Kansas City Blog

I'll say this up front: I'm not a fan of I-hate-my-girlfriend hip-hop. I'm not much of a fan of personalizing concert reviews, either.

But in bringing myself to write a positive review of Atmosphere, an underground rap group from Minneapolis who flawlessly rocked a small crowd at the Beaumont Club Friday night, I've had to ditch a few of my well-heeled perspectives.

Dan Monick

Atmosphere's Ant (left) and Slug

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The fact is, music critics and reviewers have opinions. Like anyone, including traditional journalists, we're biased.

When I go to review a concert, I do my best to leave my own biases at the door. Because when I write the review, I don't want to feel obligated to write in first-person. First-person is for news columnists, who get paid to live on the soapbox. I am not a columnist. And the idea of Hunter S. Thompsonizing my experience feels too grand (and self-important) for the function of a concert review.

I-hate-my-girlfriend hip-hop began sometime after Eminem popularized whining on the mic. An entire movement began of MCs who translated emo-rock into rap music. The line between this and more traditional forms of rap music, such as gangster rap, can be thin.

Like porn, many times I simply know emo-rap music when I hear it.

Generally speaking, these rappers pontificate on a handful of suburban topics. Unrequited love usually tops the list. Usually followed by beer-drinking, dead-end day jobs, general loneliness and residual teenage angst.

Sometimes it's easier to identify these rappers by their fans. College-aged, white, many of whom look like they just arrived, en masse, from an alternative rock concert.

I expected a larger crowd for Atmosphere at the Beaumont. As the home of Tech N9ne, Mac Lethal and other similarly minded indie rappers, Kansas City is a welcoming environment for emo-rap.

Like Tech and Mac Lethal, emo-rappers excuse their departures from standard rap music as a heroic turn away from the ethics of violence and bling that many think plague the genre. It's a rebellion that loosely parallels the reaction against '80s rock music by groups like Nirvana in the mid '90s. A turn inward toward existential authenticity.

As I see it, emo-rappers and their growing fan bases also parallel an earlier moment in musical history: The years when Buddy Holly and Elvis popularized rock 'n roll. When these two artists used their significant talent and charisma to make rock 'n roll more palatable to the American middle-class. In the hands of Holly and Elvis, a previously racialized -- and demonized -- musical form became acceptable and, more importantly, mainstream.

Those were the sorts of wild ideas that were swirling about my mind as I made my way to the Beaumont to see Atmosphere on Friday night. Seriously.

A note: It's not that I didn't want to like Atmosphere. It's just that I was surprised when I did.

When I arrived, sometime in the early part of the set, rapper Slug was already in mid-stride. (Ant, the other member of Atmosphere, spun beats behind him.) Also flanked by a backup singer, a relative rarity in live rap performances, Slug commanded the stage with a veteran's swagger and an intimate rapport with the fans.

"I make music to have a good time," Slug told the crowd.

And throughout the rest of the set, he delivered on that promise.

From "Good Times" -- an acoustic-guitar-driven ode to the old school -- to an impromptu five-minute freestyle at the end, Slug stayed in the driver's seat, captivating the small but dedicated crowd. Everyone seemed to know and sing along with the lyrics to each song, a reflection of the loyal following that the underground Minneapolis duo has accrued over years of touring.

The Beaumont, in fact, turned out to the perfect home for the small concert. As Slug detailed the intimate struggles of his daily life, the venue felt like more like a summer block party than a concert. Between several songs, Slug took time to bullshit with those in attendance, providing yarns from a previous visit to Kansas City in 2002, toward the end boasting that it would be Kansas City's fault that he'd have no voice left for his performance at Lollapalooza the next day. In these moments, the stage was a mere contrivance, the golf-hatted Slug a director in what he described as a "campfire," not a concert.

Many people, even die-hard fans, lament that rap music does not always make for a riveting performance. Rap music is, after all, more lyrically than instrumentally driven. It doesn't take much for rudeboy swagger to devolve into solipsism, a yawning series of empty threats and promises. Not the sort of interconnectedness that makes for a meaningful performance.

This is why Atmosphere succeeds where other rap groups fall short. The combination of original production (piano-laden hooks are still ringing in my head) and self-revealing lyrics made for an hard-to-find intimacy, a distinctly un-hip-hop hip-hop concert that might in the end prove the value of hating one's girlfriend.

Songs I recognized:
Good Times
Guarantees
Fuck You Lucy
Love Life
Vanity Sick
Like the Rest of Us
Tryin' to Find a Balance