The Optical Files #18: Snoop Dogg - R&G (Rhythm & Gangsta): The Masterpiece (2004)

 

At some point in the 2000s, Snoop Dogg (without changing much about the way he did things for 15 years) was allowed by the mainstream to cross over from menace to society & murder defendant to become a friendly mascot for gangsta rap & potheadism, a role he continues to occupy to this day. Every few years (usually in between album drops), he finds a way to keep himself relevant in the mainstream via something other than music: publicly befriending Martha Stewart; proclaiming himself a rasta & changing his name to Snoop Lion; & in the case of the runup to his 7th album, announcing he had stopped smoking weed.

 

Although he only abstained for 6 months, I guess the experience was meaningful enough to dedicate a song to the topic: R&G's closer, "No Thang On Me." The song, with fully live instrumentation & a Bootsy Collins feature, is produced by Hi-Tek. It's the latter half of an interesting strategy Snoop takes, bookending the album with tracks by boom-bap producers (after the classy Alchemist-manned gospel opener "I Love to Give You Light") while the middle is more radio-ready. Considering this was his 2nd album on a major label after a 3-album stint on No Limit during the '90s, perhaps he wanted to prove how hiphop he still was.

The Neptunes sound dominates this album. Their influence can be heard on way more than the 5 tracks they produce. My favorite Neptunes beat on this album is "Signs," featuring Justin Timberlake & uncle Charlie Wilson. The 3rd single released from the album, it's an uptempo pop song with a fabulous horn section. I'm still not sure why it only charted at 46 compared to the #1 smash "Drop it Like It's Hot." "Let's Get Blown" is another great, glittery Neptunes beat, but it's a bit too close to "Excuse Me Miss"/"Change Clothes" territory. The weakest Neptunes beat is "Pass It Pass It," which tries to replicate their earlier style without success. Regardless of the misstep, there's no denying this era of Snoop x Neptunes was a hitmaking machine.

Snoop's persona is a mix of '90s gangsta & '70s blaxploitation pimp tropes (a blend that culminated in his role as Huggy Bear in the 2004 Starsky & Hutch film, a part he references several times on the album). I can offer no insight as to the extent of his real-life involvement in his Rollin' 20 Crips set, but as a performer, he seems to have gotten less & less interested in gangsta posturing as his career & fame have mushroomed. On this album we get "Bang Out," a perfunctory gangsta number produced by J.R. with a bizarrely offbeat drum loop. (I do enjoy the organ that creeps into the arrangement midway through, though.) "Oh No" is more convincing, thanks to a lively 50 Cent feature & a coldhearted Ron Browz beat. On the whole though, between the aforementioned Neptunes songs, the obligatory Lil Jon strip club anthem "Step Yo Game Up" with the always-reliable Trina, "Fresh Pair of Panties On," & the Nelly-assisted "Girl Like U," R&G-era Snoop is much more interested in cheek clapping than gun clapping.

There's a pretty clear dark side to the pimp persona, though, & we have evidence of that in the disturbing "Can U Control Yo Hoe," which talks frankly about slapping women & otherwise mistreating them, & if there's supposed to be humor in there I missed it. Then we have "I'm Threw Witchu," on which Snoop & Soopafly enact breakup scenarios that amount to little more than calling women names, over a boring, droning Baby Dubb beat that feels strangely unfinished.

I don't know about you, but my ears perk up when Snoop starts rapping about Snoop. That is, deconstructing his own persona, like on the futurefunk "Can I Get a Flicc Witchu," where he seems almost perplexed at his own fame, & "The Bidness," which is a sample-patchwork declaration of his values. I'd never say Snoop gets introspective exactly, but on these 2 tracks are the closest you'll get while he flexes some underrated lyricism.

Me calling albums overlong is starting to feel like a constant in this series, & there's a reason: during the time period I'm examining (1998-2008), albums were too fucking long. This one clocks in at an exhausting 78 minutes, almost the limit of what you can cram onto a single CD. Not only does it have too many songs, it also tries to cover too much ground. This is the outcome of the 2000s attitude of trying to make an album with a little something for everybody, at the expense of focus. R&G will never be the first album people reach for when they want to hear some Snoop Dogg, but it's not an embarrassment.