THEY may have dropped off the commercial radar, heading back underground to churn out internet-distributed albums and solo projects, but few bands can boast legendary status while still being an active creative and confrontational force into their third decade.
Mainstream hip-hop may have drastically blundered away from Public Enemy's righteous, angry, political blueprint into a world of dimwitted gangsta posturing, but ironically, it's the rock world that's still absorbing their impact - after all, Chuck D's scathing political rhetoric and the band's love of throwing heavy riffs into their rampaging noise formed the blueprint for Rage Against The Machine, as well as inspiring the young Manic Street Preachers, and both bands' many successors.
And tonight, PE boast a full rock band in addition to their new DJ (what became of Terminator X?).
In fact it's decidedly crowded up there, with all the musos, PE's infamous bouncers/dancers the Security Of The First World, and, bursting from the wings, an energetic Professor Griff, and an imposing hooded figure who, from what you can hear of him, certainly sounds like Chuck D - but the vocals are so buried and muddied for opener Put 'Em Up that it could well be a roadie having a laugh.
But then, the DJ drops Welcome To The Terrordome, the hood comes off, the sound clears up just enough to let the unmasked Chuck D's commanding tones boom forth, while hip-hop's clown prince Flavour Flav crashes the stage to join him, complete with infamous clock round his neck. Even better, it segues into PE anthem Bring The Noise.
They may visit our shores about as regularly as Halley's Comet, but they certainly intend to give the crowd their money's worth (just as well, at twenty quid a ticket).
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For the first hour and a half of their epic set, they're on mighty form, D looking and sounding like a true icon, carrying the show with his peerless MC-ing, while Flav goes walkabout in the crowd.
Even the still-shoddy sound (look, did no one tell the soundman they're a rap group and as such, rather dependent on the vocals being audible?) can't stop the barrage of classics - Don't Believe The Hype, Public Enemy Number One, Black Steel, Rebel Without A Pause and Flav's turn on the mic for 911 Is A Joke - and newies including their less-than-affectionate message to George Dubya, Son Of A Bush.
It all crashes back to earth as Chuck takes a break, leaving an interminable 30-minute interlude for his bandmates to plug their solo albums, do a few daft cover versions and half-arsed jams, and generally lose the vibe, (Professor Griff being particularly guilty) before returning to pick up where he left off.
By then the last train home was calling, but the band were showing no signs of flagging, after getting on for three hours on stage.
A flawed, revealing but frequently awesome show by a truly legendary band. And a heck of a coup for Leeds promotors The Drum Major.
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