If you were to ask me to list my favorite rap albums of all time (hey, there’s an idea for a future list),  Public Enemy’s Fear Of A Black Planet would be near the top of that list. The album broke new ground sonically and lyrically, and should be an essential part of any hip-hop fan’s collection. As a 13 year old who was already knee deep in hip-hop when Fear came out, the album was a watershed moment in my musical education. Many others can probably say the same-Fear delivered on the promise generated by its predecessor-the masterful 1988 release It Takes A Nation Of Millions To Hold Us Back and became a critical and commercial smash. It was Public Enemy’s first top 10 album and easily one of the most blatantly uncommercial bodies of work to crest the upper echelon of Billboard’s Top LPs chart.  25 years later, I’m still uncovering new sounds, new production tricks, and new turns of phrase, and from a topical standpoint: well, all you have to do is open a newspaper or go on to any news site and you’ll quickly realize that the subject matter is as relevant now as it was in the spring of 1990.

Sonically, Fear represents the greatest work of pioneering production outfit The Bomb Squad. The work of the Shocklee brothers (Keith & Hank), Eric “Vietnam” Sadler and Carl Ryder (AKA Chuck D himself) constituted the pinnacle of creative sampling. From the “Let’s Go Crazy” sample that adds menace to the stomping “Brothers Gonna Work It Out” to the blink-and-you’ll-miss-it sample of Bobby Byrd’s “I Know You Got Soul” right when Chuck D says “I know you got soul!” on “Fight The Power” to the constant repetition of Lyn Collins singing “think” at the top of “Anti-Nigger Machine”, each loop is clearly put together as part of a greater art piece as opposed to the obvious loop-jacking that was starting to gain favor around the time of Fear‘s release. Think of it in a similar way as someone who creates a lamp by fusing together and arranging objects found in a junkyard or a thrift store vs. someone simply buying a used lamp and placing it, as is, in their living room.

Strained metaphors notwithstanding, the other thing that makes Fear essential is the subject matter. Proud Black nationalists, the members of P.E. aimed to shake listeners out of the doldrums the average radio playlist represented. Not that I had anything against mindless pop music or even the mindless pop music that was on the radio in 1990, but P.E. was clearly on another level than anything that constituted pop radio fare at that time. Not to say you couldn’t dance to a P.E. joint, but the imperative was to listen and be taught, whether the song was about the mistreatment of Blacks in cinema (“Burn Hollywood Burn”) or Chuck’s own persecution complex (the masterful “Welcome To The Terrordome”). Even Flavor Flav’s solo turns, which served as semi-comic relief, were edutaining. “911 Is A Joke”, which became P.E.’s first real radio hit, shed light on the legendarily slow response times of emergency services in minority neighborhoods. Meanwhile, “Can’t Do Nuttin’ For Ya Man” was a verbal smackdown directed towards freeloading friends and a (funky, funny) lesson in self-reliance and personal responsibility.

Chuck D deserves his own little paragraph of glory here. His rhyming-part sportscaster, part preacher-has never been more passionate than on Fear Of A Black Planet. The brother had spent the past year plus going through some shit; most notably a firestorm that erupted when his bandmate Professor Griff made some blatantly Anti-Semitic comments to a newspaper that got picked up and went national. Although not responsible for what was said, Chuck was the most visible member of P.E. and found himself in the position of having to deal with the blowback. He variously suspended the group, put the group back together, split the group up, and eventually fired Griff (who released his solo debut, Pawns In The Game on the same day as Black Planet. The frustration permeates Chuck’s delivery, although he allows himself to lighten up (slightly) on the slyly sarcastic title track and the 808 showcase “Power To The People”.

Can an album be 25 years old and still sound ahead of its time? Sure can. Fear Of A Black Planet might be the most timeless-sounding album to be released in 1990. Hell, the most highly regarded albums of recent vintage-D’Angelo’s Black Messiah & Kendrick Lamar’s To Pimp A Butterfly-have direct musical and lyrical similarities to Public Enemy’s magnum opus. Anniversary or no anniversary, go listen to Fear Of A Black Planet. If you’re still a physical media consumer, a fantastic remastered double-disc version was released at the tail end of 2014 containing extended versions, remixes, instrumentals and demos. These added components make an already must-have album even more of an essential. KRS-ONE may have coined the phrase a few months after Black Planet‘s release, but “edutainment” gets no better than this.