Forcément, vu le flow des emcees, les lyrics de morceaux hip hop aboutissent à des articles assez longs. Ici, Sage Francis, toujours en mode introspection, et qui revient sur ses années d'étudiant (quelques jours après Michel Cloup).
Allez, je suis sympa, et pour vous faciliter la lecture, je déroge à la règle et ajoute un player. Ca vous permettra d'ailleurs d'entendre la production de Yann Tiersen.
Its been a long and lonely trip but I’m glad I took it cause it was well worth it. I got to read a couple books and do some research before I reached my verdict. Never thought that I was perfect. Always thought that I had a purpose. Used to wonder if I’d live to see my first kiss. The most difficult thing that I did was recite my own words at a service realizing the person I was addressing probably wasn’t looking down from heaven. Or cooking up something in hell’s kitchen, trying to listen in or eaves drop from some other dimension. It was self serving just like this is. Conveniently religious on Easter Sunday and on Christmas. The television went from being a babysitter to a mistress. Technology made it easy for us to stay in touch while keeping a distance, till we just stay distant and never touched. Now all we do is text too much. I don’t remember much from my youth. Maybe my memories repressed. Or I just spent too much time wondering if I’ll ever live to have sex. Fell in love for the first time in 4th grade but I didn’t have the courage to talk to her. In 8th grade, I wrote the note and slipped it in somebody else’s locker. Considered killing myself cause of that, it was a big deal, it was a blown cover, it was over for me, my goose was cooked, stick a fork in me, the jig is up. I blew my chances, the rest is history, our future was torn asunder. It became abundantly clear that I was only brought here to suffer. At least I didn’t include my name. Thankfully I wrote the whole note in code and it had ten layers of scotch tape. Safety seal, making it impossible to open. Plus, it was set to self destruct. Whoever read it probably died... laughing. I wonder if they lived long enough to realize what happened. A year later, I came to understand that wasn’t love that I was feeling for her. I had someone else to obsess over. I was older. I was very mature. I forged my time signature while practicing my parents autograph 'cause I was failing math. Disconnected the phone when I thought the teacher would call my home. Check the mail box twice a day. The end of a long dirt road steamed open a couple envelopes like I was in private detective mode. If you snoop around long enough for something in particular, you’re guaranteed to find it. For better or worse, that’s how I learned that it’s best to keep some things private. It was the best of times. It was the end of times
I was always on deck. I was next in line. An only child with a pen and pad, writing a list of things I could never have. Walls in my house were paper thin. The squabbles seemed to get defying. My memories serve me correctly, I made it a point to avoid and forget some things. Probably to keep from being embarrassed. Never meant to upset or give grief to my parents. Kept my secrets... hid my talents... in my head, never run to the mattress. Therapy couldn’t break me. Never learned a word that could ensure safety. So I spoke softly then I tip toed often. The door to my room was like a big old coffin. The way that it creeked when I closed it shut. Anxieties peaked when it opened up. As if everything that I was thinking would be exposed. I still sleep fully clothed. It was the best of times. It was the end of times.
It was beautiful. It was brutal. It was cruel. It was business as usual. Heaven. It was hell. Used to wonder if I’d live to see 12. When I did, I figured that I was immortal. Loved to dance but couldn’t make it to the formal. Couldn’t bear watching my imaginary girlfriend bust a move with any other dudes. Till love was talking about a "wild thang" but I was still caught up with some child thangs. Scared of a god who couldn’t spare the rod. It was clearly a brimstone and fire thang. Pyromaniac. Kleptomaniac. Couldn’t explain my desire to steal that fire. Now I add it to my rider. Like "Please oh please, don’t throw me in that patch of brier!". It was the best of times it was the end of times.
The school councilor was clueless cause I never skipped classes. Perfect attendance. Imperfect accent. Speech impediment that could never really fix and I faked bad eyessight so I could wear glasses. Considered doing something that would cripple me. I wanted a wheelchair. I wanted the sympathy. I wanted straight teeth so then came braces. Four years of head gear helped me change faces. It was the best of times. It was the end of times
Now I wonder if I’ll live to see marriage. Wonder if I’ll live long enough to have kids. Wonder if I’ll live to see my kids have kids if I do I’m gonna tell 'em how it is. Like "Don’t listen when they tell you that these are your best years. Don’t let anyone protect your ears. It’s best that you hear what they don’t want you to hear. Better to have pressure from peers than not to have peers. Beer won’t give you chest hair. Spicy food won’t make it curl. When you think you've got it all figured out, then your universe collapses... Trust me, kid. It’s not the end of the world.
Li(f)e (Anti, 2010)
Le morceau met du temps à démarrer, et s'achève trop vite : un poil frustrant, donc.
Sage Francis sera en concert à Paris le 26 septembre, à La Machine