEAVES

The National’s ability to keep moving and tweak their own formulas makes them an exemplar as much as any single aspect of their sound does. Nevertheless, their flair for songs that balance the anthemic and the intimate is certainly a well-treasured trait for Future Islands. Moreover, the sumptuous songs of Natalie Prass evince the same eagerness to synthesize Americana, alt-rock, and orchestrally enhanced pop classicism and do it on a grand scale. Meanwhile, Berninger’s thornier side emerges in Strand of Oaks and Hiss Golden Messenger, two equally iconoclastic acts that followed in The National’s wake. Two of their strongest stylistic heirs hail from the U.K. Though Frightened Rabbit formed in Scotland in 2004, their strengths didn’t fully emerge until recent albums like 2016’s fine Painting of a Panic Attack, produced by Aaron Dessner. From Yorkshire, Grass House may herald a new wave of acts steeped in the aesthetic prerogatives and musical modes that The National has helped propagate over the past decade. They may still be young and relatively unscarred by life’s slings and arrows, but we won’t hold that against them.

In 1992, Ebony asked Tina Turner what type of singer she was. "A serious singer," she replied—then added, "and a lasting singer." She was, of course, correct on both counts. Tinas voice is one of American musics most singular instruments: Formidable and rugged, it wrings soul out of heartbroken ballads and defiant anthems alike. These five vocal performances show off her incredible emotional and vocal ranges, and prove that her place in music isnt defined by genre or style as much as it is by her incredible resilience and work ethic. "The Best" (1989)Songwriters Mike Chapman and Holly Knight had written Tinas demanding 1984 hit "Better Be Good to Me," and five years later she plucked another one of their songs—the praise-stuffed "The Best," originally written for Welsh belter Bonnie Tyler—for her own personal songbook. Tina turned the song into a triumph, her effusive praise for a lover professed with such urgency and joy that it wound up turning into advocacy for her own status as "the best." "Whats Love Got to Do With It" (1984)When Tina began putting together Private Dancer—the 1984 album that would double as her return to pops upper echelons—the first song she received was an odd track by British songwriter Terry Britten. "I felt, Gosh, what a strange little song. Its not rock and roll," Tina told John Pidgeon in the BBC Books release Classic Albums. But meeting Britten changed her mind; after hearing her out, he switched up some chord changes and altered its key, and Tina felt comfortable enough to lend it her impassioned, soaring vocal. "It was unusual and different, but it was so different," Tina recalled in Classic Albums. "Thats why it was a hit, because there hasnt been anything out there like it since, either. It was one of those songs that you get maybe once a decade." Britten would go on to write other tracks—including the Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome rallying cry "We Dont Need Another Hero" and the longing "Typical Male"—that let Tina get vocally loose. "River Deep – Mountain High" (1966)Tinas collaboration with then-white-hot producer Phil Spector was a meeting of two powerhouses, and the title track from 1966s River Deep – Mountain High, which Spector wrote with pop hitmakers Jeff Barry and Ellie Greenwich, shows how their seemingly clashing styles could come together in rousing fashion. “For the first time in my life, it wasn’t R&B," Tina told Kurt Loder in a 1984 Rolling Stone interview. "I finally had a chance to sing.” And sing she does: Her robust vocal slices through Spectors trademark Wall of Sound, making the lyrics proclamations of love sound like ironclad promises. "Nutbush City Limits" (1973)On November 26, 1939, Anna Mae Bullock was born in Nutbush, Tennessee. Three-plus decades later, Bullock, who had by then rechristened herself as Tina Turner, would commemorate the small cotton-producing hamlets "church house, gin house … school house, [and] outhouse" in this stomping slice of glam-funk, the last single she produced with her eventual ex Ike Turner. Tina throws herself into the description of the "quiet little old community, a one-horse town" fully, her stretched-out yowl contrasting with the insistent percussion and woozy analog synth in thrilling fashion. "Proud Mary" (1993)Ike and Tinas transformation of Creedence Clearwater Revivals 1969 riverboat chronicle turned it into one of Tinas signature songs, with its lazy-river rhythms eventually exploding into a horn-festooned rave-up and giving Tina a chance to reinvent rock in her own image. Versions of Tina doing "Proud Mary" abound, and theyre always worth listening to. The locomotive live version featured on the deluxe edition of The Rolling Stones 1970 live album Get Yer Ya-Yas Out! is particularly taut. But the version that appeared on 1993s soundtrack to the Angela Bassett-starring biopic Whats Love Got to Do With It has a special resonance: Tina recorded a new version of that track and other songs from the period when she was second-billed to her abusive ex-husband, and the spitfire vocal she offers up on "Mary" doubles as a celebration of the rebirth she began almost a decade prior.

Back in the mid-‘80s, Geffen Records sued Neil Young for not sounding like himself, because they couldn’t handle the fact he was just being himself. Ever since he followed up his biggest album (1972’s Harvest) with his bleakest (1974’s On the Beach), Neil has endured as the world’s most reluctant rock star: unpredictable, contrarian, always zagging when everyone—his label, his fans, even his bandmates—would prefer to zig. And though he answered his infamously eclectic ‘80s discography by more eagerly embracing an elder-statesman role in the ‘90s—whether producing sequels to his ‘70s classics or coronating his godfather-of-grunge status—his post-2000s work has struck a wobbly balance between crowd-pleasing classicism and unfettered eccentricity.Sure, there’s nothing in Neil’s recent canon as stylistically outré as 1982’s synth-pop experiment Trans, or as self-consciously cheeky as 1983’s Everybody’s Rockin’. But he has reframed his traditional acoustic/electric modes with high-concept hijinks, be it the eco-themed concept album Greendale or the sepia-toned recording-booth crackle of A Letter Home. Even as his work has turned more impulsively political—see: 2006’s Dubya-dissing Living With War—the rage has been tempered with a healthy dose of whimsy (which, in that album’s case, took the form of amateur choirs and cavalry horns). And often, his post-2000 output has toed the line between audacious and ridiculous: The previous four decades of epic guitar jams feel like mere warm-ups for 2012’s “Driftin’ Back,” which churns and drones for over 27 minutes. Next to that, the 18-minute grunge-blues grind “Ordinary People” feels like a pop single.As that latter song exemplifies, a playlist of 21st-century Neil Young songs needs to come with some asterisks—“Ordinary People” was actually recorded with his brassy bar band The Bluenotes in 1988, but didn’t see the light of day until 2006’s Chrome Dreams II (with the carbon-dating Lee Iacocca reference intact). Neil has regularly dipped into his fabled stash of unreleased ‘70s and ‘80s-era songs on his post-millennial records, at times strategically deploying them like a game-saving immunity idol on Survivor. The otherwise slight 2000 album Silver and Gold climaxes with the stunning mid-‘70s holdover “Razor Love,” which mediates between his gentle Harvest hits and his hazy-headed Ditch Trilogy. And Neil’s best album of this century—the Daniel Lanois-produced solo-electric opus Le Noise—centers around the chilling travelogue “Hitchhiker,” another mid-‘70s obscurity that resurfaced in its original acoustic form when Neil released his “lost” 1976 album of the same name in the summer of 2017. In typically inscrutable Youngian psychology, navigating the 21st-century sometimes requires taking a journey through the past.

It is commonly stated among music lovers that Radiohead are the best band in the world. Since forming in 1985, they have won countless awards and released numerous songs and albums to universal acclaim, advancing new avenues in sound and musical technique with each passing year. With its immaculately complex song structures and lyrical focus on the increasing integration of technology into social life, their 1997 masterwork OK Computer revitalized rock n’ roll in the ‘90s. Its follow-up, the cold, prismatic Kid A, with its otherworldly tones and its portentous, opaque text, frequently tops lists of the best albums of recent memory. Their live performances have gained an almost mythological status, mystifying audiences with the gargantuan sounds these five mortal beings can produce, from Jonny Greenwood’s pristine guitar solos and imaginative use of synthesizers to Phil Selway’s machinelike focus and intensity at the drums.

The music of Michael Rault fuses multiple strains of modern rock -- from the fuzzed out guitars of psych to the more funky corners of the singer-songwriter world. He recorded his latest album, Its a New Day Tonight, at the legendary Daptones studio. Check him out on Spotify here.From Michael:I was drawn towards stringing together some pieces of strong song writing, which brought me in the direction of a more folk-y area to begin with - but I snuck some more prog-y and jazz-y excursions throughout and wandered off through a handful of different genres before finally concluding on some far out jazz from Alice Coltrane. I tried to strike a balance between farther out moments and straight pop insta-pleasers so that every extended jam was eventually followed up with some immediate gratification as a reward. So, hopefully someone can put this on and feel that it brings them through to their destination without getting them lost on the way.

On August 20, 2002, NYC was a much different place than it was just a year previous. Post-9/11, the air hung heavier, thick with apprehension and paranoia—exactly the type of environment ripe for an album as stunningly devastating as Interpols debut. Looking back 15 years, Turn on the Bright Lights remains the chiming centerpiece of 21st-century post-punk because it so acutely reflects its time and place of origin, while capturing a deep-seated malaise that would extend well past that time and place.Some 20-plus years before that, post-punk rose and fell with a sound that was so sharp and brutally real, there was no chance it could survive long. like PiL would invent it; bands like Joy Division would fully embody it. Their songs—tightly wound and always teetering on the edge of catharsis without ever fully realizing it—articulate that maddening clench in the pit of the stomach that refuses to ever completely let go. Its a similar feeling that Interpol intricately conveys on tracks like "PDA" and perfect album opener "Untitled," with its thick bass and quivering guitar jangle streaked in wavering drones. It doesnt hurt that Paul Banks stoic baritone fluctuates at the same low, dolorous tremble as Ian Curtis did.But where those pioneers stripped punks fiery brutality down to its starkest essence, Interpol also paint it in varying tones of goth and grey, echoing gloomy sonic architects like The Cure, Bauhaus, and Echo & The Bunnymen, whose seductive atmospherics, pounding rhythms, and damaged guitar jangle haunt slow-burning ballads like "NYC" and "Hands Away.”While Interpol may have found influence from dreary 80s England, their debut is purely rooted in early 00s New York. But youll never have needed to experience either time or place to wholly absorb the myriad shades of discontent—the disillusionment, dread, isolation, and alienation—rendered so achingly intoxicating on any one of these songs.