Milestones: A Long Hot Summer by Masta Ace
Milestones: A Long Hot Summer by Masta Ace
This classic has Masta Ace focusing on a narrative told from multiple perspectives, tying rap music industry commentary like a raging fire through an inner-city neighborhood one sweltering summer.
In 2001, Masta Ace’s line “I don’t know if it’s the end, but yo it might be” on “No Regrets” from his album Disposable Arts fueled rumors about an early conclusion to his career. For many fans, it seemed inconceivable that this underground gem could be the final release from the former Juice Crew member. Unbeknownst to the public, Duval Clear, Ace’s real name, had been diagnosed with multiple sclerosis in 2000. Faced with this shocking news, he created a record that would be a fitting finale to his work.
Complications with his distributor led to the halt of Disposable Arts sales just months after its release, despite the album receiving critical acclaim. Feeling cheated and concerned that the record would never achieve its intended status, Ace began working on A Long Hot Summer, a concept album designed as a prequel to Disposable Arts. This new project tells the captivating and accessible story of an underground MC’s life in Brooklyn, New York, leading up to the events of its predecessor.
The album opens with “The Count,” transporting the listener from a shabby New York motel room, where Fats Belvedere, Ace’s friend and loyal companion, counts their recently earned cash. Ace’s distracting mumbling prompts an irritated response from Fats, who fears losing count again. A sudden knock on the door shifts the focus, guiding the audience on a journey that began months earlier in “Big City.”
“New York, Big City of Dreams/To get by, cats doing plenty of things,” Masta Ace raps, setting the stage for the everyday hustle in the Big Apple that serves as the narrative backbone for the next 60 minutes. Unlike his friends and many others in the neighborhood who resort to criminal activities to make a living, MA aspires to build a life through his rap skills. Despite possessing the talent, he has yet to gain the public recognition he deserves.
It’s difficult to explain why when one of the most talented rappers of our generation effortlessly navigates through “Good Ol’ Love” over a dignified Willie Hutch sample, consistently mindful of his exceptional flow: “I’m down to earth, and I’m close to ground/And spit shit better than most around/This how hip-hop is supposed to sound/Tear them other cats’ posters down now.”
The first two tracks of the album delicately weave the initial threads of the narrative, setting the stage for A Long Hot Summer to truly take off with “Fats Belvedere.” The first skit introduces the lively yet compassionate companion, who declares, “No matter what you need, come to me.” Fats, sometimes reminiscent of a Joe Pesci homage, struggles to comprehend why Ace dedicates himself to being an underpaid rapper. While he prefers to engage in his own illicit activities, Fats respects his friend’s unique aspirations.
In “Da Grind,” a captivating boom bap joint accompanied by the melancholic strings from Jerry Butler’s “How Long Will It Last,” Ace illustrates the challenges of the rap game, likening it to a battle against windmills. He assumes the roles of manager, promoter, agent, and secretary to ensure he has a few dollars in his pocket after his tireless efforts. Naturally, he must also perform: “And after it all, I still gotta perform/At three o’clock in the morn’, when half the fans are gone.” Support only arrives when the money is already flowing, as featured guest Apocalypse confirms: “When I’m broke my moms won’t even give me a hug/But on payday I’m her baby then she call it love.”
Masta Ace shines as a distinctive narrator, particularly in “H.O.O.D.” As producer Nostradamus envelops Freda Payne’s “Stares and Whispers” in nearly celestial sounds, the protagonist assumes an impressive dual role. He identifies as a part of the Hood, his home that he cherishes. Simultaneously, he manages to observe with a nuanced perspective, refraining from glorifying neighborhood life: “The hood’s like a sitcom/Leave ya bike outside, come back outside/I guarantee your shit gone.”
With Koolade’s arguably most beautiful beat on the album in “Beautiful,” A Long Hot Summer demonstrates that the numerous producers involved do not hinder the listening experience. The blend of nineties boom bap and soul-infused samples form a cohesive thread throughout the initial tracks, marking one highlight after another.
Previously still philosophizing about the bewitching uniqueness of the music, but a little later, the grinding underground MC is eaten away by self-doubt, which makes “F.A.Y.” a toxic reckoning with the rap industry. His skills seem to have been completely wasted on the ungrateful labels: “Hate indie labels, especially hate Majors/I don’t give a fuck no more, fuck this tour/Fuck these shows and these groupies, they all hoes.” The Fuck Off anthem does not lack humor and self-irony at all.
At this point, one of the five skits jumps in again to advance the everyday life of the opposing duo, Masta Ace and Fats Belvedere. In “The Proposition,” Fats proposes to accompany Ace on his upcoming tour as a manager in order to pursue his now internationally branched business under legal cover. The joint journey stylizes “Travelocity,” which takes a piece by the French singer/songwriter Charles Aznavour as a model, as a Casanova adventure. With clever rhyme structures and entertaining lines, Ace, supported by Wordsworth and Punchline, boasts women’s stories from Switzerland, India, the USA and England.
In general, the short interludes always prove to be an important narrative element in A Long Hot Summer. The conversations conducted there always cleverly continue the story, while the tracks merely describe the resulting situation. This ensures that the story of the album always remains easily accessible and never gets lost in confusing story labyrinths. In addition, the individual titles also function perfectly separately from each other. The best example of this is “Soda & Soap”, which is fun with integrated brand names of lemonades and detergents, even out of context: “Maybe go to a mountain, do (Mountain Dew) a little skiing.”
The same goes for “The Ways” by DJ Serious with Alan Parker’s dreamy “monochrome” and violent bass. On the occasion of his tour, on which Hotzkopf Fats provides entertaining entertainment with sudden outbursts, Ace still travels around the world in history. There, he also met other rappers and those who still wanted to become one. He gives you valuable advice: “So before you pick a logo and choose a Name/First, you gotta learn the ways of the music game.”
In contrast to “F.A.Y.,” in which he mainly sees himself as a victim of the rap game, he comments here on the broken and inhuman relationship between labels and artists, garnishing the second of his two outstanding parts even with allusions to famous disputes between record companies and artists: “Diddy had a problem with Stevie Stoute/Got a Cristal bottle, knocked Stevie out.”
After the “Oh My God” supported by Beatbox miracle Rahzel, A Long Hot Summer is surprised by a sudden cut, and Ace finds himself in prison. Here, the story fits together and follows the intro “The Count”. Neither the room service nor the cleaning service knocked on the door of the motel room. Instead, the police stand on the carpet, who not only came behind Fats’ criminal machinations but also behind Ace’s cover and thus the complicity. Reason enough to thoroughly rethink his life in the final “Revelations:” ”At times I don’t know who I be/And when I look in the mirror it’s like I don’t know who I see.”
Ace reveals to his cellmate that he wants to continue his education after his release from prison and to graduate. This is precisely what the predecessor Disposable Arts, published in 2001, is about, on which Masta Ace visits the fictional rap institution School of Disposable Arts. The circle closes. If you want to know how the story continues, you have to listen to Disposable Arts, which was published in 2005 as a reissue over the master’s own label, M3. And that’s exactly what Duval Clear wanted when he created this milestone.
The positive side effect: A Long Hot Summer has even become the better of the two albums. Elegant soul samples, together with boom-bap romance, provide an unexcited and truly beautiful sound framework that Masta Ace does justice to at any time with incredible flow and interesting lines. Rarely has a concept album been so descriptive yet captivating, well-structured, catchy, and comprehensible. One of the most respected rappers in the underground provided not only a long and hot but perhaps the best summer in rap history in 2004.
Standout (★★★★½)