FEATURE:
Welcome to the Terrordome
Public Enemy’s Fear of a Black Planet at Thirty-Five
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I wanted to celebrated…
the third studio album from Public Enemy. Fear of a Black Planet was released on 10th April, 1990 by Def Jam Recordings and Columbia Records. A hugely influential album that was produced by Public Enemy’s production team, The Bomb Squad. Building on the sampling heard on the group’s previous album, 1988’s It Takes a Nation of Millions To Hold Us Baack, there was a definite expansion of the sound. Fear of a Black Planet, among other themes, explores empowerment within the Black community, “social issues affecting African Americans, and race relations at the time. Its critiques of institutional racism, white supremacy, and the power elite were partly inspired by Dr. Frances Cress Welsing's views on color”. I wanted to mark thirty-five years of the album by exploring it in more detail. In 2015, NME wrote why Fear of a Black Planet is more relevant than ever. The righteous energy and anger that is displayed through the album is powerful and impactful:
“Yet in 1989, the group found themselves embroiled in an ugly controversy. Professor Griff, the group’s ‘Minister of Information’, told Melody Maker that: “If the Palestinians took up arms, went into Israel and killed all the Jews, it’d be alright.” When grilled on this point by David Mills, of the Washington Times, Griff went further still, saying: “Jews are responsible for the majority of the wickedness in the world.” Chuck D first apologised for him, then called a press conference to announce that Griff would be suspended from Public Enemy. A week later, the group’s label boss, Russell Simmons of Def Jam, announced that Chuck D had disbanded Public Enemy “for an indefinite period of time”.
Within a couple of months, Chuck D returned to deny that the group had disbanded, but by now a shadow had been cast over the band. This was the context in which they wrote ‘Fear Of A Black Planet’ – knowing that their next release could make or break them.
Predictably, they didn’t back down. ‘Welcome To The Terrordome’, released ahead of the album in January 1990, saw Chuck D rapping lines that many took to relate directly to the anti-Semitism controversy: “Crucifixion ain’t no fiction/So-called chosen frozen/Apology made to whoever pleases/Still they got me like Jesus”. Later, Chuck said that he wrote the song over the course of a two day road trip to Allentown, Pennsylvania in the midst of the controversy. “I just let all the drama come out of me,” he told Billboard magazine. “‘I got so much trouble on my mind/I refuse to lose/Here’s your ticket/hear the drummer get wicked”. That was some true stuff. I just dropped everything I was feeling.”
Although rightly apologetic for Griff’s anti-Semitism, Public Enemy didn’t let the controversy stop them writing angrily and graphically about the social problems they’d witnessed in American culture. Most withering of all was ‘911 Is A Joke’, in which a scornful Flavor Flav highlights differing police response times in black and white neighbourhoods. The song is a classic example of the symbiotic writing relationship between the group’s two frontmen: Chuck D wrote the incendiary title and then passed it to his partner to build a song around. “It took a year, but Flavor was saying he had a personal incident that he could relate that to,” Chuck said. “At the end of the year when it was time for him to record he was ready. Keith [Shocklee, Bomb Squad] had the track, and it was the funkiest track I heard. It reminded me of uptempo Parliament/Funkadelic.”
After skewering the police, Public Enemy then reset their sights and took aim at capitalism as a whole. ‘Who Stole The Soul?’ was their furious attack on the commodification of black culture, and Chuck D has called it one of their “most meaningful performance records”. They weren’t just calling for words or token apologies: they wanted action. “We talk about reparations,” he remembered later. Whoever stole the soul has to pay the price.”
The album closes with the incendiary, insurrectionary rage of ‘Fight The Power’. Like the best protest music, it is a song written with a specific political target in mind, which has now become a universal anthem of political resistance. On a recent European tour, Chuck D told NME that the song grows stronger as it takes on the historical context of wherever it is played. “In Belgium, we dedicated ‘Fight The Power’ to the Democratic Republic of Congo,” he said. “The memory of Patrice Lumumba [first democratically elected prime minster of Congo, who fought for independence from Belgium] will not be in vain. You always have to be aware where you’re going to when you step into somebody’s home. That’s the thing that sets us apart as different. We’re not the normal rap group.”
Sonically, too, they were no normal group. Sprawling over 20 tracks, ‘Fear Of A Black Planet’ is hip-hop at it’s most musically ambitious. Having toured as a support act for the Beastie Boys (as referenced in the radio phone-in samples that make up ‘Incident At 66.6 FM’), they were inspired by the sample-laden ‘Paul’s Boutique’, released in 1989, to add soul and jazz influences without dialling down any of the anger of their earlier recordings”.
I am going to move on to a feature from 2020. Among controversy and division, the group released one of their finest work. An album that still sound phenomenal thirty years on. On 10th April, I hope there are new features written about Fear of a Black Planet. If you are not familiar with Public Enemy or know much about the album then I would urge you to explore it now. A big commercial success, at the time of its release, critics hailed Fear of a Black Planet as a masterpiece and the best that Hip-Hop can offer:
“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.
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”.
I am going to end with a feature from last year. An album, as mentioned, that is relevant today, it is hard to compare Fear of a Black Planet with anything else. A masterpiece that was “issuing calls for a survivable lifestyle”, it brought respect for Hip-Hop from critics. Public Enemy also acquired millions of new fans. It also provoked passionate debate over its political content:
“Pulling no punches
Packed with Public Enemy classics and somehow even louder and rougher than its predecessor, Fear Of A Black Planet, released on April 10, 1990, pulls no punches. As ever, the group were not only concerned with the present and the future of black people, they were steeped in black history and culture. That can be seen on the most superficial level: their samples are a lesson in hard funk and their song titles show PE know music: “Brothers Gonna Work It Out,” a title drawn from a 1973 Willie Hutch classic; “Fight The Power,” from an Isley Brothers song; “Power To The People,” perhaps partially inspired by Joe Savage’s “All Power To The People” (a song probably released in aid of the Black Panthers, in 1968), or Joe Henderson’s 1969 album of the same title.
Here is a group at the peak of its powers, knowing what it says is going to be heard and fighting to deliver it in the most uncompromising way possible in the face of criticism, fury, incredulity, and misunderstanding, as heard on the radio clips that appear on “Incident At 66.6 FM.” If their intention, at the least, was to make listeners think, they succeeded.
This time around, one of the biggest tunes was Flavor Flav’s showcase, “911 Is A Joke,” a brassy, rolling groove with a point: people in the projects can’t rely on the help the rest of society takes for granted. “Welcome To The Terrordome” drops like a piano from a skyscraper, with Chuck quoting the titles of other songs for a moment before he kicks off a flow that is the work of a man under attack. Paranoid? Perhaps, but they really were out to get him and his people, Chuck’s rhymes taking in crucifixion, racist killings, heroes assassinated, a lack of black unity, and the whole nine yards.
Fear of a black planet
The album’s title track is a shower of funk, with cartoon-like use of vocal clips while Chuck mocks white fear of black people and points out a few home truths as he sees them. A similar fury simmers behind “Pollywanacracka,” but the approach this time is downbeat, quietly explaining a situation in which black people choose white lovers as a status symbol. “Burn Hollywood Burn” features a dream team of Chuck, Ice Cube, and Big Daddy Kane: Cube would soon be making his own movies in Tinseltown, but here his fire is directed squarely at the West Coast dream factory.
On “Revolutionary Generation” a call for unity between sister and brother is served up with references to slavery and oppression; yes, that is a bit of “Pass The Dutchie” incongruously thrown in amid a tangle of samples that keep the ears alert. Flav lands another showcase in “Can’t Do Nuttin For Ya Man,” necessary leavening amid the polemic and power, with the man who knows what time it is telling a tale of being chased down by hustlers, beggars and dudes who f__ked up.
An album beyond compare
Terminator X drops “Leave This Off Your F__kin’ Charts,” exemplary mixology with a title that didn’t really apply since PE had no problem charting back then. Together with “B Side Wins Again,” this is Fear Of A Black Planet’s most B-boy offering: total hip-hop. “War At 33 ⅓” is a mass of ideas, ranging from cars to fake evangelists, religious divides and African-Americans’ second-class status in a racist America. The album closes with “Fight The Power,” another PE classic, rolling on a diced and re-glued beat from The JBs’ “Hot Pants Road,” left to the end just to make you want to go back to the start and hear it all again. Ah, there is Elvis and John Wayne… you knew they had to be here somewhere, getting dissed.
There is more; the internet isn’t hasn’t got the capacity to cover everything in this record. “Controversial” isn’t a big enough word for it; funky is hardly an adequate description for the firepower of The Bomb Squad’s grooves; Chuck’s lyrics are more than mere rhymes. These aren’t songs, they’re calls for a survivable lifestyle, a series of theories, an expression of what was wrong, and what is still wrong – sometimes wilfully so. It’s like Chuck D anticipated the haters-gonna-hate credo that exists now, and decided he might as well speak his mind anyway.
The result was an album beyond compare: thrilling, infuriating at times, educational, funny, and deep enough to keep you finding new things in it three decades after it was unleashed on a planet that feared, loathed, and loved it”.
On 10th April, Fear of a Black Planet turns thirty-five. With its songwriting partly inspired by the controversy surrounding member Professor Griff's anti-Semitic public comments – and his consequent dismissal from the group in 1989 -, there is something personal, political and universal about the album. There have been so many Hip-Hop masterpieces released through the decades, yet there are…
FEW better than this.