Music OnLine : raahon pe nazar rakhna honton pe | ghazals
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Chuck D lets loose on the current administration, expressing his opinion that George W. is "the son of a baaad man" over a claustrophobic, ultra heavy metal riff. With sirens blaring, Flavor Flav in full spasmodia and beats loud enough to give concussions, this track can only mean one thing: PE is back.
Huntington Beach's G-Punk (that's "Gangsta-Punk") bad boys deliver a new album that sounds a little like Urban Dance Squad's "Deeper Shade of Soul" on steroids. With earthquake rhythms, screaming guitars and vocals more beefy than a San Diego burrito, (hed) pe redefine Rap Metal's boundaries.
Huntington Beach's G-Punk (that's "Gangsta-Punk") bad boys deliver a new album that sounds a little like Urban Dance Squad's "Deeper Shade of Soul" on steroids. With earthquake rhythms, screaming guitars and vocals more beefy than a San Diego burrito, (hed) pe redefine Rap Metal's boundaries.
Chuck D has always thought fresh beats were for pussies--keeping up with the times is a job for communications technology. So the four remixes were organized over the Internet by hardcore PE fans, who like semipop audiences everywhere accentuate what's most extreme and inaccessible about their faves, and never mind the Bomb Squad's r&b shake-and-bake on He Got Game. Fortunately, the old sound is hard in new ways, from the slow-and-snaky synth DJ Functionalist lays below "Shut Em Down" to "What Good Is a Bomb" raging against the machine. With the preacherly rotundity aged out of Chuck D's larynx and live drums just making "Put It Up" leaner, PE's music has never been so unforgiving. With a son-of-a-Bush leading us to perdition, what's to forgive? You know times are desperate when Griff starts making sense. (Grade - A-)
Bob Dylan's "self portrait," Miles Davis' The Man With the Horn: For the hip-hop nation, Public Enemy's Muse Sick-n-Hour Mess Age is a comparable heartbreaker – a stunning plummet of the gods from the clouds. An almost eerie failure. Not a wild, strange experiment that didn't take – much worse: a mediocrity. The Good Book says that those who live by the sword perish by the sword: There may be poetic justice, then, in PE's reversal – like all rappers, they gave no quarter when they ruled. And yet their particular braggadocio was deserved. They were the music's bravest prophets, dropping, with the Bomb Squad, cannon-blast beats and revolutionary exhortations, both Nation of Islam pride and antic humor. Muse Sick-n-Hour Mess Age, its labored title a giveaway, is, of all things, clunky, retrograde, monotonous. Even Flavor Flav sounds spent. Attacking outmoded blue-eyed devil culture ("Hitler Day") may be bracing, but PE played the same trick more radically when they dissed Elvis. The metal-guitar and crunch-percussion thing ("Bedlam 13:13") is also tough, but the strategy's tired. Beset by scene stealers to the West (Dre and crew) and on their own home turf (Wu-Tang Clan, Nas), PE fight back with mere petulance. But it's mainly in light of their own grand, dangerous history that Public Enemy's present sounds so bleak.
Formerly with Disposable Heroes of Hiphoprisy, Michael Franti leads Spearhead toward one of rap's possible futures. A Gil Scott-Heron acolyte, he mixes upbeat politics and R&B-reggae-blues fusion. Spearhead lean slightly toward jazz (this year's easy move), but their warm rhythm and Franti's supple voice keep things fresh. Lacking even an eighth of PE's heyday power, this crew still boasts a telling advantage: It knows what time it is. (RS 698/699)
PAUL CORIO
The Phoenix DJ best known for his 2001 mega-mix Uneasy Listening, which helped spark the "mash-up" craze thanks to its charmingly bizarre remixes (Pharcyde vs. Pat Benatar), finally puts out his major label debut. Shifting Gears highlights his unique scratch-laden, futurism-meets-retro production, and sports collabos with PE, Murs and Aceyalone.
Refusing to be silenced by advancing age or industry trends, Public Enemy strike back with another explosive LP. New Whirl Odor finds Chuck D and company firing lyrical salvos against the government, corporate greed and mass ignorance, all set to a backdrop of scorching beats. With all the drama both overseas and in the States, PE feels more vital ever.
Rap revolutionaries Public Enemy collaborate with Bay Area producer/rapper Paris on what may be the best PE album in a decade. Paris' heavy G-funk production is refreshing after the Bomb Squad-lite of recent releases, and Chuck D is still deliciously didactic on polemics such as "Raw Sh*t" -- this despite having a hype man with dubious taste in women.
In the dawn of toasting, well before dancehall or rap, Alcapone played Hammer to U-Roy's PE, stealing pop hooks for the fun of it rather than constructing remixes as deep as his ideological posture. And he's a lot wittier than Hammer. Expostulating, cheerleading, butting in, fabricating duets with local heroes who have worse to worry about, he acts like the best parts of his favorite hits belong to him. And even if that's only because entertainment law hasn't hit Kingston, it's a truth for the ages. (Grade: A-)
The missing element in too many rap-metal bands is hip-hop's sense of bravado and celebration. (Hed) PE -- like Kid Rock -- are the rare rap-metal act willing to admit that good times actually exist. There is no lack of pumped-up aggro and despondency on Broke, the Orange County sextet's second album; "You're so deceiving," sings frontman Jahred grimly on "Pac Bell," "I feel my spirit leaving." But on the G-Funk-meets-Limp Bizkit monster "Bartender," the band gets past its insecurities and plots a boozy night of hitting on girls. "Crazy Legs" features thunderous boasts and (Hed) PE's own take on the chorus from Biggie Smalls' "Hypnotize" (originally from Slick Rick and Doug E. Fresh's "La Di Da Di"); on "Boom (How You Like That)," Jahred sings, "Wake up, light up, watching BET/Fuckin' babies' mothers from Jersey to Cali." Rap metal has found its Motley Crue.(RS 852) ROB KEMP
PE take aim at the notion of "real" in hip-hop culture, bemoan Western imperialism and espouse the possibility of revolt (sentiments that range from disturbing to sad to wistful). Chuck has always sounded great backed by horns (remember Pete Rock's 1992 remix of "Shut Em Down"?), and "Harder than You Think" recalls their most transcendent moments. On the grumpy "Can You Hear Me Now" and "Flavor Man," it's easy to imagine them entering their twilight years -- Flava busting on nurses, Chuck growing gray and embittered in his tower of agitprop.
On his third studio double in a decade, he's definitely cheating. Half the music isn't really his, and the other half is overly subtle if not rehashed or just weak: title track, generational anthem, and lead single all reprise familiar themes, and the ballads fall short of the exquisite vocalese that can make his slow ones sing. But some of the subtle stuff--"Tick, Tick Bang"'s PE-style electrobeats, say--is pretty out, most of the received stuff is pretty surefire, and from unknowns to old pros, his cameos earn their billings. Also, there's half a great Time album here--did he steal it or just conceive it? (Grade: B+)
The hypest hype man around, Flav picks up the mic to drop his debut solo album. Hip-Hop's original clown prince (before the media replaced him with ODB,) serves up his signature high-energy sound to a new generation of listeners. Still rockin' the shades and the clock, he lays down frenetic, high-pitched verses over heavy beats and layered noise reminiscent of vintage PE. His lyrics may not be the deepest (or clearest,) but for those who appreciate his crazy antics and unique approach, this is definitely worth checking out.