Smart Went Crazy

I am still looking for a CO-ADMIN for this blog to help post almost daily and to help keep up with Atmosphere/Rhymesayers news. If anyone is interested, please feel free to send me a message. Thanks, fam!

Let me know?

Producer, Anthony Davis, talks about starting out as a DJ and how he juggles the beat-making duties for Atmosphere, Brother Ali, Felt, and others with the Whole Music club from the University of Minnesota.

Like I said, if there's a credit to be owed, let me know. I really wouldn't go through the trouble of editing a picture just to take credit for it.

Because you're perfect.

Ant: We really challenge each other. We are both willing to do anything and take risks musically. At this point there isn't that much discussion any more. We have a base that we start from and from there we just make it happen. We are both willing to take risks with the music so we can do a straight up hip-hop tune or a blues tune or a folk tune and it all seems natural to us.

But that's dope. I live in Miami. You saw them around the same time I did. They were in Miami last September too.  (:

"C'mon, woke up at the taste of dawn, When the city's bloodline starts to push it along, The generators on those public buses, Is enough to bust you out of any dream that you stuck in, I guess that's the chance you taking, When you camp out in front of that transfer station, And this town got no answers to chase, That's why he always sleeps near the transportation, Panhandle it, transient freedom, Transplant, he ain't from this region, And when the wind starts to whisper its lips, He knows enough to pack it up and dip out before the winter hits."

"Bring me the head of whoever said 'play fair', I want to sit in my chair and wear a blank stare, Fuck being king of the hill, When the music dies you'll be the first one the villagers kill, Walk in circles, dizzy up the movement, Talk in circles, the underground's polluted, Lots of circles, you wonderin' where you fit, Stop the circles!"

"Atmosphere! The mic, let me clutch it, Thoughts take flight so fit the Slug in your pipe and take a puff kid, Fuck it! I heat it like a tea pot - steam hot, Upon the roof: shoot a marble with the verbal slingshot, Take aim, here I came, I'm the same, Back in '86, I'da tag my name upon your window pane, Stained the mind: a deep shade of residue, Voices within the head make choices multiple, Multiply Spawn, Slug a little buzz, And Atmosphere the scuds, cause here come the judge, Blasted; so past the kid a mic so we can paint this, Image of the gifted-anxious, to flip the language."

What tour was it for, if you don't mind me asking?

"Ex-boyfriendships with benefits, Whiskey binges and stimulated sedatives, Sky-high on the floor of your closet, Thinking 'bout life and how it tastes like garbage, It's time to get gone away from this town, Seems still wants to blame her surroundings, Got a grudge and a pocket of neurotic love, Played a perfect game but forgot what the object was, Where's the book that the answers are sketched in? Life lessons, all types of questions."

"I heard a bird cry - it was pathetic, Man, if you can fly, spread feathers like a message, As long as I can hit my notes, I'ma, Stay on top this box of soap, I felt the track slip, but didn't pull breaks, I'm half dead, but already got a full plate, As long as I can hit my notes..."

Thanks.