Photo by Dan Monick

On April 12, Rhymesayers will release The Family Sign, the new album from the long-running Minneapolis rap group Atmosphere. It's their first proper album since 2008's When Life Gives You Lemons, You Paint That Shit Gold, but Atmosphere have kept their huge cult fanbase happy in the years since by releasing a steady stream of side projects and other releases, touring relentlessly, and curating Soundset, their own annual Minnesota rap festival. Later this month, they'll even tour some of the smaller towns in their home state. We recently spoke with the group's 38-year-old MC, Slug, about the new album, his spiritual kinship with Prince and the Replacements, and why his songs may not be quite as autobiographical as they seem.

Pitchfork: Where does the title The Family Sign come from?

Slug: There's a lot of my life and my family-ness involved. We're all reaching that point. When you're 20-something, you can be whatever. But as you get older, you start reaching these signs that point your life the way it's supposed to go and shit. In the band, we've all escaped the whole associate-friend thing-- you know, people who you've seen and don't really know but you'll sit and talk in a bar with them. We've all gotten past that and now we're back to our core family and friends. And our audience, too-- I wanted to tie them in somehow. The record is an ode to the people I hold dear. And it feels like a Minneapolis record-- that title almost sounded throwback-y to me, like something Prince would've named his record.

Pitchfork: When you say it's a Minneapolis record, how do you mean?

S: It's one of those things that really reminds me of that Minneapolis sound. Prince, the Replacements, Hüsker Dü-- we're all just bad imitations of the shit we loved. We may say that we do it wrong because we didn't have anyone to teach us; we had to figure it out ourselves. But, ultimately, you have these motherfuckers here in their garage in the winter trying to write songs that remind them of the songs they love. That's how I characterize the Minneapolis sound. Prince was a shitty version of Rick James and Parliament. The Time was a shitty version of the O'Jays. We know the rules of contemporary pop music and we try to adhere to those rules, but we always end up stepping outside of them.

Pitchfork: On the last record, When Life Gives You Lemons, You Paint That Shit Gold, you seemed to be rapping more about people other than yourself. From what you say, this one is more about you and the people around you.

S: Lemons was an exercise for me-- I needed to see how far I could go with these eighth grade creative writing skills I got. And there are a lot of fictitious narratives on this one, too, so I don't know how to categorize it. I'm seen as the guy that creates autobiographical songs and I let people run with it. But let's be honest. If those songs were autobiographical, I would've died from, like, whiskey poisoning. So they're really my interpretations based on details. Ultimately, I'm a rapper and I have to try and make myself cooler than I actually am.

Pitchfork: Lemons came out in 2008, but you released a double EP last year. What makes something an album instead of a double EP?