Happy 30th Anniversary to Public Enemy’s third studio album Fear of a Black Planet, originally released April 10, 1990.
Anyone who has been paying attention to Public Enemy’s possible split/publicity stunt currently playing out right now might think that the group is coming apart at the seams. But anyone who was a fan of the group in the late ’80s knows what’s going on now is small potatoes. Thirty years ago, while controversy cast Public Enemy’s future in doubt, the group released one of the strongest albums in their catalogue, Fear of a Black Planet.
Fear of a Black Planet emerged from a swirling cauldron of uncertainty and animosity. It’s a sprawling, messy, politically charged, and ultimately humanistic album. It features the crew’s frontman Carlton “Chuck D” Ridenhour and hypeman William “Flavor Flav” Drayton trying to envision the future, and taking chances as performers.
It’s also arguably the finest production effort by The Bomb Squad, the architects of Public Enemy’s sound. The team, comprised of Hank and Keith Shocklee, Eric “Vietnam” Sadler, and “Carl Ryder” (Chuck D’s production nom-de-plume), takes their “wall of sound” production styles and cranks them up to the maximum, generating a belligerent and harsh aural assault. It’s even more openly hostile to traditional forms of hip-hop production than Public Enemy’s previous two releases.
The musical backdrop they create is a cross between a fever dream and the world’s most powerful pirate radio broadcast. Tracks often flow together with little break or pause between them. This was during the “wild west” era of sampling, when artists would rarely bother to clear samples; Chuck later estimated that they used 200 to 250 samples to create the album. Even the interstitial music between the songs is interesting, as they continuously layer samples, vocals, and broadcasts to form a collage of chaos.
It’s fitting, as Fear of a Black Planet was born out of chaos. The bedlam initially began at what was the group’s earliest peak, during the summer of 1989, shortly after the release of their signature track, “Fight the Power.” The song is an essential component to Do the Right Thing, a Spike Lee Joint that’s not only one of the best films of the 1980s, but one of the greatest films of all time. The track blasts out of the Boom Box of Radio Raheem (as played by the late Bill Nunn), in nearly every scene that he appears.
Decades later, “Fight the Power” is still one of the most popular and beloved songs in hip-hop history, and just as synonymous with politically-charged hip-hop as the group itself. It exemplifies the group encouraging resistance towards traditional power structures, and thumbing its nose at all-American institutions like Elvis Presley and John Wayne. It would show up as the final song on Fear of a Black Planet, a final exclamation point signaling the end of a tumultuous era for the group.
The problem began for Public Enemy as “Fight the Power” was first gaining traction in popular culture during those hot summer months. The Washington Times conducted an interview with Professor Griff, Public Enemy’s then Minister of Information (essentially their media spokesman). During this interview, Griff made some fairly flagrant anti-Semitic comments. After the interview was printed, all hell broke loose.
In the interest of damage control, Griff was fired, re-hired, and then fired again from the group. Or possibly quit. Or possibly never left. It’s never really been clear. Public Enemy broke up and reformed numerous times over the next few months, before coming back together. Or maybe never really disbanded at all. Again, it’s never been clear. It is worth noting that Griff has apologized a few times for making the controversial comments. It was time of great uncertainty for the great group, and as a super-fan, I personally was devastated by the way things were playing out.
When Fear of a Black Planet was finally released, it was a clear artistic and commercial triumph. To this day, it’s still Public Enemy’s most commercially successful album, as it’s certified double Platinum. It features iconic singles that have had a cultural impact that’s gone beyond just music and entered the shared cultural vernacular. While it might not be Public Enemy’s best work (1988’s It Takes a Nation to Hold Us Back is still better than everything), it’s among the greatest hip-hop albums ever released.
I’ve spoken here many times about by deep love for and obsession with Public Enemy’s music growing up, so it was a given that I was eagerly anticipating Fear of a Black Planet when it dropped. The problem was three decades ago I was in the middle of spring break during my freshman year of high school and on a family vacation with my parents and younger brother the day it hit the shelves. We spent most of it in Death Valley, nowhere near a record store.
Towards the end of the trip I remember that I forced my folks to stop at a Rainbow Records outside of Las Vegas so that I could buy the album on tape. I was instantly overpowered by the release. Even its packaging was overwhelming; the cassette’s liner notes were so voluminous that they had to be included on a separate insert. I remember spending that last day or two of the vacation listening to the album on my Walkman, intently reading the lyrics and the lists of emcees and groups that Chuck D shouted out, including but not limited to the “Popular 14,” the “Disciples of the Future 17,” and the “Funky Fellas on the Block 22.”
Fear of a Black Planet still resonates as powerfully today as it did 30 years ago. “Welcome to the Terrordome,” the album’s first proper single, is as “angry” of a hip-hop track as was released in the ’90s and beyond. The song is as central to the group’s legacy as the aforementioned “Fight the Power.”
“Terrordome” focuses on the controversy that consumed the group throughout the second half of 1989, and Chuck D uses the song to vent his frustration with the news media. Public Enemy has had a, shall we say, difficult relationship with the media since the group’s inception, and Chuck rails against outlets throughout the song’s four verses. He’s said that the song was supposed to signify the beginning of what the ’90s would bring for Public Enemy and rap music, and in many ways it’s correct.
The track itself is one of the Bomb Squad’s masterpieces, a churning engine of unholy sonic fury. The guitars and vocals from the Temptations’ “Psychedelic Shack” are transformed into a relentless cacophonic blare, as disorienting snatches of music and other vocal snippets burst throughout the composition as well. The song barely has a hook, with Flavor Flav chanting “Come on down!” when necessary. He also memorably crows throughout the breaks between verses, reciting lines from Scarface, and generally goofing off in his signature style.
The bitterness on “Terrordome” is palpable, but overall, it’s an outlier on Fear of a Black Planet. For all the pandemonium and acrimony that built the album, Chuck shares a generally positive outlook on what the ’90s will be for the Black population of the United States. “Brothers Gonna Work It Out” typifies the message of optimism that permeates much of the album. Public Enemy is generally not thought of as a particularly hopeful group; they made their name reporting on the way that the government systematically oppresses its Black population.
Chuck and Flav work hard to inspire on “Brothers Gonna Work It Out,” encouraging unity within the Black community. They encourage their brothers to “get mad, revolt, revise, realize they're super bad,” and to focus their energy towards fighting against a corrupt nation state. The beat to the song is mostly built around a sample of the ending guitar solo from Prince’s “Let’s Go Crazy,” along with a mash of seemingly dozens of other sources.
Fear of a Black Planet is also the finest collection of Flavor Flav performances in the group’s prolific discography. Flav had already proven himself a valuable part of PE on their previous two albums, but the group places him front and center on Fear of a Black Planet, as he spearheads two of the album’s single’. The first is, of course, “911 Is a Joke,” his missive at emergency services for their hesitancy to serve poor and unprivileged communities. Flav’s charisma is enough to carry the song on the vocal side, crowing over funky horns and the guitars from the Sound Experience’s “Devil With the Bust.”
“Can’t Do Nuthin’ For Ya Man” is another solid single, and it’s also the most light-hearted song on the album. Originally released on the House Party soundtrack released a month before Fear of a Black Planet, it sports an almost disco/house feel, with Flav mocking his friend’s self-created misfortune. It also features what is likely the first—and certainly the best—reference to the Shell Answer Man.
“Burn, Hollywood, Burn” is another enduring single from Fear of a Black Planet. Inspired by the continued negative portrayal of the Black population in many mainstream Hollywood films, Chuck, joined by his fellow lyrical heavyweights Ice Cube and Big Daddy Kane, lashes out at the film industry, threatening to metaphorically incinerate it. The song is at least partially inspired by the embrace of Driving Miss Daisy, which subsequently won Best Picture at the 1990 Academy Awards, while Do the Right Thing was shut out.
“Burn Hollywood Burn” is also important to the development of Ice Cube’s career, even though he only drops an eight-bar verse on the song. The story goes that Cube ran into Chuck at the Def Jam offices after Cube had been meeting with label president Lyor Cohen. Chuck invited Cube to the studio, and the song became his first post-N.W.A verse. Cube’s appearance on the song would also set into motion his collaboration with the Bomb Squad, who would go on to produce and oversee his first solo album, AmeriKKKa’s Most Wanted (1990).
“Anti-N***er Machine” is a solid and sadly all-too-brief anti-authority track. Over a more mellow and melodious track, Chuck takes aim at both government forces who seek to censor his music and the police departments who seek to antagonize the predominantly Black and Brown communities throughout the United States. The 12-inch single for “Brothers Gonna Work It Out” included a longer version of the song, featuring an extra verse by Chuck.
Public Enemy spends a good deal of time discussing interracial relationships on Fear of a Black Planet. The title track is a brash, humorous entry, where both Chuck and Flav mock the fear of miscegenation harbored by many white United States residents. The song plays like a “traditional” Bomb-produced connection, as Chuck raps atop a dense mash of musical samples and vocal soundbites.
Meanwhile, “Pollywannacracka” is a unique entry in Public Enemy’s voluminous discography. Musically, the song is understated, yet still crowded, with vocals filtering in and out over a sample of Leon Haywood’s “I Want’a Do Something Freaky To You.” Chuck D turns in one of his most distinctive vocal performances, mimicking the voice and vibe of a Quiet Storm DJ, complete with effects to make him sound like he’s broadcasting at 1am on a Tuesday night. He doesn’t so much as rap his verses as he waxes philosophical about the complications that can arise from interracial love in the Black neighborhoods.
Chuck D later simultaneously channels James Brown and Bobby Byrd on “Power to the People.” The track is designed as a fast-paced call to action, as Chuck issues a rallying cry in the hopes of motivating the downtrodden to action. In terms of Chuck’s delivery, it’s also reminiscent of Gary Byrd’s “Every Brother Ain’t a Brother,” only even more aggressive.
The crew again goes for the live on the radio/in the park aesthetic on “B-Side Wins Again,” with Chuck and Flav firing lyrics rapidly, their vocals altered to sound like they’re emanating from a thumping sound system in a concert venue. The track is a break beat bonanza, with the pair going for broke over the drums from Kool & The Gang’s “N.T.,” horns, and vocal scratches. The song first appeared as the B-side to the single “Black Steel in the Hour of Chaos” in an even more stripped down form. And despite the fact that the track is a dedication to lesser-known components of an artist’s discography, it’s simultaneously one of the few songs on the album targeted for play in the club.
“War at 33 1/3” is one of my personal favorite songs on the album, and one that is rarely mentioned or celebrated. Much like the title suggests, it’s a nearly two-and-a-half minute war on record, as Chuck targets those in power who continue to treat him as a threat and a menace. Chuck has said that his aim was to demonstrate “how fast I could rap and how hectic I could get on a record.” At 128 beats per minute, it was the fastest record that Chuck had ever rapped on at that point, and I don’t believe he’s rapped on anything faster since, with memorable lines like, “Time to smack Uncle Sam, who don't give a damn / Look at the flag, my blood's a flood without credit / Black and close to the edit / I fed it, you read it, just remember who said it.”
These days, the controversy surrounding the release of Fear of a Black Planet is mostly forgotten. The album remains one of the group’s best regarded, even though members of the Bomb Squad assert that the final result could have been even better than what was released, if not for all the turmoil and strained personal relationships.
Long after it appeared that the group would be ripped apart, Public Enemy persevered and created a perfectly imperfect monument to the end of the ’80s and the beginning of the ’90s. For all the effort that went into its creation, it generates even more power and strength in what it gives back to the listener. The fact that the group survived the circumstances that inspired this album has convinced me that what’s happening now, as addressed earlier in this piece, barely rises to the level of a bump in the road.
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