Navy Blue | Song of Sage: Post Panic!
By Justin Christopher Poulin, Contributor
I was introduced to Navy Blue in 2020. Early in the year he dropped Àdá Irin, an album adorned with whimsical jazz samples and calm, meditative lyricism. This was surely some reclusive old soul with a rich back catalog and years of experience. When I began to dig a bit to learn about the artist, I was stunned to learn this was hardly the case. Navy Blue, as a concept, is the hip hop avatar of Sage Elsesser, a skater-turned-Supreme model with a writing credit on Frank Ocean’s Blonde to his name and the unique distinction of having been Earl Sweatshirt’s roommate.
The 23-year-old has been busy over the past few years, and 2020 was no different for him, having dropped Àdá Irin in February and this newest project, Song of Sage: Post Panic! in late December. There are similarities between the two projects; between the jazz-forward instrumentals, the weighty, reflective verses, and deft wordplay, the two albums could be companion pieces. The first difference you’ll notice, however, is the length of Song of Sage; it’s almost twice as long as Àdá Irin, leaving room for Elsesser to explore the grief carried by his ancestors that now weighs on him. The production takes a darker tone in comparison, as well. Woozy, swirling, weatherworn samples crackle with the grit of vinyl grooves abused replaying the same memory over and over.
Song of Sage is an examination of trauma. It’s an attempt to reconcile his familial past with the prospects of his future. Grief and gratitude are common themes, and they aren’t mutually opposed to each other—in fact, they are integrated. At the end of the opening track, “Dreams of a Distant Journey,” we hear the lines:
So when you praise something—alright—it lives. When the spirits praise us, we live. But their praise is our life. Their praise is our heartbeat. Their praise is the grass growing. At least I get to live. And everything, when it dies, you'd have to grieve the hell out of it. Because if you don't grieve it, then it. never was really alive. It didn't live, it's already dead. And that's what terrifies the hell out of us. If you have two centuries of people that haven't grieved the things that they loved, and they left properly, where does that grief go?
The opening song sets the stage for Elsesser to express his pride in his diasporic ancestry, but he recognizes the erasure taking place, both self-imposed and natural—“Way too many European clothes and not enough funds/I been on my own, if Papa was around, it ain’t no question who would own a home.” He shares that guilt many of us feel when a family member passes away. In this case, it’s his father, a Rasta drummer trained in Santeria, a man with whom we come to understand Elsesser had a complicated relationship. He feels the guilt in buying into a white way of life, a way of life that doesn’t value him or his heritage. We get more into this sentiment in the following track, “Tired.” He laments the more deadly impacts of gentrification: “often walking where we sleep, my gentrifying neighbors trying to call the police on me/I need to be prepared.”
Elsesser speaks to the listener as if no one else is in the room, maybe not even the listener. It’s part confessional, monologue, and therapy session. His style as a rapper almost leans more towards spoken word, in that respect. In his delivery we hear the exhaustion, the strain, and the grief in his voice. He recollects his ways to cope—alcohol, weed, self-harm—he reminds himself the self-abuse isn’t the way out, but we also understand that this is something he’s struggling to convince himself of. He finds a sense of calm in his craft, his music. “Alignment” touches on this with repetitive lyrics that become a mantra. We come to find things appear a shade more optimistic by the time we reach the closing track, “224:”
Left amidst to learn some/Found a vice in these spliffs/Trust the flame, made me numb/Same advice had me blitzed/I can't go to where I hide/My sunken place, ain't have a lid/Just like the Patakí say/Shame will have you missing limbs/I can say I love myself, finally I love it here/I can say I love you too/Promise I don't live in fear no more/I got papa's dearest glow, feel his spirit close/Height of soul, my soul's below
Elsesser delivers the final line, “I live this life for my ancestors,” calling back to the lines that kicked the album off.
The introspective lyricism is complimented by equally meditative and pensive instrumentals and production. “Memory Lane” contains ethereal pianos and soulful vocalizations that seem to stretch on forever; an old guitar repeats a downtrodden refrain on “Poderoso;” on “Breathe,” jazz organ reverberates like water’s reflection upon the three stone walls of a grotto shrine, shining (it also features a buttery smooth verse from Yasiin Bey). Take a moment to close your eyes and listen, and you’ll notice that the drums on this project are either mixed in the background or are completely absent altogether (“Tired,” “Alignment”), cutting out the white noise, the clutter, giving the listener a front row seat into Elsesser’s psyche. It’s a technique that’s been used by his contemporary, and sonic mentor, Ka. It pulls the listener inward, which is absolutely key for this project.
Song of Sage: Post Panic! is a slow burn. You can dig and dig, and you’ll still pull out some gems after multiple listens. It’s brooding, thoughtful, empathetic hip hop in the vein of the likes of the aforementioned Ka, Medhane, and billy woods (who also has a feature on this album), but Navy Blue comes through with his own voice, his own story. If Àdá Irin was a prelude, Song of Sage is a proper introduction.