Sage Francis: Walk The Line

Perhaps more than fellow underground mavericks like DOOM and Noah23, Sage Francis is the quintessential independent hip-hop artist working today. After ten years of gruelling and fearless hard work, Sage has honed his combination of sublime word play, masterful rap flows and clowning lark, and is now enjoying some of the pay-off for his relentless work ethic and skill.

Recently signed to Epitaph Records’ sister label, ANTI- (sometime home to Billy Bragg, Spoon and Tom Waits) – hardly a major enough label to warrant his having to hand over his indie credentials – Sage proves grotesquely unfounded the fears sparked by his disappointing last album, that well-fed artists have nothing to inspire them. His new album, Li(f)e, is one of his best yet.

“This record highlights many of the falsehoods that many of us operate under,” says Sage of his recent expedition's all-encompassing blanket. “Whether because of culture, family or religion, we are all dealing with various types of lies, fallacies and myths – it's almost part of our genetics that we need to believe in lies. Maybe because the bare bone aspects of real life are so boring and mundane.

“It's different for each person and everyone knows what they truly believe in and how they represent themselves, but it's up to you to realise what lies you are perpetuating so that you can feel good about yourself,” Sage says. “The older I get and the more I see that kind of mentality screw with our happiness, conscience and consciousness, the more I want to call it out for what it is – a bunch of bullshit.”

Musically, Li(f)e is most immediately marked by its lack of traditionally “rap” backing tracks, with music entirely provided by bands rarely associated with the genre: members of Califone, Death Cab for Cutie, Calexico, DeVotchKa, and Sparklehorse all provided music for Sage to wax ecstatic over.

“It was a tedious process; a very long and expensive process,” Sage says of working with live, organic musicians rather than samples and drum machines. “But when it works, it's exhilarating and an enriching experience for everyone involved. First we had to convince the musicians and bands to provide music for me to consider, and it took a lot of convincing: most of these people had never worked with a hip-hop artist before and we had to make them understand that I didn't want hip-hop beats or music that they thought was good for rap.”

For a lot of modern rappers, there is always the issue of pushing their sound in new directions, whilst still trying to be seen to be 'keeping it real' within what can be a very narrow-minded genre. “We didn't want a traditional hip-hop sound,” Sage admits. “We wanted the kind of music they would normally make, which I would work around. Eventually people started sending demos that they had made for their own albums; I would write to them and do some sloppy editing on my home computer to get the rough arrangements I needed and sent them back to see if they were ok with what I'd done.”

The resulting album is a beautiful example of how great rap and rock-based music can copulate, but also marks a remarkably mature and accomplished turn from the rapper who was once Natalie Portman's most, ahem, persistent admirer. “Now I've established myself to the extent that I can do different types of narrative. I just tell someone else's story from time to time,” Sage explains. “But when you break it down, every writer writes about themselves, whether the song or book is about them or not. They still have to draw from their own experiences and have to relate well enough to that character that they can write about them. I grew up on hip-hop and my strength has always been in my writing. The quality of writing is always going to be what separates me from the pack.”

Although an outstanding wordsmith, Sage wasn’t drawn to rap because it affords an artist a play with words in a way that other genres might restrict. Almost a personification of rap’s evolution to date, Sage shows up much of the current ringtone-centric mainstream facet of the genre for the vacuous and saccharine dross that it is. “Gimmicks are easy to copy and emulate, trends are trends because they're easy for a bunch of people,” Sage muses. “When it comes to a writer's ability to encapsulate a feeling or idea in the proper amount of words and have verses and choruses that tie into each other, that's not something people can just do on a whim, it takes discipline and a dedication to the craft.”

“What I had to do ten years ago was establish myself in a way that the hip-hop crowd wouldn't reject me,” he continues, ”which they may do now. Now if the hip-hop crowd don't accept me, it's not make-or-break for me. Back then, I was in the thick of things: I was doing battles and working with hip-hop producers. I was playing the game, trying to make the dopest hip-hop songs that existed in the context of the community of people who were releasing vinyl. Back then, I was dirt poor and now I am definitely well-to-do, I own a house and run a record label. I still dress and live the same as I always did but at least I have a cushion in case anything goes wrong.”

But Sage is aware that his route into the genre has cost him many aspects of a 'normal' life, counting friendships and relationships as casualties along the way. “I have overworked myself over the past ten years which has separated me from a life that is conducive to healthy thoughts and a healthy body,” he offers in parting. “Unless you're willing to sacrifice a lot of the good things in life, don't expect any of the good things in the industry to happen to you, and still expect a lot of the shitty stuff to happen to you as well. It's not a struggle for me anymore and I'm glad I found my own voice. I can follow my own path that doesn't rely on any trends that are currently happening in hip-hop. I hope that gives my music a timeless quality.”