Atmosphere doesn’t worry about half-stepping. Late in their tremendously successful “indie” career, the duo are facing the notion that reality is more important than expectations. On Southsiders, their 8th LP, Slug’s straightforward soul searching deeps a bit deeper than 2011’s The Family Sign, simply because he’s a few years older and slightly less handcuffed to the drunken drama of youth and young manhood.
These songs could be leaking from a townie parked on the last stool in a Twin Cities dive bar where your feel stick to the floor, or from the muffled stereo in a raggedy Honda hatchback whose windows won’t roll down. The beauty of Southsiders is that it’s deeply personal record for Slug and Ant, but plays like your very own connect the dots of missteps and forced fumbles.
Elder statesmen? Maybe. Never better? It’s not even close. This one is Atmosphere’s classic, 8 records in.