Slug — real name Sean Daley — has always embraced darkness, often lacing his lyrics with acerbic black humor and sketching downright depressing stories, and he's no different as a conversationalist. As he tells New Times, if the end is indeed nigh, he'd prefer preemptive self-annihilation over getting cooked by our own greenhouse gases.
"Rather than burning to death or starving, I suggest we just blow the fucker up," he says. "We just pick a date, celebrate the day before — huge celebration — then we just blow up the fucking world to avoid the hangover. And then nobody has to miss anybody, because that's really the hard part of death — the separation. Let's all just die at once. Then we could at least own it instead of blaming each other...
"I guess my plan doesn't really account for other species on the planet — animals and plants and shit," he continues, seemingly thinking aloud. "But we never gave a fuck about them
Atmosphere's dark arc began in the early
"All that crazy shit that's going on in the world is going on right in front of me," he says. "And that makes its way into [Mi Vida Local], but I guess I'm talking about it from my own, insular perspective, which I felt like was kind of important for me to do this time. Far too often, Anthony and I get together and make music, and that music tends to take itself too
Having long ago established a cult-like following well beyond Minneapolis, Daley and Davis have become something like underground hip-hop's elder statesmen. They've been making dad-rap for the past several years, giving precisely zero shits about clicks on SoundCloud or keeping up with the hottest rapper of the week.
"I feel like I stopped competing with my contemporaries somewhere in the past five or six years," he says. "There was a time when I was in competition with other underground rappers — not in the sense that I had to sell more records than Murs, but more so an artistic competition. Now I don't feel that way about other people's music. I don't compare it to ours. I just get excited
That doesn't mean Daley isn't rapping with a sense of urgency — quite the opposite. Before his own, insular world comes to an end, he wants to get as much done as he can, and he wants it to count.
"My purpose isn't to be validated or loved or to have people shower me with fucking compliments," he says. "My purpose is to do as much as I can that I am proud of before it's over."
Atmosphere. With Dem Atlas, the Lioness, and DJ Keezy. 7 p.m. Thursday, November 29, at Revolution Live, 100 SW Third Ave., Fort Lauderdale; 954-449-1025; jointherevolution.net. Tickets cost $22.50.
