August 19-25, 2004

music

Brand New

Brand Nubian revives its hardcore consciousness for a new (Bush) era.

by A.D. Amorosi

It's perfect timing. Brand Nubian, the militant Afrocentric rappers of the first Bush era, have returned during Bush II's summertime of spiritually conscious hip-hop (Cam'ron, Kanye) and homophobic rhymes (Beenie Man).

Without playing to the controversies of their first or second albums (One for All's anti-white rhetoric or In God We Trust's antigay sentiments, respectively), Grand Puba, Sadat X and Lord Jamar made their new Fire in the Hole a conversationally socio-conscious work focused on the maintenance of the soul, the streets, family and future.

Perhaps now audiences can see through the indicting, inciting lyrics of their past and their membership in the Five Percent Nation of Islam and will be able to place the literary and positive heft of their rhymes in hip-hop's historical context.

"The Bushes created a climate for me to make music whose messages resonate," says Jamar, stifling a laugh. "When Clinton's getting blowjobs, black people think shit's gravy. The Bushes crimes are so divisive they allow you to see the differences between the haves and have-nots."

Backed by the smooth soul-hop that made their medicine go down in the past, an older, wiser Brand Nubians are making music that plays to their strengths.

"Puba was always the witty rapper. Make you laugh, make you think," says Jamar, 35. "X? There's literally no rhyme or reason to him unless you're in his head. There's intelligence to everything he does. Me? I'm the hardcore consciousness guy."

Growing up in New York's New Rochelle suburb, the four met as kids through usual block-party means in 1985. After Puba left his first group, Masters of Ceremony, in 1989, he called on neighborhood pals to form a perfect Nubian union.

"We didn't have songs. Just an idea we were hot," laughs Jamar, whose hotness during the Native Tongue era's conscious wordy rap was a big commodity.

"When Elektra signed us, they didn't have a clue what we were saying," says Jamar. "I think they were scared of us."

"My people grew up in the struggle," says Puba, 35. His family was involved in the Black Liberation Army and New African People. "I was raised like that from birth. We were freedom fighters. Used to take buses to visit Malcolm X's grave."

But Jamar had "the Knowledge" of the Five Percent's philosophies, having been an acolyte of Elijah Muhammad's truths as a child. That went "automatically" into his rhymes to spread the word.

Those teachings eventually became part of the trio's life, energizing Puba to write "Wake Up" for 1990's One for All — a series of teasingly funny, mellow funky jams whose Afrocentricity was more empowered than their Native Tongues' brethren.

Brand Nubian was also more controversial. While "Drop the Bomb" held anti-white messages, "Punks Jump up to Get Beat Down" (from their second CD) mixed gay disses with everyday name-calling. The contention around those songs (as well as their connection to the Five Percent) often obscured other elements of Brand Nubian — the feminist messages of "Slow Down," their overall sense of melody and mirth.

There were no calls to violence in their lyrics. Jamar believes that many anti-Brand Nubian rants from groups such as the Gay and Lesbian Alliance Against Defamation were bad raps.

"On "Punks,' "faggot' and "bitch' got taken too literally," says Jamar. "They weren't about homosexuals. We were dissing anyone acting weak. It was slang."

But he says unapologetically that his teachings and several past lyrics show his disapproval of homosexuality. "I don't think it's cool. But I would never call for violence. Nowhere in our mind were we thinking that. We believe all people should do what they do and live their lives."

And the anti-white sentiment? "I guess we were a little anti-white, to be honest," Jamar laughs. "In reality, we were more pro-black. To bring our spirit up, you have to have opposing forces. Being young, militant and naive, you don't realize the impact of your words."

"We weren't thinking worldwide," says Puba, who left after the first album, only to rejoin in 1998. "We were thinking of our community."

Age and wisdom brought Brand Nubian to a new understanding of good and bad. "It's about which of those — God, the devil — you allow to dominate that determines who you are," says Jamar. "Race is too often thrown in there to cloud the issue."

The struggle to keep your head high within the black community is what guides their provocative, proactive sociology. Rather than stunt their aggression or zeal, Fire is blunter than an uppercut and bolder than love. There's an economy of language on tracks such as "Just Don't Learn" and its peek into multigenerational forms of ignorance.

Though the Five Percent Nation is a truth and not a religion, its words have a spiritual bent and inclusiveness whose "we" is universal. "When I say "them niggas' I am "them niggas,'" says Jamar.

"The name of the game is to maintain," Jamar says in "Coming Years." That song, like "Young Son," begs of their children (literally, as each member has kids) to look beyond the present day's indignities and temptations to make their own future much in the same way Brand Nubian is doing.

"It's beautiful to see people reacting and grasping what we do now — kids and guys our age," says Puba. "The real history of who we are, the good and the bad, will come later."

Brand Nubian performs with Brother Ali, Dice Raw and Outerspace, Fri., Aug. 20, $13, Beyond, Eighth and Callowhill sts., 800-594-TIXX.