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Suddenly we hear a haunted choir and a cobwebbed guitar riff
that Radiohead might use if they were scoring a black &
white spaghetti western. Emerging from the shadows, Atmosphere
frontman Slug warns us about an evil, blood-thirsty “them”
lurking about. Less than 2 minutes into the record, Slug,
beatmaster Ant and DJ Mr. Dibbs reveal that our titular “Travels”
aren’t so much the globe-hopping, friend-making, life-lesson-learning
sort as they are the LSD-overdosing, caverns-of-the-psyche-exploring,
hellishly-introspective-yet-ultimately-life-affirming sort.
The idea of a Minnesota hip-hop(!) troupe
on indie punk label Epitaph(?) attempting such an audaciously
ambitious project isn’t nearly as startling as how close
they actually come to surpassing said ambitions. Slug fumes
about “Trying to Find a Balance” on the opening
track, and though he’s rhyming about emotional &
psychological balance, the fascinating musical balancing acts
on display make Seven’s Travels remarkable. Atmosphere
live for experimentation, yet bounce sing-songy hooks around
the room like tennis balls. Slug may reach scary Eminem levels
of obsession and rage, but he’s nearly as clever and
twice as charming; when he seduces on “Reflections”
and “Good Times,” he’s so damn smooth you
expect to hear Pharrell sing back-up. Ant and Mr. Dibbs are
also quite adept; from the sludgy mechanics of “Cats
Van Bags” to the bubbly McFerrin-esque vocal hook of
“Los Angeles,” the beats are layered with innovation
yet leave plenty of room for Slug’s lyrical gymnastics.
Of course with lofty aspirations come
occasional misfires: a couple of potentially dynamite tracks
(the apocalyptic “Suicide Girls” and the off-kilter
stutter “Jason”) are thrown away, inexplicably
devoted not to Slug’s flickering flow but to disposable
voicemails. Alas, not all of our stops on Seven’s Travels
are worth writing home about, but it boggles the mind to imagine
what these boys could do with more experience and big-label
bucks. |
