Geese Shine On SNL As Atmosphere Reflects In Minneapolis

On a brisk January weekend, two distinct sounds echoed across America’s music landscape, each rooted in authenticity but separated by genre and geography. Brooklyn’s Geese, a band that’s become the subject of fevered debate among rock aficionados, took to the national stage with their debut performance on Saturday Night Live (SNL) on January 24, 2026. Meanwhile, in a quieter Minneapolis basement, Sean Daley—better known as Slug from the veteran hip-hop duo Atmosphere—reflected on decades of creative struggle, personal evolution, and the city’s recent heartbreak.

For Geese, the SNL appearance was more than just another gig. It was a culmination of years of grinding, creative pivots, and the sort of unpredictable momentum that’s rare in today’s fractured music industry. As The New York Times pointed out, the band’s journey from Brooklyn’s local scene to the national spotlight has been anything but linear. With albums released in 2021 and 2023, Geese’s real breakthrough came with the dual success of frontman Cameron Winter’s poetic solo project, Heavy Metal, and the band’s ambitious third record, Getting Killed. The latter, released in 2025, has been hailed by some as the year’s best—no small feat in an era dominated by streaming behemoths and viral sensations.

Geese’s SNL set, aired during an episode hosted by actress Teyana Taylor, was a study in contrasts. The band opened with “Au Pays du Cocaine,” a slow-burning ballad whose title riffs on the medieval myth of Cockaigne, a land of lazy indulgence. The performance spotlighted Winter’s unmistakable vocals—often described as a love-it-or-hate-it warble—set against the luminous guitar work of Emily Green. As The New York Times noted, the song’s lyrics veered from the cryptic (“like a sailor in a big green boat”) to the plaintive (“you can be free, just come home, please”), capturing the band’s knack for balancing complexity with raw emotion.

Depending on whom you ask, Geese are either the saviors of modern rock or its most artful imitators. But their SNL debut, in a media landscape where such opportunities are vanishing, was a rare monocultural moment—a chance for millions to discover a band that’s been both lionized and lampooned. And in an era when late-night television is itself in flux, with shows like The Late Show With Stephen Colbert canceled and others facing uncertain futures, Geese’s national exposure felt both momentous and fleeting.

Across the country, Sean Daley was wrestling with a different kind of spotlight. Sitting in his Minneapolis basement on January 25, 2026—the day after the murder of Renee Good shook his community—Daley spoke candidly about the challenge of promoting new music in such a fraught moment. “I’m sitting in a basement in South Minneapolis right now, the day after an event [the murder of Renee Good], and it’s, uh, it’s really a… interesting time to try to promote anything. But I’m gonna do my best. I’m gonna meet you where you meet me,” Daley reflected, according to Yellow Scene Magazine.

Daley’s journey began in the 1990s Minneapolis rap scene, a world away from the industry machines of New York or Los Angeles. His authenticity, he says, was born of necessity. “I followed the rule of, I guess you would say, keeping it real? I know it’s a cliche at this point, but at the time, in the 90s, it wasn’t a cliche, it was everything. I was young, and authenticity was all I had. I didn’t grow up with much,” Daley shared. He described a youth spent working two jobs, feeling under-resourced, and taking cues from mentors like Chuck Dean of Public Enemy and Aaron Swan, who urged him to dig deeper into his psyche. “So I went into the heart, and that shit worked.”

As Atmosphere’s music evolved, so did Daley’s focus. The group’s breakout album, Lucy Ford, was a product of raw vulnerability and the creative partnership with Anthony Davis, who encouraged Daley to carve out his own space rather than compete with established voices. “He wanted me to step into a space that wasn’t occupied by so many,” Daley explained. Over three decades, the duo’s partnership has weathered changing sounds, shifting priorities, and personal growth. Daley likens his albums to children: “It’s like I have 30 kids and I love them all, but I also know they’re not perfect. none of them are. They’re all flawed, just like me, and I embrace that. I don’t do a lot of looking back.”

Atmosphere’s latest release, Gestures, dropped in September 2025. Daley is upfront about its imperfections, saying, “I want to show people that what I experience, health or emotions, is just part of this human experience. I feel like that’s the only way that I get to connect. with humans.” For Daley, songwriting is both catharsis and proof of his own humanity—a way to connect with others even as the world around him feels increasingly unstable. “I am writing a song in this basement today. I get off the phone with you, which means that I can go to the grocery store, and actually be a human, with these other humans, and I can interact with these other humans, because I proved my humanity to myself with the 8 bars I wrote, or a full song I wrote before I went there.”

Daley’s deep ties to Minneapolis are evident in his lyrics and his public persona. But recent political and social turmoil has left him feeling both protective and disillusioned. “Just like anything that you love, there’s a lot of room to be let down, because you put it on a pedestal. You, you, you know, you look, you, you adore it, and then if it does something that upsets you, it hits hard. It’s, you know, very destructive.” He even mused about escaping city life altogether: “I love this city, obviously, but also, I would really love a farm at this point: a couple of animals, grow some food, and maybe an underground bunker. [Minneapolis] is not a big city? So, for us to continue to be so active in the news cycles, it drives me crazy.”

Looking ahead, Atmosphere is set to perform at the Boulder Theater on February 20, 2026, bringing their new material—and Daley’s hard-won wisdom—to fans old and new.

In a world where the music industry often favors spectacle over substance, both Geese and Atmosphere offer a reminder that authenticity—whether in a national TV debut or a basement songwriting session—still resonates. Their stories, though different in sound and circumstance, echo a shared truth: the power of music to connect, to heal, and to endure, even when the world outside is anything but certain.