Review Summary: That's just a bit snobby, isn't it?
2001 isn’t just good for a rap album; it’s good full stop. Chris Massey (PopMatters) writes: “Musically, 2001 is about as close to brilliant as any one gangsta rap album might possibly get.” He was trying to be nice, but there’s no max-out for this stuff just because it’s violent. People look down on gangsta rap and that’s just a bit snobby, isn’t it? You might be tempted to judge Andre Young, if you’re the type of guy that owns 17 vinyls and nothing to play them on. That’s fine, just don’t judge the album.
The music’s wicked. Funk rolls onward inexorably throughout exquisite production, but there’s a judder – ‘Some L.A Nigg*s’ is a quaky thing, but it’s always there: the assertion and the shiver. If you’re gonna have grubby lyrics then what an ideal backdrop. The bass is a bad influence, oozing confidence, the jitterishness is the awkwardness which accompanies rebellion so often, that squirming, unpredictable type. Actually it's the type that Eminem embodies and that’s why he’s such a great fit here. ‘The Chronic’ struck an eclectic precision and that’s gone, but ‘2001’ is a calculated assault to accompany Dre’s super-producer status; a non-frantic, pin-point synth, ‘we’re cool, the world isn’t’ thing going on.
Does ‘2001’ resist the sophomore slump? Actually, no – it’s not as good as ‘The Chronic’. But it doesn’t have to be, he just needs to not *** up. Dr. Dre is an icon, it’s as much about his personality as anything, and he just needs to play to this to continue exhibiting wondrous stature. It’s not a struggle, not a painful clutch to redeeming elements; to enjoy ‘2001’ you don’t have to ameliorate it, and that’s nice.
Yeah, everyone thinks the lyrics are repulsive - they are. D O double G ends ‘*** You’ particularly uncompromisingly: “We servin’ these hoes, and never lovin’ these hoes, Beotch!” It’s easy to dismiss it all as being backwards: meaningless violence and braggadocio are entirely predictable, and it’s done with no zest – it’s nonchalant and robotic. Yet it’s all a little bit exciting, too. There’s the glamour of L.A, and it’s comforting to see what are often disguised emotions explored so confidently and unapologetically – Em’s a lunatic, the others are intriguingly levelheaded. You’re not in safe hands – far from it – but there’s a charm there. That it’s blank and detached is sort of brilliant.
They might be accused of being inconsistent – gangster rap is inherently anti-establishment and “the mother-***ing D.R.E” and pals are all multi-millionaires. It looks a bit like they’ve become the system they’re fighting. It’s anti-everything, though - there’s no message for them to become bound by. (Though now, what with Dre in cohorts with Will.I.Am over Beats headphones, he’s pushed it too far.) And yeah, there’s filler – “Light Speed” is either over too quickly, or never takes off. (I guess an Editor would write something along the lines of: ‘You’re Fired. Ed.’ Here).
I guess it comes down to whether Dre exploits what the genre offers him. Gratuitous violence is gratuitous, but by being gratuitous it becomes meaningful, am I making sense here? The lyrics are cool, but if you’re the sort that suffers an uncontrollable urge to bellow “I was born in the wrong era!” upon hearing them, just ignore them. It’s a good album anyway, and one which isn’t restrained by its loyalty to thoroughbred rap.
