Decades

These queens of the modern slow jam have been snaking their way from underground roots into mainstream consciousness like syrup dripping from a stack of candied pancakes, their mesmeric beats and honeyed vocals provoking slow-burning critical recognition. The R&B swagger and soul-drenched seduction of the genres 90s lodestars are all present and correct here, but this is foremost a playlist of unapologetic female power; palpable sexuality, personal mastery unleashed through siren calls, witchy domination car-pooling with low-rider soul. Here, Colombian native Kali Uchis filters Cali sun through a vintage lens, while Odd Futures Syd tha Kyd laces excruciatingly breathy vocals with funk-fueled, dirty bass; Beyoncé nods to her forebears with slick production and urgent harmonies, and scrappy Londoner Tirzah chops and screws her way through woozy heartbreak.

Psychedelic culture stands at the cusp of mainstream acceptance. This may sound odd given the fact that the United States still includes LSD, psilocybin, and numerous other hallucinogens on the list of Schedule I substances, but there are many signs. Academia is in the midst of a psychedelic renaissance, with Johns Hopkins University leading the way in exploring the therapeutic benefits, while tales abound of California techies microdosing. And though marijuana is not an hallucinogen, per se, it is culturally linked to psychedelics, and it’s legal in 30 states and counting. Then there’s the recent publication of How to Change Your Mind: What the New Science of Psychedelics Teaches Us About Consciousness, Dying, Addiction, Depression, and Transcendence. The book, written by celebrated author and journalist Michael Pollan, cracked the Top 10 of Amazon’s books charts and is sure to further accelerate the field’s growing respectability.Such developments were unthinkable in the mid-’60s when psychedelics, helping fuel the counterculture’s alienation from mainstream American culture and politics, were pushed underground through prohibition. Having been booted out of Harvard University in 1963, outlaw psychonaut Timothy Leary (in)famously exhorted America’s youth to “turn on, tune in, drop out”; Ken Kesey and his Merry Pranksters, meanwhile, kickstarted the hippie movement with their Bay Area Acid Tests. Rock ’n’ roll played a central role in the spreading of this psychedelic gospel. As musicians themselves experimented with hallucinogens, they in turn penned anthems charting their consciousness-expanding adventures.The first wave of anthems, probably more inspired by cannabis than hallucinogens, sound rather innocuous, even goofy in hindsight. Bob Dylan’s double entendre-laced “Rainy Day Women #12 & 35” wraps early “head” humor inside a marching band sing-along, and The Lovin’ Spoonful’s “Daydream” sways with childlike innocence as John Sebastian croons the slyly suggestive lines, “And you can be sure that if you’re feeling right/ A day dream will last long into the night.”In 1966, however, the folksy playfulness of these tunes gave way to noggin-blurring proselytizing. The Beatles—whom Leary, in one of his typically hyperbolic bursts of cosmic thought, described as being “endowed with a mysterious power to create a new human species”—led the charge. The group dropped both “Tomorrow Never Knows,” perhaps the first rock song to truly drone, and “She Said She Said,” a cryptic reference to an acid trip with Easy Rider actor Peter Fonda, into the sonically phantasmagoric Revolver. The Byrds kept apace, unleashing “Eight Miles High,” which certainly matched “Tomorrow Never Knows” in its ability to express the acid experience through mystical lyricism and raga-flavored music.The following year, 1967, saw the Jefferson Airplane and The Doors up the ante with “White Rabbit” and “Break On Through (To the Other Side),” respectively. Both are stirring—though radically different—evocations of West Coast’s exploding psychedelic movement. Where “White Rabbit” is a whimsical call to action drenched in Alice in Wonderland imagery, “Break On Through” comes on like a freight train threatening to jump the tracks. Its expression of a consciousness freed is reckless and unnerving (but also utterly thrilling).It’s important to remember that The Doors, named for Aldous Huxley’s The Doors of Perception, a chronicle of the author’s experiences with mescaline, weren’t flower-picking hippies; they were art-school bohemians whose music charted the shadowy side of psychedelia, especially the sense of loss and disconnect that comes with untethering the mind from reality. As Patrick Lundborg points out in his 2012 book Psychedelia: An Ancient Culture, A Modern Way of Life, “In that tumultuous era, as acidhead musicians directed their creativity towards reflecting their psychedelic experiences, the looming threat and occasional reality of dark, terrifying trips unavoidably came to influence the music.”This ominousness courses through The 13th Floor Elevators’ “Slip Inside This House” and Pink Floyd’s “Interstellar Overdrive,” two of the era’s most emotionally complex anthems. The former, swirling into vortices of reverb, creates a profoundly esoteric vision, over the course of which the promise of spiritual enlightenment and the dangers of ego death coil around one another like snakes. Pink Floyd’s early anthem, on the other hand, is a cold, paranoid, and atonal portrayal of an acid trip as a rocket ride into the black expanse of space. Needless to say, both walk the existential edge, a fact that should come as no surprise considering both the Elevators’ Roky Erickson and Floyd’s Syd Barrett embodied the excesses of the psychedelic era: psychonauts who wound up venturing too far out, damaging themselves in the process.In the United States and United Kingdom, the golden era of the psychedelic anthem didn’t last all that long, roughly 1966 to 1969. By the time Woodstock went down, more and more musicians were eschewing cosmic exploration for earthbound rock heavily accented with country, soul, and blues. The visionary utopianism so profoundly linked to altered states of consciousness simply couldn’t weather the harsh realities of a war in Vietnam that seemingly had no end in sight, the ascendency of Richard M. Nixon and his Silent Majority to the Oval Office, and the brutal Civil Rights unrest of 1968. Hippies, reeling from these bitter developments, embraced more personal forms of enlightenment: yoga, meditation, and health food, to name a few. Or, they bolted for the country.Exceptions did pop up, like Funkadelic’s moodily sublime “Maggot Brain,” not an anthem in the strictest sense yet certainly a powerful expression of mind-smashing lysergia. There also were late-to-evolve psychedelic scenes in central Europe and Japan, where hippiedom didn’t take hold until the early ’70s. A perfect reflection of this is the Switzerland-based Brainticket, whose 1971 epic “Brainticket (Part Two)” really is one of the most over-the-top anthems of the era. It’s tough to imagine anything better capturing the wild, transgressive spirit of the times than when vocalist Dawn Muir moans the line “An army of thoughts retreating towards oblivion/ A square of light, a circle of thought, a triangle of nothing!!!” as though she’s descending her entire being into an LSD-fueled orgy from which there is no return.As with most of the expansive pieces on this playlist, it’s safe to say the researchers at Johns Hopkins don’t play a whole lot of Brianticket around the lab!

Jason Gubbels, who has done an admirable job as the world critic over at Rhapsody, highlights the work from one of Jamaicas greatest and generally overlooked producers, King Jammy. As Jason points out, King Jammy has played a great influence on at least two eras of reggae. He was the dub master at King Tubbys studio during the 70s, and then later basically invented dancehall in 1985 with his single for Wayne Smith, "Under Me Sleng Teng." This is a very enjoyable playlist featuring everyone from Black Uhuru to Shabba Ranks.

Im always surprised that Duke Dumont has been able to cross over to America to the extent that he has. The UK producer was mentored by Switch, and came up with post-house UK producers like Oliver Dollar and Route 94.His music is great. Its lite, melodic and floating electronic pop, with maybe a little bit of camp thrown in. Its late-afternoon festival music. This is a great mix of his Blasé Boys crew, though it strangely spends the first four tracks on Aki. Duke has one of the most active Spotify accounts though, and its worth a look to check out all his playlists.

“Break On Through (To the Other Side)” is both a feral howl of desire and dislocation and a sleek, supple creature that darts and pounces in a manner at once sinuous and sinewy. The Doors’ 1967 debut single, urging a shattering of society’s constrictions, served notice that there was something new happening, the likes of which no one had seen before. Its simultaneously explosive and seductive power embedded it irreversibly not only in the mood of the moment but also in the very fabric of American culture forever after. We recently reached out to Doors guitarist Robby Kreiger about the songs origins and heres what he told us:“We were working up “Break on Through” in rehearsal. John came up with this bossa nova beat. I didnt think it would work, but he said it would, and he was right. I had the idea to use the type of riff that Paul Butterfield used on Shake your Moneymaker. I wouldn’t say I stole it, just borrowed it. With Ray’s vox organ, it was sounding good! The lyrics were some of Jim’s best. As we played it at more and more gigs it got better and better. The only regret i had was that we let them cut out the word high from ‘she gets high’ on the single version. I guess that was too controversial for the AM radio, but we made up for that on the Ed Sullivan show (by singing), ‘get much higher.’ LOL”While its origins are relatively modest, its impact is far-reaching. Below, we’ll look at how the song changed The Doors and rock ‘n’ roll forever.Arrival of the Rock Gods"Break On Through" was The Doors introduction to the world—their first single as well as the first track on their debut album. It was the opening salvo of a four-man rock n roll revolution that would fill the collective cultural consciousness with a heady brew of sex, poetry, anger, beauty, and indelible tunes. The songs urgent entry into the publics ears marked the auspicious arrival of a group that would remain real-deal rock deities even decades after disbanding.The Real Start of the 60sThe Doors anthem of social sedition, fueled in part by Jim Morrisons use of LSD as a mind-expanding tool, arrived at the start of 1967, the year the 60s really became the sixties. The blend of gritty garage-rock tonalities and lithe, bossa nova-influenced grooves that rippled through “Break On Through” framed an invitation to abandon the cage of convention and leap headfirst into a bold, burgeoning countercultural realm. In that sense, for many it heralded the onset of the Aquarian age.Rock n Roll PoetryArriving ahead of game-changers like Sgt. Peppers and Songs of Leonard Cohen, "Break On Through" brought the world a brand of rock poetry that had nothing to do with Dylan. From its very first lines—"You know the day destroys the night/ Night divides the day"—it gave a glimpse of the possibilities still in store for rock n roll lyrics, possibilities Morrison fearlessly explored for the rest of his tragically short life.Trail of TributesIts a sure sign of a songs staying power when it appears in all sorts of disparate circumstances generations after its release. Any tune that can be covered by metal supergroup Adrenaline Mob, grunge gurus Stone Temple Pilots, power-pop heroes The Knack, and avant-garde guitar god Marc Ribot, as well as being sampled by hip-hop stoners Cypress Hill and Danish neo-garage rockers The Raveonettes, has got some serious shelf life.The Ultimate HonorIt would be absurdly easy to unfurl a laundry list of the countless times “Break On Through” has been used in movies, TV shows, and video games. And do you really need to know much beyond the fact that it was belted out on The Simpsons by Krusty the Clown himself, clad in Morrison-esque attire and writhing on the floor à la The Lizard King?

Two Brits and an American met in New York City in 1976. Nope, it’s not the setup for a joke, rather, it was the beginning of a band—Foreigner—who, thanks to more than a dozen indelible hits, became one of the most enduring lineups in rock history. Foreigner has stayed the course for more than 40 years, thanks to a mix of working-class anthems and tender but never wimpy ballads including the mega-hit “I Want to Know What Love Is.” The melding of the musical “foreigners” –the original lineup of Brits (Mick Jones, Ian McDonald and Dennis Elliott) and Americans (Lou Gramm, Al Greenwood and Ed Gagliardi)—would prove to be one of the most fruitful musical cross-cultural collaborations ever. Foreigner’s songs provide the soundtrack to many of life’s memorable moments, from the lustful (“Hot Blooded”) to the aspirational, the latter exemplified in the powerful 1981 hit “Jukebox Hero.” The song tells a lyrical story wherein our young hero, “standing in the rain … couldn’t get a ticket to a sold-out show.” But the behemoth rock from inside the arena inspires the rock fan to buy a beat-up second-hand guitar to create his own music to inspire the masses. And boy, did the masses relate to “Juke Box Hero,” its four minutes and twenty seconds of rock goodness downloaded more than a million times, the iconic song finding its way into film, TV, video games--and hearts--the world over. Below we’ll break out the track’s lasting impact, from appearances in skatingboarding video to the song’s lasting impact on the band and its fan.Jukebox Hero and the Skateboard KingAs Foreigner spent years selling out stadiums and topping charts the world over, internationally known snowboarder Shaun White likewise was shooting (skating/boarding!) to the top of his profession. So it made perfect sense that in his 2004 documentary The White Album, “Juke Box Hero” would be part of the soundtrack, along with other classic high-energy/inspiring rock songs. If the legendary “Flying Tomato” skates/snowboards to the tune, that’s a darned good testament to the song’s power.The Concert StapleYou’ll never see a Foreigner concert where “Juke Box Hero” is not played. Neither the audience nor the band would allow it. It’s as crucial a part of the lineup’s legacy as “Freebird” is to Skynyrd or “Hotel California” is to the Eagles. And, in the tradition of saving the best for last, “Juke Box Hero” is nearly always the last song in the set, the eagerly anticipated sing-along capper to a night of enduring radio hits. From Glee to Soul AsylumForeigner may be arena rock superstars, but proof that huge mainstream success trickles down to alternative rock—and other genres—is in the varied artists who have tackled “Juke Box Hero.” It’s been covered by no less alt-rock band than Soul Asylum (2006), while in 2012, the buoyant cast of TV’s hit show, Glee, (Season 4) reinterpreted the song, the cast’s dramatic take on the tune bringing “Juke Box Hero” to a new generation of fans. The band themselves even recorded an Unplugged—and a “nearly unplugged!” version, offering a different sense of dynamics to the classic take. And yes, there’s more than one live version, including a 15-plus minute mash-up with Led Zeppelin that’s titled “Juke Box Hero / Whole Lotta Love.” And let’s not get started on all the karaoke permutations! Foreigner and the Great White WayThe apogee of live theatre is Broadway, and Foreigner is aiming for the Great White Way in a big way. After a 2018 debut in Canada, Jukebox Hero: The Musical is aiming to be Broadway bound. The stage show features 16 of the bands Top 30 hits, including, duh, “Juke Box Hero.” As Foreigner founding member and lead guitarist Mick Jones said: "In an era in which there have been a lot of what they call ‘jukebox musicals,’ I figured, well, Id like to squeeze ours in there and make it the musical of all musicals.” The most unlikely version of the tune hit in 2012, in the big-screen version of the Broadway hit musical Rock of Ages. No less acting/comedic talents than Russell Brand and Alec Baldwin sang “Juke Box Hero” in a medley with Joan Jett’s “I Love Rock & Roll,” another jukebox-themed chart-topper. The soundtrack debuted at No. 1 on Billboard’s Top Soundtracks chart, providing the unstoppable tune with yet another cultural touchstone.

On one level, 1972’s “Suffragette City” is pure simplicity, an amphetamine rush that proves David Bowie could unleash high-decibel intensity just as potently as he could spacey ballads or post-modern artiness. Yet things aren’t so simple underneath its glittery crunch, where a tug-of-war is waged between nostalgia and futurism. If the pounding ivories and greasy boogie long for the ’50s, then the slashing chords and razor-sharp execution lunge toward the punk revolution that’s still a few years out. This tension, acting like a slingshot, shoots the penultimate song from The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars clear out of the march of history and into that archetypal realm commonly referred to as rock music that’s so badass it’s timeless. Here are five facts to help you better appreciate Bowie’s hardest rocker.Science fiction and rock ’n’ roll.“Suffragette City,” like the rest of Ziggy Stardust, is inspired by Anthony Burgess’ 1962 novel A Clockwork Orange. (Director Stanley Kubrick’s film adaptation arrived during the album’s making.) Bowie certainly wasn’t the first rocker to embrace sci-fi (see producer Joe Meek or Syd Barrett-era Pink Floyd), yet he clearly was ahead of the curve by soaking up Burgess’ uniquely dystopian vision. It’s a quality that would seep not just into punk and post-punk, but also industrial and even techno in the following decades.Mick Ronson’s killer guitar.Perhaps no early Bowie track better displays his love of The Stooges and The Velvet Underground; it all begins with brilliant guitarist Mick Ronson’s opening riff, roaring and clawing like a famished tiger. It’s an aesthetic Bowie would bring with him when he mixed Iggy and the Stooges’ 1973 landmark Raw Power, a record that helped kickstart punk and hardcore.Sexuality and gender.The live version took on a life of its own, generally becoming faster and more sneering. It also adopted a performative edge, as Bowie, during concerts, often would drop to his knees and pretend to suck on Ronson’s guitar. When a photograph of this wonderfully flamboyant exhibitionism made it into Melody Maker in 1972, it helped cement glam rock’s reputation as a movement steeped in transgression and decadence.Those blaring horns aren’t really horns.It may sound like horns during the cut’s first half when they fall somewhere between vintage Memphis R&B and The Beatles’ “Savoy Truffle.” But the sound reveals its source-—an ARP 2600 synthesizer—during the static-caked surge that ripples across the final 60 seconds. You can be sure that bands like Pere Ubu, The Stranglers, Tubeway Army, The Twinkeyz, and any other punk(ish) band experimenting with the cyborg impulse were taking notes.Film and television legacy.As with many other Bowie tunes, “Suffragette City” has racked up several IMDb credits, including Gilmore Girls, Vinyl, and Californication. The most telling, however, is 2005’s Lords of Dogtown, a period piece chronicling the Venice Beach teenagers who revolutionized skateboarding in the mid-’70s. The fact that these early shredders jammed Bowie along with The Jimi Hendrix Experience and Deep Purple stands as a testament to the artist’s lofty stature not just among punks and alternative kids, but longhaired surfers and heshers as well. There’s no messing with David Bowie.

"Everywhere started out as this simple acoustic love song," the then 18-year-old Michelle Branch modestly told MTV back in 2001, when her debut single was quickly climbing the charts. In fact, "Everywhere" could be heard just about anywhere, as it captured the spirit of both moody post-grunge rock and breezy Y2K pop. At the time, Branchs guitar-fueled confessions were something of a savvy response to the sexed-up pop of Britney and Christina, and while she electrified with some Alanis-like sass, she did so with with a youthful, innocent optimism. Still, "Everywhere" isnt such a simple love song. Branch is not pining or pouting. Her lyrics are bold and vivid and maybe even a little abstract: "Youre everything I know/ That makes me believe/ Im not alone." Is she talking about a boy or something grander? Either way, her delivery is empowering—shes confident while still vulnerable, and she ties both together in an instantly undeniable hook. A new generation of female singer/songwriters was most certainly listening. Here are five ways "Everywhere" made its mark on the music scene.It signaled the true end of 90s angst.Gone was the dark, disillusioned edge of grunge; the cool, canny pop star who could rock hard and still radiate a touch of sunniness had arrived. Soon after the release of "Everywhere," Vanessa Carlton was pounding her piano with the same balance of sass and sincerity in "A Thousand Miles." Sara Bareilles would later do the same with the deceptively defiant "Love Song."It inspired a new form of passionate pop-rock.In 2002, Kelly Clarkson would claim the first American Idol title. Shed soon use her newfound fame to propel cathartic, hard-rocking pop hits like "Since U Been Gone" to iconic status. KT Tunstall also came blazing through, wielding her guitar and commanding just as much respect with her infectious, soulful rock. It helped bring femininity to emo. Branchs influence would even stretch to emo hero Hayley Williams, whod inject the pop-punk scene with some much-needed feistiness and femininity with her band Paramore. It pushed country music in new directions. You can even thank Branch for helping reinvigorate country music in the mid-2000s by not only co-starring in her own country-pop project The Wreckers with friend and singer Jessica Harp, but also inspiring one precocious singer/songwriter by the name of Taylor Swift. "Youre one of the first people who made me want to play guitar," Swift once told Branch.It still can be heard just about … everywhere.Even now, traces of "Everywhere" still echo through pop, rock, and country, especially in the spunky yet candid songwriting of newer artists like Meg Myers and Kacey Musgraves. In a way, this once "simple acoustic love song" continues to make its imprint just about everywhere.

Remind us of why we were supposed to hate electroclash? Because it was cheap and disposable? Because it celebrated amateurism over art? Because it was a crude simulacrum of past musical innovations? Well, they said the same things about punk when it first hit. And, like punk, electroclash is the passing fad that never went away. For a sound that supposedly died out sometime in late 2003 in the clogged-up bathroom at some Vice-sponsored after-hours party in Williamsburg, electroclashs cocktail of primitive synth-pop, ripped-stocking attitude, and sexually charged provocation has become a permanent strain in the DNA of post-millennial indie.In its primordial late-90s state, electroclash represented the playfully scrappy antidote to the increasingly slick and aggressive nature of popular electronica, and a flirtatious, fashion-forward affront to the deliberately drab, self-effacing nature of wool-sweatered indie rock. Following a decade where A&R scouts were desperately seeking the next Seattle in Chapel Hill, Halifax, San Diego, and all points in between, electroclash represented perhaps the first instance of a post-internet, non-localized scene, with adherents springing up everywhere from New York (Fischerspooner) and Toronto (Peaches) to Munich (Chicks on Speed) and Liverpool (Ladytron). And by foregrounding female and queer voices, electroclash initiated a crucial early step in chipping away at the boys clubs that have traditionally dominated both indie rock and electronic music, a process that continues to this day.Like any hyped-up movement, electroclash was rife with flash-in-the-pan phenoms that time and Spotify have forgotten. (Pour out your complimentary energy drink of choice for W.I.T. and Ping Pong Bitches.) But you can also draw a direct line from electroclash to some of the most important artists of the 21st-century. This playlist compiles electroclashs definitive names alongside the established bands that stripped down their sound in response (Elastica, Broadcast), the seasoned DJs who embraced the neon vibe (Felix da Housecat, Ellen Allien), and the game-changing artists (M.I.A., The Knife) who elevated electroclash into a permanent feature of the modern musical lexicon.

IDM, or Intelligent Dance Music, has undergone many interesting transformations over the years. It originated in the early nineties, and was used to described modern electronic music that eschewed the dancefloor bombast in favor of a more experimental interpretation of the medium. The term was used to describe artists such as Autechre, Aphex Twin, LFO and Luke Vibert. Theres a lot of space between all those artists -- and the term was always problematic -- but a few of the common aesthetic currents included jittery arhythmical backdrops and airy and at times noisy atmospheric embellishments. The artists also tended to be more conceptual, and were also generally better versed on the history of electronic music BH (before house). Of course, tagging a genre as being uniquely "intelligent" was always going to be problematic, and it was (rightfully) met with scorn by many critics and fans who thought there was nothing inherently dumb about most dance music. But the term persisted, and the music evolved. In many ways, it became a more specific aesthetic than its cousin "electronica" (which was also effectively a genre largely for people who werent into mainstream dance music) and it also outlasted its 90s peer trip-hop in terms of general relevancy.Few people are more qualified to provide an overview of IDM than Philip Sherburne, and his "essentials" article focuses on the more melodic side of the heady microgenre. Its a fun, non-intuitive take on the music, and the tracks by Gescom, Atom TM and Ms Jynx were all pretty great and unexpected. It also makes for a great playlists, especially if youre looking for a more wallpaper, background playlist. Philips sequencing is pretty spot on as well, and it represents a pretty good synthesis of his expertise as a renowned film critic and a DJ.