Rock + Alternative

Click here to add to Spotify playlist!We’re eight movies into our age’s preeminent action movie franchise and Vin Diesel has yet to use more than one facial expression. To be fair, it can’t be easy to maintain such a high standard of manly, steely intensity while glowering over your hand as it grips the top of a steering wheel and you put the pedal to the metal. Indeed, moviegoers would likely start throwing chairs if they didn’t see Diesel’s hard-driving hero Dom Toretto assume his signature stare in the next installment of the increasingly bombastic, ridiculous, and thrilling series of high-octane blockbusters spawned by the original The Fast and the Furious back in 2001.Actually, it can feel pretty good to assume the pose yourself. For one thing, it helps foster the adolescent fantasy that you’re burning up the highway in a souped-up Dodge Charger or a tricked-out Koenigsegg CCX-SR—while The Rock hangs out the passenger side window and fires a bazooka at the bad guys, of course—rather than barely hitting the speed limit in a shitbox Corolla or CR-V with two booster seats in back.So with The Fate of the Furious blazing into theaters soon, it’s high time for a soundtrack that’ll further stoke those foolhardy dreams of speed and supremacy. Featuring songs from the hip-hop heavy F&F soundtracks and other tunes built for the road, this playlist is for all the wannabe speed demons who’d be just like Dom if that kind of driving didn’t get people killed in real life. Sorry to be a bummer, but face it: You’re no stunt driver.

The passing of Chuck Berry on March 18, 2017 at the age of 90 put the final punctuation mark at the end of this musical pioneers story. But the legacy left behind by the man who made rock n roll what it is today largely rests on a relatively small group of milestone singles—about a dozen or so, mostly released between the mid 50s and mid 60s. And, when youre talking about an artist like Berry, that leaves a lot of things out. Though Berry mostly stopped having hits by 1964, he kept on recording at a fairly steady clip through the late 70s. And even though most of his later records flew below the radar, they were full of worthwhile tunes. The deeper you dig into Berrys catalog, the clearer it becomes that he had plenty of tricks up his sleeve. Of course, the rock n roll godhead will be forever associated with the style he introduced on titanic tracks like "Roll Over Beethoven," "Maybellene," "Johnny B. Goode," et al, and rightly so—they were the road map for generation after generation of rockers. But Berrys endlessly surprising (and rewarding) eclecticism is revealed by even a casual spelunk into his archives.Traipsing through this collection of Chuck Berry esoterica, youll find just about everything you can think of and then some: the spooky, minor-key "Down Bound Train," the calypso-flavored "Run Joe," the jazzy swinger "Bring Another Drink," the Latin-tinged instrumental "Berry Pickin," the dreamy Charles Brown cover "Driftin Blues," the startling psychedelic experimentation of "Oh Captain," the 18-minute wah-wah-flecked jam "Concerto in B Goode"—you name it.And alongside all these surprising stylistic detours are tunes in the signature Berry style like "Tulane," "Jo Jo Gunne," and "Oh What a Thrill" that stand up right alongside their more famous cousins. It makes for a great way to remember rocks godfather, who, for all his renown, was an even mightier musical figure than many people realize.

Todays tykes have no idea how easy theyve got it. If modern-day pop charts were filled with the kind of creepy, trauma-inducing fare that was commonplace when I was a child in the 70s, the FCC would be awash in lawsuits initiated by horrified parents.Though the 70s are commonly typecast as the decade when mellowness reigned supreme, radios gatekeepers thought nothing of filling the airwaves with songs of rape, murder, pedophilia, hate crimes, and other family-friendly activities. The eras artists in turn took the opportunity to let it all hang out.As a kid with a passion for pop, I would invariably have my bedside radio tuned to the local Top 40 station to help lull me into slumber. But some of the songs that slipped into my subconscious mind probably twisted my impressionable psyche for life.Clarence Carters R&B hit "Patches" concludes its wrong-side-of-the-tracks love story with—spoiler alert—a murder and consequent suicide. Rod Stewarts "The Killing of Georgie," true to its title, chronicles the murder of the homosexual title character by a bunch of gay-bashers. In Helen Reddys "Angie Baby," a young man tries to rape a mentally disturbed girl and is somehow eliminated by her supernatural abilities. Terry Jacks "Seasons in the Sun" adapts Jacques Brels "Le Moribond," in which a dying man tearfully bids farewell to each of his loved ones. And then there’s Ringo Starrs cover of "Youre Sixteen You’re Beautiful (And You’re Mine)," which ought to have been subtitled “(And Im 33).”At least Warren Zevons "Werewolves of London," with its account of little old ladies getting mutilated, was clearly played for laughs, but the bulk of these songs were unflinchingly earnest, and their 70s soft-pop trappings only made them all the more unsettling to a young mind. But go try and get a dour six-and-a-half minute song about a shipwreck where nobody survives into the Top 10 today—as Gordon Lightfoot did back in ’76—and see how far you get.

Josh Homme may very well be one of the last true rock stars to break through to the mainstream without ever really selling out. From his early, sun-baked days as a member of sludge-metal outfit Kyuss to his current status as a Billboard 200 shredder who gets called on to write licks for Lady Gaga, Homme has truly carved out his own special niche in the music world. And make no mistake; he is the god of that niche.It’s easy to understand why Homme has been able to climb such heights with his filthy-yet-welcoming approach to rock. Homme is like a fine-tuning pop songsmith who just happens to be that leering guy at the corner of the bar who wouldn’t think twice about decking you right in front of everybody. His riffs may be gnarly, but they’re wound tight as a spring, and as tough as he might sound in his music, he never crosses over into the kind of aggro-metal territory that usually scares outsiders away. Homme sits at a unique intersection in music: He’s a genuine guitar hero who doesn’t need to tread along the outer extremes of heaviness in order to get a festival crowd banging their heads in excitement, but he’s never had to dumb his music down, either.Between Queens of the Stone Age and his various other musical projects, Homme has made an undeniable mark on modern music as one of the few rockers still finding success doing it completely his own way. Though he may have cleaned his sound up since his formative time in Kyuss, it’s only been in service of making it thrash even harder, and opening up the beauty of brutality to listeners who might not normally dip into such heavy waters. As a toast to Homme’s surprising, rewarding career in rock, we’ve put together a collection that embodies his unique, enduring ethos.

Let’s be blunt: Southern California is the perfect place to get high. The skies are sunny year-round and the beaches are beautiful and plenty. There’s the bountiful surf of Malibu, the craggy rocks and gnarled trees of Joshua Tree, and the sweeping canyons and mellow vibes of San Diego; the landscape is the stuff of myth. Inspiration can be found all around, so perhaps it’s no surprise that so many great artists, all from the region but from different genres, sing marijuana’s praises.The list of artists is seemingly endless: In Los Angeles alone there’s The Mamas & The Papas, who were definitely thinking about lighting up when they sang “Safe In My Garden”; there’s Sublime, who made their interests obvious enough when they covered The Toyes’ reggae classic “Smoke Two Joints”; and of course there’s Cypress Hill and Snoop Dogg, the latter who has built a whole brand as the champion of weed smokers. These are just some of the obvious picks, of course, but put your finger practically anywhere on the SoCal map and you’ll find tendrils of smoke and pleasant sounds rising up, from Kyuss out in Palm Desert to Wavves’ Nathan Williams, who got his start recording tunes like “Weed Demon” at his parent’s house in San Diego.In honor of the release of Wavves’ latest album, You’re Welcome, out May 19 via Ghost Ramp, we’ve put together a playlist of SoCal stoner classics. Taking this in is sure to lighten any social engagement involving a bubbler, spliff, or vape pen, but it also offers a little slice of SoCal history and legacy through the bloodshot eyes of some of its greatest talents.Click here to follow this playlist on Spotify.

In the many memorials and remembrances published after Gregg Allman’s death on May 27, 2017, the Allman Brothers Band and Hour Glass vocalist has been hailed as one of the great white blues and soul singers. It’s worthy praise for a mighty stylist, though it also has to be noted that Allman was just one of a slew of white Southern singers who, in the ’60s and early ’70s, reshaped the contours of American roots music by blending African-American soul, blues, and gospel with elements of country, pop, and, in select instances, the anti-establishment fervor and experimental flavors coursing through the hippies’ rebellious rock jams.Some of these musicians are well known. Dr. John, of course, is an American icon synonymous with New Orleans R&B, and Joe South achieved pop stardom at the turn of the ’70s thanks to a string of hits, including “Games People Play,” a socially conscious anthem laced with electric sitar and delivered with a preacher’s passion. Others, meanwhile, have never moved beyond cult status. Swamp rock pioneer Tony Joe White remains under the radar despite having his songs covered by Brook Benton, Johnny Cash, and Elvis Presley (whose comeback era, 1968 through 1973, makes him a key figure in this milieu). Even more obscure is the late Eddie Hinton. A songwriter and guitarist who contributed to many of the seminal soul albums recorded at Muscle Shoals, he also was a fabulous vocalist in his own right. Indeed, music critic Peter Guralnick describes the gravelly voiced howler as the ”last of the great white soul singers" in the indispensable book Sweet Soul Music: Rhythm and Blues and the Southern Dream of Freedom.With all due respect to Van Morrison, Joe Cocker, and the seriously bad-ass Daryl Hall, nobody can touch these Southerners in terms of blue-eyed soulfulness. Of course, soulfulness is a tricky notion, as it veers into the immeasurably shadowy world of metaphysics. Thus, it helps to ground it in some geography and culture. After all, these singers—who so thoroughly soaked up the sublime cadences, emotiveness, and phrasing of their African-American heroes—were raised in a region of the United States where black music, art, and religion permeate—despite rampant racism and oppression—white culture to a degree that’s unique unto itself. (This is part of what Drive-By Trucker Patterson Hood has called the “duality of the Southern thing.”) This influence isn’t the result of merely buying records, attending concerts, or, in Jerry Lee Lewis’ case, growing up near a juke joint. It’s archaic, and it’s soaked into the very bedrock of the Southern collective subconscious.To see a mind-blowing microcosm of this point, check out the opening sequence of the 1983 documentary Chase the Devil: Religious Music of the Appalachians: Rev. Bobby Akers, based in Virginia, leads his all-white Pentecostal congregation in a style of revival—Holy Ghost–raising piano boogie, ecstatic singing, dancing in the aisles, speaking in tongues, hands raised to God, and what seem like trance states—that can be traced back to the African-American church and to the religious rites and rituals slaves brought over from West Africa. These very same roots are embedded in the jams comprising this playlist. They creep their way into both Gary Stewart’s honky-tonk bummer “Single Again” and Bobby Charles’ muddy “Save Me Jesus.” And they most certainly creep their way into The Allman Brothers Band’s “Dreams,” a sublime slice of Southern cosmic gospel music, if there ever was one.

Click here to add to Spotify playlist!Kristen Stewart owes a king-sized thank you to Olivier Assayas for aiding her startling transformation from Twilight moper to one of our age’s most reliably edgy and surprising screen actors. The French director first guided Stewart to greatness in his 2014 drama Clouds of Sils Maria and does it again in Personal Shopper, an eminently weird and stylish thriller that hit U.S. theaters on March 10, 2017. The high-profile collaboration has brought wide attention to the former film critic-turned-auteur who’s been a hero to cinephiles since establishing his voice in the 1990s with a string of extraordinary features.Assayas’ impeccable musical taste and ability to match sound and vision have been apparent ever since he combined the image of leading lady Maggie Cheung clad in black leather with the dissonant snarl of Sonic Youth’s “Tunic (Song For Karen)” in his 1996 breakout Irma Vep. He later collaborated with the band on the score for 2002’s Demonlover and featured Kim Gordon and Thurston Moore in his 2006 music doc Noise. Gordon also has a bit part opposite Asia Argento in his 2007 thriller Boarding Gate.Indeed, like Eurocinema peers Claire Denis (who’s enjoyed a long and fruitful alliance with Tindersticks) and Leos Carax (whose roster of musical collaborators ranges from Scott Walker to Kylie), Assayas has an approach to scores and soundtracks that’s far more adventurous and sophisticated than the predictable hit parades in most Hollywood fare and the played-out, random mixtape-sensibility of Quentin Tarantino, Wes Anderson, and their legions of wannabes.This survey of music from such Assayas essentials as Clean, a drama featuring an exhilarating performance by a then-breaking Metric, and Carlos, a mini-series about Carlos the Jackal scored by Wire—originally with songs by the Feelies until they objected to being used alongside images of terrorism—includes songs that he used for highly dramatic and memorable purposes.

Now approaching their 50th (!) year as a band, Sparks (a.k.a. Ron and Russell Mael) have been at the forefront of many crucial developments in pop music—glam rock, electronic disco, New Wave, neoclassical baroque n roll—and have put their own singular, absurdist stamp on them all. As their fabulous recent release, Hippopotamus, proves, Sparks’ flair for extravagant art-pop and whip-smart lyricism remains undiminished. And as their contribution to The Dowsers attests, nobody puts together a playlist quite like the Brothers Mael. Here are their liner notes:“Hasai Ojisan,” Shokichi Kina: The most infectious song of all time, from Okinawa, and a huge hit in Japan in the ‘70s“Maria Bartiromo,” Joey Ramone: The late great vocalist for the sublime Ramones solo ode to the TV financial babe.“London by Night,” The Singers Unlimited: Exquisite a cappella work that far outshines even The Beach Boys“Agharta Prelude (Part I),” Miles Davis: Daring to break from his modal work with two amazing quintets in order to explore new musical territory and risk alienating his followers and critics, Miles Davis is always an inspiration.“HeadBangeeeeerrrrr!!!!!,” BABYMETAL: Great fusion of heavy metal and cute Japanese girl pop. One of the best live acts in the world.“I Love to Rhyme,” George and Ira Gershwin: A hymn to the art of, well, rhyming. George Gershwin was one of the greatest composers of the 20th century, both in popular song and in "serious" music.“Du hast,” Rammstein: As heavy as heavy gets.“Twisted,” Lambert, Hendricks, and Ross: A lovely ode to insanity.“Past, Present & Future”: The Shangri-Las: Hyper-emotional, classically tinged pop song by bouffanted beauties masterminded by Shadow Morton.“Symphony No. 8 in C Minor, Op. 65: III,” Dmitri Shostakovich: Rocks like a motherfucker!“911 Is a Joke,” Public Enemy: Dense and tense music from the magnificent duo. Great in concert.“Baltimore Oriole,” Bob Dorough: Idiosyncratic and thus cool vocals by a jazz great.“All Dressed Up for School,” The Beach Boys: Great pre-genius work by Brian Wilson and more interesting to us than the entire Pet Sounds and Smile albums combined.

If this list proves anything, its that "alternative rock" has always been a nebulous concept—especially by 1996, when grunge was already long deemed dead. Then again, many of the tracks here remain some of the weirdest slices of rock to ever see regular airplay (Butthole Surfers! The Presidents of the United States of America!). But its still a little silly to hear Jewels half-yodeling coffee-shop acoustic pop sit alongside Porno for Pyros crunchy, psychedelic riffs, or 311s reggae-infused rap next to Sleater-Kinneys snotty feminist punk and Underworlds euphoric, bubbling trance. But thats exactly how alternative rock radio operated at the time—all of these sounds actually made sense together, because all of them have that Gen X angst baked right on in em. (I dare you to find one track that doesnt have at least a little cynicism or sarcasm raging through it.). Even the "Weird Al" polka parody that kicks this list off takes from some of the decades darkest alternative hits (and, seriously, whats more depressing than a polka?).

When it comes to classic rockers who are revered by punks, alt-rockers, and indie brats, Bruce Springsteen may not possess the lofty stature of Neil Young, but the guy’s also no slouch. His influence tears across the first decade and a half of the 21st century like a ’69 Chevy with a 396. Adam Granduciel’s The War on Drugs--whose 2017 release, A Deeper Understanding, frequently nicks the gauzy, hushed heartache and mechanistic throb of Tunnel of Love—is just the latest in a long line of current artists who worship the Jersey legend. In addition to The Hold Steady’s Craig Finn (who has penned more than a few American anthems soaked in the Boss’ doomed romanticism and epic piano runs), The Killers dropped an entire album, 2006’s Sam’s Town, documenting the Vegas act’s collision of post-punk propulsion with gruff protestations and engine-roaring dynamics strung out on Born to Run. And, of course, the Arcade Fire (who actually pal around with their hero) slipped a whole mess of Springsteenisms—including the “Dancing in the Dark”-style pulse powering “Keep the Car Running”—into their 2007 blockbuster Neon Bible.Rewind to the pre-2000s (back when alterna-types generally were gloomier and harbored far deeper suspicions of mainstream rockers), and Springsteen’s influence admittedly was less pervasive. Not only that, those artists who were inspired by him rarely wore it on their sleeves like their post-Y2K counterparts. Where a tune like The War on Drugs’ “Up All Night” actually sounds like the Boss, The Replacements’ heartland ballad “Here Comes a Regular” evokes more of a spiritual connection in its evocation of small-town drinking buddies and dive bar fatalism. Paul Westerberg’s protagonist, broken yet restless, sounds as if he walked right out of the grooves of The River.Yet an even more interesting example is U2 and The Joshua Tree: There’s virtually nothing on the album that sounds overtly like Springsteen (though “In God’s Country” definitely reads like one of his song titles), yet the case can be made that the band’s fusion of anthemic rock, arena-sized yearning, and self-consciously grandiose lyrics drenched in American imagery could have only arrived in a post-Born in the U.S.A. pop market. (It should be noted Springsteen delivered U2’s Rock Hall induction speech in 2005.)The Clash also channel the Boss without nicking anything in particular from his music. This is especially true of London Calling, a record oozing the same sweaty belief in rock ’n’ roll redemption that Springsteen pumped out all throughout the ’70s. Of course, punks weren’t supposed to dig classic rockers, but the late Joe Strummer was having none of that. “His music is great on a dark and rainy morning in England,” he wrote to rock documentary filmmaker Mark Hagen in 1997. “Just when you need some spirit and some proof that the big wide world exists, the D.J. puts on ‘Racing in the Streets’ and life seems worth living again—life seems to be in cinemascope again.” All hail the Boss!