X Clan
To The East, Blackwards
(4th & Broadway, 1990)

Makes perfect sense, really, my initial hostility toward rap music—or anything with a groove, for that matter. For you see, kids, once upon a time, it wasn’t particularly cool for dirty white boys to listen to rap. Forget for the moment that when I was coming up—back when a new Aerosmith record was an event, rather than an embarrassment—rap was still in its infancy. That’s kind of beside the point.

The point is that in my circle (white, suburban, middle-class, ’70s) there was a narrow window of acceptable music. It was hard rock and heavy metal—period. Anything remotely funky was a no-no, and when punk surfaced, I was dismayed to find that nobody wanted to know about that either, no matter how loud and heavy or how closely it resembled the aforementioned.

It was in the mid-’80s that my funk-loving wife introduced me to a key gateway rap song. I hated to admit that Run-DMC’s “Rock Box” pushed my buttons, but had to allow that it did kick ass, and rather impressively for a rap record. From there, it was baby steps to the likes of Public Enemy, Ice-T, and Boogie Down Productions.

And X Clan, which was more of a stretch. For when it came to the black power and black pride that began cropping up in the work of the more politically conscious rappers throughout the ’80s, X Clan took these notions about as far as they could go.

I don’t remember being impressed with initial spins of To the East, Blackwards—the first and arguably best X Clan album. It was one of the hordes of promotional releases that rained down on music retail employees, and it took a while to sink in. But, like a bad rash, it kept growing on me and now, some two decades later, I find myself quite taken with its charms.

X Clan, in this incarnation, was Grand Verbalizer Funkin-Lesson “Brother J.” (Jason Hunter) as the primary voice, with Lumumba Professor X “The Overseer” (Lumumba Carson) playing Flavor Flav to his Chuck D—though he was considerably more dignified than PE’s resident spazz.

Professor X, with his distinctive sing-song voice, was something like a big Afrocentric cheerleader, rallying the troops and peppering every song with his distinctive exhortations, most often this one: “Vanglorious, this is protected by the red, the black, and the green / With a key… sissy!” Sounds like a harebrained concept, but in the overall context of X Clan, it worked. Also on hand helping to assemble beats, samples, and assorted and sundry bits was the Rhythm Provider “Sugar Shaft” (Anthony Hardin) and Grand Architect “Paradise” (Claude Grey).

A quartet of burly, serious-looking black men outfitted in eye-catching Egyptian-inspired fashions, X Clan, though they rolled out their first album at the end of the ’80s, musically hearkened back to a more old-school kind of time. Tracks were typically spare, the beats loose and funky, and the proceedings infused with a heaping dose of Parliament/Funkadelic—PXO called it “that George Clinton spirit”—not to mention Roy Ayers, Zapp, and a nice bit nabbed from the Tom Tom Club, among others.

One of the great movie moguls is said to have quipped that, if you want to send a message, use Western Union. Maybe that’s good advice and maybe not, but an irresistibly funky rap song is not such a shabby wrapper in which to clothe your message, much like sugarcoating a bitter pill. X Clan never shied away from sending their messages of Afrocentrism and black empowerment. But, as the song goes, it don’t mean a thing if it ain’t got that swing, and X Clan could never be accused of forsaking beats for message.

Alas, the world wasn’t completely ready for the likes of X Clan. Their 11-song debut only made it as far as #97 on the Billboard album chart. Although given the group’s uncompromising attitude and approach, perhaps that wasn’t such a bad showing. Xodus (1992), the group’s lesser but still worthy follow-up, fared better, making it to #31.

This was pretty much the end of X Clan proper. Other noteworthy efforts by the crew and their satellites include a decent effort by Mrs. PXO, aka Queen Mother Rage. PXO himself released several solo efforts, most notable among them Puss ‘N Boots (The Struggle Continues…) (1993), which found him ranting against the evils of crack houses, with guests like Chuck D, Big Daddy Kane, and Brother J.

Xodus was the swansong for this version of X Clan. A few years back, Brother J. convened a group called X Clan, releasing albums in late 2006 and 2009. But it’s hard to imagine an X Clan without the likes of Sugar Shaft, who passed in 1995, and more importantly, Professor X, who succumbed to spinal meningitis in 2006 at age 49. With all due respect to Brother J. and his formidable talents, it’s as hard to conceive of him steering the X Clan ship without PXO as it is to imagine Chuck without Flav, Mick without Keith, Oscar without Felix, or peanut butter without jelly.

Watch: “Funkin’ Lesson” [at youtube.com]

Tags: X Clan, To the East Blackwards, Brother J, Professor X 

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