Public Enemy Bring The Noise
Public Enemy Bring The Noise
Best rock show I've ever seen was a couple rappers
I attended numerous amateur rap performances back around the turn of the nineties, and I rarely found one I liked. After a few dozen or so, they started to seem pretty tedious and formulaic. Not necessarily the fault of the artists, some of whom were stellar, but the production values often sucked: booming and indistinct rhythms coming from a drum machine or a couple turntables. At rock shows, you’d get musicians humping their guitars or amps; rap shows featured a lot of stage humping. Like I said, kind of formulaic.
So when I got the assignment to photograph Public Enemy, both portraits and live performance shots, I had low expectations to say the least. The show was in Philadelphia, at the same stadium where I’d seen multiple Dead shows and even one of the Who’s many “Farewell Tours.” Where I had swanned around the field and bleachers of those previous shows, for this one I had a stick-on (vs. the cooler, laminated pass) “Backstage Pass” that got me nowhere backstage, of course, but did allow me access to the no man’s land between the crowd and stage, often referred to as The Pit. This would at least be a good place to photograph the show from. Having formed my opinion of rap shows without even having seen the greats like Run/DMC, LL Cool J, or NWA, I really had no reason to think this would be much of a performance.
I’ve never been wronger in my life. True to their song, they “bring the noise. Public Enemy proceeded to put on the most amazing show I’ve ever seen — rock, rap, or anything in between. The musicians were tight, the beats and samples perfect, and from pretty much moment one I was hooked. Long Island’s own Chuck D was the lyricist and leader of the band. He was backed by the clown, jester, clown, coyote energy of Flavor Flav — he of the enormous kitchen clock on a chain around his neck, so he can always tell what time it is. Those two played off one another: rhymes, gestures and beats bouncing back and forth as the two trade riffs. “Yeah, boyyyyeeeee,” when Flav sang about 911 being a joke in your town, ain’t nothing funny about it. Flav is of the “life’s so messed up what else is there to do but laugh” school while affecting a bitter, hilarious, over-the-top clown visage. He, like Chuck, was super canny and totally aware of well, what time it was.
Some time about an hour into the show I found myself chanting along with the crowd.
“Fuck the media!” Yeah, man, totally fuck that media right UP, am I right?
My chants grew somewhat less enthusiastic as I glanced down to remember I was sitting right in the pit with a big giant sticker saying PRESS. Um, which media were we fucking again, and how is a guy like me supposed to reconcile this? Chuck, Flav and the band broke into a smoking loud version of “911 Is a Joke” and we forgot all about our silly chanting, as I sighed a not inconsiderable sigh of relief.That night remains perhaps the best rock show I’ve ever enjoyed, “Yeah boyyyyyyeeeee” is right! Their hit song, “Bring The Noise” has Chuck and Flav alternating verses in a point/counterpoint chant. They follow this patter through their show, with the two madly tossing verses to and fro.
The next morning, we were set up for portraits of Chuck and Flavor Flav in the parking lot of their hotel. We scored electricity for lights from their tour bus and set up two giant softboxes with strobes, a bunch of sandbags, cables, various detritus and kit to make a can’t-miss-it set. It felt utterly ridiculous to be waiting in an anonymous hotel parking lot by a tour bus labeled “Nobody You Know” at 7 o’clock in the morning the night after the most amazing concert anyone has ever seen.
Which is why I can be forgiven for not noticing Robert Plant of Led Zeppelin mega-fame creeping quietly onto our set with a quiet, “Hello, lads!” My assistants and I must have stared gape-mouthed for a full minute, trying to make sense of why the dude from Led Zeppelin had showed up instead of the Public Enemy we’d been expecting. Did I do what anyone would have done when Robert Plant wanders onto your set? No. No, I did not. This is where I look back on this from thirty years later and think, “What the hell is wrong with me?”
Instead of just shooting a roll of film, even shooting Plant with Chuck and Flav, I got bupkis. Not even a Polaroid. All I have is the memory of some awkward moments before we shooed Robert Plant off to the other end of the parking lot for his photo shoot (who shoos Robert Plant off their set?!) , laughing at his temerity to think we were there to photograph him.
Shortly thereafter, Chuck and then Flav appear, both looking none the worse for the wear, nor suffering any apparent ill effects from the early hour. They are a classic Mutt and Jeff team. Chuck D may be an angry and powerful orator on stage, but in person he is calm, thoughtful, and personable. Flavor Flav, on the other hand, is pure id, and is pretty much the same dude standing around the parking lot or slamming the man in front of 50,000 fans. Chuck D is content to read his paper while you’re doing Polaroids and final lighting checks. He’s ready and will hit his mark when you tell him, but is not going to get worked up until and if he needs to. Pull a camera out anywhere near Flav and he is like a windup toy; he just starts mugging and doesn’t stop till you run out of film. As we saw a decade later on his reality TV show, Flavor Flav is the real deal, the mack daddy, the rodeo clown taking hits so the sage can expound, the court jester speaking truth to power.
Finally, we did use up our film, unplugged our lights from the bus, and sent them on their way to the next stop on their tour. The Noise they brought still rings in my ears, even thirty years later. I certainly never saw a better rap show, but not really many better rock shows either. So glad Public Enemy could mount a stadium tour and get their music and message to the masses. And hey, Robert Plant, sorry for the diss. I hope you made it to your shoot.