37. Dr. Dre, "The Chronic"

 

Snoop Dogg, a man whose redemption arc could make Ebenezer Scrooge jealous, now owns Death Row Records, the label that was founded by Dr. Dre, Suge Knight and others, and which launched Snoop's truly awe-inspiring career with this record.  Not long after he bought it in February 2022, he pulled this album and other Death Row classics off of Spotify and other streaming services.  "First thing I did was snatch all the music off those platforms traditionally known to people, because those platforms don’t pay,” he said.  “And those platforms get millions of millions of streams, and nobody gets paid other than the record labels."  He's not wrong!  Artists famously make almost nothing from Spotify.  (It's a little confusing since he is the record label now, but we'll let that slide.)  ANYWAY, that means I had to listen to this album on YouTube and let me tell you it is a mindbending experience to have the darkest shit imaginable, tales of murder, violence, and grotesque misogyny broken up by ads for Golden Grahams.

This album, which set the template for gangsta rap, came out just months after the 1992 LA riots, and the police violence and injustice that provoked them looms large on this record.  One song, "The Day the Niggaz Took Over," addresses it directly:

Sitting in my living room, calm and collected
Feeling that gotta-get-mine perspective
'Cause what I just heard broke me in half
And half the niggas I know, plus the niggas on the Row is bailing
Laugh now, but cry much later
You see, when niggas get together, they get mad 'cause they can't fade us
Like my niggas from South Central, Los Angeles
They found that they couldn't handle us
Bloods, Crips on the same squad
With the Ese's helpin', nigga, it's time to rob and mob

The album also produced more than one single that's become a classic.  "Nuthin' But a ‘G’ Thang," now widely recognized as one of the greatest rap songs of all time, features Snoop and Dre together boasting of their prowess and backing it up at the same time.  And of course there's "Let Me Ride," built on that fantastic Parliament sample and Dre's unblinking and matter-of-fact discussion of the life he's compelled to lead:

Creepin' down the back street on D's
I got my Glock cocked 'cause niggas want these
No soon as I said it, seems I got sweated
By some nigga with a TEC-9 tryin' to take mine
You wanna make noise? Make noise
I make a phone call, my niggas comin' like the Gotti boys

The lyrics of this album, some of which are much, much worse than these, caused great consternation among white parents (white suburban teens being, of course, the biggest buyers of gangsta rap) and led, along with other genres, to the "Parental Advisory" warning stickers that instantly became a signifier of coolness.  I mean, do you want some pansy-ass record or one so dangerous it comes with a fucking warning?

Speaking of fucking, profanity on this album isn't just used casually or explanatorily; it's elevated to an art form.  Snoop can cuss like Shakespeare can sonnet.  The man is a genius of motherfucker.  And if you can't handle really upsetting misogyny, I recommend you stay away from "Bitches Ain't Shit."  But as many people have pointed out, the idea behind this album was to paint a picture of how life really was in South Central LA at the dawn of the 90s, after decades of abuse by police, neglect by the city, and the shipping of good jobs elsewhere.  It's hard to listen to sometimes, but it was something people needed to hear.

Also, the music just fucking slaps.  Dre is a producer without peer, and his innovations in using samples and synthesizers to create a modd that can range from ominous to joyful reverberated throughout hip hop for years after this record.  It's a stone classic and was a blast to listen to again, even if that chirpy Wayfair woman really broke up my flow.

Is this album in my personal Top 100? No.