Genres

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.

While writing his latest album, "Some Strange Reason," Peace to Mateo kept this playlist cued up for inspiration.

All four of the founding, permanent members of Pearl Jam will be inducted into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame in April 2017, but of the four drummers who played on the band’s albums over the course of their 25-year run, only two will be inducted with them: Dave Krusen and Matt Cameron. A third, Jack Irons, is already in the Hall of Fame for his work with Red Hot Chili Peppers, so that leaves just one odd man out: Dave Abbruzzese.The exclusion of Abbruzzese from the Hall of Fame induction is notable because, while he only played with the band from 1991 to 1994, that era represents the peak of Pearl Jam’s fame. He played on two of the band’s three top-selling albums, Vs. and Vitalogy, and toured heavily in support of the other, Ten. Fourteen tracks with Abbruzzese, nearly half of his studio work with the band, got enough radio airplay to appear on Billboard’s rock charts.Abbruzzese played on some of Pearl Jam’s most recognizable songs, including “Better Man” and “Daughter,” and songs that remain setlist staples to this day like “Rearviewmirror” and “Corduroy.” He also played on the band’s memorable contributions to the multi-platinum soundtrack for Cameron Crowe’s Singles, the hit cover of Victoria Williams’ “Crazy Mary,” and several B-sides.A steady and versatile drummer, Dave Abbruzzese handled expansive midtempo grooves like “Immortality” as well as the scorching punk of “Spin the Black Circle.” Though he only received a handful of songwriting credits, his drum fills and splashy flourishes left a distinctive signature on many songs. Still, Abbruzzese reportedly never clicked with the rest of the band on a personal or political level; rumor has it that the lyrics of “Glorified G” were Eddie Vedder taking a potshot at the drummer, a proud gun owner. And while Pearl Jam’s black sheep drummer won’t be inducted into the Rock Hall with the band next month, it’s hard to imagine they won’t be playing any songs he helped originate.

Whenever I try describing Phantogram’s music to a friend I find myself stringing together an absurd number of genre tags: Indie pop, electro-pop, dream pop, shoegaze, dance pop, electronica, and even that dusty, old relic known as alt-dance have all been uttered at one time or another. Phantogram aren’t alone in their ability to mix and match genres with what seems like algorithmic complexity. A new generation of post-everything artists have emerged in recent years, and they’re laying waste to music categories that for decades seemed fixed in place. Of course, some of these musicians are more indie-based (Glass Animals and Young the Giant come to mind), while others, Frank Ocean and The Weeknd included, are more rooted in R&B, yet the result ultimately is the same. Are we witnessing the death of genre? Probably not. But the map certainly is getting redrawn in some very fundamental ways.

Subscribe to our "Best of Pharoah Sanders" playlist here, and follow us on Spotify here.Pharoah Sanders music is a place you can get lost in. It’s noisy and transcendent, carving out universes in tinkling vibes and jumpy blues grooves that are upturned by Sander’s trademark squawking, primal tenor saxophone. The music feels timeless. They frequently last for more than 20 minutes. But even beyond that, they seem to exist beyond our more pedestrian concepts of temporal matters. But there’s also a cultural context for all this ecstasy and upheaval, one rooted in a very specific cultural and political milieu. The New York-by-way-of-Arkansas free jazz icon had a coming out party of sorts on John Coltrane’s 1965 album Ascension. That album consists of one, 40-minute track (Spotify breaks up the track into two parts, for some reason) and marks Coltrane’s complete abandonment of post-bop for free jazz. The cascading, squealing interplay between Coltrane and Sanders sounds bracing even today, but the key to understand it is that it’s a product of a particular time and place. The Vietnam War was dramatically escalating, the social norms of post-war America were quickly being overturned, and, perhaps more importantly, the civil rights movement was splintering and turning increasingly militant: Malcolm X had been assassinated four months prior; the Black Panthers would form a year afterwards.But this isn’t nihilistic music. It’s the sound of confusion and propulsion, of being angry in a dark room, of taking a dive into a deep, unknowable abyss. In two years, Coltrane was dead, and Sanders would strike out on his own, becoming a band leader while employing the sonic template that Coltrane had forged. The 11 albums that he would release on Impulse Records over the course of the next either years -- starting with 1966’s Tauhid and ending with 1974’s Love in Us All -- serve as a high water mark or sorts for free jazz.Free Jazz pioneer Ornette Coleman once said that Sanders was "probably the best tenor player in the world,” while Albert Ayler famously quipped, "Trane was the Father, Pharoah was the Son, I am the Holy Ghost.” It’s easy to understand why when listening to tracks such as “Hum-Allah-Hum-Allah-Hum-Allah” or “The Creator Has A Master Plan.” The tracks capture the uncertainty and chaos of creation, they sound like either the big bang or the apocalypse. You have to destroy to build, and Sanders did plenty of both.

Barry Walters delivers this great overview of the 70s soul scene in Philadelphia. With its funk intonations and more polished arrangements, Philly Soul is sometimes overlooked by R&B neophytes, but, as Barry proves here, the scene produced some of the sweetest and most memorable music from that decade. Much of the credit belongs to Gamble and Huff and their Philadelphia International Records, but the scene was bursting with talent. Check out this great retrospective of one of our favorite scenes.

Phish’s Baker’s Dozen residency at Madison Square Garden—which ran July 21-August 6, 2017—was a doozy of epic proportions: 13 nights, 26 sets, and tons of free donuts, and all of it was webcasted to the world at large (save the donuts, of course). They were, as Rolling Stone writer Jesse Jarnow pointed out, some of the group’s most “ambitious sets in years, with an attention to detail that recalls their nineties heyday.” On top of debuting many new tunes, as well as novel transformations of old classics that surprised even longtime heads, Phish dropped a slew of first-time covers, including Shuggie Otis’ Beatlesque funk gem “Strawberry Letter 23,” Neil Young’s static-drenched riff workout “Powderfinger,” and The Velvet Underground’s dreamy ballad “Sunday Morning.”For those only now diving into the Phish zone, such tastefully hip covers may seem odd for a band that, truth be told, was outright dissed by cool indie types for most of their career. (Amazing how this has changed in recent years thanks to tastemakers like Vampire Weekend and MGMT singing their praises in interviews.) However, for those who have followed the band since, like, forever (my first Phish experience came when the original H.O.R.D.E. tour passed through the neo-hippie stronghold of Syracuse, New York, in 1992), the killer covers are par for the course. Even if you’re confident in the immutability of your anti-Phish bias, one thing’s unfuckwithable: their record collections.Since their early days up in Burlington, Vermont, Phish have put all manner of choice covers through their jammy filter: the Talking Heads’ proto-New Wave classic “Psycho Killer” is refitted with a spiky funk groove shaped by Innervisions-era Stevie Wonder and rippling improv showcasing Page McConnell’s keys; “Purple Rain” is mutated into a Flaming Lips-like alt-freak anthem featuring Jon Fishman’s crying vacuum cleaner; and Ween’s weird pop ditty “Roses Are Free” is reborn as a punchy, twangy sing-along. Even Phish’s taste in classic rock reflects their crate-digging astuteness. In addition to numerous deep cuts from the Stones’ muddy landmark Exile on Main St., they actually tackle a (very liberal) rendition of The Beatles’ musique concrète composition “Revolution 9”—and, yes, it’s deeply noisy and bizarre, like a cross between Spike Jones, heroic doses of psilocybin, and nude performance art.Part of Phish’s aim is to challenge and surprise their fans. For them, embracing the unexpected is an expression of freedom, and this extends to their unpredictable choice in cover songs. But it also has to be pointed out that covering the likes of Talking Heads, Ween, and The Velvet Underground actually isn’t all that weird, in a sense. After all, Phish—back at the dawn of their career—were considered something of an alternative band. I know this sounds strange after decades of them being hailed as the modern-day Grateful Dead (which has never been a terribly accurate comparison). But as this fogey explicitly recalls, when Phish started to make a buzz around the Northeast they had a quirky, cerebral, and mischievous reputation that owed more to Frank Zappa and David Byrne than Papa Jerry. It’s an aspect of their legacy that’s slowly re-emerging as more and more indie kids embrace their unique music. And that’s a cool thing.

In June of 2017, Phoenix released Ti Amo, their sixth studio album and one that, once again, yielded comparisons to MOR kings like Hall and Oates, Steely Dan, and 10cc.There’s nothing wrong with that, of course. But buried way back in the history of Phoenix lies a very different band, one that’s more Kenny “Dope” Gonzalez than Kenny Loggins. The Phoenix of old were steeped in the influence of electronic music and the French Touch: They made disco-inflected house music for fashionable Parisian label Source, remixed Air, commissioned club-slaying dance-floor hits from the fashionable remixers of the day, and worked with Cassius’ Philippe Zdar and Daft Punk’s Thomas Bangalter on their debut album.It’s fairly well known that Phoenix guitarist Laurent Brancowitz played alongside Guy-Manuel de Homem-Christo and Thomas Bangalter in their pre-Daft Punk band, Darlin’. But Phoenix’s disco dalliance started in earnest in 1997 when, after the success of their self-released single, “Party Time” b/w “City Lights,” the band signed to Source, then one of the most fashionable labels in France thanks to its brilliant 1995 compilation Source Lab, which featured early recordings from the likes of Air, Motorbass, and DJ Cam. (Source Lab 2, released in 1996, would be similarly epochal, featuring Daft Punk’s “Musique” alongside music from Dimitri From Paris and Alex Gopher.)Phoenix’ first track for Source would be “Heatwave,” initially released on the 1998 Source Rocks compilation (alongside Sébastien Tellier’s “Fantino”) then unleashed as a single in its own right the following year. “Heatwave” was a pristine disco classic: four minutes of nebulous chord changes and chicken-scratch guitar that shone like the sun coming up on the Seine after a long night out. It also fit perfectly with the sound of the French Touch, which was then bringing Gallic grace to global dance floors—so much so, in fact, that “Heatwave” was later appropriated by Italian act DB Boulevard as the basis for their global dance hit of 2002, “Point of View.” On Source, Phoenix’ labelmates included Air, who shared their home town of Versailles. Phoenix ended up backing Air on several of their early television appearances and, in 1998, remixed Air’s classic “Kelly Watch The Stars,” adding a Gallic nu-disco strut to the original song’s orchestral sophistication.The year 2000 was a pivotal moment for Phoenix. It represented the peak of their electronic powers, thanks to two singles—”Too Young” and “If I Ever Feel Better”—whose remixes would set global dance floors aflame. “Too Young” was remixed by Zoot Woman (an early band of super-producer/DJ Stuart Price) and Le Knight Club, a duo formed by Daft Punk’s Guy-Manuel and producer Éric Chédeville. The former takes the song’s melody and structure on an electro-pop excursion, while the latter breaks down “Too Young” into a series of sky-scraping loops and tensions that were typical of Le Knight Club’s filter-friendly approach.“If I Ever Feel Better” proved even more impactful, thanks to remixes from New Jersey producer (and later Daft Punk collaborator) Todd Edwards and The Buffalo Bunch, a duo made up of Guy-Manuel’s brother, Paul de Homem-Christo and Romain Séo. The Buffalo Bunch would prove to be one of the lesser-known heroes of the French Touch, becoming the only act to record for both Thomas Bangalter’s Scratché label and Guy-Manuel’s Crydamoure. However, their remix of “If I Ever Feel Better”—retitled “If I Ever Feel Better (Ill Go To The Disco) [Said The Buffalo Bunch]”—would cement their legacy; it appeared on numerous house compilations and will be used to fire up flagging dance floors until time immemorial. It is a brilliant piece of remix work, taking a tiny, seemingly innocuous part of the original song’s vocal—“I can try, I can try, I can try”—and looping it into an irresistible earworm, which they combine with a wiggly bassline, disco-ish strings, and a thumping house beat.Phoenix’s debut album, United, would follow soon after and, if it didn’t necessarily continue the disco sound of “Heatwave,” it would display fairly serious French Touch credentials, with Thomas Bangalter contributing Yamaha CS-60 synthesizer to the gorgeously wan “Embuscade” and Pedro “Busy P” Winter––then manager of Daft Punk, later founder of Ed Banger Records—playing Rapman synthesizer on Part Two of the frankly deranged hoedown “Funky Squaredance.” More importantly, United would see Phoenix work for the first time with Philippe Zdar, a pillar of the French Touch who lent his exquisite production sheen to seven of the album’s 10 songs.Phoenix’s history with electronic music didn’t end with United, of course. The band would continue to work with Zdar, including on their 2009 breakthrough album Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix, while their releases would often come with electronic remixes attached. But the band’s latter success in the global rock market seemed to move them away from their French Touch origins, while the French Touch itself drifted out of fashion.Knowing Phoenix’s roots, however, can help us understand how they landed on their sound and how on earth they made such a fashionable success of their slick AOR revisionism. And if they would consider bringing “Heatwave” back to their setlists, then it would make some ageing house-music heads very grateful indeed.

Whats This Playlist All About? The venerable music site ranks the chillest, haziest, and, of course dreamiest indie albums of all time—or at least those with a vague sense of "atmosphere, intimacy, and a light coating of psychedelia."

What You Get: An airy assortment of breathy, often angelic vocals, floating atop sumptuous layers of soporific sound. As its name implies, "dream pop" doesnt have any sort of concrete meaning or even unifying song structure, a truth even Pitchfork owns up to. Still, something intangible, ethereal, maybe even mystical, links these artists together, from the undisputed originators Cocteau Twins, who easily take the No. 1 spot with Heaven or Las Vegas, to their respected disciples Beach House (who also nab two spots). In between, the mood subtly shifts; the dark noir of Julee Cruise slips into the colorful pop of Atlas Sound, while the ambient melancholy of Grouper gives way to the euphoric nostalgia of M83 and the sultry twang of Mazzy Star and Mojave 3.

Best Surprise: The inclusion of Brightblack Morning Light, especially their featured track—the slinky, druggy doozy "Everybody Daylight”—which has always managed to slip under the radar.

What Did They Miss? Their "conscious decision to not include records that wound up on our Best Shoegaze Albums list—even though shoegaze and dream pop have, at times, been used interchangeably,” kind of messes with the playlist listening experience. Thing is, we dont care whats on the shoegaze list when were listening to the dream pop one, so to not include certain "shoegaze" standards like, say, MBV or Slowdive or bands like Pale Saints and Seefeel, feels slightly off. Theres also plenty of people noting the absence of Cocteau Twins Treasure.

What’s This Playlist All About? The music-history scholars over at Pitchfork sift through Dua Lipa’s 2020 album, Future Nostalgia—a cathartic master thesis on liberation achieved through disco and dance—to dig up its key influences and source material.

What You Get: A formidable brigade of dance-pop deities, with no-brainer selections from Madonna (who makes this playlist twice), Grace Jones, Pet Shop Boys, and Kylie Minogue. In between such euphoric club standards as “Hung Up” and “Always on My Mind,” you get plenty of ’80s and ’90s pop gold, like Olivia Newton-John’s calorie-burning “Physical” (an inspiration for Lipa’s own “Physical”), INXS’s steamy groove “Need You Tonight” (which Lipa samples on “Break My Heart”), and Crystal Waters’ hippie house hit “Gypsy Woman (She’s Homeless).”

Greatest Pick: One of the few male artists represented here, White Town (a.k.a. Jyoti Mishra), with his gender- and genre-bending theme “Your Woman,” oddly fits in with Lipa’s own irresistible pop. In fact, she interpolates its sampled horn riff on “Love Again.”

Best Song to Dance Your Heart Out To: The final track here, Daft Punk’s “One More Time,” will win this competition—always—and actually goes quite well alongside Lipa’s own disco dance-floor burner “Don’t Start Now.”