Unpacked

Click here to add to Spotify playlist!The Bomb Squad are one of hip-hop’s greatest production teams, and on Public Enemy’s 1987 debut, Yo! Bum Rush the Show, they established sampling as an art form. As the record turns 30 this month, The Bomb Squad’s intricate approach to beat construction remains as relevant as ever, demonstrating how important reference and quotation were to the development of Public Enemy’s politics and to hip-hop in general.Starting out as an opening act for fellow New York hip-hop outfit Beastie Boys, the early incarnation of Public Enemy heard on Yo! Bum Rush The Show more closely resembles a party-starting posse in the mold of Run-DMC than the fight-the-power force they would become. Though the specters of white supremacy and drug culture loom large in songs like “Rightstarter (Message To A Black Man)” and “Megablast,” lyrically speaking, Chuck D was not yet so overtly topical, focusing instead on interpersonal conflict. However, the intertextuality in The Bomb Squad’s sampling style revealed a more subtle approach to expressing Public Enemy’s worldview.Rather than simply sampling a song’s hook, each track was a dense tapestry of source material, charting the group’s constellation of influences and situating hip-hop within a larger spectrum of styles, from funk to thrash metal—“Miuzi Weighs A Ton” even juxtaposes Tangerine Dream with a disco beat. This cultural melding extends to Chuck D’s rhymes, which quote everyone from Syl Johnson to Aretha Franklin to Kurtis Blow.The Bomb Squad further bolstered their productions with live instrumentation. Though Chuck D would eventually regret writing the song, “Sophisticated Bitch” features a noteworthy highlight: a guitar solo courtesy of then-unknown Vernon Reid, whose band Living Colour had yet to break out into the alt-rock world.The righteous indignation for which Public Enemy is now known may mostly be absent there, but it wasn’t far behind. The militant “Rebel Without A Pause” was released as a B-side to “You’re Gonna Get Yours” later in 1987, and it would alter the group’s course forever. But even if Yo! Bum Rush the Show reminds us that Public Enemy didn’t arrive fully formed, its 30th anniversary presents an opportunity to appreciate the group for their sonic innovations, and in this playlist you’ll hear how The Bomb Squad laid the roots of a revolution with the sounds of the past.

Ryan Adams’ latest record, Prisoner, contains a profoundly affecting and relatable story of personal overcoming that is beautifully filtered through a hard-hitting kaleidoscope of ‘70s and ‘80s sounds and techniques. Yet despite the ever-present ghosts of his influences, the album is an original, organic fulfillment of what he’s been aiming at for most of his career.The sonic ascent to Prisoner began with his 2014 self-titled album, a misty, midnight ride through his neon mind where echoing drums, glowing guitar riffs, and shadowy organs refract The Replacements and Tunnel of Love-era Springsteen. The following year’s 1989, a song-for-song cover of the Taylor Swift album, went even darker, gesturing toward The Smiths and Springsteen’s moodier moments—try to tell me Adams’ version of “Shake It Off” isn’t a luminous, slow-burn cousin to “I’m on Fire.”Prisoner completes the trajectory of these records. Many have called it a breakup album, which in many ways it is, but it’s also full of hope and power thanks to the strength it draws from Adams’ spiritual predecessors. The lightning-quick guitar outbursts of “Do You Still Love Me?” gesture back to Black Sabbath (Vol. 4 is an Adams favorite), Kiss, and AC/DC. The title track evokes the shiny jangle of Johnny Marr, while “Doomsday” imagines what would happen if The Cure had a harmonica player. “To Be Without You” harkens to the joyous, swaggering folk of The Grateful Dead, and “Outbound Train” is vintage Springsteen, complete with suspended chords and lyrics about cars, loneliness, and boredom.The album’s masterful closer resides at the top of the class of Adams’ grand finales, repeating its mantra of “we disappear” with production so crisp and transparent it sounds like Adams is actually disappearing. And yet, throughout the images of fading taillights and haunted houses, beyond The Smiths and Springsteen, Ryan Adams is doing his own thing. And he nails it.Click here to add to Spotify playlist!

Solange Knowles’ album, A Seat at the Table, is a crisply executed R&B pop album that wooed fans and debuted atop the charts. The album blends elements of pop and electronic music with various threads of soul, adding afrofuturistic flourishes as well as guest appearances from Lil’ Wayne, Kelly Rowland, and Q-Tip. And while that sounds like a hodgepodge of sounds and personnel, the album is subtle and graceful, anchored by Solange’s soft, confident voice and down-to-earth musical sensibility. “Borderline (An Ode to Self Care)” and “Don’t Touch My Hair” champion ideas of black liberation and self-empowerment, and are powerful statements from one of pop’s most socially conscious singers. On this playlist, we look at some of the inspirations for Solange’s beautiful new album, from the woozy otherworldly hip-hop of Shabazz Palaces to the astral jazz of Alice Coltrane. -- Jordannah Elizabeth

This post is part of our program, The Story of Kendrick, an in-depth, 10-part look at the life and music of Kendrick Lamar. Sound cool and want to receive the other installments in your inbox? Go here. Already signed up and enjoying it? Help us get the word out and share on Facebook, Twitter, or with this link. Your friends will thank you.For many, good kid, m.A.A.d. city was their entry point to Kendrick Lamar, and it was one of the greatest revelations in hip-hop this decade. Tracks such as “Money Trees” and “Bitch, Don’t Kill My Vibe” pare the vulnerability and earned spirituality of a trauma survivor with the heft of a master technician, while his intricate raps carry a conceptual framework that revealed the full weight of the post-millennial American collapse—the dead homies, the dead-end jobs, the deadened interpersonal relationships. Released one week before that album dropped, and in conjunction with this “making of” article published by Complex, this playlist—in Kendrick’s own words—captures “some of the records that inspire me to this day.” It’s predictably diverse. The first two tracks veer from the hardscrabble pathos of DMX’s “Slippin’” (“Im possessed by the darker side, livin the cruddy life”) to the haunting atmospheric grumbling of Portishead’s trip-hop trailblazer “Roads,” before eventually settling into the G-funk (DJ Quik’s “I Don’t Want to Party Wit U,” MC Eiht’s “Straight Up Menace”) that provided the soundtrack to Kendrick’s youth.This playlist comes with a minor caveat: As of 2017, it contains only nine tracks. Probably, at some point, it contained more tracks; and, at some point in the future, it will contain fewer. Spotify either lost rights to certain tracks on the playlist, or else the labels redelivered them in different versions. This Dowsers is a site dedicated to looking at playlists as artistic/critical artifacts, and this is both one of that medium’s charm and vulnerabilities: It’s ephemeral, susceptible to the vagrancies of anonymous digital-music content-operation teams. Like graffiti—which is itself vulnerable to time, weather and gentrification—this doesnt make it any less of an artform, but it’s important to understand.

On paper, it might not seem like Ariel Pink has achieved anything drastic or revelatory with his lo-fi take on pop music. He’s certainly not the first songwriter to record smeared demo tapes on cheap equipment, or to reinvent AM-radio sounds from the ‘70s and ‘80s for the new millennium, or to tackle sexuality and gender fluidity with a theatrical flair. But it’s the way Pink combines these impulses—infusing his melodies with a terrifying, intensely antisocial sense of longing, and imbuing his ironic sense of humor with legitimate emotional release—that makes his music so insular and universal all at once. The man also has an innate ability for crafting snappy, gratifying songs that worm their way into your head, taking a little bit from every era in musical history while remaining unequivocally on his own trip.Whether he’s updating the vulgar antics of Frank Zappa and Ween for the 21st century, reinterpreting yacht-rock staples like Hall & Oates and Michael McDonald as gothy lords of the underworld, or evoking a Rocky Horror-like delight in sexual freedom and deviance, Ariel Pink is a truly unique voice in pop music, an experimental wizard as avant-garde as he is accessible. Hit play on our mix above to hear just what makes him tick.

As the lone R&B singer on the Top Dawg Entertainment roster, SZA has been the label’s go-to source for melodic contributions since she signed on in 2013. She’s loaned hooks and guest spots to most of her labelmates’ albums, appearing on Isaiah Rashad’s The Sun’s Tirade, ScHoolboy Q’s Blank Face LP, Ab-Soul’s These Days, and Jay Rock’s 90059.This month marks the release of CTRL, SZA’s long-awaited debut studio LP. While Rashad and fellow TDE rapper Kendrick Lamar return the favor with featured verses, CTRL demonstrates that SZA is more than capable of carrying a project on her own. If there were any doubts about SZA as a solo artist, she puts them to rest in the three minutes of album opener “Supermodel.” The track features skeletal instrumentation, allowing the full range of her voice to breathe over minimalist guitar and drums.The rest of the album’s production is similarly stripped down, with sparse samples accentuating SZA’s vocal work. “Broken Clocks” features a reverb-heavy loop of Toronto artists River Tiber and Daniel Caesar’s song “West.” “Anything” contains a subtle quote of Donna Summer’s “Spring Reprise” atop stuttering electronic drums. Even subtler still, SZA slips in a quick sample of Redman’s “Let’s Get Dirty” midway through the Kendrick Lamar-assisted, definitely dirty “Doves In The Wind.”SZA has been upfront about her eclectic influences. She’s indebted to powerful vocalists like Ella Fitzgerald and Lauryn Hill, who grew up near SZA’s hometown of Maplewood, New Jersey. She’s professed love for Purity Ring, who produced “God’s Reign,” an Ab-soul song on which SZA appears. And SZA’s music exudes a calming effect akin to that of Little Dragon, blending elements of other genres to push R&B into stranger and more interesting territory. Outside of her work with TDE, SZA has collaborated with several top names in R&B: She appeared on “Consideration,” the opening track of Rihanna’s ANTI, and she helped write “Feeling Myself,” Nicki Minaj’s collaborative track with Beyoncé.It must be difficult to be a singer on a label dominated by rappers, but a few years of background work seemed only to prime SZA for a stronger solo debut. Not every song on CTRL is perfect, but each is presented in SZA’s unique voice and refined style. With CTRL, SZA cements a place for herself not just as a collaborator or supporting act, but as a standalone artist.

Released on September 24, 1996, Illadelph Halflife marked a turning point in the Roots’ career from free-spirited jazz-hop players to soothsayers of doom. Much of rap music was obsessed with the Y2K apocalypse, the New World Order, and the presumptive demise of hip-hop – see De La Soul’s pivotal single “Stakes is High” – and the Philly ensemble was no exception. More than just Black Thought and Malik B launching cipher battles on “Uni-Verse at War,” and waging jeremiads against rapper “Clones,” the album sounds cloudy and introverted. The beats seem to mostly consist of organic bass, keyboards and drums, resulting in blue beats as sparse as a Wes Montgomery jam session, and moodily ominous vibes similar to contemporaneous works like A Tribe Called Quest’s Beats, Rhymes & Life, the Pharcyde’s Labcabincalifornia, and Slum Village’s Fan-Tas-Tic. When neo-soul and jazz guests like Raphael Saadiq (on “What They Do”), D’Angelo (on “The Hypnotic”), and Cassandra Wilson (on “One Shine”) appeared, they contributed pained vocals that contributed to the overall sense of melancholy.As a clear product of 1996’s pre-millennium tensions, Illadelph Halflife may have not aged as well as the band’s next album, the more successful Things Fall Apart. Its deeply rooted entropy is more suited for late-night listening, or perhaps the kind of contemplative smoke-out sessions the Black Thought, Malik and Bahamadia rhyme about on “Push Up Ya Lighter.” However, it established a theme. Led by drummer and group mastermind Ahmir “Questlove” Thompson, the Roots have continued to assess cultural and political trends with skepticism and occasional hope ever since.

The Joshua Tree wasn’t one of those albums that quietly arrived on record store racks one dewy morning, attracting a few raves and then enjoying a gradual build before changing the world. Instead, U2’s fifth studio album elicited a reception that in contemporary terms would be described as breaking the internet ten times over.Speaking as an ‘80s kid who listened to his cassettes of War and The Unforgettable Fire obsessively and could sense that something big was on the launch pad, I can tell you that everything about the album felt massive from the get-go. Sending the mass media and the band’s fast-expanding audience into maximum overdrive when it was released in the spring of 1987, The Joshua Tree was the subject of heavy promotion and hype, such that U2’s music and image seemed everywhere at once. According to a Newsweek story published the same week the band made the cover of Time, Island spent $100,000 in 1987 dollars on store displays alone. Not even Bono’s cold-ravaged voice put a damper on the hysteria when the band opened its sold-out North American tour in Tempe, Arizona, on April 2. That show included the first live performance of “With Or Without You,” which became the band’s first American No. 1 single a few weeks later. It would help drive sales for an album that eventually shifted 25 million units worldwide.And the rest is history, which, if we know anything about history, means we shouldn’t be surprised that it’s repeating itself in the form of a summer anniversary tour this year. It too feels massive—over one million tickets were snapped up in the first 24 hours of going on sale—even if no rock act will dominate the pop-culture landscape as forcefully as U2 once did. Indeed, just about every subsequent effort to achieve the same level of impact by U2 or later contenders reeked of an unseemly hubris or—in the case of that iTunes debacle—sheer stupidity.Yet The Joshua Tree is still huge and intimate all at once, which is a testament to the production skills of Brian Eno and Daniel Lanois (whose thumbprints were far more overbearing on The Unforgettable Fire) and to the big leap in songwriting acumen by a band who had mostly got by on bravura up to that point. True, there were glimmers of what was to come on songs like “40” on War and “I Threw a Brick Through a Window” on October, which now seems like a dry run for “Bullet The Blue Sky.” But this album is where U2 indisputably became U2, achieving the greatest synthesis of their various punk and post-punk influences—especially Joy Division, Echo & the Bunnymen, and the sorely underrated The Chameleons—and the most anthemic rock of Springsteen and The Clash. Bono also talked up his blues, gospel, country, and folk inspirations at the time, but thankfully they had yet to result in the kind of stodgy Americana that clogs up Rattle and Hum. Here’s our exploration of the fertile ground around the biggest of U2’s big moments.Click here to follow this playlist on Spotify.

Alicia Keys rode into the 21st century in a motorcade of hype, fueled by comparisons to just about every golden-voiced god of the past. Since putting out her debut album at age 20, the smooth New Yorker has been pitched as the heir apparent. Calling the record Songs in A Minor reinforced her classical music tutelage, doubling down on the line that she was an artist of substance right at the start of the Pop Idol era. Do you remember how big a hit “Fallin’” was? Keys somehow managed to tread between neo soul legitimacy and commercial prosperity.Her sound was something completely different than cyborg songstress Aaliyah’s progressive digital grooves. Instead, Keys took a vintage R&B style and deftly adding modern touches, even when working with super-producers like Kanye West and Timbaland, or providing the uptown chutzpah on Jay Z’s mega smash “Empire State of Mind.” Her recently released sixth studio album HERE isn’t quite her finest work (The Diary of Alicia Keys is my favorite of the canon), but it is in the traditional Keys vein. “I feel like history on the turntables,” she declares on opener “The Beginning (Interlude).” “Old school to new school, like nothing ever been realer.”This album finds Keys embracing her appointed role as a medium of bygone eras. It’s the distillation of decades of musical history, as well as her own body of work. She quickly namedrops two key influences: Nina Simone on HERE’s intro and Sam Cooke on first song “The Gospel,” a track that sees her bring rap to the jamboree.Elsewhere, the bluesy groove of Keys’ organ on “Illusion of Bliss” is reminiscent of ‘50s R&B belter Big Maybelle’s “Candy,” as well as The Animals’ “House of The Rising Sun” and Led Zeppelin’s more muscular blues rock. One of the most prominent instruments throughout the record is the acoustic guitar, as Keys evokes the spirit of the Delta Blues, Bob Dylan (who once name dropped her in the song “Thunder on the Mountain”) and Bob Marley. The militant march of “Pawn It All” itself sounds like a redemption song, trudging forward with the relentless stomp of Son House’s “John the Revelator.”Album standout “She Don’t Really Care_1 Luv” moves to the same summertime cookout flavor that DJ Jazzy Jeff and The Fresh Prince once mined from Kool and the Gang. The sleek track sees Keys’ graceful vocal moving with the satin-smoothness of ‘90s R&B, with the whole thing ending with a homage to Nas’s “One Love.” Though the influences are wide-ranging, Keys funnels them through her own distinctive lens. A decade and a half in and she’s still a key voice in commercial soul. Don’t take what she does for granted.

Click here to subscribe to the Spotify playlist.On “Celebrate,” the second last song on Malibu, Anderson .Paak sings “time never cares if you’re there or not there.” Time’s infinite indifference to our finite human experience elicits reverence, not concern or fear, from .Paak, who reasons at the end of the verse, “lets celebrate while we still can.” From growing up in Oxnard, California, to his pursuit of love and building a meaningful career as a musician, it’s made abundantly clear throughout Malibu, that .Paak’s life experiences have informed the perspective that his brief time on earth is an opportunity that cannot go to waste. This awareness arrives as a lyrical theme, but the songs themselves move with a life and freedom that suggest he’s motivated by his biggest limitation of all, time, not burdened or rushed by it.Part of what makes the record so compelling is .Paak’s use of place in conjunction with the theme of time. Parallels can be drawn to Kendrick Lamar’s relationship to his hometown, Compton, on To Pimp A Butterfly, which Lamar uses as a kind of measure for the ways success has changed him. There’s a dissonance within Lamar between the Kendrick that grew up in his hometown seeing his city’s place within hip hop history, longing to start a career of his own, and the Kendrick that now returns as a major star. For .Paak, Malibu is an aspirational place, and having finally made it there, much of the record is about him wanting to make the best of things while he’s still can, feeling as though he’s on the cusp of greatness. This philosophy is represented in his thoughts on his career and creativity, but also finds its way onto the dancefloor and into the bedroom.For someone so bound to the idea of “living in the moment,” .Paak’s music moves effortlessly through time via style, channeling vintage soul, funk, disco and boom-bap as needed, uniting these sounds with his mix of sung and rapped vocals. Also helping to make Malibu’s omnivorousness sound seamless is a sizeable cast of contributors, from his tried and true backing band, The Free Nationals, to more seasoned players like jazz pianist Robert Glasper and bassist Pino Palladino. Beats provided by luminaries like 9th Wonder, fellow Oxnardian Madlib, and DJ Khalil fluidly intertwine with more modern productions courtesy of Montreal-based DJs Pomo and Kaytranada. Paak trades verses with contemporaries like Rapsody, BJ The Chicago Kid and Schoolboy Q, while also getting nods from The Game and Talib Kweli. Though such an impressive lineup could overwhelm the record, each guest contribution has been deployed thoughtfully, playing to their strengths as well as .Paak’s.This playlist takes a close look at the supporting cast of musicians, producers and samples on Malibu, finding a throughline between their work and .Paak’s own in both sound and theme.