I was in no rush to make it down to the Atmosphere show this past Saturday, as Atmosphere’s Slug is the emcee that turned me off of underground hip-hop a few years ago. Overly emotional rhymes about subjects that generally weren’t worthwhile delivered in a dramatic style overtop of flat, hokey beats were enough to make me question a lot of the stuff I was listening to. That said, I was prepared to be won over by Atmosphere’s live show.

As I arrived, Slug was in mid-verse. There was a lot of love in the room as he moved throughout his discography, but the whole presentation seemed a little sparse, with Slug standing in the centre of the stage and DJ Ant hiding in the back. But the sound was crisp, and if nothing else, the guy can enunciate like a motherfucker. His confessional style of rapping was coupled with appropriate hurt faces and hand gestures, and stage banter was kept brief and self-deprecating.

As I began to find myself growing increasingly bored with Atmosphere’s performance, five men armed with instruments stormed the stage, and Atmosphere launched into the second half of their overly generous set. At first the band added a much-needed boost of energy, with clear crisp sound and lock-tight grooves backing up Slug better than his DJ was able to. But as the song arrangements started to follow the same formula, Slug’s persona grew more grating. It’s unfortunate Slug falls into the same patterns of petulance and self-mythologizing, as he has the ability and charisma to push the boundaries more than he did that night.

"He’s playing with a goddamn blues band up there," someone complained. And in fairness, he kind-of was, until the evening took an ill-advised turn into rap-metal, complete with blinding light flashes to punctuate the beat. It was then that I stopped looking for the positive and accepted that I was at a shitty show.