"Hip-hop is definitely advancing. We just get flat because
of our lyrical content...."
--Rakim
Over the years, hip-hop's competitive nature has spawned
confusing regional idiosyncrasies that started small with
block to block battles. As time passed, competition expanded
to encompass not only New York, but different parts of
the country, including the West Coast, the Dirty South
and the Midwest.
In the early days, New York boroughs waged war against
each other, most notably when KRS-One repped the South
Bronx against MC Shan and Queensbridge, a highlight in
the annals of hip-hop. Once the culture expanded from
its epicenter in Now Y, regions across the United States
adopted signature sounds.
A lot of noise was made out West. Now, though, the West
faces irrelevance after years of dominance. One can't
help but wonder where the West is at.
In '88, N.W.A. blew up the spot with Straight Outta
Compton, an album that exposed the world to L.A.'s
gang life and (more importantly) police brutality against
young black males. "Fuck Tha Police" caused politicians
to ponder censoring rap music.
Ice Cube continued these themes when he broke from N.W.A.
and hooked up with Public Enemy for his first solo album,
Amerikkka's Most Wanted. He followed this classic
with Death Certificate, a joint emphasizing crack
cocaine's impact on Middle America and the tensions that
soon exploded into the L.A. riots.
The West was putting it down and making crazy loot in
the process. Hip-hop suddenly moved from the streets to
the suburbs, snatching the attention of middle-class kids
and MTV. Following the Rodney King riots, Dr. Dre dropped
The Chronic, introducing Snoop Dogg, the G-funk
sound and Death Row to the rap game. The L.A. lifestyle--carnality,
the throwing-up of hand signs, chronic smoking, gangsterisms--turned
headz into G's overnight, and keyboard funk (still heard
in Portland) was driven into the ground.
In the wake of Tupac's death in '96, the West fell off
the map. There hasn't been a peep from the West, and naturally
folks looked to Dre to save the day. The arrival of Dr.
Dre 2001 in the last weeks of '99 inspired hype from
everyone from Rolling Stone to The New York
Times. Unfortunately, 2001 is a big letdown,
a sad, boring record that proves the West remains lost.
As is to be expected of Dre, the music is well-produced
and well-mixed. The piano pluckings and horn riffs popularized
by producers like the RZA and DJ Premier have influenced
Dre's latest sound. It's the lyrics, completely and utterly
banal, that ruin the album.
The majority of the rhymes touch on the tired topics
of weed consumption, sex, murder and more sex. Dre's slow
flow works well for the most part, especially on "The
Watcher" and the Lord Finesse-produced "The Message,"
a heart-wrenching track featuring Mary J. Blige. But the
rest of his cohorts fail to make the grade. Their guest
turns on 2001 confirm that Snoop is stuck in a
time warp and that Eminem has absolutely no skills
on the microphone. Xzibit is the only proper MC on
the whole project, and he doesn't appear enough to save
the album.
Dr. Dre 2001 will receive undeserved hype from
the media, but this joint ain't all it's cracked up to
be. Ice Cube's War & Peace Vol. II is slated
to appear in February. If the man who was once Amerikkka's
most wanted can't do better than Dre, this hip-hop dynasty
will truly be a thing for the history books.
