"the other man" – turn up for cameos here and there. Instead, racism is simply assumed as an essential fact of American life, as elemental as the air black people breathe, the food they eat. Given that state of affairs, PE has set its mission as identifying and annihilating the effects of racism – the ways in which black people have been taught to aid in their own destruction – and forging a new black consciousness. Understanding the past is important, the group seems to be saying – "Can't Truss It," for example, recounts the slave trade in gripping terms – but only as a first step toward the real goal: creating the future.
Apocalypse 91 is introduced with the words "The future holds nothin' else but confrontation," just before DJ Terminator X and PE's production phalanx, the Bomb Squad – a shifting lineup that includes, in varying combinations, Hank and Keith Shocklee, Chuck D and Gary (G-Wiz) Rinaldi – unleashes the amazing buzz that has become Public Enemy's sonic trademark. A relentless siren over a throbbing bass and propulsive drum track, it's the perfect metaphor for the urgency of contemporary urban life. That opening statement, which leads into "Lost at Birth," and that distinctive sound set the tone for the entire album, but it's soon clear that part of the confrontation PE foresees must occur within the black community itself.
On "Nighttrain," which samples the James Brown track of the same name, Chuck D defines black identity as an issue that runs deeper than skin color. As a staccato beat drives him, Chuck vilifies thieves and drug dealers ("Self-hater trained/To sell pain") who prey on their own neighborhoods, warning that "you mustn't just put your/Trust in every brother yo/Some don't give a damn." Meanwhile, goosed along by a funky guitar sample and piano break, Flavor Flav, Chuck's antic foil, demands respect from blacks and whites alike on "I Don't Wanna Be Called Yo Niga."
"How to Kill a Radio Consultant" goes after radio in general for not playing rap but takes special aim at the conservatism of black stations – "When the quiet storm comes on I fall asleep," Chuck D complains. Another Flav showpiece, "A Letter to the N.Y. Post," attacks the notorious tabloid for racism ("It always seems they make our neighborhood look bad"), but Chuck doesn't spare the black weekly Jet for falling right in line: "B
