Public Enemy在那张It Takes a Nation of Millions to Hold Us Back大获成功的两年后推出了自己的第三张专辑，本来也能取得很好的成绩，但Rap歌曲的歌词总是很容易惹出麻烦，一曲"Welcome to the Terrordome"就遭到了“反犹太人”的指控，这个帽子可不轻，专辑的销量受到不小的影响。不过风波过去之后，这张专辑的主题仍然被认为是积极和正面的，很多人都认为这张专辑的水平甚至超过了It Takes a Nation of Millions to Hold Us Back。 　　 　　这张专辑在滚石杂志选出的500张历代最强专辑中排名第300位。 　　 　　by Stephen Thomas Erlewine 　　At the time of its release in March 1990 -- just a mere two years after It Takes a Nation of Millions -- nearly all of the attention spent on Public Enemy's third album, Fear of a Black Planet, was concentrated on the dying controversy over Professor Griff's anti-Semitic statements of 1989, and how leader Chuck D bungled the public relations regarding his dismissal. References to the controversy are scattered throughout the album -- and it fueled the incendiary lead single, "Welcome to the Terrordome" -- but years later, after the furor has died down, what remains is a remarkable piece of modern art, a record that ushered in the '90s in a hail of multi-culturalism and kaleidoscopic confusion. It also easily stands as the Bomb Squad's finest musical moment. Where Millions was all about aggression -- layered aggression, but aggression nonetheless -- Fear of a Black Planet encompasses everything, touching on seductive grooves, relentless beats, hard funk, and dub reggae without blinking an eye. All the more impressive is that this is one of the records made during the golden age of sampling, before legal limits were set on sampling, so this is a wild, endlessly layered record filled with familiar sounds you can't place; it's nearly as heady as the Beastie Boys' magnum opus Paul's Boutique in how it pulls from anonymous and familiar sources to create something totally original and modern. While the Bomb Squad was casting a wider net, Chuck D's writing was tighter than ever, with each track tackling a specific topic (apart from the aforementioned "Welcome to the Terrordome," whose careening rhymes and paranoid confusion are all the more effective when surrounded by such detailed arguments), a sentiment that spills over to Flavor Flav, who delivers the pungent black humor of "911 Is a Joke," perhaps the best-known song here. Chuck gets himself into trouble here and there -- most notoriously on "Meet the G That Killed Me," where he skirts with anti-homophobia -- but by and large, he's never been so eloquent, angry, or persuasive as he is here. This isn't as revolutionary or as potent as Millions, but it holds together better, and as a piece of music, this is the best hip-hop has ever had to offer.