Feature: Dr. Dre's 2001 - a hip-hop classic that could not be made today

ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED: DOUBLE J, SEPTEMBER 2019

A classic record with some questionable content.

When we think of Dr. Dre, we think of an era of hip hop rooted in decadence, delivered by artists who had lived the experiences that formed the basis of their material.

These were the stories of hustlers, young men who had come up from the struggle. Legends in the making who were thriving in a genre that provided an avenue out of the violence and impoverishment of their upbringing. A future that would be paved with money and fame in excess, and egos to match.

The release of Dre's debut LP The Chronic in 1992 firmly established him as a hip hop game changer.

From the shadows of his group N.W.A’s mammoth success emerged a double threat. Dre’s production technique and ear for g-funk and gangsta rap progressions, coupled with his staunch flow, turned heads and provided a huge breakthrough for the Death Row Records label Dre founded with Suge Knight and The D.O.C..

Seven years later, in anticipation of the new millennium, Dr. Dre delivered his second album, 2001.

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A record laden with expectation and anticipation, the album followed 1996’s Dr. Dre Presents The Aftermath - a compilation album that sold well, but failed to capture the same attention and respect as The Chronic.

Where 2001 differs is in its compositional weight, the calibre of guests representing the thriving culture of the time, and the reflection of Dre’s evolution as a rapper and the West Coast sound in general.

"I just basically do hardcore hip hop and try to add a touch of dark comedy here and there," Dr. Dre told the Irish Times in 2000.

"A lot of the times the media just takes this and tries to make it into something else when it’s all entertainment first."

It makes sense. 2001 was originally constructed as if it were a film.

Purely cinematic in its presentation, an album like 2001 set a precedent for this type of hip hop record that an artist like Kendrick Lamar would follow in producing seminal works of their own (Good Kid, m.A.A.d City).

The skits linking the 17 album tracks continue the narrative, centred on West Coast hip hop’s thematic triumvirate: weed, sex and violence.

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Comedian Eddie Griffin is a noted voice on 'Ed-Ucation', possibly the album’s lowest point: a one-and-a-half-minute rant about side-chicks who become pregnant on purpose.

Two tracks later, we hear orgasms and the voice of male porn star Jake Steed on 'Pause for a Porno', before the interlude breaks into 'Housewife'.

The cringe factor brought on Dre's more graphic lyrics are relegated to the lesser known songs on the album. Intentional or not, the kind of subject matter acclaimed rappers would never be able to get away with today, is ultimately shadowed by the singles: banger after banger that would drop during the album’s cycle of release.

What comes out on top is a strong and confident attitude that permeates through the entire piece.

The record is less concerned with hyping up a lifestyle and serves more as a massive 'fuck you' to anyone who questioned how Dr. Dre would stand solo, sans-N.W.A and without Death Row and Suge Knight behind him.

Establishing himself as one of the strongest players in the culture, Dr. Dre demonstrated his reach in employing an all-star list of ghostwriters (The D.O.C., Royce da 5’9”, Jay-Z), musicians (Mike Elizondo, Scott Storch, Jason Hann) and vocalists to pull his vision together.

We’re talking Xzibit, Nate Dogg, Kurupt and Snoop Dogg.

Mary J. Blige, MC Ren, Hittman.

Eminem, fresh off the back of the Dr. Dre-produced debut, The Slim Shady LP.

The young Marshall Mathers has one of the best verses and highlight moments on the record, spitting psychopathic greatness on 'Forgot About Dre'.

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A cultural moment as well as an album touchstone, 'Forgot About Dre' showed Dre at his bitter best, while Eminem’s vibe is a perfect snapshot of America’s Most Disturbed at his most venomous.

The album has spawned some of the most popular tracks of the decade, namely 'Still D.R.E' and 'The Next Episode', the latter of which has become almost a rite of passage to rap along to for anyone beginning the partying chapter of their young adulthood.

'Still D.R.E', the first single from 2001, is assertive and quick to light a fire beneath those who assumed Dre was down and out of the game following the release of ...The Aftermath.

'I stay close to the heat,' he raps. 'And even when I was close to defeat, I rose to my feet'.

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In the same vein, ‘The Next Episode’ is possibly the pinnacle of West Coast rap, delivered in its most pure form.

The track wouldn’t be what it is without Snoop Dogg’s silky-smooth cadence, Dre’s braggadocious entry and statement of intent as a King of Cali ('Compton, Long Beach, Inglewoood') and of course, Nate Dogg’s marijuana-loving outro.

Elsewhere on 2001, a listener can find some underrated cuts that still stand strong on their own now, 20 years later.

'Bang Bang' is an example of Dr. Dre’s intelligence and knack for clever lyrics, 'Let’s Get High' sees Ms. Roq shine, while 'The Message' changes the album’s speed entirely.

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Closing the album, the Mary J. Blige and Rell collaboration 'The Message' is an ode to Dr. Dre’s late brother Tyree and a song that deserved much more attention than it received.

At 22 tracks total, 2001 was perhaps embraced gluttonously when it was first unleashed. Nobody could have predicted Dr. Dre’s entrepreneurial hustles becoming such a main (and lucrative) focus over the next decade. He released another studio record (Compton) in 2015, yet the fumes of hope surrounding the almost mythical Detox album remain.

As we look to the beginning of another decade, a deep dive on an album like 2001 poses the question:

Could this sort of record be made and revered today?

Ask most hip-hop fans and they’d probably tell you no.

While the culture does still have pockets of music rooted in the same old tropes (read: strippers, liquor, misogyny), hip hop today has never been so multi-faceted. Yet, in a lot of ways, the influence of Dr. Dre has been there throughout.

As the West Coast hip hop sound became more defined – and popular – through the latter half of the 1990s, largely thanks to the emergence of Tupac Shakur and Snoop Dogg, the Dr. Dre sound remained present and continued to develop.

An innovator and sonic perfectionist, the Compton original would go on to pave the way for a whole new generation of hip hop artists valuing a fine-tuned ear for production and composition as much as they do their rhymes.

Feature: How TLC changed female representation in 90's R&B

ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED BY DOUBLE J, JUNE 2019

A look at how the Atlanta girl group became figureheads for independent womanhood in one of R&B's most potent decades.

The 1990s saw the development of a strain of R&B that has endured in its appeal and popularity. In 2019, this style has begun to see a renaissance through a new generation of artists.

The development of TLC though, from their New Jack Swing-rooted debut, Ooooooohhh... On the TLC Tip in 1992, to the seminal CrazySexyCool two years later, saw a definite change in the R&B landscape. A change that contemporaries like Aaliyah and Destiny's Child would follow.

To better understand the impact of TLC on the wider R&B landscape, one only need to take a look at the music theirs was being released alongside.

Influential producers of the time including Babyface, Jermaine Dupri, Rico Wade, Darkchild and Teddy Riley ushered in a new era of music that blended contemporary R&B with hip hop and New Jack Swing, throwing a spotlight on artists who oozed sensuality, embraced the ballad and rode on insatiable grooves.

Still, while men in R&B were getting in touch with their sensitive, sexier sides through the decade, women often still played a tight set of roles; the scorned girlfriend, the vixen, the heartbreaker, the heartbroken.

By the end of the 1990s, pop music had the likes of Mariah Carey, Mary J. Blige, Janet Jackson, Lauryn Hill and Sade standing strong in going toe to toe with Boyz II Men, Dru Hill and a baby-faced Usher.

Pioneering a real representation of womanhood, in particular black womanhood, TLC’s longevity stems from the unabashed honesty in their lyrics and an effortless, engaging delivery.

The group’s career, though marred by internal creative conflict, eventual bankruptcy and publicised personal problems, persevered musically, leading TLC to become the best-selling American girl group of all time.

Between albums two and three, CrazySexyCool and FanMail, we got to see three women on a rollercoaster journey. Yet, creatively, their music and messaging remained unshakeable.

CrazySexyCool: The Red Light Special

The release of CrazySexyCool marked a new chapter for TLC. While they swapped the baggy jeans and condom-glasses for crop tops and smoulders, the empowering lyrical threads that wove their way through TLC’s debut album remained permanently at the core of their second.

Everything about CrazySexyCool was more mature than anything TLC had done before, but it wasn’t forced.

Between Tionne ‘T-Boz’ Watkins, Lisa ‘Left Eye’ Lopes and Rozonda ‘Chilli’ Thomas, there existed a dynamic that flourished on each other’s strengths.

T-Boz, with her frank and raw alto style. Left Eye, with her lyrical prowess that easily put her in the same league as Tupac Shakur. Chilli, with the ethereal sense of cool that we see mirrored in the likes of FKA twigs and Teyana Taylor today.

The material on CrazySexyCool featured songs about sex, love, loss and consequence. But, more importantly, the album was a statement that women were firmly in control. In control of how they wanted to be loved, how they engaged in sex, and that ultimately, they could play the same game as their male peers.

If Silk and Ginuwine could get away with less-than-subtle serenades on ‘Freak Me’ and ‘Pony', then best believe TLC could deliver the same type of bedroom jam with ‘Red Light Special’.

One of the album’s biggest singles, ‘Creep’, gave the long-told narrative of an unfaithful relationship a different spin. Instead of wallowing over her man stepping out, the female at the centre of the song decides to do the same back.

Geared towards female empowerment, the single’s release did not sit right with Left Eye, whose original rap (which didn’t make the final edit) acts as a caution against cheating-as-revenge.

“Creepin’ may cause hysterical behaviour in the mind/Put your life in a bind/And in time make you victim to a passionate crime…”

Regardless of which version you prefer, both stand as examples where TLC flipped the script in offering different perspectives on an infidelity narrative that had been so normalised by the culture and, in many ways, would continue to be in subsequent decades.

The other notable release from the album came in the defining single ‘Waterfalls’.

Unprotected sex, HIV/AIDS and gang violence are explored against Organized Noize production and effortless harmonies. Memorable for its music video and one of Left Eye’s most popular raps, ‘Waterfalls’ is a touchstone of TLC’s catalogue.

Funky R&B that was accessible enough to cross over into the pop realm, the single brought TLC more acclaim and took CrazySexyCool into the upper echelons of those 90s records that have become essentials for any R&B fan.

FanMail: A fighting return

As the year 2000 approached, a futuristic aesthetic became the driving force behind the third TLC record, FanMail. Arriving almost five years after CrazySexyCool, the album is a thank you to TLC fans, as much as a strong return for the group, who had weathered bankruptcy and a rough recording hiatus.

While the chart climate had changed in the interim, with names like Backstreet and Britney blowing up, TLC remained true to their messaging and as a result of expert R&B production courtesy of Dallas Austin, Babyface, Jermaine Dupri, Jimmy Jam and Terry Lewis buoying the trio’s finessed writing and vocal delivery, FanMail became another critical success.

The success of a song like 'No Scrubs' speaks largely to the space TLC was bringing the 'Girl Power' movement into, as a younger demographic of fan was entering adolescence of their own.

The central message of women knowing their own worth and refusing to lower their standards for any man formed a song that has become one of TLC's most beloved.

A message that hasn't dated, and has been covered by artists as varied from Weezer to Kacey Musgraves, the heavyweight of FanMail holds up even now, 20 years on.

Tapping into insecurities and anxieties surrounding body image on 'Unpretty' proved to be another game changer for TLC's musical output, and provided a contrast to the tougher, gritter sounds with which FanMail was synonymous.

Layered synths, strings and guitars provided a simple, though beautiful backdrop to a timeless song that perhaps has even more relevance today, in an age dominated by social media.

'Maybe get rid of you/And then I'll get back to me.'

The album was a snapshot of TLC in a different phase of their careers; hardened and with perspective. No longer R&B darlings to be moulded in the vision of a plethora of male industry, these women positioned themselves in a strong position to emerge into the new millennium more empowered than ever.

A love letter to self-appreciation, self-love and female strength, FanMail would be the last album TLC would make before Left Eye's death, which makes its poignancy even heavier. Yet as a standalone record, its importance at the end of the 90s is untouchable.

Another prime example of TLC’s creative strides out of the shadows of a tomboy-fresh adolescence and into an adulthood soundtracked by music equal parts self-aware, sexy, and independent.

Feature: From Arular to AIM – the politics and activism of M.I.A.

ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED BY DOUBLE J, APRIL 2019

When it comes to the artistry of M.I.A., politics and music have never not been intertwined.

Of course, popular music has often held a mirror up to the political and social climate of its time, but over the course of five studio albums, Mathangi Arulpragasam’s voice has been a critical one, a fiery one.

A voice that has not wavered in its strength since 2005’s Arular, and one that has continued to buck the expectations of major labels as a marketable artist in a pop realm.

Pull Up The Poor

M.I.A.’s debut album Arular, laid the groundwork early. The album’s title – the political code used by her father during involvement with Tamil militant groups – set an early theme.

As with the British punk wave of the 1970s, the music M.I.A. produced reflected observations of a community the spotlight often swung away from. London’s cultural melting pot, built on stories of refuge and rebuilding, was given its stage.

Couple this with lyrical narratives surrounding murder, political warfare, the refugee experience and a struggle for independence, and M.I.A.’s debut was one that painted her early as a pop provocateur, an inciter of mischief.

Little did the naysayers realise, M.I.A was only getting started.

Flight Of The Paper Planes

A move to incorporate a more global scope in her music came soon after the success of Arular, with M.I.A.’s second record Kala in 2007.

Named after her mother and inspired both by her struggles and M.I.A.’s own issues in accessing a United States work visa, Kala was made during travels through India, Japan, Trinidad and Tobago, Jamaica, Liberia, and even Australia.

The album stands as one of M.I.A’s most important, body of work speaking. Kala brought M.I.A her first Grammy nomination for ‘Paper Planes’ (Record of the Year), while collaborations with the likes of Timbaland, Switch and Diplo on production elevated Kala to further esteem and acclaim outside the UK.

The record expanded on themes set on Arular, with the focus pointing inward on the refugee experience, often in a hostile environment. In sing-song, playground rhyming cadence, M.I.A’s satirical tone also takes flight beautifully on Kala, as she continued to expose the flaws of a global system and, in doing so, also exposed the flaws of a music industry that ironically, the album was skyrocketing her upward within.

The release of ‘Paper Planes’ marked a cataclysmic change in pace for M.I.A on a global scale. A satirical look at the American perception of immigrants and foreigners, particularly post-9/11, ‘Paper Planes’ courted criticism and acclaim in droves.

Her supposed support of the Tamil Tigers, through the success of ‘Paper Planes’, led to M.I.A’s work being banned on radio and television throughout Sri Lanka.

“I can’t justify my success otherwise.” she told The Daily Beast in 2009.

“I can’t justify getting nominated for an Oscar or a Grammy, that to me wouldn’t mean anything if I don’t actually get to speak about this.”

Though ‘Paper Planes’ wasn’t the first time M.I.A provided pointed political commentary through music, the song provided her with her biggest stage at the time.

Nine months pregnant, she performed alongside Jay-Z, T.I., Lil Wayne and Kanye West at the 2009 Grammys - a performance that further solidified her status as a bona-fide hustler, making her name.

Born Free

In 2010, she released MAYA, a record that saw information politics and the digital age act as a prominent feature for M.I.A.’s creative output.

From the glitchy, industrial elements of the Sleigh Bells-sampled ‘MEDS AND FEDS’, through to the album’s artwork, the advance of the internet – and because of it, a slew of misconception and alternative truths – played a central role in M.I.A’s third release.

Perhaps more sonically aggressive than its predecessors, MAYA’s messaging was maturing and becoming more pointed.

The release of the short film accompanying ‘BORN FREE’ was a slice of guerilla-style action; conceptualised and filmed without the knowledge of M.I.A.’s record label, the video depicted a genocide against redheads. Violent and graphic, the video highlighted the absurdity of genocide itself and in doing so, showed graphic violence against people who did not fit the usual narrative.

‘I’ll throw this in ya face when I see ya, I got somethin’ to say,’ M.I.A taunts on the track. The brashness in her delivery indicated a continued unflinching, unwavering promise that violence on this scale was indeed very real.

If we felt confronted by the music video, we weren’t ready to digest the realities at the core of its inception.

Live Fast, Die Young

The release of Matangi in 2013 and M.I.A’s most recent – and apparently final – album AIM in 2016 displays the empowerment and drive of M.I.A’s artistry in different ways.

The former, which might be considered the least abrasive of M.I.A.’s discography, nevertheless remains unrelenting.

The music is almost exhausting to listen to, which may have been the point. Experimenting heavily with hip hop and bhangra, Matangi plunges itself into ideas of Eastern spiritualism more than it does political warfare and less-travelled edgy terrain.

Alleged input from WikiLeaks founder Julian Assange ties the album to the underground, guerilla approach of previous material, yet M.I.A. provides the listener with some of her most forward-thinking ideas yet.

‘If you only live once, why do we keep doing the same shit?’ she muses at the end of ‘Y.A.L.A’. ‘Back home where I come from, we keep being born again and again’.

Themes of karma, rejuvenation and female strength resound, while the music takes on a slicker tone.

Five albums in and it could be said that music listeners and the industry still don’t have the ultimate vision of Mathangi Arulpragasam that the artist is willing to deliver.

We see this urgency in full flight on AIM opener ‘Borders’, a look at the world’s current refugee crisis.

“The world I talked about ten years ago is still the same,” M.I.A. posted on Twitter. It comes as a sombre realisation; are things as bad as they ever were or have we, as a public, simply had our eyes opened more?

Urgency, charisma and self-awareness have always been at the core of M.I.A.’s work.

‘What haters say about me don’t worry me,’ she spits on AIM’s  ‘Finally’. ‘I keep it moving forward to what’s ahead of me.’

It’s a thread of confidence that has buoyed M.I.A’s work as much as each banging bhangra beat or electronic lash. From ‘Paper Planes’ to ‘Born Free’, M.I.A. refuses to be quietened.

Whether AIM is the final M.I.A. album remains to be seen. If it is, the artist has gone out with flair. She might not necessarily be shaking the industry down with vivid imagery backed by fist-pumping beats, but she’s cleverly interwoven a global narrative with music that has traversed genre and cultural boundary.

As a music fan and a fan of strong, empowered artists in an industry of steadfast gatekeepers, I love this.