Back in the ’90s, being a Canadian independent record label effectively made you a lemonade stand compared to your established U.S. and UK compatriots. But in Constellation Records, the Canadian underground not only had an internationally renowned imprint to call its own, it also had a steady moral compass. Upon its creation 20 years ago, at a time when alternative rock had become a corporate commodity, Constellation reasserted the DIY ethics and community-oriented ethos of old-school imprints like Dischord and Touch & Go, and successfully carried them into the post-internet age. Unlike many indie labels of its stature, Constellation has never partnered up with a major label, nor have they ever had an artist leave them for one. Their history is refreshingly bereft of legal disputes with former signees over royalties. Their roster was uniquely Montreal in its composition and spirit, with artists hailing from the city’s Anglo, Francophone, and immigrant communities alike, and making the kind of adventurous music befitting of a city that (at the time, at least) boasted cheap rent and no lack of abandoned industrial spaces in which to make noise.

They brought the world Godspeed You Black Emperor!, whose guiding principles—saying no to photos, interviews, lead singers, and singles, and yes to ominous 20-minute instrumental orchestral-noise suites contextualized by group-written manifestos—ran completely contrary to conventional buzz-building strategies. And, ever since, the label has had an allergic reaction to chasing trends. While everyone was trying to sign the next Strokes in the early 2000s, Constellation gave us avant-garde klezmer. While many indie labels were scooping up any banjo-plucking beardo to ride the post-Mumford gold rush, Constellation was turning Colin Stetson into the indie world’s preeminent free-jazz superstar, or shining a light on the experimental Middle East–inspired electronica of Jerusalem in My Heart.

Constellation had the benefit of emerging in a late-’90s, when the internet was starting to make it easier for unsung Canadian artists and labels to spread the word abroad. At the same time, the online age has eaten away not just at record sales, but the very values—from immersive, undistracted listening experiences to handsome, handcrafted album packaging—that Constellation hold dear. Thanks in large part to Godspeed’s strident politics, the Constellation universe has often been likened to an anarchist collective, when really, its response to the miserable state of our world has been to build better communities through ethically minded small businesses. The label is but one part of a Montreal nexus that includes restaurants, music venues, and recording studios operated by affiliated artists.

That Constellation has remained true to its ideals without compromise for two decades is an achievement well worth celebrating, even if the label itself isn’t busting out the cake and party hats. With Godspeed’s first record turning 20 this summer and a new record from the band on the way later this month, we salute these 10 crucial Constellation releases from the past 20 years—by a selection of artists that sound absolutely nothing alike, yet all feel like members of the same family.

Godspeed You Black Emperor! – F# A# ∞ (1997)

It’s hard to articulate today just how alien this record felt back in 1997. Even at a time when Tortoise was normalizing the concept of extended, abstract post-rock movements and Mogwai was mastering the art of crushing crescendos, the debut album from Godspeed You Black Emperor! still sounded like nothing of its era, or of its planet for that matter. The packaging for F# A# ∞’s original vinyl issue—the mournful black-and-white photo pasted to the paper sleeve, the cryptic blueprint-like liner notes and crushed coin contained in a sealed dossier—only seemed to amplify the enigmatic eeriness and disorienting dread emanating from the album’s string-swept mélange of industrialized drones, field recordings, and desolate twang. Though they would go on to make even more grandiose and visceral music, this is the Rosetta Stone upon which Godspeed’s orchestral rock empire was built.

Do Make Say Think – goodbye enemy airship the landlord is dead (2000)

This Toronto post-rock ensemble tend to get overshadowed by Godspeed, even though they’ve been on Constellation for nearly as long and have released more records. They’re also often seen as one of many satellites in the Broken Social Scene galaxy, given that the two bands share custody of bassist Charles Spearin and (occasionally) guitarist Ohad Benchetrit. But on their 2000 sophomore effort, the band established their own signature sound, outgrowing their stoner-baiting space-rock roots and forging a jazz/psych/dub fusion that could be as emotionally overwhelming as it was rhythmically intricate. The closing 12-minute quasi-title-track “Goodbye Enemy Airship” remains their most staggering achievement—a mounting, percussive surge that, following a momentary ambient pause, is unleashed in a rolling tidal wave of tears.

Thee Silver Mt. Zion Memorial Orchestra – Horses in the Sky (2005)

It was easy to think of the early Constellation roster as a game of One Degree of Godspeed, with its members’ myriad side projects exploring the abstract aftershocks of their main band’s seismic sound. Among these was Efrim Menuck’s evolving Silver Mt. Zion project, which debuted in 1999 with a (mostly instrumental) collection of stirring, piano-and-violin symphonettes that honored Menuck’s recently deceased dog. But by 2005’s Horses in the Sky, SMZ had developed a musical identity dramatically distinct from the then-dormant Godspeed, with Menuck’s fragile but fierce voice serving as the unsettled center in a stormy mix of klezmer, prog, gospel, noise, and Bowie-esque glam-folk that would only turn more volatile on subsequent releases.

Carla Bozulich – Evangelista (2006)

When Constellation opted to sign its first American artist, it was eye-opening for a number of reasons. Around the same time the label started, Carla Bozulich was a world away, both physically and musically—the L.A.-based singer’s charismatic roots-rock band, the Geraldine Fibbers, had signed to Virgin Records and joined the ranks of the many alterna-nation hopefuls jockeying for a position on Lollapalooza’s second stage. And even after her band broke up, Bozulich’s first couple of solo efforts saw her playing the role of cowboy-hatted raconteur. But her Constellation debut, Evangelista, was a jaw-dropping revelation—a dark, dissonant, avant-goth epic that was closer in spirit to Diamanda Galás than Johnny Cash. Its arrival heralded not only a fascinating new phase for Bozulich (who would adopt the album title for her band), but for Constellation itself: Where the label once focused primarily on emerging Canadian artists, it now provided refuge for veteran eccentrics who got spit out by the major-label system, and who had earned the freedom to fly their freak flag higher than ever before.

Feu Thérèse – Ça Va Cogner (2007)

The Constellation logo functions as a seal of quality; given the label’s track record, it also implies that you’re in for a heavy, intense listen. However, this offshoot of early label mainstays Le Fly Pan Am (themselves a spin-off of Godspeed) were the rare act on the roster to revel in irreverence. On their splendorous second (and ultimately final) release, they split the difference between blindingly bright Kraftwerkian synths, suggestive Gainsbourgian repartee, and Eurotrashy new wave. And on the album’s awesome title track, they even throw in a children’s choir.

Vic Chesnutt – At the Cut (2009)

After parlaying the endorsements of Michael Stipe, Madonna, and various alterna-celebs into a brief major-label stint in the mid-’90s, Athens, Ga. troubadour Vic Chesnutt found a more welcoming home on Constellation in the late 2000s. And in doing so, he enlisted members of Godspeed and Thee Silver Mt. Zion, along with Fugazi’s Guy Picciotto, to give his Southern-gothic storytelling the dark-cloud backdrop they demanded. But what promised to be an intriguing new chapter in Chesnutt’s long and storied career sadly proved to be its final one. Shortly after the release of At the Cut, his second Constellation effort, Chesnutt took his own life; in his final interview, the paraplegic musician made no secret of the fact that his mounting medical bills and lack of health insurance had effectively put him in a life-or-death—or, more precisely, a pay-or-die—situation. The circumstance makes the album’s penultimate paean, “It Is What It Is,” almost unbearable in its prescience—and sense of resignation. As the song’s gentle gospel-folk sway gives way to a surge of screeching strings, Chesnutt declares, “I don’t need stone altars/To help me hedge my bet/Against the looming blackness/It is what it is.”

Sandro Perri – Impossible Spaces (2011)

Since the early 2000s, Toronto maverick has been both the most active and ephemeral presence on the Constellation roster. His aesthetic is as mercurial as his many aliases, taking the form of nautical techno (as Polmo Polpo), West African grooves (with duo Glissandro 70), and mellow, pedal-steeled pop (under his own name). But on his 2011 masterwork, Impossible Spaces, his parallel modes of sonic experimentalist and traditional singer-songwriter converged to wondrous effect. (His adventures continue with his latest project, Off World, whose second album will be released by Constellation this fall.)

Colin Stetson – New History Warfare Vol. 2: Judges (2011)

Before this release, we had heard Colin Stetson, the Michigan-bred, Montreal-based brass man, before—supporting indie-pop luminaries like Arcade Fire, Bon Iver, and Feist—but never like this. Armed with nothing more than a bass saxophone the size of a tank, and two cheeks bigger than hot air balloons, Stetson creates musical movements every bit as dramatic, hypnotic, confrontational, and astonishing as Constellation’s most celebrated post-rock ensembles.

Ought – More Than Any Other Day (2014)

Amid a discography rife with anti-pop experimentation and avant-classical overtures, Ought is something of a novelty for Constellation Records: a straight-up four-piece indie-rock band. But as a group of non-Canadian McGill University enrollees reportedly spurred into action by the 2012 student protests in Quebec (field recordings of which appeared on Godspeed’s comeback album, Allelujah! Don't Bend! Ascend!), Ought’s penchant for pointed social commentary aligns nicely with Constellation’s core values. On songs like their debut album’s semi-title track, “Today More Than Any Other Day,” singer/guitarist Tim Darcy gives an explicitly agitated voice to the modern-day malaise (“we’re sinking deeper!”) that the likes of Godspeed have always addressed in more impressionistic terms.

Joni Void – Selfless (2017)

The first proper album from this France-born, Montreal-based artist is the sound of post-rock in the age of austerity, rising rents, and social media–induced isolation—a product of one SoundCloud junkie’s savvy editing and tape-loop tweaking as opposed to an eight-piece orchestral collective. But from the grainy recording quality to the ominous found-sound ambience to the audible machine manipulations that betray the project’s DIY methods, Selfless is quintessentially Constellation.