Rock + Alternative

Barack Obama was, among other firsts, the first POTUS who shared his listening habits with the public through Spotify playlists. And though he hasn’t personally curated any music selections since leaving the White House, his Chicago-based non-profit recently debuted the first iteration of Hometown, a collection of tracks handpicked by Chicagoans that remind them of home. Comedian Cameron Esposito opens the playlist with one Chicago band covering another, JC Brooks & The Uptown Sound putting an unlikely retro soul spin on Wilco’s fragile epic “I Am Trying To Break Your Heart.” But while songs from and/or about Chi-town dominate, not everyone is so literal with the theme; actor Nick Offerman picks two Tom Waits songs that remind him of his theater days in Chicago (neither of which is Waits’s 2011 track “Chicago”). Kanye West looms large over the playlist, with three curators picking his tracks. One is West’s young protege Chance The Rapper, who singles out the sweetly nostalgic “Family Business.” A few tracks later, President Obama’s former Deputy Press Secretary, Bill Burton, picks Chance’s own “Blessings,” with a tip of the hat to Chance’s father’s work on Obama’s first campaign. But despite some recurring threads, Hometown offers a pluralistic view of Chicago music, with equal room for Liz Phair and The Staple Singers.

Danish rock outfit Iceage are constantly evolving, moving from the goth-inflicted punk of their early records towards a bigger, more luxurious sound of their 2018 album Beyondless. The one through-line is a bleary passion that permeates every chord theyve played since forming in 2008. Guitarist Johan Suurballe Wieth recently created a playlist of his favorite guitarists for the Dowsers, and, predictably, its a diverse, unpredictable assortment. Below is his annotated list.Pete Cosey on Miles Davis’ “Dark Magus, Wili (part 1)”This guitar to me, sounds like an ancient instrument used to scare off prehistoric beasts. Charles Bullen on This Heat, “A New Kind of Water”This Heat has since I discovered them in my early teens, been something I listen to frequently. And it still leaves me in awe, the weaving of sounds incompatible, becomes something so solid. Charles Bullens playing is something that will always keep my mind puzzled.Joanne Robertson, “Wildflower” “Wildflower” is, in my opinion, an underrated piece of work. Some of the most honest guitar music in newer date. Abner Jay, “Cocaine”A box with strings.Johnny Thunders on New York Dolls’, “Jet Boy”However tactless and appalling a guitar solo can appear. No ones got shit on him. Joni Mitchell, “Song To A Seagull,” “The Pirate Of Penance”This brings my mind to what the medieval times in America would look like.Johnny Echols/Arthur Lee on Love, “A House Is Not A Motel.” Many things could be said about the guitars of this band and the songs they play. What comes to mind for me is, what great fun it must to play this song.Peter Peter Scneidermann on Bleedergroup, “Sunrise, Amber Green”I pay great homage to this man. Peter is one of the people that has had the greatest impact on the way I view and play music. As a teen I would watch Bleeder at any chance I got. Later in life Peter has become a dear friend, and someone who has taught me all the tricks in my arsenal. He is hands down the best guitar player I know. Check out his breakdown for each track below.Loren Mazzacane Connors, “A Possible Dawn”With someone who stands behind such vast and diverse body of work as Loren Connors ,it can be hard to navigate. But honestly I find joy in all aspects of his music. A tightly knit organic carpet of sound. James Williamson on Kill City, “Night Theme”I wish I wrote this riff.Ron Asheton on The Stooges, “1970” No comment needed.James Blood Ulmer on Odyssey, “Church”It sounds like someone who has never touched an instrument before, but is an apparent natural. Equally afraid and pleasantly surprised. Lindsey Buckingham on Fleetwood Mac, “The Chain”As I said earlier about guitar solos, I will apply again. He makes that one note work.Jimi Hendrix on Band Of Gypsys, “Machine Gun” I cant deny that I am text book fan of rocknroll in many ways. As cheesy and cliché as it may seem, this was the first song I ever played on my record player. I could continue this list into infinity, but it would become an old song quickly. Therefore I leave you with this.

For casual David Bowie fans who spin the radio hits and not much else, A Clockwork Orange may not be the first work of science fiction that comes to mind when chewing on the well-read singer’s labyrinth of influences from the realms of film, literature, fashion, and avant-garde art. After all, whether we’re referring to Anthony Burgess’ 1962 novel or Stanley Kubrick’s notorious film adaption from 1971, the story is a blend of pitch-black satire, graphic violence, and Cold War-inspired dystopia that feels worlds removed from the cosmic-hippiedom-meets-androgynous-space-alien quirkiness soaked into Bowie’s most popular expressions of sci-fi rock: “Space Oddity,” “Starman,” “Life on Mars?”—even the riff-fueled “Ziggy Stardust.” In fact, a more apt connection might be Kubrick’s other landmark from the same era: 2001: A Space Odyssey. Released in 1968 (just over a year before Apollo 11’s touchdown on the moon ignited a global fascination with space travel), the director’s sweeping meditation on human evolution, outer space, and extraterrestrial life slammed into psychedelic culture like an asteroid, helping to unleash a whole new movement in space rock.However, dig deeper into Bowie’s cluttered universe (lyrics, interviews, photographs, production credits, etc.), and relics of his fascination with A Clockwork Orange emerge in all corners. It’s a fascination that lasted throughout his career, right up through the release of 2016’s Blackstar, a brilliant, strange, and moodily intoxicating album awash in sci-fi references.Let’s begin with the singer’s ever-changing visual aesthetic: Bowie himself once stated to Rolling Stone writer David Sinclair that the look for his 1972 classic The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars reflected in part his love of the outfits worn by the sociopathic antihero Alex (played by Malcolm McDowell) and his ultraviolent droogs. Those costumes (black bowler hats, bovver boots, suspenders, codpieces) were the brainchild of designer Milena Canonero; by appropriating elements of “London street style,” she helped lay the groundwork for an iconic (and much imitated) look that wound up seeping into glam, punk, hardcore, and even heavy metal. Incidentally, Canonero and Bowie eventually worked together on 1983’s The Hunger, an erotic vampire flick sporting heavy Dario Argento vibes.Bowie again turned to the film for inspiration during the making of 1973’s Aladdin Sane, a harder-rocking album that finds the singer’s alter-ego turning mischievous, even nasty at times, much like Alex. In addition to sleeve art featuring airbrush work from Philip Castle, whom Kubrick hired to design the movie’s infamously outlandish posters, there were some seriously Clockworkian wardrobe moves, including Bowie’s classic printed silk turtleneck.Shifting from aesthetics to the music itself, let’s return to The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars. While touring in support of the record, Bowie opened concerts with a recording of Beethovens Symphony No. 9, yet another nod to Alex, who describes the piece as “bliss and heaven” in one of the movie’s most biting scenes. There’s also the use of the word “droogie” in “Suffragette City.” Though a fairly minor reference, it speaks volumes about Bowie’s intimate understanding of Burgess’ original vision. After all, “Suffragette City” isn’t one of Ziggy’s orchestral ballads, floating dreamily like an orbiting satellite. It’s gnarly proto-punk inspired by The Velvet Underground and The Stooges—exactly the kind of slasher you’d expect a violent street gang to blast before a night of smashing storefronts and busting heads.Again, this seems like an odd fit for the red-haired Bowie, who (truth be told) never fully embraced the sneering menace that would come to be associated with punk rock in the late ’70s. But much like The Rolling Stones’ Mick Jagger (who interestingly enough owned the movie rights to the novel for a short while), he certainly flirted with such notions. Bowie seemed attracted to the transgressive darkness that often surrounds youth culture and street gangs, especially as they are portrayed in the book and film incarnations of A Clockwork Orange, both of which, it should be noted, were censored and condemned on numerous occasions in the United Kingdom and the United States. They possessed a undeniable and dangerous allure. Back in the ’70s, any artist who dared make allusions to them clearly was looking to be edgy.But it was more than just trying to be provocative (though that always was a factor during his glam years). Bowie truly loved A Clockwork Orange, of which his most passionate expression pops up on the previously mentioned Blackstar and the cryptic “Girl Loves Me.” Pay close attention to the lyrics and you’ll notice how the singer, displaying a linguist’s virtuosity, brilliantly litters the song with the Nadsat spoken by Alex and the droogs (itself a Nadsat term). Originally conceived by Burgess, it basically is working-class British slang heavily inspired by Russian:

You viddy at the CheenaTruth is me with the Red RockYou be loving little zipshotDevotchka want ya golossSpatchka want the RussianSwear to dead fun is dang dangViddy viddy at the CheenaGirl loves meHey cheenaGirl don’t speakGirl loves me

Bowie was a sci-fi junkie, one well-versed in the writings of Michael Moorcock, J.G. Ballard, William S. Burroughs, and George Orwell. He especially loved Orwell’s dystopian landmark Nineteen Eighty-Four, which served as the thematic basis for 1974’s Diamond Dogs. On top of all that, he starred in the cult flick The Man Who Fell to Earth and in 2013 was inducted into the Museum of Pop Culture’s Science Fiction and Fantasy Hall of Fame. But the fact that Bowie returns to A Clockwork Orange on Blackstar, which he knew would be his last album, drives home the work’s stature in his personal universe. Deep down Bowie really was a droog.

Of all the many artists and songwriters who cited the Doors’ mercurial frontman as an inspiration, no fan may have been quite as ardent as Patti Smith. “Jim Morrison probably got the closest to being an artist within rock and roll,” she once said. “His death made me sadder than anyone’s. He was really a great poet.”That last word is an especially significant one. When the Doors’ career as Elektra recording artists was launched with the release of “Break On Through (To The Other Side)” on the first day of 1967, the idea that a poet had any business being in a rock ‘n’ roll band was still a radical one. Claiming Arthur Rimbaud and Charles Baudelaire as his own heroes, Morrison was determined to bring a sensibility that was both unabashedly literary yet as sexy and dangerous as you’d hope for from a guy who looked so good in tight black leather pants. As a rock ‘n’ roll poet, Morrison had also introduce explicitly adult content and subversive themes into a musical form that was still marketed first and foremost to teenagers. No wonder that “Break on Through” sparked the first of many controversies for the Doors when Elektra balked at releasing it with its original lyric “she gets high” lest such a blatant drug reference offend radio programmers. The single flopped anyway, only later becoming one of the Doors’ signature songs.That first single also served as an opening salvo for a band whose musical ideas proved just as influential as Morrison’s lyrical provocations. Robbie Krieger’s spidery guitar lines were as distinctive as the Ray Manzarek keyboard sound the band used in place of bass guitar. And while drummer John Densmore was capable of supplying all the required force and momentum, his rhythms were equally suggestive of non-rock influences like bossa nova and German cabaret music. The latter influence signposted when a cover of “Alabama Song” showed up alongside that debut single and the band’s first true hit “Light My Fire” on the Doors’ self-titled album.The wild, passionate and daring music that followed the Doors’ first recordings was bound to make a strong impression on musicians for generations. Sometimes this influence was glaringly obvious. That was certainly the case for vocalists who’d perform with the surviving Doors in the years after Morrison’s death in 1971, starting with the fellow rock legend who very nearly replaced him: Iggy Pop. Such was Iggy’s admiration for Morrison that he smuggled many of the Lizard King’s lyrics inside his own songs, including “The Passenger”. Stone Temple Pilots’ Scott Weiland and the Cult’s Ian Astbury were two more Morrison devotees who fronted later versions of the Doors.Despite the punks’ oft-stated disdain for hippies, many of the blank generation’s key acts were Doors fans, too. Ian McCulloch of Echo and the Bunnymen even described the band as “the most perfect and compatible four musicians in the history of time.” Siouxsie & The Banshees considered them a core inspiration, later covering “You’re Lost, Little Girl” and “Hello I Love You.” Legendary Manchester producer Martin Hannett modeled his productions for Joy Division on the sound of Waiting for the Sun. Meanwhile, the Stranglers’ use of keyboards explicitly evoked Manzarek’s and the spare, eerie feel of “The End” was closely studied by Bauhaus. Then there was the example Morrison set with his rich baritone and literary gravitas for heavy-duty singers and songwriters like Nick Cave and Mark Lanegan. X and the Gun Club were two of many later bands from the Doors’ hometown of Los Angeles acknowledged their stylistic debt.More recently, retro-rockers like Brian Jonestown Massacre and the Allah Las have been equally brazen about their devotion. Indeed, the realm of the Lizard King is and always has been a crowded one – this playlist serves as your passageway.

Since their 2005 debut, San Diego power trio Earthless have been pushing stoner-rock to new extremes in cosmic exploration and rhythmic intensity——and mostly without the use of vocals. However, on their upcoming release, Black Heaven (out March 16), guitarist Isaiah Mitchell steps up to the mic on a full-time basis. To celebrate his graduation to proper frontman, we asked him to curate a playlist of inspirational voices. Thin Lizzy, “Honesty is No Excuse”: Phil Lynott has one of my all-time favorite voices. His phrasing is wonderful. The longing in his voice.....Andy Irving and Paul Brady, “Lough Erne Shore”: Paul Brady has one of the most unique voices I’ve ever heard. Absolutely beautiful. I wish I could sing like that.Bad Brains, “Banned in D.C.”: H.R. is my favorite all-time punk vocalist. An incredible force of nature. Power.Charley Patton, “High Water Everywhere - Part 1”: Patton also has one of the most unique voices I have ever heard. When I close my eyes and listen to his recordings, I see an old man with a few teeth. Gritty and gravelly. Not a cooler voice in the world. Such an old sound. I wish I could sing like him, too.Freddie King, “Same Old Blues”: One of my all-time favorite vocalists and guitarists. The sound that comes out of him is one of the most beautiful voices I’ve ever heard. He sounds big because he is big. Belts it.Traffic, “40,000 Headsman”: Steve Winwood is another all-time favorite. So much soul. There’s this brassy sound to his voice that I love——like Sam Cooke.Sam Cooke, “Cupid”: One of my favorite songs of all time by one of my all-time favorite singers. Sams voice was one of the smoothest and velvetiest sounds to come out of a human.Townes Van Zandt, “Rake”: His voice, phrasing, and lyrics are unmatched. How he can keep all that together and play guitar the way he does to accompany what he has to say, I still don’t know. Another great example of Townes’ mastery of voice and guitar is “Mr. Mudd & Mr. Gold.”Warren Zevon, “Lawyers, Guns, and Money”: Warren Zevon is pretty new to my life. A good buddy introduced me to him and now I’m hooked. Just a total bad-ass. The voice and lyrics fit together just right.Muddy Waters, “Long Distance Call”: Muddy is one of my earliest heroes. Such an animated voice. One of the most imitated singers of all time.Howlin’ Wolf, “Spoonful”: Wolf is as important to me as Muddy is. Big man with a bigger voice. He was the full package on stage, playing great slide guitar and blowing harmonica, backed up by one of the greatest voices of all time.Fleetwood Mac, “Jumping at Shadows”: Peter Green is another one of my hands-down, all-time favorite voices. He bears it all.Cream, “We’re Going Wrong”: Out of all the singers I’m into and try to imitate, I think I approach my vocals with a Jack Bruce filter. It’s not obvious, but I hear his voice while singing songs I’ve written. I don’t always go the Jack Bruce route, but I’m glad the path is there when I need it.Stevie Wonder, “I Was Made to Love Her”: He gave it all. Pure joy. Arguably the greatest male voice of all time. It doesn’t need explaining.Peter Tosh, “No Sympathy”: Solid as a rock. Such a bad-ass. Preaching.The Band, “It Makes No Difference”: Rick Danko is up in my top five favorite vocalists. He sounds like he’s singing the last performance of his life and absolutely gives it everything he’s got and doesn’t hold back. Everyone on this list does that, but Danko hits me in a different way.The Four Tops, “Reach Out, I’ll Be There”: Levi Stubbs, to me, has one of the defining voices of Motown. When the verse kicks in on “Reach Out,” the power that comes through the speakers floors me every time.Sandy Denny, “Late November”: Beautiful and powerful all rolled into one. Music is the healer. You have to give in completely if you want it to heal you. She gave it all.ZZ Top, “Just Got Paid”: One of my all-time favorite bands and guitar players. Billy Gibbons has a voice that doesn’t fit with the way he looks… at least in his early days. Great lyrical content. All hail the Reverend. The real deal.Sonic’s Rendezvous Band, “City Slang”: Fred “Sonic” Smith has a voice I wish I had. Cool as hell. Deep. Another person whose sound is the epitome of cool. One of my all-time favorites.

Photograph: Misha Vladimirskiy/FilterlessJack White didn’t invent garage-blues, yet more than any other modern rocker the ornery dude has helped transform it from an underground phenomenon into a mainstream one. (And yes, The Black Keys certainly deserve major props, too.) There are now a wealth of high-profile musicians soaking bluesy, beastly jams in demonic layers of fuzz and echo-soaked string-bending. In addition to guitar-hero-in-the-making Gary Clark Jr. and, of course, the mighty Alabama Shakes, there’s the British outfit Royal Blood, as well as Deap Vally, a female two-piece from L.A. that turn all their angst into jackhammering, hip-swaggering, fist-pumping awesomeness. Our playlist also spotlights cuts from those artists in the 1980s and ’90s who were pioneers in the folding of rowdy garage-punk into the earthy mysteriousness that reaches all the way back to the Mississippi Delta. The blues, after all, are about tradition.

Around the 2007 release of Wilco’s sixth studio album, Sky Blue Sky, Jeff Tweedy talked a lot about classic rock. Sky Blue Sky eschewed much of the experimentation that had characterized the album’s immediate predecessors (2001’s Yankee Hotel Foxtrot and 2004’s A Ghost Is Born), favoring a more straightforward musical and lyrical style. In several interviews, Tweedy insisted that he preferred not to give too much credence to the “alternative country” and “experimental” labels that had followed him since his earliest days as a founding member of Uncle Tupelo. Instead, Tweedy insisted, Wilco should be known as a rock ‘n’ roll band.For a piece in the Wall Street Journal, Tweedy acknowledged the influence that 1970s rock had on Sky Blue Sky, listing his five favorite albums from that era. The first five songs on this playlist are sourced from that article, wherein Tweedy confesses he “often tries to emulate” Nick Drake’s picking style and claims The Clash’s “Train In Vain” “was huge” for him growing up. Considering Wilco’s sound, those choices—as well as the inclusion of Dylan and Wings—make sense. The outlier in his list is Blondie’s “Heart of Glass,” which Tweedy calls “a great pop record.” However, despite all the talk of experimentation surrounding Wilco, Tweedy has always known how to make catchy music.The remaining tracks on the playlist were added based on covers Tweedy has done, both live and on record, with Wilco and Uncle Tupelo. A version of Doug Sahm’s “Give Back the Key to My Heart” appears on Uncle Tupelo’s swan song Anodyne*, and a cover of Waylon Jennings’ “Are You Sure Hank Done It This Way” appears on the 2003 reissue of that album. Wilco has frequently covered Bill Fay** and Big Star, including the latter’s “In The Street” (a.k.a. The theme song to That ‘70s Show). During an all-covers set at 2013’s Solid Sound Festival, Wilco played the classic songs by The Rolling Stones, Velvet Underground, and Television that are featured here.Sticklers may note that The Band’s “The Weight” was technically released in 1968. However, this version with The Staples Singers was recorded at the group’s 1976 farewell concert and released two years later as part of the Scorsese documentary The Last Waltz. Tweedy, who has collaborated with Mavis Staples throughout the years, joined an ensemble of musical greats—including Nick Lowe, whose “Peace, Love, and Understanding” Wilco covered for Spotify’s Singles Series—to perform a rendition of “The Weight” in 2014 in honor of Staples’ 75th birthday.Tweedy is gearing up for the June 2017 release of Together at Last, which features acoustic versions of songs by various bands throughout his illustrious career. By playing in a stripped down form, devoid of any attempts at musical experimentation, Tweedy will likely reinforce just how influential this decade of classic rock was on the formation of his own, unique sound.*This song isn’t on Spotify, and was replaced with Sahm’s “Don’t Turn Around,” from his 1973 album Doug Sahm and His Band.**Tweedy typically covers Bill Fay’s “Be Not So Fearful,” which isn’t on Spotify, so I’ve replaced it with Fay’s cover of Wilco’s “Jesus, etc.,” which, of course, was not released in the ‘70s.

In October 2017, L.A.-via-Nebraska phenom King Leg released his debut album, Meet King Leg (Sire/Warner), a winsome collection of heartland power-pop and twangy balladry gilded by his Orbison-esque croon. Here, he lets us ride shotgun with a Dowsers playlist of favorite road tunes: “Here are some songs Ive enjoyed listening to while driving around: windows down on many; windows up on some. Some of these songs are perfect for neighborhood driving with plenty of four-way stops, while some are better for speeding under a yellow light. Open-road driving or bumper-to-bumper wallowing, this list has a song for me. Mostly, I just like to start the car and turn it up and let the tunes do the steering.”——King Leg Watch the video for King Leg’s “Great Outdoors” (co-directed by Dwight Yoakam!):

Sure, at this point, KISS are less a band than an automated merchandise factory, with Gene Simmons and Paul Stanley essentially counting down the days until old age forces them to hire younger actors to slap on the facepaint and portray them in a never-ending Vegas musical revue. And, even in his own son’s opinion, Simmons is to rock ‘n’ roll what Donald Trump is to U.S. politics—except that Gene’s become even too big of an asshole for Fox News. But there’s a case to be made that, for all their relentless branding and ingrained arrogance, KISS are kinda underappreciated.They were always too craven in their careerism to acquire any of the dirtbag cool of early ‘70s glam peers like the New York Dolls, too pop-oriented to stand alongside more artful proto-metal giants like Led Zeppelin and Black Sabbath, too enamored with spectacle to attain the working-class cred of Thin Lizzy or AC/DC, too liberal with the shameless horn-dog metaphors to accrue the camp cachet of Queen. (Sorry kids, "Rocket Ride" is actually not about space travel.) And aside from the occasional spin of “Rock and Roll All Nite,” you’d still be hard-pressed to find them in regular rotation on any classic-rock radio station. However, when you strip away the make-up, upchucked blood, and one-piece open-chested unitards, the six studio albums KISS released in their 1974-77 golden period showcase a band with a preternatural gift for wrapping sticky melodies around sturdy riffs——a power-pop band with a steely command over both halves of the equation.While their many live albums and greatest-hits sets tend to prioritize the songs that go best with pyro, those early KISS records are loaded with more modestly scaled tunes that betray the group’s affinity for ’60s garage nuggets (see: “Love Her All I Can,” a blatant rewrite of The Nazz’s “Open Your Eyes”), harmony-rich sing-alongs that wouldnt sound out of place on a Big Star or Raspberries album (“Comin’ Home”), acoustic-powered Rod Stewart-style serenades (“Hard Luck Woman”—the plaintive Peter Criss antidote to the more popular and opulent “Beth”), and a lean, punkish propulsion (“Plaster Caster”—well, as close to punk as you can get when youre a rock star singing about getting a souvenir of your dick made by the world’s most famous groupie). Heck, debut-album deep cuts like "Let Me Know" could almost pass for Three Dog Night. And while “I Was Made for Lovin’ You” has come to epitomize KISS’ disco phase, it’s better represented by the ultra-smooth, mirror-ball-twirling slow jams “Sure Know Something” and “Shandi” (which features the sort of gilded, glistening jangle that’s become indie-ubiqutious in a post-Mac DeMarco world). The band’s core philosophy may have never evolved beyond rockin’ and rollin’ all night, but this playlist highlights the KISS songs you can still respect in the morning.

A wide-ranging combination of Latin folklore and Anglo alt-rock form the crux of Latin alternative music. As inventive players paved paths to niche subcultures that shifted further from mainstream pop, rock and Latin regionalism over the years, they also opened up an immense portal of global yet Latin-minded formations. Whether artists pulled from radio-friendly pop (e.g. Paulina Rubio, Mariah Carey) or their parents’ classic rock (e.g., Los Locos del Ritmo, Elvis), this bicultural/multicultural recipe inspired game-changers to create a like-minded identity, with plenty of attitude.From vintage-synth-loving Chileans like Javiera Mena, Gepe, or Alex Anwandter producing rosey-tinted indie-pop, to electro-folkloric producers in Argentina (Chancha Via Circuito), Colombia (Bomba Estéreo), Ecuador (Nicola Cruz), and Peru (Dengue Dengue Dengue) ushering in a new digital cumbia enigma, the ever-elastic art form is essentially without boundaries.So what does it mean for brown-eyed soul troubadours like Chicano Batman to grow up on low-rider funk and Motown-style oldies at an L.A. swap meet? Or Mexican charro-clad rockeros Mexrrissey finding kinship with melancholic Manchester pop icon Morrissey? Or even Cuban/Puerto Rican soulstress Xenia Rubinos displaying an affinity for ‘50s-era jazz chanteuses and open-mic MCs alike? From hip-hop to electronic to folk and urban, this Latin-rooted concoction continues to flourish and take unprecedented shapes throughout the Americas and Spain.By no means is this a comprehensive list of the scene’s countless configurations, but instead a starting point for newcomers to explore Latin alternative’s numerous stylistic configurations, and to familiarize themselves with the compelling works of Latinx artists of Latin America, the diaspora, and beyond. (Heads up: you won’t find any Shakiras, Romeo Santos, or J. Los here.)

THE 1980S: THE BIRTH OF ROCK EN ESPAÑOL

When rock made its entry into Latin America many moons ago (notably around the time Elvis Presley debuted in the continent during the ‘50s), it spawned a bevy of “refried Elvises” or imitators replicating The King’s style but with Spanish lyrics. Most Latin American bands spent decades aping the rock aesthetic coming out of America and the U.K., until the ‘80s. An unprecedented approach to the style took shape and musicians began to finally embrace their roots, fusing anything from brass melodies to boleros to cumbias and sones—all against traditional rock instrumentation—thus acquiring their own musical identity. Groups like Argentinean dance-punk agitators Todos Tus Muertos, Spain’s New Wave provocateurs Radio Futura, and Mexican dark-wave cumbieros Caifanes are among the slew of innovators to unflinchingly mix regional styles with rock arrangements.

THE 1990S: LATIN ROCK GOES ALTERNATIVE

While the rock en español forefathers of the 1980s laid the groundwork for the south-of-the-border movement (Spain included), it took until the following decade for the scene to explode globally. Each project stood as its own original fusion: Mexico’s Maldita Vecindad, armed with a boisterous sax, adopted pachuco swagger; Chile’s Los Prisioneros made rebellious synth-punk; Argentina’s Los Fabulosos Cadillacs created rowdy murga-driven ska; and Spain/France’s Manu Chao spreaded lover’s-rock bohemianism. The foundations, however, were similar: Each rebellious outfit delivered their own socio-political agenda while commanding the dance floor, or mosh pit.

THE 2000S: THE NEW LATIN ALTERNATIVE

As the scene reconfigured approaching the new millennium, acts who showed insatiable lasting power (like Café Tacvba, Babasónicos, Zoé) branched out of the then-tiresome rock en español category, and joined the new cohort of Latin alternative iconoclasts. Labels like Nacional Records, the forward-thinking U.S.-based Latin alternative imprint, helped to solidify this new movement. They housed luminary groups like Nortec Collective, a DJ/producer crew from Tijuana who mash-up norteñas and techno; the feisty Bomba Estéreo, who took electro-cumbias outside of Colombia; and French-Chilean rapper/poetess Ana Tijoux, who brought silky smooth rap verses that resonate across the diaspora. Others like ZZK Records—the Buenos Aires digital cumbia collective that began as an underground party—gathered electro-folk-minded DJ/producers like Chancha via Circuito, Frikstailers, and Lagartigeando. Santiago’s Quemasucabeza capitalized on the aforementioned rising electro-pop scene of Chile. And Monterrey, Mexico had its own alternative boom called la avanzada regia (a scene the channeled a similar spirit as Seattle’s grunge movement). It birthed the wild dance rock of Plastilina Mosh, Control Machete’s vicious rap-punk, and the electro-rock brilliance of Kinky.

THE 2010S: LATIN ALTERNATIVE’S NEW MUTATIONS

With the Latin alternative ethos well established, the ever-elastic umbrella continues to mold, expand, and morph into further subgroups. This decade, spectators have witnessed the rise of the singer.songwriter—through Carla Morrison’s wounded confections, Ximena Sariñana’s heartbreaking jazz-pop, or Natalia Lafourcade’s rustic pop elegance. And while Latin trap, reggaetón, and all-things urban keep topping the mainstream charts, underground rap prodigies like Princess Nokia, cholo-goths Prayers, and R&B soulstress Kali Uchis formed a resistance to commercialism, adopting an unflinching mindset that’s on par with the Latin alternative philosophy. Cumbia-gothics (La MiniTK Del Miedo), indie-mambo prodigies (Orkesta Mendoza), Brooklyn baile funk (Zuzuka Poderosa), and unruly punk norteños (e.g. A Band of Bitches, Juan Cirerol)—the beauty of Latin alternative is that it will never be restricted to one beat or style.