#LongPlayLove: Celebrating Public Enemys ‘Fear of a Black Planet’
By Justin Chadwick
Happy Anniversary to Public Enemys third LP Fear of a Black Planet, originally released April 10, 1990.
In retrospect, growing up in Oakland during the last two decades of the twentieth century meant that exposure to hip-hop music was a foregone inevitability. And in my case, when I heard and took serious notice of hip-hop for the first time at the age of 10 in the form of Eric B. & Rakims 1987 single Paid in Full this initial discovery was a personal tipping point for me. I wasnt just exposed to hip-hop, I was transformed by it. The energy, the poetry, the melody. Man, I was all in. I mean, all in. And my passion for hip-hop would continue to grow exponentially throughout my pre-teen and teenage years, right into my early adulthood.
Now, granted, a middle/upper-class white kid from the East Bay who listened to hip-hop was no anomaly. My love for hip-hop was certainly not unique for my demographic and geographic. However, while many of my white friends were listening to hip-hops more playful, crossover-friendly acts like Run DMC, the Beastie Boys, Rob Base & DJ E-Z Rock, Too $hort, Tone L?c and Young MC, I found myself gravitating toward the more politically and socially righteous artists that my black friends were championing like Public Enemy, Boogie Down Productions, Paris, X Clan, and Poor Righteous Teachers, among others. Dont get me wrong, I listened to and appreciated the full spectrum of hip-hop styles, and tried not to discriminate. But there was something far more stimulating to my ears about the acts that had more meaningful and provocative things to say. The acts that challenged me, as the listener, to think differently and analytically about Americas complex and interconnected social, political, and racial dynamics.
So why did this particular strain of hip-hop resonate so profoundly with me? On a fundamental level, my socially liberal upbringing had a lot to do with it, as I was nurtured by parents who possessed a broad worldview and taught me to value and respect other people, regardless of or more accurately, because of their respective backgrounds. Thanks in large part to my parents, Ive always been interested in hearing and inclined to empathize with the perspectives of people whose life stories are different than my own. But more than my own predispositions, I think I gravitated toward so-called conscious hip-hop artists because I was able to discern a great deal of truth and insight within their music. And perhaps surprisingly to some, the experiences and ideas they explored were not completely foreign to me. For despite my well-rounded upbringing and the socially progressive, culturally tolerant reputation that my hometown and other neighboring East Bay cities are known for, I witnessed plenty of racism during my adolescence.
Mind you, the racism that I observed was not necessarily revealed in conspicuous ways. Instead, it was a more subtle manifestation of white privilege, one that resided just below the surface or on the tips of peoples tongues. Which, if left to fester for too long, can be just as dangerous and destructive as more overt, unequivocal forms of prejudice. And as a young white person myself, I believe that I had a unique window into much of this closeted racism because I was perceived neither as the object of nor an immediate threat to peoples secret biases. Nevertheless, I was always floored by the immorality and ugliness of it all, and felt justified in calling people out on their questionable ethics when warranted.
More than any other group at the time, Public Enemys music seemed to validate and expand upon my feelings of disgust and disillusionment. Albeit the power and pertinence of their messages operated on a significantly more amplified, elevated level than my very specific personal observations did. Arguably one of the most vitally important and iconoclastic acts in the history of hip-hop, Public Enemy has devoted their career to deconstructing and combating the racial hypocrisy and injustice inherent within our social institutions, political leaders, and mass media. And whereas the Beastie Boys encouraged all of us to fight for our right to party, Chuck D, Flavor Flav, Terminator X and crew flipped the sentiment to empower the black community to party for its right to fight, by embracing more action-oriented and militant approaches to conflict resolution, when passivity and diplomacy invariably fall short.
PEs sophomore album, 1988s It Takes a Nation of Millions to Hold Us Back, is widely regarded as their seminal masterpiece, one of the greatest hip-hop albums if not the greatest ever recorded. And while it is impossible to deny the brilliance and far-reaching influence of their second long player, Im convinced that their follow-up LP Fear of a Black Planet deserves just as much praise and recognition. If any group has room in its repertoire for not one, but two masterpieces, its Public Enemy. And Fear of a Black Planet is a masterpiece, by any stretch of the imagination.
Following the critical and commercial acclaim that accompanied the release of their 1987 debut LP Yo! Bum Rush the Show and It Takes a Nation of Millions to Hold Us Back, Public Enemy and their production partners The Bomb Squad set out to orchestrate a more focused and unified concept album, both thematically and sonically. With respect to the former, Fear of a Black Planet draws thematic inspiration from psychiatrist Frances Cress Welsings 1970 essay The Cress Theory of Color-Confrontation and Racism (White Supremacy), which contends that the psychological roots of racism run deep. More specifically, Welsing suggests that the historical subjugation of the worlds non-white majority is the result of the white minoritys lust for power, which derives from the latters own feelings of inadequacy. And it is whites inferiority complex and insecurity that compels them to protect their global dominion by exacting complete control of the mind, body, and otherwise over non-whites. Indeed, whites fear of non-white people goes far in explaining racism, both on the micro interpersonal level and macro institutional level.
Fear of a Black Planets incisive title track acutely encapsulates these inextricably connected notions of white fear and black persecution, and the entirety of the album revolves around this thematic thread. To be sure, its an angry, frenetic, and tension-filled record. But not superficially so. Instead, PEs and specifically Chuck Ds vitriol is delivered methodically and cogently. On the opening verse of Welcome to the Terrordome, when Chuck D reflects that I got so much trouble on my mind / refuse to lose / heres your ticket / hear the drummer get wicked, you cannot help but accept the invitation into his agitated psyche and absorb what he has to unload.
Across the not-so-silent protest albums twenty tracks, Public Enemy exposes many and spares few in their relentless diatribe against those who undermine black dignity, whether the perpetrators are white or black. Most notably, the group denounces the film industrys discriminatory traditions (Burn Hollywood Burn), emergency crews notoriously slow response in black communities (911 is a Joke), the Police (Anti-Nigger Machine), the misogynistic treatment of black women (Revolutionary Generation), and the perpetuation of black self-destruction (Welcome to the Terrordome).
Its not all biting critique, however, as a handful of songs advocate for empowerment and unity, encouraging black people to mobilize against the crimes and injustices that continue to victimize their communities. Brothers Gonna Work It Out, Power to the People, and Fight the Power are all powerful rallying cries that discourage complacency and call for individual and collective action.
The latter is the albums most instantly recognizable track, as Spike Lee wisely selected it as the anthem for his classic, incendiary 1989 film Do the Right Thing. To say Fight the Power was a logical choice is an understatement. It is the films omnipresent musical centerpiece and Radio Raheems constant aural companion, appearing in the Rosie Perez-blessed opening credits, and continually resurfacing during the most poignant scenes. With powerful rallying cries like Fight the Power, Fear of a Black Planet helped to fuel the fire of hip-hops growing commitment to afrocentrism, a movement that became ubiquitous during the early 1990s. Hip-hops afrocentric sensibility regrettably faded over time, due to its inevitable commodification and the emergence of a more narcissistic, bling-obsessed contingency and commercial machine within hip-hop. But the music spawned by the movement was fantastic while it lasted.
The power of Fear of a Black Planets central messages is driven in large part by Chuck D, who, at the risk of stating the obvious, is one of the most charismatic lyricists of all time. Chicago Tribune music critic Greg Kot once suggested that What Bob Dylan did for rock in the ’60s, what George Clinton did for funk and Bob Marley for reggae in the ’70s, Public Enemy’s Chuck D has done for rap: given it legitimacy and authority far beyond its core following. High praise among rarefied company, and totally warranted in Chuck Ds case. Revered for his commanding presence and impenetrable flow on the mic, his bulletproof voice has always been the linchpin of Public Enemys sound, and nowhere is this more evident than on Fear of a Black Planet.
But while Chuck D is unquestionably the most prominent voice on the record, Flavor Flav garners a good share of the spotlight and makes the most of his time to shine. On 911 is a Joke and Cant Do Nuttin for Ya Man, Flav injects some humor-filled levity into the predominantly heavy affair, making for a more balanced listening experience overall. Brothers Gonna Work It Out is one of the albums strongest tracks largely due to the call-and-response, yin and yang-like chemistry between the two emcees, which is wonderful to behold.
Sonically, Fear of a Black Planet is one of the most multifaceted, dense, and electrifyingly innovative albums youll ever hear. With production helmed by The Bomb Squad, the album takes inspiration from the Wall of Sound paradigm introduced by legendary producer Phil Spector in the 1960s, and updates it for the hip-hop generation. In fact, Chuck D has previously referred to Bomb Squad co-founder Hank Shocklee as the Phil Spector of Hip-Hop. Indeed, the Bomb Squads inventive production work on the album is the kind that you cannot possibly grasp upon a single listen alone. Repeated, focused listens are required in order to uncover all of the many intricacies, layers, complexities, and nuances contained therein. The musique concrète production technique is another obvious reference point, as the album incorporates a calculated potpourri of scratches, audio clips, samples, and sound effects galore.
Conceptually, The Bomb Squads ambitious approach was a tough trick to pull off, and seemed destined to produce a chaotic, distracting, and uneven cacophony of a record. But in practice, the opposite proved true. The Bomb Squad meticulously executed upon their vision of creating a cohesive and infectious album that reveals hidden treasures upon each subsequent listen. Instead of diverting the listeners attention, the various noises actually operate harmoniously to produce a clarifying effect, enabling the listener to focus more squarely on Chuck Ds voice and lyrics. Sure the album contains a handful of memorable and successful singles, but the totality of the albums compositions is truly more thrilling than any one single alone.
When you consider the breadth of sampled material that The Bomb Squad integrated throughout Fear of a Black Planet, it boggles the mind. In a 1990 interview with Keyboard, Chuck D explained how samples fit within the sonic context of the album:
We approach every record like it was a painting. Sometimes, on the sound sheet, we have to have a separate sheet just to list the samples for each track. We used about 150, maybe 200 samples on Fear of a Black Planet. Fight the Power has, like, 17 samples in the first ten seconds. For example, there’s three different drum loops that make one big drum loop: One is a standard Funkadelic thing, another is a Sly thing, and I think the third one is the Jacksons. Then we took some sounds from a beat box. The opening lick is the end of a Trouble Funk record, processed with doubling and reverb. And the chorus is music going backwards.”
Such liberal use of samples would never fly today, due to the landmark 1991 Grand Upright Music, Ltd v. Warner Bros. Records Inc. copyright case, which involved Biz Markies unauthorized sampling of a Gilbert OSullivan song. The court ultimately ruled that Biz Markie and Warner Bros. infringed upon OSullivans copyright, and the ruling established the precedent that artists and their record companies are legally required to secure proper clearance from the original copyright owners before selling records that contain sampled material. Fear of a Black Planet was released 20 months before the ruling was imposed, and therefore avoided such legal constraints altogether.
As the 1980s concluded, hip-hop was still a relatively fledgling musical phenomenon and had not yet achieved the mainstream acceptance that defines the genre today. It may seem crazy to contemplate now, but if we refresh our memories to 25 years ago, many people were skeptical that hip-hop possessed any potential for longevity, and instead considered it an ephemeral fad that would eventually fade. Through Fear of a Black Planets cross-genre, cross-demographic appeal, Public Enemy not only solidified their own global popularity, but more broadly and importantly, they ultimately helped to cultivate more widespread respect for hip-hop music. In distinguishing Fear of a Black Planet from its revered antecedent, Chuck D remarked to Billboard that It Takes a Nation was our nation album, Fear of a Black Planet was our world record. Whether or not one agrees with the groups political convictions, afrocentric foundations, or social rhetoric is not the paramount point. Instead, what’s most important is that PEs music and message introduced more sophisticated, substantive, and universal dimensions to hip-hop, beyond the party raps and braggadocious boasts that characterized most acts at the time. And the world listened.
Twenty-five years and eleven albums later, Public Enemy are now cherished elder statesmen of the hip-hop game. As evidenced by their deserving 2013 induction into The Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, the groups relevance still transcends hip-hop alone. They continue to record solid album after solid album, and Chuck Ds voice remains as fresh and vital as ever. And while the debate concerning whether It Takes a Nation of Millions to Hold Us Back or Fear of a Black Planet is the pinnacle of their recorded output will likely rage forever, the reality is that both LPs are equally pivotal works within the broader context of Americas musical legacy. Fear of a Black Planet may be the lone Public Enemy album currently preserved in the Library of Congresss National Recording Registry, but its only a matter of time until room is made for one more.
My Favorite Song: Welcome to the Terrordome (1990)
Bonus Videos:
Fight the Power (Full 7-Minute Version) (1989)
Burn Hollywood Burn (1990)
“Do the Right Thing” (Clip) (1989)
911 is a Joke (1990)
Brothers Gonna Work It Out (1990)
“Do the Right Thing” (Opening Credits) (1989)
“Can’t Do Nuttin’ for Ya Man” (1990)
BUY Public Enemy – Fear of a Black Planet