Sage Francis: Human the Death Disco

First coming to the attention of the weirdo masses during the late ‘90s with Personal Journals, Sage Francis and that disc seemed to be a part of a mounting announcement of some new rap stuffs floating about. It was. So much of that disc informed the following crop of underground rappers that it’s really kinda shocking. And for a brief moment it seemed as if Sage Francis was primed to be either the most well respected underground dude in the game or just a huge star. What else could have resulted?

 Unfortunately, that was roughly a decade ago. And while “Makeshift Patriot” and the instrumental for “Message Sent” are still two of the stronger and more thoughtful rap productions from the last handful of years, nothing that Sage Francis has gotten himself into since that time comes anywhere near those efforts. Having every release judged through the guise of past success has got to be annoying, but that’s how it goes when you arrive as a fully formed genius and then…

No one has come to the point of saying, “He fell the fuck off,” but perhaps we’re getting closer by the release. In the last few years/months white guy rappers have been busy. And Human the Death Dance when compared to, let’s say, El-P’s last long playing endeavor sounds like a suburbanite kid rambling to impress his arty friends who listen to ‘90s rap and new indie-rock. Again, comparing Sage Francis’ output to someone who he very likely doesn’t care about isn’t fair. But for a fleeting moment, Sage and El-P were peers. And while I’ve had my opinion lessened in regards to both performers, the latter still carries around a hefty cache – I mean Company Flow? Come on.

Having said that, if someone described an album to me in terms of El-P, but not quite, I still might be interested. However, by the time one hits the age of thirty name dropping Ginsburg and Bukowski in the same track becomes a bit pedestrian. And really, anyone at that age should be well beyond those two folks. Yep, there’ll always be a place for those writers, but they’re really shouldn’t be the corner-stone of anyone’s library. But in addition to lame name drops Sage Francis brings the lines “you are really not all that” and “loddy doddy/I hate party people”. Having said that, on some of the slower songs, Sage does rip a bit - “Call Me Francois” for example.

Regardless of the raptastics here, most of the production is pretty solid, utilizing Buck 65 amongst a few others. The feeling of self-importance amongst Sage’s self-deprecation is a bit bothersome, though. The rapper knows he’s famous, he’s gotten as big as he can without going to a major label and still leaves us with a 6-minute album closer about how he struggles with addiction. Please.

At one point being in the Anticon stable, this release as well as his Non-Prophets efforts seem a bit tame when considered in the same breathe as any of that work from his formative period. It’s too bad, but we still have those old tyme discs at least.