A letter for Sage Francis
Dearest Sage,
I have wanted to write to you for many moons, but such impulses have been restrained and crushed, due to the fear of my inability to inspire a response, my fear of writing to the ONLY artist I truly revere, who remains above ground, concluding all too quickly that I am yet another demented ‘fan’…I AM a fan, but I consider you a brother. I consider you a King of Men. For your words rarely fail to not only inspire, but also, to make me feel less alone. To make me feel damn sure that you are a man who like me, has zero interest in superficialities, who assumes, through his very nature, a fanatical zeal for self expression…
In a wierd trick of the cruel jester of my fate, it was Slug who managed somehow to put me onto you. I was a massive devotee of Sean Daley, that is, until I discovered you, and around the same time, he began to show his limitations. I have met the great man twice, but what he is producing with Ant these days is for the teenagers, not his own stupidly loyal niche of old. He has heart, and can rhyme, but compared to you, and this is coming from a man who adored him for many years, he is a richly toothsome bean, and you are the bean stalk…I could likely conjur a more fitting analogy to mind, but for now, that will have to suffice, for if I delay sending this missive, it will lose its vitality. Its better to compose and send in one sitting, not several, for the creases will appeal to you more than the smoothness…I cannot recall how mr Daley led to you, but it was likely through either my own investigations into Slug’s contemparies and friends OR my skater housemate attending a live show at The Concorde in Brighton, England, and returning to our shared den, to tell me ‘this man appeared on stage, the sound system was broken, but he rhymed anyway, and he was fucking superb, right up your street, dannyboy’…
Since then, I have been devout. I can still cry all too easily at Runaways, and whenever I make a mix CD, for a new friend, or a Lady I want to devour, you feature more than prominently, you ARE the feature…hohoohohoho!…and rightfully so.
I already have your new album. Its quality. A definite diversion from your previous efforts, but there is hardly a chasm between the Old and the New,, for you have been meddling for a while, with the sounds privileged to serve as a platform for your wordplay. The shiniest aural gem is clearly, upon first listen of li(f)e, Best of Times, but I am also heavily affected by Diamonds and Pearls..we seem to have chased and embraced, loved and lost, the same women, Sage. But this is only partly WHY I revere you as a human God, if such a term exists, either in thought or substance. You offer the truest reflection of Western Culture I have come across. Putting Existence into words, which Dostoyevsky, Burroughs, Thompson, Miller, would be deeply proud of. In short, you don’t know me, but I know you, and you have my love, and also my vicious, aggressive reccomendation, even demand, for others, to seriously LISTEN to your message…I would go as far as to say that anyone who doesn’t feel you, is no friend of mine, and not worth my time. So in those terms, you have become a yard-stick, with which I measure human worth…
In a world saturated with bullshit, you are a glimmer of sunshine, breaking through the clouds, burning Honesty and Truth into the souls of those fortunate enough to feel you. And I am so fucking happy, that you continue to exist and create and share…I compare you with my wolverine maltese shitsu son, Oscar, who mauled my face horridly a fortnight back, when mistaking my nose for a potential thief of the bone carefully hidden under his paws. Its not the bestial tendency towards berserker bitch which provides the comparison. Its the feeling, of profound weight, of ‘such a creature should never die’. Because Oscar, despite his dark instinctive streak, is also beautiful, and real, and amazingly open hearted, that the world WILL BE a colder, less enjoyable place to be when he is gone.’
Well, I guess I should ask the questions which have pushed me to finally pen you a line or ten…Firstly…I read on facebook, that you would be coming to Melbourne(australia) this October. Is this true????? If it is true, please, at least consider the offer, of allowing me the honour of cooking you dinner, pouring you a few glasses of finnish firewater, even taking you to a few decent bars in the city, intentionally hidden away from the mormon masses…
Send word, Sage,
I would be sincerely honoured to hear from you,
warmly,
with intense reverence,
Daniel
and ratdog
P.s>>>>>>>>>>>> on a side note, my aforementioned ratdog son, Oscar, jumps into my arms and howls like a wolf cub whenever I play loud and proud, Jah Didn’t Kill Johhny. Which is strange…for its one of my favourite songs of all times, and Oscar howls for nothing other…I see it as rather fitting, that such a song can reach so deeply into myself as well as my canine companion….
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