Their leader, Chuck D, is the go-to guy for people who want a right-on rap hero, fearsomely articulate and thoughtful, with the stentorian bellow of a preacher and the fierce zeal of a missionary. Jeez, even Michael Gove likes him, as this unbearable clip demonstrates.
I like hip-hop. I own quite a lot, probably more than most people. I have a fair few albums and an awful lot of tracks. The truth is, though, that it's something I enjoy more in small doses. There aren't many hip-hop albums I've listened to repeatedly all the way through. This one I have, but not many others.
I used to make lots of compilation tapes, and I'd always put a rap track or two on them, sometimes in slightly alarming juxtaposition with a folk ballad or some such. But, usually, that's how it works best for me.
I've had a think about why that is. One reason emerged as I was listening to 'It Takes a Nation of Millions ...' recently. It's so demanding! It demands your attention, that you listen to the words, it jabs you with its beats and its samples, its a hundred different things within a song. It made me realise that even if I think I'm giving some album of acoustic flammery my full attention, it gives plenty of opportunities to switch off, to lose oneself within the music (the moment, you own it etc).
One of the many impressive things is just what a honed operation they were - everyone had a role, from the producers who found the music samples to the DJ, Terminator X, to Professor Griff to Chuck D himself who found the vocal samples and provided the powerful lead. And then there was Flavor Flav, the original hype man, one of the most original and unusual characters in modern music, an authentic loon (sometimes not in a good way) whose yapping vocals dovetailed perfectly with Chuck D's.
And then there's the music, jabbing, screaming, always completely original (as original as sampled music can be), eclectic, hardly ever a smooth ride.
There's a real rock sensibility to Public Enemy, and no wonder they were beloved of everyone from Nirvana to the Manics to Anthrax.
This album is from 1988 - hip-hop had had a decade beforehand but arguably this is its Bob Dylan moment or it's Beatles moment - when it grows up and becomes a serious force. That's not to say a) that Public Enemy were every wildly successful - they've sold millions but not multi-millions. They've hardly ever made anything close to pop music. b) that this album is even, sadly, that influential. Righteous, positive hip-hop and sweet hippy hip-hop (represented by De La Soul) had their moment but were swept away by the gangsta rap of NWA which would become the dominant commercial hip-hop of the 90s and beyond.
This album is meticulously put together and constantly on the move - it's 16 tracks, 2 halves, a full hour. Lots of preaching, a bit of humour, lots of Flavor Flav saying everyone's name, including his own. It even begins, incongruously, with Dave Pearce.
Chuck D's lyrics are impressive throughout, and the album saves arguably its two strongest moments for the second half - Black Steel in the Hour of Chaos and Rebel Without a Pause.
Like I say - they're still going strong - I saw them on TV at Glastonbury last year (minus Flavor Flav, an absence keenly felt). We're entering the age of heritage hip-hop acts. Bizarrely, they had their biggest ever UK single in 2012 when their late track ' Harder than You Think' was used by Channel 4 for the Paralympics.
These would be my favourites.
Bring the Noise
Fight the Power
Brothers Gonna Work it Out
He Got Game
911 is a Joke
Give it Up
Prophets of Rage
Black Steel in the Hour of Chaos
Don't Believe the Hype
Harder Than You Think
Night of the Living Baseheads
By the Time I get to Arizona
Public Enemy No. 1
Rebel Without a Pause
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