Master Peace is demanding your attention

It would be easy for me to give you a kind of highlight reel of Master Peace’s career. Back in 2019, during his rap days, there was Night Time. That featured JME and, naturally, got the attention of Skepta. There was his feature on Wrong Answers Only, a single from none other than The Streets. Just last year there was his debut album, How to Make a Master Peace. That solidified just why the Londoner, 25, has earned himself comparisons to the likes of Bloc Party and LCD Soundsystem. Last but certainly not least, there was his Ivor Novello award. It’s impressive but it doesn’t tell you much about Peace Okezie, the man behind the moniker.

My take? His energy is infectious. That might seem obvious if you’ve seen him on social media, where he dances around and, as he puts it, “[looks] silly”. That doesn’t always translate to the real world, though. Previously, I was never quite sure if his whole schtick was entirely real, but when I sit across from him on Zoom — and when colleagues send me videos of him on set, dancing to The 1975 — I can see how he’s got to where he is. I can see it’s by no miracle that he’s made Instagram his playground and got himself a mentor in the form of Mike Skinner.

Of course, it hasn’t been an easy road. As he points out during our chat, he didn’t hear a peep from the media after coming off a sold-out tour, whereas a white artist could do a whole lot less and be written about like “Jesus Christ had come down and sung a couple of songs”. If the Zane Lowe interview dropping days after our Zoom is anything to go by, though, things are shifting. Is a Mercury nom around the corner? That’s always been the ostensible aim for Peace, and he’d certainly deserve it after single-handedly heralding an indie renaissance, all the while derailing the sound we’ve come to expect from Black artists.

Amber Rawlings: You’ve talked about feeling like an underdog in the industry, then you win an Ivor Novello and suddenly the same people who weren’t paying attention are in the room. How do you process that?

Master Peace: Before my album came out, I’d stopped caring. Then, slowly, things started happening. The album got in the charts. I was like, OK, cool, I’m happy with that. Then I got nominated for an Ivor. I was like, fuck. It was always a Mercury or an Ivor that I wanted. Then I won it, which was even more mind-blowing. Everything just started going crazy. It went from being someone nobody cared about to being in the conversation. But it’s not a shock to me. Not even in an ego way — just more like I should have been in these conversations ages ago.

AR: When you met [the producer] Matty Schwartz you said that you “couldn’t stand” each other at first. He ended up basically saving the Master Peace project. What made you trust his vision?

MP: I think because I’ve seen him do it before. When Yungblud was coming up he wasn’t getting played on the radio, so Matty built up Yungblud to who Yungblud is now. When I met Matty, he was just like, “What is this victim mentality you’ve got? Do you not want to be a superstar?” He gave me some tough love. The only person that’s ever given me that real spit was my mum. But since then nobody’s ever given me that, like, “Life is going to be hard, suck it up and fucking get on with it.” Matty was like, “Cool, quit the project, but someone else will come along and do what you’re doing but even better.” I had really low self-esteem at the time. I’d just come off a sold-out tour, but there wasn’t a peep — a white artist would come out and do one tiny show and everyone would be writing about it like Jesus Christ had come down and sung a couple of songs.

AR: You said something really striking in an interview in DIY about the lack of Black pop superstars in the UK, especially those who are operating at that Harry Styles level. Do you feel the weight of that? Is there a pressure to be that person?

MP: At the end of the day, the good shit is gonna be the good shit. Even watching the Grammys yesterday — you’re seeing artists who have been doing this for years finally getting recognition. I was talking to Zane Lowe about it. He was like, “You’re a superstar for the Black people who want to make indie music. How do you feel about that?” I was like, it goes back to the same thing that I said originally — that I knew from when I was kid that I was meant to be here. Imma do two headline shows in one year that are over a thousand capacity, while the artists you’re gassing up can’t even sell out a 500. I’m gonna set the precedent so you can’t ignore me any more. Win an Ivor — can’t ignore me. Play Glastonbury with The Streets — can’t ignore me. It’s annoying because we’d definitely love a Jack to be blowing up more than, you know, a Black kid, but I was meant to be here from the get-go.