The Atriums' Northside practice space is close, small, tight. It fits us, the equipment and that's it. In this maze-like, huge old warehouse's halls and rooms, other bands play, walk by and shoot the shit. This night, The Atriums are fidgety. Hands clasp and unclasp. Feet twitch. Someone is always picking at a guitar. All five members are multi-instrumentalists.
