The power of It Takes a Nation of Millions. But not now." At 45, Ridenhour is a little chunkier than the figure glowering from the cover of 1988's It Takes a Nation of Millions to Hold Us Back, now permanently enshrined as the Greatest Hip-Hop Album of All Time, in much the same way as the Beach Boys' Pet Sounds seems to have ended up as the official Best Rock Album Ever Made. "What's sleep? Does Chuck D relax? Hell yeah. This one is called New Whirl Odor, which counts as an improvement on the earlier Muse Sick N' Hour Mess Age, but not much. He flew in from America overnight, has spent the day fielding questions from the media, and must later attend a launch party for Public Enemy's ninth album, which, like rather a lot of Public Enemy's albums in the past decade, has a tortuous and flatly terrible pun for a title. The man better known as Chuck D, Public Enemy frontman, looks less out of place in the bar of an upmarket Mayfair hotel than you might expect for a self-styled Prophet of Rage, a one-man torrent of radical politics and racial anger.
C arlton Ridenhour lolls in his chair and yawns expansively.
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