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Music

Atmosphere's Slug Is Still, Always, Finding a Balance

Riding around the festival grounds at Soundset, the Rhymesayers founder discusses fan expectations and reveals there's a new Atmosphere album on the way.

Slug and Prof backstage / Photos by the author

Sean “Slug” Daley might be the king of Minnesota hip-hop, but right now, his throne is a golf cart. It’s Sunday, May 29, and the 43-year-old rapper is driving around the sunny Minnesota State Fairgrounds, home of the ninth annual Soundset Festival. There are breakdancers hitting flares, skateboarders jumping off ramps, graffiti writers bombing walls with portraits of rap artists, and cats showing off their freshly painted lowriders. Beach balls and rap hands fill the air as fans cheer artists ranging from MGK to Common to Anderson .Paak to Post Malone. And Slug, whose own group Atmosphere will be headlining later, is busy shuttling people around the venue, acting as an artist liaison and making sure things go smoothly, as he’s done ever since the festival began.

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In that time, Soundset’s grown from a warehouse party into one of the nation’s biggest rap festivals. This year, Atmosphere’s fellow headliners are The Roots, A$AP Rocky, and Future, a lineup that gives every type of rap fan something to celebrate. Slug’s proud of bringing these pieces of hip-hop’s puzzle together. “We can’t continue to draw lines between all these artists,” he tells me. “It’s never helped anything to do that. It stifles creativity.”

Slug knows a lot about creativity. A little over 20 years ago, Rhymesayers launched as a way for him and his friends to make music. Since then, through hard work, savvy business dealings, ingenuity, and a ton of touring, the crew became the face of indie hip-hop at a time when corporate label machinery ruled the genre. And through it all, Slug led the way with thought-provoking rhymes that have inspired everyone from Macklemore to Logic and beyond. Today, the Twin Cities MC continues to help run the record label, to help curate and organize the festival, and to rap with the same depth that made him an icon for the region in the first place, that makes fans tattoo his lyrics on their bodies.

All of this keeps him busy, of course, which is why on Sunday, Slug couldn’t really catch many of the artists he helped book. “Some year, we’ll do Soundset and I won’t even have to play it,” he says. “And then, that’ll be the day I go kick it and do shrooms or something stupid. I’m just joking. I would never advocate doing something stupid. But shrooms maybe.”

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Just before 5 PM, Slug parks his golf cart near the stage. He’s about to rock his hometown crowd with Atmosphere’s other half, the cool, calm, and soulful producer Ant. Pacing backstage, he half-jokingly observes these pre-show moments are “the worst,” but he pushes through, sharing some laughs with labelmate Prof before putting on his game face and coming out with the energy and conviction that makes die-hards hang on his every word.

One of the songs fans sing along to is the Prof-assisted “Windows,” the newest of seven cuts that Atmosphere has dropped since September. These are songs the duo crafted while making the follow-up to 2014’s Southsiders but realized wouldn’t fit on the new album. Putting the full project together has been a process Slug likens to movie making, involving meticulous sequencing.

“We’re stuck on the idea of albums still,” he tells me later over the phone. “That’s a crazy thing to think about. Nowadays, you don’t really gotta put together albums like that because most people don’t even fucking listen to music like that. But because I’m old and I think in terms of albums, I’m probably gonna be designing albums for the rest of my career.”

The latest LP they’ve designed is one they haven’t really talked about until now. “We turned in the album,” he says. “Right now, it’s just a matter of getting all the parts together for the label to put it out. Shit. I don’t know if I’m supposed to say that publicly, but too late, huh? The songs are done, but there’s a lot of shit that needs to get ironed out before we put it out.”

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Slug says to expect the album to still carry the qualities that have made him and Ant a creative force for so long. “Much like me,” he explains, “[Ant’s] music is still reflecting his personality 100 percent.” Yet Slug also plans on staying true to himself without cowering to expectations. In the past, he’s been labeled a super-earnest MC who never does anything without a purpose. He’s earned that title through vulnerable, evocative cuts like the break-up anthem “Fuck You Lucy,” the ode to his late father “Yesterday,” and “The Last to Say,” which analyzes domestic violence.

He’s also masterfully penned cryptic songs like “The Woman with the Tattooed Hands” or “The Abusing of the Rib,” which fans debate and attempt to decipher all the time. Listeners start to create their own theories about symbols and hidden messages, which Slug calls “Easter eggs,” often creating meanings he might not have initially intended. It’s become part of his trademark. And even if this title as a poetic, thoughtful MC is one he’s earned, it comes with constraints.

“That kind of is a gift and a curse in some ways,” he says. “When people hear me say some shit, they take it very serious. They think you’re saying something that’s incredibly meaningful… and it puts you in a box. No matter what, nobody likes to be put in a box. That’s a great box to be in and if I’m gonna be put in a box, trust, this is a good box, but even still, that being something that governs you as you’re creating can sometimes also strangle some of the creativity because you kind of feel like you’re not allowed to step outside of that.”

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The Rhymesayer hopes to break free from restrictions on this album without straying too far from home. “I’m still on that Slug shit,” he says. “If you don’t like Slug shit, you’re probably not gonna fuck with my shit, and that’s cool, but it’s important that I continue to reflect whatever it is I’m fucking dealing with.

“I can’t help it,” he adds. “I still make music that does express my personal feelings about shit. But also, when I’m trying to make a track like ‘Salma Hayek’ that’s just kind of for fun, how do I make sure that I balance it by putting in enough little easter eggs for people to find, that can still allow people to find some meaning in it for themselves?”

Two hours after Atmosphere’s set, Slug drives his golf cart down to the VIP meet-and-greet area, where fans have already formed a long line. A 19-year-old named Chantel, quietly walks up to Slug as a light drizzle decorates the sunset. Then, overwhelmed by the rapper’s presence, she bursts into tears and hugs her hero tightly.

“I can’t even describe it,” she tells me, after walking away with an autograph and a memory. “I don’t know how to talk right now. I’m speechless.” Eventually she opens up. Chantel was introduced to Atmosphere’s music by her older sister back when she was just a fifth grader. His candid and introspective lyrics were “relatable” during tough times. “The way I saw it,” she explains. “It was me listening to the music and getting lost in it and not listening to my parents arguing all the time.”

Chantel’s not alone. After more than an hour’s worth of meeting and greeting fans, Slug and I ride back to the artist section of the festival in his golf cart. There, he reflects more on this deep connection fans have with his music.

“Once in awhile, somebody will come up to me and thank me,” he says, as the sun continues to set behind him. “They’ll articulate it as like, ‘Thank you for saving my life.’ I usually try to remind them, ‘I didn’t save your life. Now, me and some other artists might’ve been the soundtrack that you had there while you were going through whatever your personal struggles were.’ And that’s important. I relate to that because I’ve always had music there for me whenever I was going through personal struggles.

“But in the same breath,” he continues. “I’ve got to make sure people realize, as artists, as musicians, we ain’t save your life. We do this because we have to, or because we’ve got something to get out of us, or because I’m trying to save my life. I want to make sure that people always walk away from that with a realistic idea of who I am. A lot of times, they still disagree with me and they go, ‘Nah. Fuck you.’ You know? But I just want to make sure you understand who I am. I have to say this to you.”

Andres Tardio is a writer based in LA. Follow him on Twitter.