Pitchfork

Somewhere in my closet-- under stacks of candid spooning snapshots and problematic collage valentines-- is a muddy, gurgling mixtape from an ex-girlfriend. It's a dub of a dub given to her by the boyfriend pre-me who got it from a trollop he dated for a minute who stole it from a kid she made out with in some car that wasn't his. Where the owner of that car got it is, I'm sure, quite fascinating, and somehow the backseat genealogy leads to a 4-track in Minneapolis. By the time the tape got to me, it sounded like a dude with a mouthful of toilet paper rhyming over trunk-beats of passing cars-- but that shit was ill, son! From what I gather, that tape was cobbled bits of Atmosphere's original Headshots mixes. I'm not going to bullshit and say that I listened to it until my cassette deck jammed, nor did I pass it on like a mild burning sensation to my next ladyfriend. Nope, I dumped it in a box along with the hope of ever loving again, and the sad, lascivious story of that little tape came to an end. Rhymesayers obviously had this fate in mind when they decided to remaster the final installment of Atmosphere's Headshots mixtapes along with a bonus disc of highlights from Volumes 1-6.

Originally released in the interim between the group's debut LP, Overcast!, and its successor, Lucy Ford, Headshots: Se7en is little more than a vaguely interesting document of Slug's progression from shit-talker ("Tracksmart") to hip-hop's Conor Oberst ("The Abusing of the Rib"). Recent efforts were praised for the introspective, self-deprecating lyrical spin, although the Native Tongues did it better ten years previous. Shit, Biz Markie is the king of emo-rap! Always willing to turn a verbose phrase, Slug undermines his cleverness with what appears to be an unfortunate case of Van Horton's Syndrome. His inability to modulate the volume or pitch of his voice by any noticeable degree makes sitting through the entire 21 songs, not to mention the additional 10 tracks on the bonus disc, feel a tad bit tedious. Guest spots from a young Eyedea, Musab, and Gene Poole don't add much to the party, though Eyedea's track, "The Stick Up", should erase any notions that Slug respects women.

Ant's production is slightly impressive considering his tools, but I'm not convinced he would have used any additional tracks had they been available. He only seems hampered on a few tracks and does an admirable job of mixing things up, but somebody needs to hook dude up with a new drum machine. After two hours of his choppy snare scraping my eardrums, I'm ready for some Enya on quiet storm.

For rabid Atmosphere completists, the lure of Headshots: Se7en is either the improvement in sound quality over the old cassette recordings or the fulfillment of a dream. Like Red Sox fans and Democrats, getting what you wish for can be confusing though, resulting in temporary loss of identity. All of the sudden, that eBay bidwar with the Korean kid seems like a waste of time. Here it is, the golden chalice, all polished up and ready to behold. But you didn't really want it. It was the hunt. You were the Indy Jones of file-sharing. Now what? Headshots is a generous treat from a label and artist to his committed fans; as such, it is a worthwhile release. For those who collect other things like TV memorabilia, it will be a hard sell to put funds from my, I mean, their Seth And Summer Savings towards a gift that was meant for someone else.