Pitchfork

The ever-tightening vise grip of sampling laws has damaged the careers of golden age hip-hop luminaries from Diamond D and Pete Rock to Biz Markie and Marley Marl, rendering once-unimpeachable producers ineffective or forcing them to adopt styles they shouldn't be attempting. These artists relied on the ability to stack sounds both familiar and alien atop each other without rebuke.

P.E.'s production team, the Bomb Squad, redefined what could creep into a rap record. When De La Soul was sued by The Turtles in 1989 for sampling "You Showed Me", thus altering the trajectory of hip-hop production permanently, no production crew took a bigger hit. P.E.'s post-Apocalypse '91... output has been scattershot to say the least, and though Chuck D's preacher-cum-prophet perspective began to wear on listeners, the noticeable dip in beat quality played a huge role in the group's decreasing importance. So the idea that someone is looking for a remix project reworking songs recorded in their later, lesser period is bemusing at best.

Bring That Beat Back is not an incompetent or scurrilous work. In fact, P.E.'s famed "Shut 'em Down (Pete Rock Remix)" stands as one of the filthiest revisions ever created. It just happens that this album takes some of the few highlights of their post-Def Jam era ("MKLVFKWR", "Superman's Black in the Building") and hands them over to either less seasoned producers like P.E.'s current beatmaker of choice, C-Doc, or veterans like Johnny Juice, whose best days may be behind them. The only early period track that gets a makeover is "Public Enemy No. 1", their first single. It's still my favorite P.E. song and remains as dominating a statement of purpose as has been recorded. The remix, by J. Coleman is subtler, relying on a jazzy bassline and simple cuts that drain the original of its off-kilter synth curls and abrasive mood while leaving Chuck's booming echo vocal as-is. It's a bloodless take on a classic.

When word dropped a few years ago that Moby would collaborate with P.E. on a benefit track, pangs of disgust ran down the spines of most of the hearing population. But the thin-on-themes "MKLVFKWR (Make Love Fuck War)" was a banger in retrospect, thumping with a clipped bullhorn and lacking any of Moby's cutesy tricks. Juice's remix shoots for a brighter arrangement, indulging his scratching abilities (which are potent) but also painting the track with a limp orchestral swoon that'd better fit an episode of Six Feet Under than a sloganeering call for the end of all wars. A bright spot is C-Doc's downtuned "Put It Up" remix. Since the Revolverlution track doesn't have a legacy, the song, again reliant on cuts and horn samples, is able to gain a measure of dignity. Extra props for the "Time Up" samples. It's a rare improvement on an album with a mere ten tracks.

As Public Enemy's influence lessens by the minute (did anyone pay attention to this-year's Rebirth of a Nation, their co-op project with Paris?), the outpouring of mediocre projects is doing nothing to reestablish any sort of reign. Today's rap themes aren't thoughtless, but when bombast becomes the order of the day, it's with regard to swagger on the streets or the dance floor. Very rarely does top-shelf, Billboard-ruling rap music feature the overt social themes that P.E. flexes. Which calls to mind the question: Where are they bringing the beat back to, exactly? Not the masses, that's for certain.