#12: Public Enemy —It Takes a Nation of Millions to Hold Us Back — 1988
New York, NY — Def Jam
Entirely produced by legendary crew Bomb Squad, Public Enemy’s second album, It Takes a Nation of Millions to Hold Us Back, is considered by many one of, if not the, best rap records of history. Perhaps the quintessential Golden Era album, it introduced some daring, almost groundbreaking styles and techniques, both in producing and poetics, and firmly put Chuck D, Flavor Flav, Terminator X and Professor Griff up there in the hip-hop hall of fame for all eternity.
One thing that immediately hits you after pressing play on Nation is how a few of the rhymes and most of all the flows are somewhat more simple and basic while compared to some of the stuff we saw earlier. I guess it could be explained by the fact that the tempos and beats are notably more fast and busy, with some of that frantic mid-80s vibe to them, which would ask for a more square, straightforward approach to flowing. That doesn’t mean, however, that his rapping doesn’t have its own particular charm.
Remember that stuff I was talking about in the last review, about how Rakim is a jazz trumpetist and Big Daddy Kane is a funk bassist? Well, by that metric Chuck D, the group’s main MC, is a bona fide delta bluesman, with a deep, booming voice, and a contundent, if sometimes monotonous, delivery. It’s not that he really shouts like, for example, Run-D.M.C. or LL Cool J — rather, his voice has this natural force to it which allows his delivery to be intense without sounding like he’s half-yelling, even though he effectively is. He makes extensive use of pauses and silences to accent and give flair to certain bars, and the main characteristic of his way of flowing would be how he, while maintaining a constant metric, shifts between different speeds with ease, sometimes multiple times within just a couple of bars, which certainly helps accent the multiple of internals to be found. Of great help to break it up, too, are Flavor Flav’s, the second MC and hype man, constant interjections at various points during the verses, most notably his infamous “yeaaah boyeee”. His jovial voice and positively energetic delivery are a good counterpoint to Chuck’s, and his interventions mostly clock in at the perfect moment.
Back to the production, I sincerely believe this record is an almost perfect showcase of what makes Bomb Squad, the crew behind these beats, so special. As I’ve mentioned, the songs are at a faster tempo and also have this more frantic feel to them, noticeably by virtue of the extravagant, almost experimental sampling and chopping work. The classic funk and soul samples and drum breaks are now joined by industrial-sounding, exquisitely chopped field recordings and random mundane sounds, coming together into a harmonious cacophony of timbres that’s a long way from the empty, reverberating Rick Rubin-esque drum machine beats of a couple of years back. Complimenting such masterful production, then, is Terminator X’s talented working of the turntables, present but not limited to the album’s mandatory DJ track, Terminator X to the Edge of Panic. Present all throughout, too, is what would later become known as Bomb Squad’s production trademark: the minute chopping of samples into tiny little stabs rather than entire phrases, which would eventually become an important trick up the beatmaker’s sleeve with the advent of copyright infringement lawsuits — but more on that on later reviews.
Another thing that is consistently present all throughout is this certain live show vibe, marked mostly by the occasional sample of a cheering crowd, recordings from their own live shows, as well as the already mentioned hyped-up performances. According to Wikipedia that is because, having noticed the great success they achieved in live shows, the crew decided to try and imprint some of that energy into the studio sessions, creating what would be described by Chuck as “one focused aural missile”, which they certainly managed: almost every single track here is a constant barrage of high-velocity rhyming over frantic chopped-up samples and sound effects, with the occasional tasteful, somewhat jazzy interlude thrown in, such as Show ’em Whatcha Got and Security of the First World.
Finally, then, we have to comment on what is perhaps this album’s biggest defining characteristic: the heavy-handed politicalness present in its entirety. Not that I expect this to be a surprise to any of you, seeing as Public Enemy is perhaps the most famously politically critical rap group of history, but it’s the forcefulness with which Chuck D works this type of discourse in the lyrics, during a time when it wasn’t yet the norm in rap writing, that’s very impressive. Of course at this point he’s very far from being the first to do it, but what’s new here is both how ubiquitous it is in pretty much every track, and also Chuck’s more nuanced comprehension of his politics, bringing deeper concepts and references to his rhyming, and a comprehensive understanding of the history of the black liberation movement and the political struggles of the black population, as well as the ever so present nods to the Nation of Islam, the Black Panther Party and Louis Farrakhan.
A particularly interesting shift in the discourse here is how he insistently visualizes the hip-hop public not just as audience, but as a community that actively builds itself amid and from the political tension present in the urban communities. There’s defiance and call to action present in Chuck’s bars, firmly situating his artistry within the same lineage of Afrika Bambaataa’s edutainment, which united entertainment and political education through music and partying, and he’s staunch about it to the point where it even gets a little old and repetitive here and there if I’m being completely honest. Still, it’s surely not just a characteristic of this record but a defining factor of it, a central thematic and aesthetic axis around which it revolves, and their political comprehension and seriousness is undoubtedly a notch above average. Not to say the ever-so-present bragging isn’t here, because of course it is, but it’s retracted and more often than not coupled with bigger themes.
All in all there is surely a plethora of good reasons as to why this is held in such high regard. Many of the lyrical and musical techniques present here went on to become staples of hip-hop to this day, if not for their innovativeness, for Nation’s sheer quality and importance.
Favourite tracks:
Cold Lampin’ With Flavor — This album’s mandatory “Ringo track”, entirely rapped in a nonsensical, careless, funny as hell way by Flavor Flav. Not at all a throwaway as one could expect, and just as good as any of the joints where Chuck D goes all in.
Night of the Living Baseheads — Politically-charged in a remarkably elegant way, which is even more impressive when you consider that it’s about the very prickly theme of drug addiction in the black population. Some great sampling and DJing work too.
Black Steel in the Hour of Chaos —Above-average production, but the flow and storytelling are where it’s at for this one: dynamic, slick, rich, evocative even, simply a masterpiece. Bonus points for using the same sample as Rapaz Comum by Racionais MCs, the greatest rap group to ever exist eod.
Least favourite track:
Party for Your Right to Fight — One of their most illustrious tracks, with some pretty good sampling work to boot, but the suddenly stiff drum-machine-based beat, very square flow and disappointingly short verses really do not do it for me on this one.
