Growing up in the mid-2000s, there were few things as pivotal as reading Spin Magazine. They helped to shape my tastes and, in one fateful decision, presented me with an album that would change my view on a whole genre. To say the least, I was ignorant of what constituted hip-hop, finding a lot of the Top 40 at the time to be a bit vapid and uninteresting. It was such a case that I had difficulty listening to a whole album. I always saw the genre as appealing more to singles and quick moments of brilliance. Had Spin not told me to check out “It Takes a Nation of Millions to Hold Us Back,” I probably wouldn’t have changed my tone.
Because here’s the thing. You don’t understand the worth of a genre until you experience it firsthand. You can be told that pop music has the potential to persuade a culture, but until you see those bar graphs, you’re not likely to believe it. There’s a structure, a need to entertain first and foremost. So for me, discovering Public Enemy felt groundbreaking because for the first time I understood that rap could have an urgency, that it could be this creative, confrontational form of communication that spoke to the identity of their culture. Once I saw that it became easier to see groups like N.W.A. as satirists and commentators than a bunch of unpleasant hoodlums.
Of course, this has to be tied into the reality that the mid-2000s was a time when Flavor Flav was an icon for being a buffoon, shouting “Yeah boy!” as some jingle on his reality show Flavor of Love. It was just as staggering to hear him sing “9-1-1 is a Joke” because of what he became. He was a livewire hype man at his finest, and for a time was Public Enemy’s defining member. Sure Chuck D was the voice of reason, but Flav had the oversized clock to tell you what time it was. Most recently, it was also a symbol that his time in the group was up.
I owe a lot of respect to Public Enemy, though I do recognize a part of myself in that Dear White People (2014) joke where a white guy acknowledges his social awareness by trying to bond with a Black student over the group. I’m not saying that I’m still like that, but given that it was my entry point to respect rap music, it feels a bit familiar. Frankly, I feel like I might’ve been more embarrassing during that two-year period where I discovered how big the Wu-Tang Clan’s discography was (I went so far as to listen to U-God records).
But the thing is that I respect their urgency despite not being familiar with any of their music after “Fear of a Black Planet.” Those first three albums are incredible forces of energy with a focus so confident that you just have to admire their commitment. They had a vision, and if I was smarter I would’ve learned the subtext that Chuck D was going on about. I still know that Farrakhan’s a prophet that I think I ought to listen to, but in the 15 years since hearing “Bring the Noise” for the first time, I haven’t.
It made me curious to know where their latest record would go. How does a group who defined the political rap movement possibly compete with the younger generations? Frankly, it’s already been a great year thanks to the immense heat that Run the Jewels dropped with “RTJ4,” which felt tailor-made to the moment. Then again, it only makes it look so much sadder that it wasn’t predictive so much as reflective of systemic racism that was happening for years and decades at that point. How does Public Enemy possibly compete when their biggest protest song, “Fight the Power,” is 30 years old?
Prior to getting into the record itself, I want to admit that this reminds me of another elder statesmen record from the past decade. The Beastie Boys’ “Hot Sauce Committee Part 2” was a lo-fi affair, rich with distortion and compressed beats. Sure it was still invigorating, but it felt so against the grain that you were also confused. This was a throwback album, even if very little of it sounded like “License to Ill.” It was great because it was true to some weird tendency, and I hear it a little in Public Enemy’s “What You Gonna Do When the Grid Goes Down?” This isn’t their greatest sonic creation, but the compressed beats and loud aggression almost make up for those memorable beats.
A Public Enemy in 2020 is just as mad and vital as ever. The whole gist of “the grid” is a sense of order being taken away. At times it’s a reference to general politics, but it’s also come to mention media presenting messages. So much of their identity is still on display here, and they come out swinging with help from Parliament Funkadelic’s George Clinton, who proudly lays out the album’s thesis in “When the Grid Goes Down…” itself muted and distorted by a production that alludes to the chaos that is about to come. It’s anticipatory, making you realize that this is going to be largely commentary from a previous generation, who culturally peaked in the early-90s. Not in a bad way, but in some ways evident of how true to their colors they are, that these problems still, painfully, around.
This is a largely nostalgic record, at times connecting the threads between the past and the present in insightful ways. Whereas most artists would use this technique in underwhelming ways, it helps that Public Enemy has nothing left to prove. They just have to show up and you’ll buy into their hype. Nowhere is that clearer than on “Fight the Power (2020 Remix)” where everything comes together, referencing all of the hot button issues of racist presidents with police brutality towards Breonna Taylor and George Floyd. There’s an urgency, even as the song returns to the famous John Wayne dis. This isn’t an outdated complaint, but reflective of an argument of why we admire problematic figures who hated Black people.
The fight for power is constantly being questioned on the album, and it’s such a vital and engaging experience. While it does sometimes come across as goofy (having Cypress Hill feature on “GRID” reminds me of “When The Shit Goes Down” in an unintentionally silly way), it does pull its energy from an older time, where an audience who grew up on a different form of hip-hop can bond. It also shows up on “Public Enemy Number Won” where The Beastie Boys and Run-DMC guest star for a song that plays more like a memory lane, looking back at the mid-80s when they were the hottest thing in the game. It’s fun to have so many forces on one track, but it’s also part of the album that makes this feel like old men. Some of the edits feel designed for nostalgic impulses and it kind of works. It’s goofy and a nice break from the more confrontational songs, though it also shows how rocky this experience is.
Still, there are moments when you understand why Public Enemy will always be vital. When they get angry, they do so with such a fervent purpose that you are drawn in. In the case of “State of the Union (STFU),” it’s one of their many songs that attack the president, a.k.a. “45” (see also “Toxic”), and it’s here that Chuck D has been saving all of his energy. What he says isn’t exactly new, especially in a time where everyone is mad, but his eloquence helps a lot:
Unprecedented, demented, many president'dNazi gestapo dictator defended (Hey!)It's not what you think it's what you followRun for them jewels, drink from that bottleAnother four years gonna gut y'all hollowGutted out, dried up, broke and can't borrow (Hey!)
Plain and simple, this is what the record is designed for. Where “RTJ4” has wider topics on its mind, Public Enemy goes straight to the source and adds their voice to everyone trying to stand out and make a difference. This is an album-length version of the saying “Vote!” If not for you, then for the sanity of a country that needs to be rewired. It’s the paranoia that should make you concerned in a series of messages that make this album have some value. This is a push to have independent thought, not giving in to something that’s going to brainwash you. There is a genuine concern, and it’s one of the few times that the “back in my day” approach doesn’t feel pandering.
Sure, not all of it is politically correct by modern standpoints (there’s a transphobic reference on “Yesterday Man”), but there is something to this vision that is lively. Sure Chuck D may sound softer, but his firepower is nowhere near depleted. He’s clearly saving up his ammo and doing so with an interesting mix of ideas that come through both in songs and in short interludes that find Black voices discussing what it means to be true to their identity in 2020.
At the end of the day, one has to ask what Public Enemy means in 2020. At the moment, there’s plenty of urgency in the way that the group performs, constantly pushing themselves to be upfront and confrontational. They demand that you listen, and there’s an excitement to it. There’s no denying that fans of an older style of hip-hop are likely to find portions pleasurable, even if it’s cribbing from their better work. Still, to have a place where Public Enemy, The Beastie Boys, and Run-DMC can exist in tandem is delightful, reflecting that everyone cares about making a difference.
But again, it’s difficult to call the production around it as vital. It’s difficult to really compare this to their best work and feel like they’re doing their best. Part of it is age, but it could just be that more Black voices are being recognized, producing works with much more dexterity and accessibility. There are alternatives to hearing Chuck D complaining about living under 45. Everyone has their own nicknames for the president, and that may be a big difference. When they released “Fight the Power,” they were the only ones accusing John Wayne of being racist – and it was bold. Breonna Taylor has pretty much been a battle cry for months.
And, overall, “RTJ4” is just a sign of how to do this with aggression and focus in a modern way. Every moment requires you to listen, to feel something, and maybe even feel uncomfortable. It’s not that “What You Gonna Do When the Grid Goes Down” lacks an immediacy, but it suffers from having alternative options to pull from. Sure, songs like “State of the Union (STFU)” feel cathartic and useful, but is the rest of the album that great? Only kind of. Everything is just loud and angry, and the beats really have no staying power.
This is a good album and manages to feel nostalgic without losing any of its fervor. There is plenty to admire about the “Fight the Power (2020 Remix)” track that shows how things haven’t changed enough in those 30 years. In that way, it strangely works as a problem with complacency. There’s so much to fight right now, and it’s great to have Public Enemy out there. However, I don’t know that this will be as essential as “RTJ4” for anything other than hearing Flavor Flav shouting “Antetokuonmpo!” on “Toxic.” That was fun.
Don’t get me wrong. I think that it’s a good record that gets you hot and bothered real quick. The issue is that very little of it sticks with you. The messages ring loud and clear. You’re able to differentiate every song, but there’s not enough there there that made “It Takes a Nation of Millions to Hold Us Back” into a masterpiece. It’s half concept, half memory lane, and it all paints an intriguing portrait of the group as elder statesmen, though it feels like they’re a better supporter of causes at this point than leaders in terms of powerful anthems.
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