#42: Dr. Dre — The Chronic (1992)
Los Angeles, CA — Death Row Records
Welp, folks. Here we have it: one of the single most influential, iconic, recognizable albums in the history of hip-hop, authored and masterminded by the man who defined an entire west coast generation; no, all west coast generations, still to this day, they all owe Dre their lifeblood, their sonic DNA, the very essence of their being.
There is much to talk about regarding this record, but let’s start from the beginning. The year is 1992, and, in a move that would be the coup de grâce delivered directly to an already moribund N.W.A., Dre had just done like Ice Cube did not long before and parted ways with Eazy-E and started his own label, Death Row Records, alongside old buddy The D.O.C., who by now had given up on rapping due to his crippling car accident and was instead investing in a ghostwriter career, and the now infamous Suge Knight. After securing himself a position as one of the most popular and requested producers of the west coast, Dre finally assembled a close team of collaborators and went on to create a solo debut album to rival the greatest of the great. And one of the thing that sets this record apart the most, and places it at an apex among its peers, is the fact that it pretty much put the G-Funk sound on the map, and is sort of responsible for one of the most characteristic waves of hip-hop.
Dr. Dre was obsessed with Parliament-Funkadelic. He had been sampling them heavily since The D.O.C.’s breakout success No One Can Do It Better, and was slowly letting that influence shine through more and more, as can be seen in his production work in Above The Law’s Livin’ Like Hustlers, for instance, but when the time came for him to engineer his own record, he chose to go all-out. Now, we’ve been coming across early indicators and hints of the G-Funk (which is reportedly a play on words with P-Funk, although there is confusion as to who exactly coined the term — most sources point toward either Dre or Cold 187um) sound ever since Too Short, if I’m not mistaken, and its whiny synths and muddy Moog basslines are not at all unfamiliar to us; The Chronic, however, represents the solidification of that sound, significantly due to Dre’s thing that consisted of not just sampling a song, but actively reproducing it on his own instruments, partially because of copyright issues and partially because he liked to give them his own special seasoning. The result is an extravagant sound, remarkably different from the heavily sample-based aesthetic that was the norm at the time, and it’s very much understandable why this took the rap world by storm — it just screams coastal California, low-riders, slick gangsterism and lush summery atmospheres.
Now, moving on to the lyrical content. Dre is known for his beats way more than he is known for his rapping, of course, but his rhymes in this joint are pretty solid overall, even if not mindblowing, and there are plenty of great moments here and there — one of my favorites is right at the beginning of Let Me Ride: “Just another motherfuckin’ day for Dre, so I’ll begin like this/ No medallions, dreadlocks or black fists/ It’s just that gangsta glare with gangsta raps/ That gangsta shit makes a gangs of snaps, uh”. Themes such as street hustling and menacing opponents with physical violence are par for the course, not to speak of many, many bars that come off mean-spirited to say the least, but done in a manner that sounds remarkably clever to me, most of the time — the AllMusic review of Fuck With Dre Day, the album’s stand-out diss track directed toward former N.W.A. colleagues Eazy-E and Ice Cube, defines Dre’s lyricism as possessing “…a spirited cleverness in the phrasing and rhymes; in other words, the song is offensive, but it’s creatively offensive”. In my opinion that pretty much checks out: as in most rap, the themes are not terribly varied, but the execution, while seldom mindblowing, is solidly creative and varied so as to not grow boring or tiresome — not the least due to the help of various co-writers, something that Dre was never shy about employing.
One thing he does in here, and I appreciate it a lot, is know when to step up to the center stage and when not to. Even though his rapping is not nearly as bad as Ice Cube tried to make it look like in No Vaseline, let’s face it, it’s definitely not the reason why people like this album so much. His flow and delivery are not bad, but definitely very samey and not too exciting, so he does not shy away from resorting to the tight-knit team of collaborators he masterminded for this oeuvre, including but not limited to Kurupt, Lady Of Rage, RBX, occasional jamaican patois-spitting Daz Dillinger, and the one and only Snoop Doggy Dogg, at the time a young promising protegé of Dre’s, who skillfully takes the forefront of more than just one song on this joint, and I would say does a lot of legwork when it comes to carrying Dre in his own album, though I’m definitely not saying that is a wrong or reprobable thing at all. It almost feels almost like a proto producer album at some specific points, with the main man being more like a curator and arranger than a proper participant on his own track, which I am glad to inform works pretty well for the most part, such as in Lyrical Gangbang, a posse cut track where the album artist simply does not appear at all. Being humble is a skill to be honed, folks, and one who knows how to apply it will bask in many a moment of glory as compensation.
There is much praise to be thrown at the team as a whole, but there is one character in special who steals the scene. I don’t think I’ve ever heard an earlier Snoop Dogg song, and he sounds so young (Wikipedia tells me he was 21 by the time of this recording), but his bars, albeit loaded with a fair dose of juvenile folly, sound remarkably witty and mature, and his multifaceted, extravagant, almost theatrical performance make for an almost perfect combination with Dre’s somber, monotone delivery. He’s responsible for some memorable bits, such as the now world-famous “Bow-wow-wow, yippy-yo, yippy-yay, Doggy Dogg’s in the motherfuckin’ house” part from Fuck With Dre Day, plus a whole plethora of creative, acid, funny, sleazy or just straight-up mean-spirited bars and hooks all throughout. We’re gonna be checking out his debut record very soon (as in three months-ish), and, while I have been familiar with both The Chronic and Doggystyle for some time now, I don’t think I’ve ever really directly compared Snoop’s performance on each one of them, so that should be fun.
The Chronic is not a remarkably long album by any means, but it’s definitely not short either. Clocking in at approximately one hour and three minutes, its highest concentration of bangers with lead single energy is in the first half, with most of the less memorable filler being relegated to back end, something which definitely doesn’t go a long way towards making this a very solidly put together album, but there is plenty of variation in pacing and mood, with bangers, breathers and hard-hitters sprinkled carefully and skillfully all throughout, not to speak of some frankly hilarious skits , such as The $20 Sack Pyramid, a 2'54'' behemoth of a game show-themed interlude, starred by a hoarse-voiced but very enthusiastic D.O.C., that was apparently elected by Complex as the best skit of all times. All in all the pacing is not what I’d call stellar, but is definitely very much above our average so far.
There are many specifics about this that I could go on and on and on about, but frankly that’s not the point at all, so I’ll leave you, dear reader, with a positively positive review and my most express reccomendations to give this a go if you haven’t already, for it is remarkable both as an art piece and as a historical document of an absolutely pivotal moment in hip-hop history.
Favorite songs
Fuck With Dre Day: couldn’t leave this absolute door-kicker out, now could I? Beat is positively remarkable, even considering the very high bar set by the rest of the album, and Dre and Snoop’s mean, bitter but fun back-to-back dissing directed first to Eazy-E, Ice Cube and Tim Dog (a New York rapper we won’t be touching on as far as I can tell, who had made a track called Fuck Compton not long before) and later to no one in particular. Just a very well-rounded track, and very well executed. “Oh, don’t think I forgot, let you slide/ Let me ride, just another homicide/ Yeah, it’s me so I’ma talk on/ Stompin’ on the easiest streets that you can walk on/ So strap on your Compton hat, your locs/ And watch your back ’cause you might get smoked, loc”
The Day the Niggaz Took Over: perhaps the track that stands out the most out of this whole thing, mostly due to the sudden hardcore east coast feel it has, both beat and performance-wise. Also different are the heavy-handed political tones of it, centered mostly on the famous L.A. riots, and I will say that the vibe here is absolutely impeccable: you just can’t help but to feel paranoid and under menace. “How many niggas are ready to loot?/ Yeah, so what you wanna do? What you wanna do?/ I said, how many niggas are ready to loot?/ Got myself an Uzi and my brother a 9”.
Nuthin’ But a G Thang: what can I say? Simply one of the most legendary tracks ever made, from the beat to the rapping and everything else. The instrumental really puts the funk in G-Funk, which is greatly complimented by the positively sleazy rapping. “Fallin’ back on that ass with a hellafied gangsta lean/Gettin’ funky on the mic like a old batch of collard greens […] Showin’ much flex when it’s time to wreck a mic/Pimpin’ hoes and clockin’ a grip like my name was Dolemite”
Lil Ghetto Boy: featuring Daz Dillinger and Snoop Dogg, this is a sometimes overlooked storytelly song about juvenile delinquency and gangstarism. There’s nothing incredibly special about it, I suppose, it’s just that it caught my attention, mostly due to the deep vibes, compelling narrative and oh-so-meticulously crafted, nigh perfect beat. “Me learn many things from what me see from the street/ The outcome of what I’ve come to be/ Little ghetto boy/ Playing in the ghetto street/ Whatcha gonna do when you grow up/ And have to face responsibility?”
