HUCK D is loved and loathed around the world in equal measure for his position as the lead rapper in Public Enemy. For ten years, he has been making controversial statements both on and off the record about the sad plight and serious situation of the majority of black people in America.
   Never one to mince his words, he has verbally attacked the establishment, spoken out against white supremacy. and taken his message of black upliftment from Washington DC to Tokyo, lapan; from Accra, Ghana, to Sydney. Australia.
   Public Enemy as a group have made fearsome and relentless records - typified by heavy beats and a noisy, shrill sound - which have become less aggressive as the years have passed. Everyone knows at least one PE record, but is everyone ready for a Chuck D solo detour in which he focuses on the ills blighting the corporate hip-hop industry? He's aware that some have written him off as old hat, but he is tireless at getting his point home. And the 'Autobiography 

TRICKY is 45 minutes late. He's just moved from K London to New York City and is without a telephone, so it's relief when he finally makes the appointment. In contrast, Chuck D flew in from Atlanta this morning and has already had a few meetings about his new label, Slam Jamz, es well as paying a visit to City Hall for a voter registration drive, to try to make a difference in this American election year.
   Although Chuck D and Tricky couldn't be more different - with contrasting attitudes towards stimulants and professionalism - they find common ground in the form of mutual respect, with Tricky clearly in awe of his musical hero. The displaced Bristolian rushes into the restaurant, sits down immediately and starts gushing about the elder rap statesman's latest effort. Mistachuck listens intently and tries to diffuse the situation.
   Do you have much to show for the last ten years?
Chuck D: All I have now is a memory. I remember every Public Enemy show - 1,253 in all - every city, every incident. 
Tricky: I smoke weed, so straight away it's gone. 
Chuck D: Yeah, you have your artist getaway. Everybody has their thing that gives them their push. My thing is my memory and my experiences. That's why I'm putting

THERE'S A spoken-word track on Tricky's new LP called 'Ghetto Youth', in which a Jamaican guy talks about his life, his philosophy and experiences.
   The main thing you learn from his soliloquy is he doesn't think the ghetto is a glamorous place to be.
   Tricky: I've gone to Jamaica, where kids are starving. You could troubIe them, but they'd say: "No, I don't want to go to prison."
   That's a real bad man. A real bad man doesn't come up in your face. A real bad man has to feed his family. That kid |in the song| never had nothing, he sells lollipops - I've seen him, he's so intelligent. It's like: "I cannot be involved in anything ',cos I don't want to go to prison - cos then I won't have a family. I'm a real bad man."
   Chuck D: Avoiding the trap.
   It seemed like a comment on the way the industry sells ghetto lifestyles.
   Tricky: I've just done a record called 'I Don't Sell Records, I Sell Guns', right?
   Chuck D: I think I'll cover it on the next Public Enemy album.
   Tricky: You know we gotta go into the studio, man.
   Chuck D: Oh yeah!
   What's 'Christiansands' about, Tricky? You've got Chuck D here, who has... you've kinda rejected Christianity, haven't you?
   Tricky: No. No. It ain't about Christians. It ain't about religion.
   Chuck D: I've taken all religions and put them in a pot and looked at them from a humanistic point of view. I've always said Christianity is projecting a lot more than anything else, so I've never rejected all aspects of Christianity. Before there were books, there was religion. And religion was a natural respect for those that came before, respect to a natural order. It's not what you say you are, it's what you are.

CHUCK D talks about being made to cater to an 18-35- year-old demographic and the real value of old age and the value of wisdom, how you can't learn anything from your peers because they're just as confused as you are. Tricky talks about being brought up by his grandmother, despite great odds, then the conversation turns to New York City and Western civilisation..
   Tricky: In this civilisation, there ain't much sense. You've

OUR FELLOW diners are attentive now, carrying on conversations at a reasonable volume and laughing raucously, but surreptitiously taking in every word. It's not every day you get to hear Chuck D at full volume and full pelt.
      Chuck D: If we looked back in a crystal ball, 400, 500 years, and they were to trace some kind of lineage, you'd see a lot of crazy shit. Most of the black folks' families have been infiltrated and mixed. And the thing that makes me different from the Caribbeans is that black folk were a majority in the Caribbean. Here, in the USA, black folk were a minority. So when a motherfucker had like 200 black folk - let's say 100 black women - oh man, that slave-owner had a field day. Making his own slaves |laughs|. The concept of this went on for 300 years, 300 years of this shit went unadulterated, which was a normal way of life.

CLICK. THERE was no reason to bring up the subject of the swastika, was there? We can only be thankful Chuck D didn't actually attempt to draw a swastika in a somewhat hostile Mexican restaurant that keeps crayons handy for patrons to write goodwill messages on the paper tablecloths.
   A swift walk down to Polygram's massive offices three blocks away and Chuck D and Tricky go through their paces for the photographer in a hi-tech conference room. 
   The session has to be hurried as Chuck is allergic to some of the chemical residues and artificial air in this room, but he behaves like a trouper.
   The session over, an exchange of numbers with Tricky, a hug, a handshake, and the promises of two people with completely different approaches to hip-hop to work together in the future, in some capacity, hang in the air.