“Usually if it doesn’t leak through the press circuit it does once it hits the warehouses,” Slug says. “There’s boxes sitting in warehouses. You’re telling me a single kid hasn’t snagged a copy and uploaded it? It leads me to think that nobody cares...but I always look at the dark side of things.”

The same could be said about Atmosphere’s corpus. In peak form, the hip-hop duo—Ant is the moody, notoriously introverted producer—evolved from the purist, self-serious, real hip-hop of passionately beloved albums like 1997’s Overcast! to post-Twin Towers, post-idealism rhymes about the self. On the heavy intro to 2002’s God Loves Ugly, Slug played populist everyman ("I’m sleeping on the floors of temporary friends/I’m keeping the store front as clean as I can") and swept in perfectly written context clues without the fact-spitting preaching of less interesting contemporaries ("September was the first time I had to breathe").

Slug was the poster boy of a movement that turned out to be a moment—raps about daily banalities, about feelings and girls, disseminated as punk revivals via nonstop touring. It was no coincidence Atmosphere would share Warped Tour stages with emoticon bands like Taking Back Sunday. The millennial generation was sad and lonely in a cavernous suburban castle their parents were always too busy paying for, and Atmosphere combined the familiar stylings of big radio jams, with food for the heart. Seven years later, Slug is shaking off the emo angle.

“At a certain point I have to be like ‘Overcast is not my best work,’” Slug says. “I try to consider the listener. You paid $20 to get into this, but at the same time I don’t want to just spoon feed. I want to challenge you as a listener. I want to push my audience, but I’m not stupid, there’s certain songs you want to hear.”

The irony is that one of Atmosphere’s best tracks is about the daily pains of programming set lists while also being one of the group’s most requested numbers. “’Trying to Find a Balance’ is at least cake that I can use to lure people into listening to [newer material],” Slug says.

Even through 2008’s narrative-driven When Life Gives You Lemons, You Paint That Shit Gold, Slug habitually used women both as centerpieces for his melodrama (“Fuck You Lucy,” “A Girl Named Hope”), while likewise rapping from the female perspective (“Reflections,” “You”). Slug struggles recreating the pathos of the former, and flatly regrets the latter.

“I spent all of these songs writing about relationships and theorizing the psychology of me the antagonist and you the protagonist and vice-versa and it’s like, ‘Who the fuck do I think I am that I can climb into a woman’s head and speak for her?’” Slug says. “There’s a song on Lemon that hit home, about a working class mother of two, and after it came out I felt like an arrogant piece of shit.”

Nowadays, Slug’s happy place nets worthy, albeit mushy songs like “She’s Enough” (“It’s my ode to monogamy”), and “Just For Show,” the new single that sounds like a 2003 retread to bitter romance until Slug clarifies that it’s about his conflicted, tiring relationship with Atmosphere’s die-hard, message board fans.

It's fair to draw a parallel to James Murphy of LCD Soundsystem. Both are long-time hustlers, patriarchs of their scenes by way of running respected labels, just on opposite ends of 40.

“I relate to Murphy as a fan, because we both run a label, and because we both seem to be driven by fear. Fear is an inspirational thing, you have to be nervous about what you’re stepping into next,” Slug says.

Difference is, Murphy cashed in earlier this month and retired as a performer, and Slug rages on in a genre built by teenagers. And how does one even itemize those hundreds of shows?

“I assume that I’ll have time to remember those times in the future.”

Atmosphere performs Wednesday night at 9:30 Club with Blueprint, Grives, Budo, Sab The Artist, and DJ Abilities. The show is sold out.

Morning, folks!

The mysterious purveyor of the Felice Brothers golden-ticket essay contest named a winner Friday. I’ll share the winning essay here later today, but here’s a taste of the author’s pathos at work:

I don't know how I missed out. But don't make me sit at home alone on Friday night, listening to Adventures of the Felice Brothers Vol. 1, masturbating in the dark, and waiting for the tears to come.

As it turned out there were no real winners at the sold-out show at the Rock & Roll Hotel that night. The gig started out promising before someone in the front row teased the musicians that their beloved Yankees were about to be eliminated from the playoffs. The rest of the concert had a spiteful air; the band, visibly pissed, played a lot of uncharismatic new material and never got in sync with the audience. Kudos to the Felice Brothers for being unafraid of veering from their gothic folk-rock wheel house, but this was clearly not their night.

Comedian Louis C.K., by contrast, managed to give a packed Warner Theater an hour and sixteen minutes of new material without losing anyone for a second.

Anyway:

The discordant guitaring of D.C.’s ‘90s hardcore punk scene is apparently not the District’s only six-string legacy; turns out the DMV is also something of a classical-guitar mecca, reports WaPo. Writer Anne Midgette traces the lineage back to Greek immigrant Sophocles Papas, who built the scene back in the ‘20s. Tally another point for the Greeks in the canon of D.C. music—you’ll recall it was another Greek, John “Johnny Boy” Katsouros, who launched erstwhile Washington R&B legend Terry Huff back in the early ‘60s.

Arena Stage opened in its new home. It tweeted all the relevant coverage.

Finally, New York magazine has an article about the death of early 21-century hipsterism—a condensed version of an investigation by the literary journal n+1. The music piece figures most prominently in what the author calls the “Hipster Primitive moment,” when we all grew beards, donned flannel, and pretended the Industrial Revolution never happened. From the article:

Music led the artistry of this phase... Here are the names of some significant bands, post-2004: Grizzly Bear, Neon Indian, Deerhunter, Fleet Foxes, Department of Eagles, Wolf Parade, Band of Horses, and, most centrally, Animal Collective. (On the electronic-primitive side, LCD Soundsystem.) Listeners heard animal sounds and lovely Beach Boys–style harmonies; lyrics and videos pointed to rural redoubts, on wild beaches and in forests; life transpired in some more loving, spacious, and manageable future, possibly of a Day-Glo or hallucinatory brightness.

The n+1 book version, by the way, has contributions by City Paper columnist Moe Tkacik, who, speaking at a Symposium, blamed neo-hipsterism on the era’s big movers: the Internet—for breaking down the barriers to subculture—and China, for enabling the sort of credit flow that would let American Apparel open 200 stores in two years. (She does not venture to explain where the Hipster-primitive animal fetish came from.)

Me? I blame the Internet for how little I am being paid to write this.

Bye!

- Toward the end of the day, the beer dropped in price by $1 (a 24 0z. Bud was going for $8 most of the day); water and Gatorade held constant at $4.

- It sure felt chaotic, but Merriweather keeps a tight ship. I saw a girl collapse during LCD Soundsystem's set; she was escorted out of the pit by security in less than 30 seconds.

- There's really never a reason not to get a Ferris Wheel for your festival.

- People will not necessarily get down to HBO-approved brass assaults, even if they cover "Lollipop."

- People still really, really love Jimmy Eat World:

- Very few people seemed to have come for Ludacris. Judging by the handful of his songs I caught, he turned hearts and minds (and propelled asses).

- Neon Indian has really pro-ed up.

- Joan Jett is from Rockville. (OK, I knew this already; but not everyone did.)

- Free yoga mats basically fulfilled the role of glowstick throughout the day, until actual glowsticks were  distributed during LCD's set.

- At least some of the crowd was willing to meet Thievery Corporation halfway.

- Say what you will, but Matt and Kim's dumbass jock-jams pop is shockingly bankable. The crowd ate it up.

- Costumes!

- I think I spotted him rolling his eyes once or twice during Pavement's set, but Stephen Malkmus was very plainly in a good mood, and super-talkative.

- I think Malkmus said something about supporting D.C. statehood, but he might have been talking about Northern Virginia statehood.

- Festival crowds love swag.

- My intern is really funny.

- I take it there was some backstage drama re: the seating arrangement. In brief: You had to have one kind of wristband to access the highest tier of pavilion seats (free-ticket holders were relegated to the lawn), another kind to access the closest tier of seats, anyone could hang out in the pit by the stage but this wasn't plainly clear, and for a bunch of sets the elite pavilion seats were half-empty. Matt Johnson, the goofy singer of Matt and Kim, got all political and bantered about how the crowd should "free the FreeFest!" Later, James Murphy thanked organizers for opening up the elite seats to the masses. "This is much better," he said.

- The Ted Nugent pinball machine did not make it.

- Joan Jett rocks a lot harder than her biopic counterpart.

- LCD Soundsystem's set was really, really loud, and really, really good, and didn't offer so many surprises, but more than a few moments of sweaty catharsis.

- I missed Sleigh Bells and M.I.A., which is a real shame; I heard that former was great, the latter meh.

- That shit was dusty! Especially in the dance forest, where most of the electro-minded acts played. Like, reduced-visibility, sneezing-out-soot dusty. My eyes still hurt.

- I killed my voice singing along to the Pavement set, and it was worth it.

What did you learn at FreeFest? Tell us in the comments! And check back here tomorrow: I'll have some more thoughts, we'll have some video, and Erica Bruce will have a ton of photos.

We were waiting for final confirmation from T.I.'s camp, but they're focused on tomorrow's hearing and we've not gotten a final commitment. With that in mind, we adjusted set times to give artists more playing time. If T.I. is able to make it, we'll gladly adjust the schedule.

If you had T.I. as the act most likely to miss the festival due to a court appearance in your office pool, well-played. Personally, I was looking forward to his savagely underrated catalog of hits.

As for the programming's logistical complications/death matches:

• Yeasayer v. Neon Indian (3:45 p.m.)
• Pavement v. Sleigh Bells (7:40 p.m.)
• LCD Soundsystem V. M.I.A. (9:00 p.m.)

But really, let's talk a clear course of action.

Enjoy College Gameday on Saturday morning all the way through Lee Corso’s head gear-donning prognostication. Fry up eggs, peel potatoes, shred cheese, and relegate your roommate to pancake duty. Settle onto the grounds in time to enjoy the nostalgic nuggets of Jimmy Eat World’s perfect '90s power-pop (1:15 p.m.). Settle into a drinking groove before ceding to Neon Indian’s kinda-subpar-live-but-wholly danceable slacker beats. Relinquish double duty aspirations (Yeasayer) because you’ll just wind up with two bad spots, hearing echoes. Let Joan Jett (4:30 p.m.) strum in the background; check the Alabama-Arkansas score from strangers (3:30 p.m.) right after realizing your smart phone was surely crushed to death by dozens of Chuck Taylors.

Tolerate the earnest, cutesy, mostly endearing efforts of Matt and Kim’s synth pop (6:15 p.m.). Delve into Ludacris’s immaculate collection of southern fried anthems (7:15 p.m.); leave early to catch Pavement (7:40 p.m.) because you downloaded their catalog during the fall of 2005—a prerequisite to editing the Life & Arts section of your idealistic, entitled, and libelous college paper. If you have the legs, stick around for the after party—LCD Soundsystem (9:30 p.m.)—because that James Murphy guy goes all in onstage. Or just go home, because he’ll make some self-effacing joke about not deserving to follow Pavement.

Remember that creepy interview Joaquin Phoenix did on "The Late Show" last year where he was completely disengaged and David Letterman totally called him out? Well, now Phoenix is apologizing to Letterman, saying that it was all part of his I'm Still Here rapper character. Performance art is so weird.

The complete schedule has been announced for this weekend's Virgin Mobile Free Festival! There are plenty of exciting like LCD Soundsystem, Pavement, Joan Jett, but apparently not T.I., who was originally part of the lineup but has some legal woes (the schedule is subject to change, so maybe he'll make it). The act I'd be most stoked about, if I were going? Chromeo. Super fun, danceable, synth-heavy music with more than a hint of '80s. I'm pretty sure my colleague, Jonathan L. Fischer, doesn't share my excitement. But he will be at Merriweather, taking the festival in and plotting some sure-to-be fun coverage of the event for Arts Desk.

I'll admit it: I'm a Top Chef slut–I'll consume anything they put out. I'm pretty thrilled with the new show in the franchise, "Top Chef: Just Desserts." It's exactly what the title says: Top Chef, but just desserts. And the cheftestants are crazier than ever. Or, at least one is. After last week's concoctions with basil buttercream and curry chocolate, I thought Seth was going to go far. But I have never seen someone emotionally implode the way he did last night–and three times, at that. He seems to have the emotional and social aptitude of a five-year-old. I don't say this lightly, but if there was ever an example of a person with autism on reality TV, I think he might be it.

WaPo's heaping praise on D.C.-area native and American University professor Danielle Evans' debut collection of short stories, Before You Suffocate Your Own Fool Self. I've read the book and it's awesome. I'm speaking to her later today; look for the interview tomorrow on Arts Desk, in advance of her appearance and Barnes & Noble Bethesda.

Good morning, people. Happy Wednesday! Only one more day of random torrential downpours, and then it's sunny Thursday, and then it's the weekend again! And the Rock & Roll Hotel's Summer Eve party! Kind of late for summer's eve, no?

In case you missed it, NYT writes that Imagining Madoff is indefinitely postponed, Bluebrain graces us with another WTF project, and T.I., M.I.A., and LCD Soundsystem, among others, are headlining the Virgin FreeFest on Sept. 25. Tickets go on sale Saturday! In other news, Mike Riggs pens his review on These United States—the record is kind of a snoozer.

Tonight's NoMa Summer Screen features Logan's Run–life must end at 30. Intriguing. If you'd rather keep on believin', then sing your little heart away at Little Miss Whiskey's Kostume Karaoke event tonight or let the music sing for you over lunch on Woodrow Wilson Plaza.

ReadysetDC reports that Seth Goodin, bestselling author of books such as Purple Cow and Tribes (WTF?), will be live at Warner Theatre tomorrow chatting up on his latest book, Linchpin. Huge McLeod reviews:

This is by far Seth’s most passionate book. He’s pulling fewer punches. He’s out for blood. He’s out to make a difference. And that glorious, heartfelt passion is obvious on every page, even if it is in Seth’s usual quiet, lucid, understated manner.

A linchpin, as Seth describes it, is somebody in an organization who is indispensable, who cannot be replaced—her role is just far too unique and valuable. And then he goes on to say, well, seriously folks, you need to be one of these people, you really do. To not be one is economic and career suicide.

Sounds completely marvelous, except an all-day VIP ticket runs at $595 (what's he smoking?), but don't fret! The half-day ticket is only $195 and ReadysetDC is offering $50 discounts! The District's one in 10 unemployed residents probably won't be attending that session, but maybe Politico's elites will pop in?

On a sad note, the body of missing Montgomery County artist Azin Naimi was found in the District.

That's all for this morning. Please enjoy the video, and hop off to better times. I'll be finding some time to watch Inception—everyone and their mother's been raving about this mind-fuck.

Richard Branson just announced on the Virgin Mobile Live Internet radio station the lineup for the Virgin FreeFest—which is, yes, free—at Merriweather Post Pavillion on Sept. 25. Who's playing? M.I.A., Pavement, Ludacris, LCD Soundsystem, T.I., Joan Jett ("our fabulous retro act"), Chromeo, Jimmy Eat World, the Temper Trap, Yeasayer, Neon Indian, Sleigh Bells, Thievery Corporation, Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros, Matt and Kim, Die Antwoord, Modeselektor, and surely others to come.

The radio station is playing "Gold Soundz" right now. Feels good.

Happy Tuesday! I never liked Tuesdays, but I’ll make an exception this morning since Phoenix was nothing short of wonderful last night, playing to a packed house at DAR Constitution Hall. Though upbeat "Rally" didn’t make it on set, they did manage to fit in the ever-so-kinda-depressing "If I Ever Feel Better," so I forgave them. Oh, Thomas Mars, tight pants, plaid, chucks, failed irony–what more could a girl ask for? (I don’t discriminate on account of tight pants.)

Reality stars are in trouble all over the place it seems. Former Rock of Love’s Bret Michaels is still in critical condition after being rushed to the hospital last Thursday after suffering from an excruciating headache. And TV producer, and co-creator of MTV’s Pimp my Ride, is barred from leaving Mexico, while the death of his wife is still under investigation. Well, there's still wrinkly old boozers to keep you entertained.

America’s Got Talent is holding auditions via YouTube. Time to revamp Duck Duck Goose! You could be the next Justin Bieber.

For the love of fuckin' a, Kevin Williamson's Scream 4, 5 and 6 may be in our future. How many times do you have to stab someone before they stop coming back? Even Dawson gave up.

I don’t know what happened to Kelly Clarkson, but Gossip Girl’s in-house 'rocker chick' Taylor Momsen could use some food before she goes Amy Winehouse on us. And looks like Glee may give Britney Spears and Courtney Love some aid.

Southland revived for 10 more episodes! And Keri Russell, starring in the new Fox comedy Wilde Kingdom, will be a recipient of the 5^th Annual Mothers Who Make a Difference Award–ah, Felicity’s all grown up, seems like just yesterday we were in hideous over-sized sweaters, caught between Ben and Noel.

Richard A. Clarke and Robert K. Knake's new book warns of future security attacks via cyber space. Facebook down?! Twitter too?! AND Gmail?! There's nothing left.

And for your ‘fuckyeahmashups’ of the day, try out MGMT vs. LCD Soundsystem. Just do it.

Looks like the gloom’s finally lifted, and the sky’s stopped pouting. Do something nice for another human today, even if it hurts.

Photo by videocrab. Creative Commons Attribution License.

Also on a Civil War tip: Titus Andronicus is headlining what I'm pretty sure is the highest-profile Positive Force benefit show in a while, tonight at 7:30 p.m. at St. Stephens Church. Titus' new album is called The Monitor, for a famous Civil War naval battle; it's also about, um, the psychic state of New Jersey. I'm pretty sure. All the best songs are over six minutes. It has screeching guitars and tremulous pianos and bratty lyrical motifs, and it's been my driving music for, oh, the last month now. This has not pleased my significant other. Also! The band leaves me with serious beard envy.

Lotsa stuff on today's Metro Connection about local music. Let's review! Bohemian Caverns Jazz Orchestra? Very cool stuff, although our jazz guy was on it a month ago. Wale? Yes, I believe I've heard of him. And then something about a singer/songwriter, who's now just a songwriter, I think, who's playing at Wolf Trap, I think. This happens next week. (I think.)

Tough love: I'm a big, big fan of the Vinyl District blog, which has been doing all sorts of great things in anticipation of Record Store Day (which is tomorrow). But I don't get why so much of the site is in italics, which plays hell with my eyes. I mean, this is kind of annoying, right?

LCD Soundsystem is streaming its new album, This Is Happening, for free. It's, um, pretty good!

Didja see our loving coverage of this year's Filmfest DC, which kicked off last night? Anglophiles and Francophiles, move over. Romaniacs, this is your moment!

OK, enough with the italics. Have a great day!

*The 2010 Bonnaroo Music and Arts Festival line-up was announced yesterday over a painstakingly long unveiling process. Some of the artists for the four-day Tennessee-based festival include: Kings of Leon (the first band to go from a tent stage to a headliner), Dave Matthews Band, Phoenix, Jay-Z, Norah Jones, The xx, Stevie Wonder, Zac Brown Band, LCD Soundsystem, Jeff Beck, Weezer, She & Him, The Flaming Lips, Ingrid Michaelson, Kid Cudi, and D.C. native Wale.

*Lil Wayne's planned trip to jail for attempted gun possession yesterday was postponed because of dental surgery. I'm thinking the diamond-encrusted grills may have had something to do with it. He is now set to head to prison March 2.

*Country superstar Dolly Parton said she is considering having White Stripes' frontman Jack White produce her next album. It wouldn't be White's first foray into the old country music scene; he's worked with legends like Loretta Lynn and Wanda Jackson before.

*It's confirmed that Tom Cruise will star in and produce the fourth installment of the Mission: Impossible series. J.J. Abrams won't be directing again, but will likely stay on board as a producer with Cruise. (Also seeing its fourth movie installment? Free Willy: Escape from Pirate's Cove — yes, there was more than one — is getting ready for release in March. The newest film stars Bindi Irwin, Beau Bridges, and, naturally, a giant killer whale.)

*Ellen DeGeneres made her debut as a judge on American Idol last night. I am torn as to whether this is the best or worst thing she's ever done for her career. (I'm leaning towards the latter.)

*Former I Love New York 2 reality show contestant Jamal Rashead Trulove was convicted of murder. Guess it wasn't "trulove" after all.

*Tonight in City Lights: authors Joanna Smith Rakoff and Dylan Landis read from their respective debut novels, A Fortunate Age and Normal People Don't Live Like This at the Arts Club of Washington.