Review Summary: Empowering, Influential, Prophetic
I was watching Spike Lee's
Do the Right Thing today, and Public Enemy's “Fight the Power” started playing first thing alongside a Puerto Rican girl dancing and expressing herself in Spike Lee's typical unapologetic fashion. By introducing “Fight the Power” right away,
Do the Right Thing presages race-related problems that ensue, alluding to some imminent event that will pit blacks against whites. Interestingly,
Do the Right Thing never approaches race issues with specificity. Instead, it is left without concluding commentary, beseeching viewers to extract whatever they will. To many viewers, one single question will arise after watching: “did Mookie [black protagonist] do the right thing?” To black audiences, however, this question is irrelevant, for they know they can't ever
do anything right when they don't ever decide what
is right. Just as "Contract on the World Love Jam," first track on
Fear of a Black Planet, states, “the [real] question is whether or not we [blacks] are free as people.”
Fear of a Black Planet delves far deeper than
Do the Right Thing on specific issues, shedding light on unaddressed ideas, or expanding on ones barely touched upon.
Fear of a Black Planet's record name is itself telling, speaking less to white opinions on black inferiority, and rather to white wishes to sustain superiority for fear of losing control of said superiority.
Fear of a Black Planet embodies this fear-forced divide that has kept white mindsets caged, thus precluding black freedom.
With each consecutive track,
Fear of a Black Planet pushes forward with greater strength, building momentum and reinforcing a forthright “Power to the People” message. A massive political statement,
Fear of a Black Planet never ceases from Chuck D's attack on Hollywood in “Burn Hollywood Burn” to title track, which clarifies again fear dominating white communities, to “Revolutionary Generation,” which is especially notable considering hip-hop's notorious disrespect for women. At times, Chuck D recycles similar themes, but rather than repeat himself, he casts dimension on multifaceted issues. “Anti-****** Machine” conveys disdain for law enforcement, likening police officers to machine [guns] (out for blood), but “Who Stole the Soul” envisions American law enforcement as a pimp that sees blacks as worth nothing except for their bodies, reversing a pervasive black male rapist stereotype. Amidst such hard-hitting political rap, Flava Flav is ever-present to lighten things, softening Chuck D's angry, no-bullshit attitude radiating from Chuck D.
Is there anything that takes away from
Fear of a Black Planet?
Beatwise,
Fear of a Black Planet's consistently good. Chuck D's lyrical delivery is sincere. The album offers diverse samples that work with Flava Flav to spice up denser bits. Therefore, whatever could knock
Fear of a Black Planet down a notch is fundamentally unimportant, because
Fear of a Black Planet's message and delivery surpass inconsequential stumbles. All this album asks is for us to embrace a black planet, all we have to do is allow ourselves.
