Seven's Travels
The idea of a hip-hop act on Epitaph might have raised a few eyebrows amongst the West Coast Mohican Mafia, but Minneapolis trio Atmosphere are definitely imbued with the attitude of their spiky guitar label mates, if somewhat heavier on the funk then punk.
Phil Udell, 24 Feb 2004
The idea of a hip-hop act on Epitaph might have raised a few eyebrows amongst the West Coast Mohican Mafia, but Minneapolis trio Atmosphere are definitely imbued with the attitude of their spiky guitar label mates, if somewhat heavier on the funk then punk. Mind you, their label MD Tim Armstrong has been blurring the rap-rock boundaries with both Rancid and The Transplants for a while now.
Either way, Atmosphere have been elevated to heroic status in US independent rap circles. Main man Slug’s opinions and insights take an almost scattershot approach, from the serious to the not-so-serious (Motley Crue and Anna Nicole Smith are berated for simply being “jerk offs”). He’s a fine lyricist, mixing humour with anger and easily side stepping the usual pitfalls of the genre. ‘Reflections’ does sex without a bitch or a ho in sight, a reflection of the MC’s large female following, while ‘Always Coming Back To You’ examines the trials of street life in a fresh and startling way that is worth a hundred suburban fantasies of ghetto violence. Cohorts Ant and DJ Mr Dibbs match his every word with constant invention, throwing guest musicians and rappers into the mix. As with Buck 65’s ‘Talking Honky Blues’, Seven’s Travels offers a wealth of surprises in a world where they had all but ceased to exist.
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