Sage Francis

He's been "sick of waiting..." for a long time. He's battle rapped his bearded, pancake ass into scribble jam folklore as Xaul Xan. He's got the sickest cat sweater game in the independent music scene, and the hairballs to prove it. Sage Francis has never been afraid of exposing those dark places (I've got the icloud hacked pictures right here), and he brings those darknesses to light on Copper Gone.

You can't kill him muthafucker!

You also can't deny that he's one of the most consistent writers in music living today. His least loved album is Li(f)e, and if you get off your high horse and listen to it again he wrote some amazing ass songs all backed by a band, on some Springsteen every man struggle shit.

Copper Gone finds the Rhode Island bridge gnome delivering some of his rawest, most visceral songs since Personal Journals.

"Make'Em Purr" Is the audio version of the Good Will Hunting scene, in which Robin Williams hugs Matt Damon and tells him it's not his fault. fucking tears bro. Like, hug my wife and take a deep, therapeutic breath dude. He paints a picture of depression and despair flawlessly, in the Sage-iest way possible.

Sage Francis is that MC who crafts albums you can casually listen to, but asks that you sit and pay attention to the details. "Cheat Codes" is his finger poke to your chest, reminding you that while he's been gone 4 years, do not think you can Fuck with his skills.

"Vonnegut Busy" summed up my last 3 years of rebirthing myself, and the hook is the gooey placenta I feel covered in. Stop worrying about what could've happened, what might've been, and put some miles on those chucks and live fucking life guys.

Sage Francis will forever have a special warm place in my heart, because mix tapes with his poems and music helped my sloppy ass score a fine ass, brilliant women who was willing to marry me. But aside from that, I know that every album is a journey of reflection, challenging where you're stuck at, and making you feel like you're not alone in the shit storm.

"ID Thieves" has Sage Francis addressing would be indie cats trying to use a bastardize version of his style, "Why you think I let you get away with doing radio-friendly versions of what I do? Like I wouldn’t chide you, out perform, out write, and out rhyme you. Outsmart, out heart, and out grind you. Out shine you with the torch that was given to me. Torches are not passed to the bastards of the little league". Spits pure fire Dy-Lan,Dy-Lan, Dy-Lan.

Copper Gone is everything you come to expect from Sage Francis, but like anything good, has improved with age, and just feels a lot better each listen. Can he make a bad album? Can he run for Providence President of indie cat rappers? Can his beard stop global warming? Who knows. I do know that this might be my favorite Sage Francis album ever, or at least tied with Personal Journals.