"Clef's back, Clef wants to have fun again," says the revered New Jersey rapper and former Fugee
How old was Quincy Jones when he first collaborated with Michael Jackson?
Wyclef Jean waits for an answer, in response to a prodding of own age -- the dauntless Jersey-bred emcee is 46 -- and the role music still plays in his life.
Jones, an industry behemoth whose chameleonic career Jean has intently studied -- was 45 when he first took on Jackson's 1979 smash "Off The Wall."
"See, I'm just getting started, baby!" Jean exclaims in a recent interview, noting that when he won his first Grammy Award in 1997, as a member of the Fugees and orchestrator of the group's seminal LP "The Score," Jones assured Jean he hadn't even begun his climb.
The luminary had it right. Twenty years removed from "The Score," an album forged almost entirely in Jean's uncle's basement in East Orange, the artist has carved a career defined by its versatility and subsequent high-profile successes -- his ill-fated dip into Haitian politics notwithstanding.
Jean's raspy collaboration with Colombian pop star Shakira, for 2006's "Hips Don't Lie," reached No. 1 in 55 countries, and his producer's credit on Santana's titanic "Supernatural" linked him to the record's Album of the Year Grammy Award in 2000.
Shakira and Wyclef Jean perform "Hips Don't Lie" at the 2007 Grammys. (Photo by Kevin Winter/Getty Images) Now, ahead of Jean's first solo album in seven years -- most recent was 2009's confessional concept LP "From the Hut, to the Projects to the Mansion" -- as well as an anticipated Tuesday performance at the Brooklyn Bowl, the self-described "man behind the music" speaks vibrantly as he draws the curtain on his new act "Carnival 3."
"This album is inspired by 1994, all the way to 2020 -- I'm always ahead," Jean boasts. "If you're a lover of hip-hop, you know I always bring you the world music of hip-hop."
He speaks of the Caribbean and reggae influences he's injected and inflected into virtually every release since the Fugees, and of the blaring, party brass of his new single "My Girl."
He adds: "Those horns make you say 'okay, Clef's back, Clef wants to have fun again.'"
"My Girl" will be incorporated into Jean's Brooklyn set -- the second of two concerts marking his first borough gigs in a decade -- though he has no idea where it fits in.
"My secret is I never have a set list," he says. "My whole performance is based off of energy. As humans, we are all just vibrations ... all I do is celebrate that vibration to you and if you give it back to me, then we're going to have a magical night. You're gonna be on every drug you can possibly be on, without being on them."
"Carnival III," the official title of a project deemed "Clefication" this time last year, is planned for a fall release on New York indie label Heads Music, and like its acclaimed precursors, allows space for his resume of talents -- rapping, singing, instrumentation, production -- plus a slew of featured artists, including Emeli Sande, Pusha T, DJ Khaled and even Daryl Hall.
"There's people who want to hear me rap on the album, I'm not gonna let them down," he says. "And people will want to hear where I left off with Shakira, I'm not gonna let them down either."
Of course, the eclectic artist is eager to discuss his new projects, but as a man who's spent most of his last three decades around North Jersey -- he now lives in Saddle River with his wife and daughter -- Jean is equally content in doling out local memories, of days competing in "the best talent shows ever" at Vailsburg High School in Newark, and faculty who recognized the teen's abilities early on.
"My first manager was my gym teacher, how crazy is that?" he says.
Jean recalls sneaking into surrounding high schools' lunch periods to battle-rap other students, and according to cocksure rhymer, he usually won with ease.
But Jean admits one defeat, at the hands of a rival who spun his unorthodox living situation into verbal ammunition.
Wyclef Jean's senior portrait from Vailsburg High School, class of '88. When Jean was 15, his father purchased a partially burned funeral home on South Orange Avenue in Newark, with plans of building the area's first English-Creole bilingual church on the lot. But while construction was taking place, Jean's family was forced to live in the charred home's basement.
"We were with the coffins, the embalming fluid," he says. "You know that show 'Six Feet Under'? That was us in the hood."
"We used to be so ashamed," he continues, "I would look out the window and have to let all of the kids walk first to school, then me and my brothers would sneak out and jump the fence, so no one would see us. We never wanted people to know where we lived."
But a challenger bent on embarrassing Jean caught wind of his homelife.
"He's rapping and says 'Clef is in the Twilight Zone, because he lives in a burnt funeral home,'" Jean says. "All the kids start running, laughing, and I'm like 'come back, come back!'"
Jean graduated from Vailsburg in 1988, and several years later relocated to East Orange -- his uncle's basement on drug-riddled South Clinton Street -- and with just a VFX keyboard purchased by his cousin, began his career in earnest.
After the Fugees' 1994 debut LP "Blunted On Reality" wasn't commercially successful, Jean, Lauryn Hill and Pras Michel spent long hours down in Jean's basement-turned-studio in 1995, molding "The Score" and what would become the best-selling rap album to that point.
"It was like being an inventor, like Steve Jobs decides he's going to go in his garage with a group of dudes and create something," Jean says. "I knew it was a vibe, and we knew the block was gonna love it, but we always said, we wanted to be a hip-hop band, not just rapping. So we started bringing in our instruments and that set us apart."
Critics praised "The Score" for its sonic crossroads of rap, R&B and reggae -- a testament to Jean's Haitian roots -- as well as its astute ghetto commentary.
"We wanted to bring a different perspective of the hood," Jean says. "There's really no difference between N.W.A. and the Fugees. As authors, we painted differently. On "The Beast," when we're saying 'on the town the beast is loose,' we're saying the same thing as them saying 'F--- the Police.'
"We wanted to do something where the neighborhood would feel like their voice was being represented," he says. "At the time, as still today, police brutality was a part of it. That's why 'The Beast' is still powerful."
Twenty years later, the passion to propel his viewpoint across the globe continues to burns hot.
"I'm still on my warmup," Jean assures. "I'm excited about is working with a label that's going to bring out the next Erykah Badu, the next Lauryn Hill, the next Beyonce. It's the youth that gives me my energy."
Bobby Olivier may be reached at bolivier@njadvancemedia.com. Follow him on Twitter @BobbyOlivier. Find NJ.com on Facebook.