Artists

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.Terrace Martin is best known to most hip-hop fans as one of the architects of Kendrick’s seminal album, To Pimp a Butterfly, but the multi-instrumentalist producer, and son of a jazz pianist, has been carving out a signature sound for the past decade on tracks from Snoop, YG, Raphael Saadiq as well as on his own full length albums. His best work integrates multiple decades of West Coast black music -- from the baroque jazz funk of David Axelrod through the whizzing harmonics of DJ Quik’s G-Funk. It’s woozy, bobbing funk, and his solo tracks, in particular, are breezy summer jams that is perfect white owl BBQ music.

On their latest release, Philly indie-rock rebels Beach Slang adopt a new sound—and a new name. The self-titled EP from “Quiet Slang” sees frontman James Alex stripping down a couple of Beach Slang’s raucous anthems into acoustic elegies, alongside faithfully hushed covers of Big Star’s “Thirteen” and The Replacements’ “Androgynous.” For his Dowsers playlist, he extends the quiet-is-the-new-loud concept to spotlight other mellow favorites.

Brookyln-based, Ghostly International-signed electronic duo Beacon are known for their modernist, deconstructed take on R&B. But beneath the groups soulful, simmering, trip-hop-inflected slow jams lies a foundational appreciation for even deeper, stranger forms of electronic music. For this playlist, the pair assemble a mix of experimental and aleatoric pieces from the likes of Brian Eno to Oval to Autechre.Beacon says, "Weve always been intrigued by procedural and conceptual art that challenges how we define authorship. This playlist focuses on artists who embrace generative, algorithmic and minimalist processes, including Mileeces ecological "bio-feedback," TCFs encrypted midi collages, and Enos recent App/LP Reflection. Listen in order and be rewarded with "I Am Sitting In A Room," an 18:00 minute work that patiently unfolds and devolves into resonant bliss."

Unpacked is a playlist analysis of new and classic albums where we highlight key tracks alongside their influences, collaborators, and sample sources to encourage a deeper understanding and appreciation of the record. After loading up 1989’s cult classic Paul’s Boutique with a dizzying array of samples, the Beastie Boys refocused on live instrumentation in the more litigious ‘90s, drafting keyboardist Money Mark as one of the group’s many honorary “fourth” Beastie Boys. But while Check Your Head, which turns 25 this week, contains fewer samples than Paul’s Boutique, it still features dozens of them, drawing on the crates full of punk, classic rock, funk, and comedy records that informed the bratty white rappers’ revolutionary fusion of styles. Check Your Head’s opening track “Jimmy James” sets the densely referential tone: It features no fewer than three Jimi Hendrix Experience samples from three different albums. (The title itself is a nod to Hendrix’s early stage name.) But first, you hear “this next one is the first song on our new album,” as spoken by Robin Zander on Cheap Trick’s 1978 live album At Budokan in his introduction to the future classic “Surrender.” And then, the beat that kicks in is taken primarily from The Turtles’ novelty track “I’m Chief Kamanawanalea.” More than perhaps any album in history, Check Your Head blurs the line between samples and original recordings. Some of the blasts of distorted guitar are played live by Ad-Rock, while others are taken from Thin Lizzy and Bad Brains. On “Finger Lickin’ Good,” MCA and Mike D begin a sentence in 1992 that is finished by Bob Dylan in 1965. One of the most straightforward punk songs on the album, “Time For Livin’,” is actually a revved up Sly & The Family Stone cover. And while “The Biz Vs. The Nuge” features Biz Markie riffing in the Beasties’ studio over a Ted Nugent sample, “So What’cha Want” samples Biz vocals from both his 1988 Big Daddy Kane collaboration “Just Rhymin’ With Biz” and the Check Your Head outtake “Drunken Praying Mantis Style.”

In 2009, a viral video made the YouTube rounds called “Beatles 3000,” a short mockumentary that imagined how The Beatles would be remembered in the next millennium. Its answer was: not very well. But more than just playfully prodding a sacred cow, the video serves as a cogent commentary on how significant historical details are compacted and distorted over time, and how much of what we consider fact today is likely the product of a prolonged game of broken telephone. In “Beatles 3000,” various talking heads from the future make the authoritative claims that Scottie Pippen was a member of the group, that their list of hits included “Don’t Stop Believin’” and “The Battle Hymn of the Republic,” and that they won the Super Bowl at Shea Stadium in 1965. But as absurd as that all sounds, we’re arguably witnessing the earliest stages of The Beatles’ legacy being slowly dismantled.

Sure, 50 years on from their breakup, The Beatles are arguably as popular as ever—they generate billions of streams, have their own dedicated satellite-radio station, and provide inspirational fodder for Netflix cartoon shows and Hollywood rom-coms. And their influence can still be heard in countless rock acts, from The Flaming Lips and Foo Fighters to Tame Impala and Ty Segall. However, when you look at the field they once dominated so thoroughly—the top of the pop charts—it can seem as if they never existed. Not only is the Billboard Hot 100 bereft of any bands that sound like The Beatles, it’s largely bereft of any bands, period. The dominant sounds of popular music today—trap, R&B, Latin pop—bear none of The Beatles’ DNA and speak to vastly different cultural experiences; in fact, the only time you really see The Beatles mentioned in relation to modern pop is when an artist like Drake eclipses their chart records (or gets a tattoo to celebrate such a feat), or in Migos memes. And lest we forget, the unanimously violent reaction to Gal Gadot’s recent quarantined-celebrity sing-along of John Lennon’s “Imagine” strongly suggested that the utopian peace-and-love platitudes of the Beatles generation provide little assurance to a more anxious younger generation that is worried more about how they’re going to pay for their next meal.

And yet: If you look and listen closely, you can still sense The Beatles’ lingering presence in contemporary pop. Beyond singers like Dua Lipa and Miley Cyrus taking a crack at covers, there are myriad rap and R&B artists who have paid their respects through subtle melodic lifts (see: the echoes of “Here, There and Everywhere” on Frank Ocean’s “White Ferrari”), shout-outs (Kehlani’s “All You Need Is Love”-referencing “Honey”), and tributes both direct (Rae Sremmurd’s “Black Beatles”) and indirect (Post Malone’s “Stay,” which he originally planned to name “George” in honor of its Harrison-esque guitar solo). What we’re hearing now is The Beatles being held up less as a direct musical influence than as a more abstract aspirational emblem of artistic freedom, pop-cultural ubiquity, and us-against-the-world camaraderie. In other words, the biggest pop stars of today may not sound like The Beatles, but they still want to be The Beatles.

It’s been one of music’s longstanding dichotomies: the Beatles were formalistically experimental pop musicians disguised as zeitgeist-teasing idealist, while the Stones were barroom bluesman who fetishized apocalypse and Malboros. Never the twain shall meet, or so the narrative went. Which means that a certain type music critic -- the ones tilting towards counter-narratives -- have spent the past six decades explaining that, yeah, they’re not really that different -- it’s a narcissism of small differences, or a talisman against the idea of monoculture, take your pick. Consequence of Sound, as part of their video series that highlights the five best things of a given subject, weighs in on this with their five best Beatles tracks that sound like Rolling Stones songs. It’s not a great list. They stick to the hits -- “Helter Skelter,” “Come Together,” “Hey Jude,” etc -- it’s fun to imagine “Come Together” as a Stones song (though it’s hard to imagine Jagger singing “Hey Jude”), but that’s about it.

Arca’s profile is strange and eclectic: Although featured on albums by Kanye West and Björk, the Venezuelan producer’s solo work lives mostly in the shadows, existing as cult favorites of electronic musicians and intellectuals. His expressionist, synth-based tracks stream into the headphones of people in cafés and living rooms, studied like Johnny Marr studied Marc Bolan; a frequent thought of listeners might be: “How does he do it?”“Vanity,” from 2015’s Mutant, opens with the sounds of profoundly distorted mallet percussions echoing into magnetic eternity, which are quickly usurped by a bassline so smooth and boundless it spills beautifully into the rest of the mix. “Anoche,” which will appear on his self-titled record due April 7, brilliantly doubles detuned synth notes on top of one another as meticulous percussion enters and exists with free will. The lyrics are pure romantic splendor and despair.Of course, Kanye West’s Yeezus, from 2013, must be mentioned here, as the record benefits from not one but four tracks produced by Arca. “Hold My Liquor” and “Blood on the Leaves” are arguably the two most reflective and emotionally explosive tracks on the album: The former centers around a pristine, slow-burning synth pulse, while the latter features spectacularly placed samples and monolithic bass. Arca’s work on “Meditation” by Babyfather (a.k.a. Dean Blunt) feels more vintage and laidback, like a modern Ghostface Killah beat, while FKA twigs’ “Lights On” is a dissonant, palpitating seduction.If the trajectory of his previous works are any indication, Arca’s self-titled record could go down as his masterpiece. Brace yourself for it with this playlist of tracks spanning his luminous career.

One cannot listen to Slayer without intent. When you listen to Slayer, you are not just listening to Slayer, but committing to a philosophy—the mere act of listening to Slayer situates you as a bearer of dualities: reflective, yet aggressive; grizzled, yet tender. Of all the American thrash metal bands that came out of the ‘80s, Slayer has been one of the most enduring, and for good reason. They are the a dependable machine. Frankly, they slay. Built on the partnership of guitarists Jeff Hanneman and Kerry King, as well as bassist and singer Tom Araya, most of Slayer’s discography boasts a remarkably united sound, consisting of a perfect blend of grimy guitars, kerosene-fueled solos, and bone-crushing percussion. Between their macabre themes and hellish garb, their demonic affect is total. Araya’s howls are so iconic by now that, for many, his voice *is,* categorically, metal itself. And being a fan of Slayer has social currency: when you encounter someone in public wearing a Slayer shirt or sporting a Slayer tattoo, you can be reasonably sure that that person is sick as hell. Here are a few essential tracks that go right to the deep end of the inferno.

New Jersey singer and musician Jack Antonoff fronted the band Steel Train for a decade with only a small cult following before pivoting into an unlikely career as a producer and songwriter behind Hot 100 hits by platinum pop stars like Taylor Swift and Lorde. It all began when he joined The Format’s Nate Ruess in a new project, fun. The band’s second album, Some Nights, launched “We Are Young,” an anthemic track that became one of the biggest pop hits of 2012. Ruess followed up the album with a solo project while Antonoff fronted a new band, Bleachers. But Antonoff went on to gain most of his success behind the scenes.Antonoff’s early outside credits include co-writing with Canadian indie pop heroes Tegan and Sara, including a track on their 2013 breakthrough album Heartthrob, and a bonus track for Carly Rae Jepsen’s Kiss. He also landed a big hit for Sara Bareilles, helping her write the Grammy-nominated, triple-platinum single “Brave.”By then, Antonoff and girlfriend Lena Dunham were rubbing elbows with a number of Top 40 stars, including Taylor Swift and Lorde, who both began seeking out his ear for nostalgic ‘80s pop sounds and confessional lyrics. Antonoff co-wrote several tracks on Swift’s 1989 and also her recent hit duet with ZAYN, “I Don’t Wanna Live Forever.” He’s frequently collaborated with Lorde, both on her recent hit “Green Light” and on the second Bleachers album, Gone Now, due out June 2nd. He also collaborated with Grimes on “Entropy,” from the soundtrack for Dunham’s HBO series Girls.Though he sings in Steel Train and Bleachers, Antonoff’s Terrible Thrills series defers to stars like Tinashe and Charli XCX for their own spin. His affinity for female voices and perspectives has served him well as a songwriter, and ultimately, he might be happiest when handing the mic to a woman, even on his own records.Click here to follow this playlist on Spotify.

Butch Walker scored his first hit as the frontman of Marvelous 3, who recorded the alt-rock smash “Freak of the Week” in 1998, before he launched a lengthy solo career as a singer-songwriter with a cult fanbase. But over the last two decades, Walker’s most widely heard work has been as a producer or songwriter. With his lyrical wit, his bottomless well of guitar licks, and his ear for big catchy choruses, he’s a pop punk power player who’s helped with Fall Out Boy’s comeback as well as singles for Bowling For Soup and American Hi-Fi. But his versatility and work ethic have also made him a crucial collaborator for pop stars like Katy Perry and Pink, hard rock bands like Sevendust, and even country singer Keith Urban.