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When it comes to understanding the African American experience, no one is more unqualified than I am.

I am a gay, Asian-American man with classical music training and a fondness for indie rock, especially when performed by Japanese musicians.

How could black culture ever speak to me? What could I possibly find in common with three black women from Atlanta, ruthlessly exploiting their femininity as a weapon in a battle of the sexes, cutting clueless men down to size in the process?

Wait a minute. That feels like deja vu.

Huh. It is deja vu. It’s how EOnline writer Andy Chen described Japanese rock superstar Shiina Ringo in 2000. And it’s pretty much what TLC has done throughout its career.

There’s a long history of strong, black women asserting their identity in a male-dominated world, before Salt ‘N’ Pepa and Queen Latifah busted their way into hip-hop, before Janet Jackson declared she was in control, perhaps as far back as Aretha Franklin declaring her love for you like no other.

But with TLC, black men found a formidable opponent. Left Eye, Chilli and T-Boz — they weren’t having none of that macho shit.

And nothing states that more forcefully than “I’m Good at Being Bad” from 1999’s FanMail.

“Nigga you must be crazy/Whacha gonna do with a bitch like me?” TLC challenges, later stating, “I’m not the mushy kind.”

Having abandoned radio back in the late ’80s, I was cognizant of the overexposure given to “No Scrubs” but never affected by it. Still, “No Scrubs” is damn catchy tune, if not melodically, then certainly in attitude.

Some of the best moments in music express yearning, but with “No Scrubs”, it’s the prohibition that makes it singular.

The hooting intro and simple beat of “Silly Ho” exude swagger, and despite the nearly imperceptible vocals, one line comes across clearly: “I’m not the one for you.”

FanMail has its tender moments, and in fact, the second half of the album crashes because too many of them happen there.

“Unpretty” poses the idea that the methods meant to enhance prettiness don’t actually create beauty, but when FanMail gets slow and sentimental — as it does on “I Miss You So Much” and “Dear Lie” — it gets generic.

“My Life” and “Shout” keep the momentum going for a while, but “Lovestick” and “Automatic” don’t quite give the album a sterling finish.

Still, TLC takes listeners on one terrific ride. The heavy-handed production of Dallas Austin, Babyface, Jam and Lewis and Shekspere keeps up with the bravado Left Eye, Chilli and T-Boz exhibit throughout.

TLC wins the adoration of fans and, perhaps, the respect of some critics for standing up and showing strength. I may not have much in common with them, but I like their style.

I wasn’t introduced to Nirvana through radio or MTV. Not directly, anyway.

I was already listening to Smashing Pumpkins’ Gish, when I read an article about Nirvana in a magazine. The article mentioned Butch Vig produced Nevermind, and I was willing to give it shot based on that recommendation.

When it comes to the product diffusion curve, I’m usually somewhere at the tail of an early adopter, so it was mere months between my purchase of Nevermind and the ascent of “Smells Like Teen Spirit” into pop culture consciousness.

Once Kurt Cobain became deified, my interest had already moved on to Kronos Quartet, John Zorn and Clannad. I didn’t buy Insecticide or In Utero or MTV Unplugged, and while I was sad Cobain took his own life, I sought not to blow his death out of proportion.

After listening to the self-titled collection back in 2002, I was drawn to the tracks from the band’s early era, and after hearing Nevermind in context of Nirvana’s entire career, I was surprised by how blatantly commercial that album really was.

So I found a used copy of Bleach and took it for a spin.

Despite a $600 budget and some weak mastering, this album has some blistering performances. (Bleach was remastered in the UK in 2002, but I don’t remember hearing whether than edition was released in the US.)

Bleach possessed all the songwriting finesse of Nevermind and all the grit of In Utero. Yes, you could say the subsequent albums diluted the aspects which made Nirvana whole.

“About a Girl” is a tender song without having to resort to balladry or introspection, but Cobain’s disintegrating wail on “Negative Creep” is nothing short of riveting.

The eastern touches of “Love Buzz” show a trace hint of lineage from Led Zeppelin, while the dischordant pulse of “Paper Cuts” can still be heard in the pummelling riffs of Number Girl.

“Swap Meet”, meanwhile, has the familiar melodic contour trademark of Nirvana, and “Big Cheese” features the haunting harmonizing that made Cobain’s singing special.

Bleach is an amazing debut, louder, harder, tougher than the work that would eventually bring Nirvana fame. If I had encountered Bleach before Nevermind, I probably would have tossed something about “selling out”.

This album is exactly what the band could do while nobody was looking.

Before there was Akira Symphonic Suite, there was Rinne Kookyogaku.

Yamashiro Shooji’s original composition caught the attention of director Otomo Katsuhiro, who then commissioned Yamashiro to write a score for Otomo’s landmark film, Akira.

The resulting soundtrack was a thrilling and oftentimes frightening blend of traditional Asian music forms — Hindu chants, Indonesian orchestras, Japanese noh theater — with modern instruments.

And the soundtrack recording of Akira is perhaps the only one available in the US of Yamashiro and his group, Geinoh Yamashirogumi.

A number of ideas in the Akira Symphonic Suite finds its origin in 1986’s Rinne Kookyogaku, or Ecophony Rinne.

The first movement, “Suisei”, is marked by a slow, vocal melody, interrupted by interludes of ethereal electronic music. It starts in the same manner as the Akira Symphonic Suite — a low vocal rumbling punctuated with a thundering taiko drum.

The second movement, “Sange”, layers chants of differing rhythm, rising from a deep swell of pitch and rhythm.

“Meisou” features the Indonesian gamelan so central to Yamashirogumi’s other-worldly sound, with a wordless vocal canon adding another haunting dimension.

Finally, “Tenshou” ends Rinne Kookyogaku with the Jegog, a bamboo version of the gamelan. Voices attempt to disrupt the rhythmic flow of the orchestra, but ultimately, it’s the eruption of an organ that interrupts the movement.

At first, it might seem uningenuine hearing some of the same kinds of motifs used in the Akira Symphonic Suite in Rinne Kookyogaku. Yamashiro even reused some of the synthesizer samples from Rinne in Akira.

But the character of the pieces couldn’t be any more different.

Based on the cycle of life, death and rebirth, Kookyogaku Rinne comes across as more meditative and less grotesque. It’s every bit as thrilling as the Akira Symphonic Suite and inhabits a sonic atmosphere all its own.

Geinoh Yamashirogumi gives an incredible performance, especially since Yamashiro recruits mostly non-trained singers for his ensemble. That lack of training gives a subtle rawness to Yamashiro’s composition.

It’s easy to see why Otomo chose Yamashiro to write the score for Akira. Kookyogaku Rinne is a truly cosmopolitan work, drawing from ancient forms to create something beyond modern.

The first time I encountered Gang of Four’s Entertainment! was in 1988, through the Hawaiʻi State Public Library — it was part of the library’s vinyl collection.

An article I read in Rolling Stone magazine at the time listed it as an essential album. The magazine described Entertainment! as “New Wave”, and until then, my picture of New Wave meant ABC, the Human League and Duran Duran.

What I heard sounded nothing like Duran Duran.

Too, I was distracted by a growing curiosity about 20th Century classical music, so I returned the record to the library and went back to listening to Steve Reich, John Adams and Philip Glass.

It must have left some sort of impression.

The first thing I thought when I heard Franz Ferdinand was, “Huh. I liked this group better when it was called Gang of Four.”

Entertainment! has been out of print in the US since 1997. It was last remastered in 1995. The band’s original 1982 line-up reunited recently, and to precede tour dates and an anticipated new album, Rhino Records reissued and expanded Entertainment!.

Given the brevity of my initial exposure to this album, there’s no way I’m going to critque the fidelity of the remastering.

But how I listened to music when I was 18 is vastly different than how I listen to music at 33. Technically, I’m revisiting Entertainment!, but really, I’m hearing it for the first time.

And damn if this album isn’t some of the most jagged and danceable punk rock ever made.

Entertainment! juggles a number of contrasting elements. It’s simultaneously simple but dischordant. It’s rhythmically complex but choppy. It sounds both brittle and piercing.

The melodies are often robotic and monotone but highly musical. “Guns Before Butter” starts off with a repetitive verse, but the call-and-response between the guitar, bass and drums gives the song a brilliant depth.

A stuttering drum beat contrasts an insistent bassline and a nervous guitar riff on “Ether”. And “Natural’s Not In It” is the most danceable and direct track on the album. Singer Jon King also delivers the best lyric: “This heaven gives me migraine.”

The extended liner notes by Michael Azzerad do a wonderful job explaining the unique sound of Entertainment! EMI executives complained the album sounded too much like a demo, which the band considered a compliment.

Given the tinny fidelity of the album, it is easy to see how a remastering job would do it service. As lo-fi as Entertainment! is, it still sounds ahead of its time.

This new edition tacks on eight additional bonus tracks, which is probably of more interest to long-time fans than to newcomers.

The four-track Yellow EP, some of which was included in the 1995 edition, doesn’t possess the same kind of clarity as the rest of the album, and alternate versions of “Guns Before Butter” and “Contract” show the band was on the right track for choosing the final cuts.

A raucous live cover of the Velvet Underground’s “Sweet Jane” is a nice addition, even if the world doesn’t really need another cover of “Sweet Jane”.

Entertainment! deserves its nods as a classic album. Gang of Four wrote a tight set of songs and recorded them with a singular sound. It’s never too late for discovery. Or re-discovery.