We’re not going into the science too much this time; that’s all covered in the original Sleeper Agents. However, we are aiming for that glorious reminiscence bump again, but only for those over a certain age.

The era we are shooting for this time has something else on top of it. The 90s and 00s were a wild time musically. A lot changed. But you know what it could never be? The 70s and 80s. Although we did have some 80s sprinkled in the playlist, we weren’t dedicated.

So, we present to you a new playlist, and hopefully a couple of deep cuts you forgot you adored, heard once in passing, or if you’re in the younger age bracket - some new stuff. There is no ABBA.

What makes this era so incredible musically is all of the hardware. Across the 70s and 80s, hardware was invented or reinvented, bringing new sounds to our ears. We have a lot to be thankful for, especially if you’re a synth lover.

The Minimoog arrived in 1970. Before it, synthesizers were room-sized, yes, full rooms. Robert Moog built something you could put on a stage. Stevie Wonder bought one almost immediately. The warm analog bass underneath every great soul and funk record from the 70s is largely this one instrument.

The Fender Rhodes peaked here. The electric piano with the slight tremolo, the way notes bloom and slowly give up - it is an incredible sound once you tune into it. Every soul record you love from this decade has one somewhere in it. Once you know the sound, you cannot stop hearing it.

The Roland TR-808 was considered a commercial failure in 1980 because it did not sound like real drums. The problem is that it was kinda the point. Marvin Gaye used it on Sexual Healing two years later. It cost $1,195 new. And now? A hard-to-beat-everywhere sound.

The Yamaha DX7 in 1983 spun the industry once more. Digital synthesis at a price people could actually afford. The electric piano on every 80s ballad is a DX7. The marimba. The bass. All of it. 200,000 units sold. It is on more records than any other single instrument in history (probably).

The Sony Walkman did not change the sound the way other hardware did. It changed the relationship we had with music. Music became personal and portable for the first time. Private listening was invented here.

And the desks… oh, the desks. The Neve 8078 defined the warm analog sound of 70s recording. The SSL 4000 took over in the 80s with a built-in compressor on every channel. The punchy, slightly aggressive sound of 80s pop is partly a desk doing its thing on everything simultaneously.

All of this matters because when a deep cut from this era finds you now, you are not just hearing the song. You are hearing hardware that no longer exists in the same form, in rooms that no longer sound the same way. Musical decisions then had far fewer software and hardware options to make them happen; it was tougher to get the sound you wanted.

Everything is available now. One search and it is there. Back then, you had to earn it. You had to be an owner or a borrower. You had to sit through the silence on side two, waiting to see what came next. Was there a hidden track? What if you play it backward?

Most of the time, it never got a radio slot. Never got mentioned. It just lived on physical media waiting for ears.

That is the deep cut. A song that existed only for the people who went all the way in. Now? They tend to show up as tracks with thousands or lower millions of streams.

Some of what is on this playlist fits that exactly. And some of it is something slightly different. The original behind the sample, the record that got borrowed and never credited, the song that became famous in someone else's hands.

Both are worth your time.

Terry Callier — Dancing Girl

Nine minutes. Terry Callier was a Chicago poet who made records that the industry consistently ignored. Dancing Girl is the opener, a track worth a listen with your good headphones.

Gene Clark — Lady of the North

The closing track on No Other, the album that nearly bankrupted Asylum Records in 1974 and was completely ignored when it came out. Gene Clark was a Byrd who kept making records that the industry had no idea what to do with.

Young Marble Giants — Final Day

Three people from Cardiff. 1980. Almost no instruments. Alison Statton's voice is over the quietest arrangement you will ever hear on a post-punk record. Kurt Cobain had them in his top ten favorite bands. They have 44,000 monthly listeners on Spotify right now. You might like ‘em.

Comus — Diana

Pagan psychedelic folk from 1971 and the most unsettling thing on this playlist by some distance (but not our weirdest playlist). Roger Wootten's voice does things that will either send you somewhere mentally or make you want to leave the room immediately. Possibly both. We are not going to oversell it… It is what it is.

Take a listen by clicking the image below, and if you have suggestions for future playlists, songs to add, or artist recommendations, feel free to email us.