Brother Ali claims. “The Rhymesayers don’t just do shows,” we throw parties.”
Indeed, the Minneapolis-based label has ruled the indie hip-hop scene for the past eight years. Artists like Atmosphere, Eyedea & Abilities, Soul Position and Boom Bap Project have helped define this newly distinguished, raw sound that has put the Midwest on the hip-hop map. Although emcee Slug and beat-producer Ant have shaped the development of this recording power house, Rhymesayers declares to be controlled by all artists under their umbrella and considers itself more of a family than a record company. Consequently, these relentless rappers and turntable rioters tend to travel in dangerous numbers.
Atmosphere is undisputedly the most prolific group of the Rhymesayers family. Formed in 1997, Atmosphere is Slug and Ant: a duo who crawled from the menacing streets of the Midwest to become two of the most prominent names in independent hip-hop; following the anti-corporate ways of KRS-One, Mos Def and Rakim.
On Wednesday, Aug. 30, Atmosphere headlined a concert at Eugene’s McDonald Theatre. The artist opening the show sported big, retro sunglasses, and gave off a disturbing presence of something unknown, unseen and unheard, yet felt by the
audience: Psalm One, a notorious bitches-battling, word-slaying, voodoo mama. She’s mean, she’s cruel, she’s honest. Her stature demands respect before the beats even start bumping. Unlike most female emcees today, her hip hop music takes an alternative route. She deviates from the over-produced, meaninglessly written tracks recorded by nonsense rappers such as Missy Elliot, who rely on the production side to save their music. Psalm One does not use her lucid lyrical skill to advocate sexploitation, a type of rap epitomized by the flippant Foxy Brown, Lil’ Kim and many other modern female rap artists.
Her McDonald Theatre performance climaxed with the guest appearance of Brother Ali on “Standbye,” a track with enough rhythm to make your shoe tongues thump.
Brother Ali is an uncanny combination of old-fashioned R&B, inspired gospel and new age flow. Like the text of a sermon, Ali’s lyrics create devotion and praise from the audience. His voice flows smoothly through his prophetic and honest rhymes, and he stares down the audience with cold, deep-set eyes.
Ali hails from Minneapolis as well, and has been with the label since the release of his underground mix tape, “Rites of Passage” in 2000. Saluting street funk innovators, it is no doubt that his testimonies of urban lifestyle, popular faith and the music industry, are influenced by jazz-rap elders like Gangstarr, Mobb Deep, and De La Soul.
When Atmosphere finally arrives on stage, Slug hits the mic with the explosion of a grenade. His articulate tongue and plagued thoughts preach to the untapped minds of a laid-back Eugene crowd at the nearly sold-out McDonald. Behind Slug’s prodigious presence is Ant: the brains behind the beats. The lyrics of Slug are only poorly written poems without the masterful mixes of Atmosphere’s producer. Ant’s bass breaks accelerate the entire show from the beginning, aiding the boom and blues of previous performers Brother Ali and Psalm One.
Eugene residents who missed the show can still check out Atmosphere’s new album, although it is nowhere near as awe-inspiring as seeing Atmosphere live. “You Can’t Believe How Much Fun We’re Having,” is captivating because of Ant’s booms and taps, and the use of 60’s rock twang and Beatles-esque bounce is catchy, nostalgic, and yet nonpareil.
Slug, however, is not satisfying in this album. His lyrics are repetitive and hardly passionate. His subjects continue to include his ugliness, torment caused by females and his desire to never conform.
At the end of the Atmosphere performance at the McDonald Theatre, Slug hangs onto the mic like a wounded soldier using his rifle as a crutch. “No matter where I am, No matter what I do… I always be coming back home to you,” he mournfully moans. Sweat staining his shirt and tears streaming from his eyes, Slug gives the crowd one last look to remember him by and slowly limps off stage. The crowd does not cheer for more, they know Slug is justly spent, the Rhymesayers have righteously spoken and the party is over. With the chill of the finale still tingling in their spines, the crowd slowly rotates outside; looking for the after party.