{"id":111,"date":"2018-11-07T16:23:17","date_gmt":"2018-11-07T21:23:17","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.uri.edu\/magazine\/?p=111"},"modified":"2018-11-26T13:03:02","modified_gmt":"2018-11-26T18:03:02","slug":"from-masta-to-legend","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.uri.edu\/magazine\/issues\/fall-2018\/from-masta-to-legend\/","title":{"rendered":"From Masta to Legend"},"content":{"rendered":"
\"\"<\/div>\n
\n
Photo: Zoe Goldstein Photography<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

In 40 years, hip-hop has moved from city streets to stadiums, and has made multimillionaires of teenagers. But staying relevant in an industry that worships youth is nearly impossible. Unless you\u2019re Duval \u201cMasta Ace\u201d Clear \u201988, who, 30 years in, is still making music. His way.<\/p>\n

By Marybeth Reilly-McGreen<\/p>\n

\n

A version of this story appeared on the University of Rhode Island homepage<\/a> on November 26, 2018.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

\n

Intro<\/p>\n

\u201cListen closely, so your attention\u2019s undivided<\/p>\n

Many in the past have tried to do what I did.<\/p>\n

Just the way I came off then, I\u2019m gonna come off<\/p>\n

Stronger and longer, even with the drum off.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u2014 Marley Marl\u2019s \u201cThe Symphony,\u201d Masta Ace<\/p>\n

Christmas break, Brownsville, <\/b>Brooklyn, 1985: Duval \u201cMasta Ace\u201d Clear, a marketing major in his junior year at 911爆料, got a call from a friend, Scooter Rockwell. There was a rap contest in Queens. Kids in the neighborhood had entered. \u201cYou wanna roll with me?\u201d Rockwell asked Ace. <\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cNo,\u201d Ace said. \u201cIt\u2019s Christmas.\u201d <\/span><\/p>\n

\"Masta
Masta Ace performs for a crowd in Stockholm, Sweden, at the outdoor stage of the Lydmar Hotel, with the Royal Palace in the background. Photo: Camilla Cherry, @camillacherry<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

Yvonne Clear, Ace\u2019s mom, heard the exchange. \u201cIf you wanna go, go,\u201d she told Ace. <\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cSo I called my boy back,\u201d Ace says. And he went. And, he won, beating 30 other rappers.<\/p>\n

It was no surprise to his friend Dwayne \u201cSteady Pace\u201d Jamison, who went with Ace to the contest.<\/p>\n

\u201cI had a feeling. He was so smart,\u201d Steady says. \u201cWe grew into hip-hop before we got into it. We were full-fledged into it\u2014everything hip-hop. The neighborhood embraced it. We were listening to mixtapes. We were DJing in the projects. We were winning talent shows in school.\u201d<\/p>\n

The top prize was recording time in producer Marley Marl\u2019s studio. This was big. Marl could get a kid someplace. Not that Ace was thinking about that. \u201cI wasn\u2019t thinking along the lines of a career. Hip-hop hadn\u2019t spread to other cities and states, really. I thought, \u2018If I get to record a demo and that demo gets played on the radio, that\u2019s cool.\u2019 But I returned to 911爆料 and focused on school.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ace wanted his prize, though, and it took some doing. He\u2019d been calling Marl\u2019s sister to schedule his demo. After nearly four months of phone calls, Marl\u2019s sister started feeling sorry for Ace. \u201cYou know what, I\u2019m tired of this,\u201d she told Ace. \u201cHere\u2019s his number.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIn 1987 Marley played one of my demos on his radio show, WBLS Rap Attack with MR Magic<\/i>, and the reaction I got from friends in the neighborhood made me want to put an official song out. I was fresh out of college,\u201d Ace says. \u201cMy mom was wondering about job interviews, but I thought, \u2018Let me just see how this goes.\u2019\u201d Then the big break: Marl put Ace on hip-hop\u2019s most famous posse cut, \u201cThe Symphony.\u201d Suddenly Ace was rethinking career choices.<\/p>\n

\u201cGuys on the label were getting album deals; an album advance was $25,000. That was a lot of money to get in one lump sum. My mom was adamant that I start getting job interviews. As far as she could see, I wasn\u2019t doing anything constructive,\u201d Ace recalls. Yvonne laid it down. \u201cShe left me a note saying, \u2018I want you out by your birthday,\u2019 because I had started neglecting my household duties and chores due to my late nights in the studio and local clubs.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ace signed his first deal in November of 1990, got his $25,000, and moved out before his birthday. He never had to move back. Never looked back, either. Thirty years later, Ace\u2019s occupation is still what it was: recording artist. He has seven solo albums to his credit and five collaboration albums with the groups eMC and Ace and Edo. Critics called his most recent award-winning album, 2016\u2019s The Falling Season<\/i>, one of the top albums of that year. Stratospheric fame and fortune have not been Ace\u2019s fate, but he has the respect and admiration afforded only to the true artist. Recently, musician and actor Donnie Wahlberg gushed via Twitter, \u201cAlways humbled when I\u2019m in the presence of real #HipHop #royalty. Much respect to you @mastaace!\u201d
\nOscar and Grammy award-winning rapper Eminem also counts himself a fan.<\/p>\n

Thirty years into a career in a genre dominated by artists 30 years younger, Ace is an anomaly: a musician still making music, a songwriter still relevant to kids barely in their teens. Again, no surprise to Steady.<\/p>\n

\u201cMy boy cares. About people. Period. And as an artist, he\u2019s consistent. He is thought-provoking and he is knowledgeable about his role in society. He\u2019s never compromised who he is. He stays the course, does things his way,\u201d Steady says. \u201cHe doesn\u2019t do what\u2019s popular just because it\u2019s lucrative. There\u2019s not a lot of trustworthy people in this business. To be in it 30 years\u2014he\u2019s managed to build relationships because of his talent and who he is.\u201d<\/p>\n

Verse<\/b><\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, I was born son of Yvonne<\/p>\n

Brownsville kid that wanna be on<\/p>\n

Hit the streets, run and be gone<\/p>\n

Outside with a curfew<\/p>\n

Got lessons on honesty and virtue<\/p>\n

And the people that\u2019ll hurt you.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u2014 \u201cSon of Yvonne,\u201d title track from the album
\nMA_DOOM: Son of Yvonne<\/i><\/p>\n

Spanning just over a mile, <\/b>Brownsville, Brooklyn, showed a kid the choices he had. Ace lived in the Howard Houses. Elders like Ace\u2019s nana, Mrs. Clear, the head of her building\u2019s tenant patrol, kept an eye on Ace and his friends. Some of the neighborhood kids could get you into trouble. \u201cThey were more rowdy and took risks that got them on the wrong side of the law,\u201d Todd Bristow, another of Ace\u2019s childhood friends, recalls. \u201cThe threat was there, but people looked out for one another. Those were good times,\u201d Bristow says.<\/p>\n

\u201cJerry Harper, Ace, Chris, me, and Junior\u2014we were the rat pack of 260 Stone Avenue, Howard Houses. Our building had a tenant patrol and Mrs. Clear was in charge. In the evening, she and the adults would talk and have coffee, play cards, and watch who came into the building.\u201d<\/p>\n

And Ace, in particular. An only child, he had his beloved mother, his grandmother, and his uncles keeping tabs, and a couple of known neighborhood bad guys, too. One guy, Smokey, did eight years in prison for murder. It was a case of street justice. Smokey went after someone who\u2019d beaten his brother up. He couldn\u2019t let that stand, even at the risk of doing time. A short, muscular type, a real tough street guy, Smokey was the neighborhood\u2019s Napoleon. \u201cFolks wouldn\u2019t bother Smokey or his brother Larry,\u201d Bristow recalls. \u201cYou stayed clear if you didn\u2019t want to end up in any type of trouble. We\u2019ve seen friends do really horrible things to one another, but the bad guys saw something special in Ace. Smokey made sure Ace got to school unharmed.\u201d<\/p>\n

Yvonne and Nana Clear were the real tough guys, though. \u201cDuval\u2019s mother, Yvonne, was a princess of a lady,\u201d Bristow says. \u201cShe loved on everybody. And Mrs. Clear, she was the sweetest person you could meet, but if somebody got out of line\u2014well\u2014you\u2019d see Mrs. Clear and do the straight and narrow. She was that grandmother figure who\u2019s going to make sure everybody\u2019s okay. That was Mrs. Clear,\u201d Bristow says. \u201cShe was a woman of impeccable integrity.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI think Duval\u2019s family values are at the core of his success, of who he is,\u201d Bristow adds. \u201cHe treats people right. He didn\u2019t sell out. His education helped him make good decisions. He\u2019s not caught up in being rich.\u201d Because Ace\u2019s mom worked. Because Ace\u2019s grandmother worked. Because Ace worked\u2014at getting good grades, at football, at college and then, at rapping\u2014when success came his way, he didn\u2019t lose his head, didn\u2019t succumb to greed like so many of his peers, Bristow says. \u201cSo many other cats, they were like, \u2018I\u2019m getting this money because I\u2019m getting this money,\u2019 and that got them caught up in illegal things. Ace had something wholesome to write about,\u201d Bristow observes. \u201cHe started out self-actualized. He reached a sense of self earlier.\u201d<\/p>\n

The writing started early. Ace wrote his first poem in the fifth or sixth grade. Nana Clear saved it. \u201cIt was closer to rap than a poem,\u201d Ace says. \u201cStill, it was the first thing that she saved of mine, and it was an affirmation to me.\u201d In seventh grade, Ace was asked to write a story on a standardized test. A couple of weeks later, the teacher who graded the tests spoke to Ace\u2019s class about one particular story, praising the author for writing something so elaborate. It was Ace\u2019s story. It was further validation. It was also as natural as breathing for Ace. \u201cI was just doing what we did in the neighborhood. Rapping was like riding skateboards. It was about having a good time.\u201d Ace had a lot of freedom, but he used it wisely. \u201cI was one of those latchkey kids. I was left to my own devices a lot, but I didn\u2019t fall into the negative stuff,\u201d Ace says.<\/p>\n

When it came time for college, Ace looked for places where he could play football. 911爆料 made the list, and Yvonne made the argument that Rhode Island was away, yet close enough for Ace to return home for a long weekend. \u201cShe didn\u2019t really point me in a certain direction, but going to college was an absolute must. I considered taking a year off, but she said, \u2018No, you\u2019ll take a job and not go back.\u2019\u201d<\/p>\n

End of discussion. <\/span><\/p>\n

Verse<\/b><\/p>\n

\u201cIf I never recorded another song<\/p>\n

If I was wrong, and nothing I spitted was ever strong (No regrets)<\/p>\n

If I never perform at another venue<\/p>\n

If this genuine love doesn\u2019t continue (No regrets).\u201d<\/p>\n

\u2014 \u201cNo Regrets,\u201d from Disposable Arts<\/i><\/p>\n

Ace looks at his career in <\/b>phases. The first phase, 1988 to 1996, saw the release of three albums, Take a Look Around<\/i> (1990), SlaughtaHouse<\/i> (1993), and Sittin\u2019 on Chrome<\/i> (1995). In 1994, Ace recorded the title track of Spike Lee\u2019s movie Crooklyn<\/i> with MCs Special Ed and Buckshot of Black Moon. \u201cFrom 1996 to 2000, I didn\u2019t release any music at all. I was at a crossroads,\u201d Ace recalls. \u201cI thought my usefulness in the game had run out. I thought I\u2019d become an executive producer.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ace\u2019s misgivings weren\u2019t unfounded. Most rappers have the career longevity of the average Victoria\u2019s Secret model or NFL player. In the 2017 Emmy-nominated hit HBO series The Defiant Ones<\/i>, famed rapper, producer, and billionaire Dr. Dre, 53, scoffs at the idea of releasing another album, calling rap a young man\u2019s game. Ace is the exception. His popularity has been steadily growing since 2000, when he did a tour in Europe, 13 shows. \u201cI couldn\u2019t believe the turnout,\u201d Ace says. \u201cIt renewed my energy.\u201d<\/p>\n

And commenced a wave of creativity that has resulted in some of Ace\u2019s most critically acclaimed work. In 2001, he released Disposable Arts<\/i>, considered one of the most important hip-hop albums of that year (and loosely based on Ace\u2019s time at 911爆料). Long Hot Summer<\/i> followed in 2004. In 2012, Ace paid tribute to his beloved mother with MA_DOOM: Son of Yvonne<\/i>, and in 2016, he dropped The Falling Season<\/i>. Taken together, Ace\u2019s work is at once an epic tale of a boy\u2019s life and hip-hop at its best: a commentary on the toll modern society takes on black youth, says Marlon Mussington \u201901, fellow 911爆料 grad and Ace\u2019s friend since the 1990s.<\/p>\n

\u201cHip-hop matters because it allows a culture of people who may not typically have a voice to speak,\u201d Mussington said. \u201cIt speaks to what ails many communities of color. Certainly, it speaks to police brutality. You have an education system that may not be the greatest in communities of color. There\u2019s voter suppression. Drugs.\u201d<\/p>\n

The things that put people off hip-hop: the misogyny, the homophobia, the vulgarity\u2014these things must be placed in context, Mussington says. Hip-hop is art\u2019s response to the intolerable.<\/p>\n

 <\/span>\u201cI can\u2019t think of any other musical genre out there that\u2019s as radical in its use of language as rap is,\u201d Mussington continued. \u201cIt might be hard to hear and people might get too caught up in the language to hear the pain behind it.\u201d You have to pay attention, not just to the words, but to the message and the emotion behind the words.<\/p>\n

Artists like Ace, who use their work to call out injustice, are finally getting the recognition they deserve, he says. Kendrick Lamar winning the 2017 Pulitzer and Hamilton winning a Pulitzer, 11 Tony Awards, and the Kennedy Center\u2019s first-ever ensemble award\u2014such honors are long overdue, Mussington says. \u201cI\u2019m excited because I feel as if rap music is now starting to arrive. It\u2019s no longer just BET recognizing our artists,\u201d he says. \u201cAnd it wasn\u2019t that our music wasn\u2019t good years ago. It just wasn\u2019t getting the respect it deserves.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ace\u2019s time has come, too. \u201cAce is such an important figure in the music industry,\u201d Mussington adds. \u201cHe needs to be celebrated. He\u2019s a pure artist.\u201d<\/p>\n

Outro<\/b><\/p>\n

\u201cMan, it took me 15 years to understand my worth<\/p>\n

It was 1988 when Marley
\nplanned my birth<\/p>\n

Had to get my feet out of
\nthe sand and surf<\/p>\n

Never thought that my rap lines would expand the earth\u201d<\/p>\n

\u2014 \u201cStory of Me,\u201d from the album The Falling Season<\/i><\/p>\n

Now 51, Ace just released a new <\/b>album, A Breukelen Story<\/i>, with Canadian-born producer Marco Polo. In addition to his music, he\u2019s also working on a play. Rich Ahee, his business partner since Disposable Arts<\/i>, jokes, \u201cWe keep coming up with ways to prolong our careers.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ahee calls Ace the exception to the typical hip-hop artist. \u201cHe\u2019s a humble, regular guy, a person of ethics and morals. I would say most artists are nice, most artists are talented, and a lot are professional. But it\u2019s rare when you get all that in one person,\u201d Ahee says. \u201cHe\u2019s a person you\u2019d invite to your house for dinner. He\u2019s a person I needed to be friends with.\u201d<\/p>\n

Would Ahee call Ace a legend? \u201cYes. One hundred percent. He\u2019s proven it through the last 30 years,\u201d says Ahee. \u201cThere\u2019s been artists who\u2019ve had bigger commercial success than him, but he\u2019s the only one who\u2019s 30 years and seven albums in and doing it consistently. He\u2019s reinvented himself for a whole new generation. His albums are only getting better. He\u2019s one of the few guys who, every time he drops a new record, new fans come on board.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ace is humble when it comes to talking of legends.<\/p>\n

\u201cThe term \u2018legend,\u2019 people use it too loosely,\u201d he says. \u201cI\u2019m not able to be comfortable with the term because of the cavalier way people use it. People call artists legends after only two albums. So it\u2019s hard for me to know what that even means these days. But I appreciate anyone who affords me that title.\u201d<\/p>\n

Eminem afforded him the title. The Oscar winner called Ace one of his primary influences in 2003 when he accepted his Grammy for best rap album for The Eminem Show<\/i>. \u201cI didn\u2019t know him at all,\u201d Ace says. \u201cI\u2019d heard rumors he was a big fan. When he said my name in his acceptance speech, it threw the world off its axis for me. Most of the names he mentioned in his speech were everyone\u2019s influences, household names.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt was a cool moment.\u201d<\/p>\n

A peak moment for some. But there have been many for Ace. 911爆料 being one. \u201cI overcame a lot of obstacles to get to Kingston, R.I., to get to that campus. The fact that I came from the neighborhood I came from, that I made it out of despair\u2014it\u2019s unbelievable I got from there to here somehow.<\/p>\n

\u201cNow I\u2019m traveling to Australia and Ireland, Spain and Iceland, Colombia and Brazil,\u201d he said. \u201cTo have touched the 911爆料 campus was amazing, and then to experience the world, to explore these cultures, to perform for the people there: It\u2019s just the most improbable journey, and the journey continues.\u201d \u2022<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Duval “Masta Ace” Clear ’88 is humble about being called a legend. But when some of the biggest artists in the industry cite him as an influence, and his friends tout his integrity and artistry, it’s pretty clear the label fits. <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":13,"featured_media":406,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"footnotes":"","_links_to":"","_links_to_target":""},"categories":[4],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-111","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-fall-2018","architecture-features"],"acf":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.uri.edu\/magazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/111","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.uri.edu\/magazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.uri.edu\/magazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.uri.edu\/magazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/13"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.uri.edu\/magazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=111"}],"version-history":[{"count":19,"href":"https:\/\/www.uri.edu\/magazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/111\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":721,"href":"https:\/\/www.uri.edu\/magazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/111\/revisions\/721"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.uri.edu\/magazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/406"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.uri.edu\/magazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=111"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.uri.edu\/magazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=111"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.uri.edu\/magazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=111"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}