The Chronic is a
paradox.
It was a mainstream pop success cobbled from the pieces of
an underground sound. It paired the grooves of a dance party with the brutality
and hate of a street fight. It emulated the meticulous design and studio proficiency
of ambient composers, but was best heard as the passing thud of a low rider’s sub-woofer.
Yet, its wealth of contradictions only made its influence
more profound. Never before had hip-hop sounded this grandiose, taking on the
emotional heft and depth of a motion picture soundtrack, replete with cinema’s
storied anti-heroes and penchant for glorified violence.
At the center of this story of revenge was West-Coast production
wunderkind, Dr. Dre, rising from the ashes of N.W.A to dole out slanderous
tongue lashings to his critics, contemporaries and ex-bandmates. His ideas unfurl
as a tough guy shtick, spoken in choppy half sentences, but convincingly
scowled and backed by an army of like-minded agitators, some of which are
considerably more proficient on the microphone.
Dre’s best verbal passages come when he avoids keeping up
with his teammates, instead relaxing and opining over his lustrous Chevy Impala
and penile hubris. Honest about his lack of pretensions, Dre claims “No medallions,
dreadlocks or black fists” here, just gangster rap, which lies somewhere
between admirable and willfully ignorant. Despite this apolitical stance, many
tracks do carry valid arguments for uprising against social injustice,
specifically in relation to the Rodney King beatings and the living conditions
of South Central Los Angeles. Even the melancholy “Lil’ Ghetto Boy” has a
contemplative nature that seems to contradict Dre’s occasionally bleak
posturing.
Accompanying Dre on a staggering 11 of 16 tracks is Snoop
Doggy Dogg, a gifted and skillful rookie capable of picking up where Dre’s
rhyming abilities leave off. Funneling each sentence through his fast and
limber voice box, Snoop traffics in “sing-songy” inflection shifts, nonsensical
slang and stoned indifference, vocally falling somewhere between reggae patois and schoolyard joshing. If it
wasn’t for his diverse portfolio, his flow would come off as a gimmick, but his
storytelling is strikingly authentic and one-liners indelible, exceeding the
influence of a song and permanently infecting popular culture.
Just as culturally significant was Dre’s pioneering
production work, which more than makes up for any inconsistencies in his
oratory abilities. Riding on a constant wave of a neon, squealing synthesizer, Dre
weaves eerie and menacing tones from otherwise benign elements. His bass lines
are tense and husky, reminiscent of the captured din of a boxing match, but
slowed to a leisurely, drifting pace. As a contrasting element, exotic and suggestive
flute floats into the mix, almost subconsciously, paralleling vintage sex jams
from the bedrooms and massage parlors of exploitation cinema. As a binding
element, piano pleasantly swirls from speaker-to-speaker, hammering the nail
into vinyl’s coffin and solidifying CD’s stereophonic sound.
Taking advantage of these advances in high fidelity, Dre
pushes his gassy, self-congratulatory bass lines to the forefront on “Fuck wit
Dre Day…,” backing them with jovial organ tinkle and plucked guitar string.
Posing as an electronic answer to Parliament’s big-bootied funk, Dre adds heavy
doses of synthetic horn and orchestral atmospherics, which give the track a
celebratory vibe, contrasting the decidedly spiteful and homophobic lyrical
content.
This inclination to ridicule the competition into
submission may be the only misstep of an otherwise brilliant effort, but where
the message fails, the performers succeed. Dre and Snoop exude chemistry while
excoriating their enemies and those willing to see past their childish bigotry
will find a tremendous confidence in the power of the chosen sonic elements and
the overall listening experience. The resulting hybrid of dark, delicate
atmospherics and hyperactive soul bounce was jarring enough in its originality
to forever alter the face of American music, heightening our expectation for
ambitious and daring soundscapes.
