There are brief instances in history that force you to anticipate what lies ahead and forget what came before. One of these moments came in 1992 with the release of Dr. Dre's classic album, The Chronic. This revolutionary album redefined hip-hop, making gangsta funk a radio-accessible multiplatinum commodity. Dre's cinematic, synthesized funk seeped its way to the top of the charts, forever rearranging rap as we knew it.
Of course, The Chronic wasn't the first time Dre rescripted hip-hop's annals. As a producer, he was the mastermind behind the gangsta supergroup N.W.A. After The Chronic dropped, he also provided the beats and vision for Snoop Doggy Dogg's 1993 classic, Doggystyle.
After a tumultuous break-up with Death Row Records, Dre embarked on a new challenge. Starting his own record label, Aftermath Entertainment, the good doctor reestablished himself as the godfather of hardcore hip-hop.
Easier said than done. After a lukewarm response to Aftermath's self-titled 1996 compilation, and only a few products ever since, naysayers claimed Dre had lost his Midas touch, that there was no way he could ever produce another good album.
Well, they were absolutely right. Dre's forthcoming release, 2001, isn't a good album. It's a downright superior album. Overflowing with an invigorating blend of potent beats-punishing kicks, tight snares, live instrumentation and eerie backdrops-2001 is a panacea from the "hip-pop" disease spread by today's commercially booming yet artistically stagnant scene.
Dre is a producer first, rapper second. 2001 shows his evolution in that role-he long ago realized that a successful rap artist can never stay in the same place. If you're looking for a regurgitation of the early '90s G-funk aesthetic, look elsewhere. Unlike The Chronic's '70s funk stylings, 2001 is a virtually sample-free album. The result is rare and remarkable.
Consider the opening track, "The Watcher." Rather than sticking to a drum machine and synthesizer, Dre uses an orchestra to actually compose the beat. Laced with pounding violins and mysterious sounding keyboard arrangements, this track is nothing short of amazing. "Still Dre," 2001's first single, featuring Snoop Dogg, is blessed with the same kind of strong, distinctive groove as earlier gems like "Nuthin But a G Thang." And the album's climax, the jaw-dropping "What's the Difference," featuring Xzibit and Eminem, showcases an unrivaled combo of body-thumping horns, intense strings and progressive synth arrangements.
But a great hip-hop album is more than its production; it relies on a balance of both lyrical skill and engaging beats. Dre has made considerable strides as a rapper, but Eminem still adds flavor to tracks like "Forgot About Dre" and "What's the Difference." On 2001, Eminem fires verbal assaults like an impassioned lunatic, far from the self-deprecating wiseguy of his own Slim Shady LP.
Despite 2001's success, there is no such thing as a perfect album, especially not in light of the impossible standards set by The Chronic. Of course, true brilliance is often realized only in hindsight; few fully suspected the cultural impact that The Chronic would have when it was first released, either. 2001 definitely has classic potential. It's the best album hip-hop has seen in a very long time. For everyone ready for a break from today's plain-vanilla hip-hop, give 2001 a listen. You'll agree that with Dre, it has always been and always will be "nothing but a G thang, baby."
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