In 1995 ‘Pac was locked down, the biggest willie around had the cash to spring him free, provided he sign a crude hand written contract from his lawyer. Tupac went straight from a cell to the recording studio where an astounding 300 or so songs were done in a 2 week period. The first batch of them was the milestone double album All Eyes On Me, that saw tremendous success. After his tragic murder in September of ’96, the battle was on for the rights to his remaining tracks. Somehow or another most were leaked to the street and resulted in Makavelli 1 through 1000, available at corner store bodegas for $5 a pop. In 1999 the thought of his third posthumous release had me thinking all the good stuff was used up by now and what was left was bottom of the barrel. But Still I Rise proves that theory wrong.

Everything you loved about 2pac is here, and the tracks on the album aren’t corny, like some of his other post-death releases. There’s a little something for political fans of Pac’s past, and definitely something for the thugs. The album is more a group project than a solo album as the Outlawz, (forever immortalized on “Hit Em Up”), appear all throughout the 15 tracks. “Letter To The President” is an open letter to our friend who likes getting head in the White House. ‘Pac pleads his case to help to end poverty in the inner city to hopefully make a change. This QD III track fits like a glove and gets the project going in a right directon. Meanwhile, the title track has ‘Pac lashing out against his absent father and the consequence of that absence, hooking you in with the first few lines, showing his gift to make some kind of statement in each song.

Many of the tracks have stale singing hooks, but most are tolerable. The Outlawz possess skills that make most thugs look even more gimmicky. The production is solid throughout, provided by QDIII, longtime collaborator Johnny J {your royalty check’s in the mail} Daz, Fredwreck and Pac himself. “As The World Turns” is just a nice song with its mellow guitar and piano pizazz.

If you miss the hellraiser version of ‘Pac, he resurfaces on “Hell 4 A Hustler”, speaking with ’nuff venom. “Livin’ care free till I’m buried/ And if they dare me/ I’ll bust on them niggaz till they scurry / I’m clearly a man of military means/ and my artillery/ Watchin’ over me through every murder scene.” But in true 2Pac tradition he totally flips the script to show us his good side on “The Good Die Young”. “Who are we to say who live or die/ Breathe or stop/ All this judgement on lives needs to stop.” The battle between good and evil rages on. “Killuminati” could rock a party in the tradition of “I Get Around”, just give it a chickenhead test.

2pac fans should eat up this latest offering. It’s a good album with little flaw, but the oversaturation of ‘Pac imitators made this projects punch more of a strong jab than a KO uppercut. It is still definitely above average for the genre and a reminder to us of just how influential a figure he was. Like he says the good die young.

1991 found Dre feeling cheated out of royalties, leaving Ruthless to co-found Death Row Records where he was thrust into super-stardom. His first “solo” album, The Chronic came in late ’92, which just so happened to feature the new label’s hand picked talent to help promote its roster. The Chronic is a classic in every sense of the word. It was unfastforwardable, started the West’s sonic evolution with the introduction of Dre’s new sound, “G-Funk”, and gave it’s breakout star, Snoop Dogg, a level of fame only seen before from rock and pop stars. Although Dre was considered up against the ropes, as there was serious doubt he could continue to prosper without NWA, the pressure was on and he delivered.

By now the G-Funk era was in full swing, and the hits kept on coming. Snoop’s Doggystyle was the classic follow up, loaded with the sound we were now fiending for. It spawned 3 hit singles, and inspired raps first direct to video movie, Murder Was The Case, directed by Dre himself. As Death Row’s popularity grew, we saw Dre involving himself with the successful release of the Dogg Pound’s Dogg Food, plus a few soundtrack sure shots like “Keep Their Heads Ringin’”, all the way up to his first and last duet with 2Pac, “California Love”.

As we all know, business can tear friends apart. Dre departed Death Row in 1996 to form his own label Afterlife. Things started out rocky, as the label delivered two less than stellar projects, an Aftermath compilation, and a supergroup project with Nas and family called “The Firm”. In 1998, Dre completed King Tee’s Thy Kingdom Come, easily delivering the best West Coast gangster rap album that year, not to mention of King Tee’s career. Unfortunately, an unjust, low “mic” rating from the industry’s only voice of the time, told Dre that it wasn’t good enough, causing him to lose faith in the project, and not release it all.

But then, a white kid from Detroit changed it all. Blowing up as large as Dre’s last protege, Snoop Dogg, the incredible Eminem, helped put Dr. Dre back on the map, and gave him the confidence to begin work on The Chronic 2, which somehow morphed into simply a picture of a weed leaf, and the number 2001.

(The Chronic) 2001 is flatly the best album of the year and clearly shows just how bland and boring almost everything out right now is. It’s now clear what Dre was up to each week this album got delayed – fine tuning the sequel to his first solo classic. Each cut is solid, well thought out, and executed perfectly. He realizes what’s at stake and doesn’t fuck around.

The album finds Dre opening up a lot and talking about what’s on his mind. Whereas his earlier material focused on an image of what Dre wanted us to believe he was, 2001, for the first time, shows who he really is. Everything you’ve ever wanted to hear come out of Dre’s mouth, does on this album, whether it’s the state of rap, the repercussions of what he started, his notorious past, or immediate future. With the exception of Death Row’s yanking of his Chronic 2000 title for their unlistenable compilation album, we get to hear Dre speak on everything that is on his mind, from missing Eazy E to N.W.A. reunions. The deepest sense of being Andre Young is in the album’s closure, “The Message”, speaking to his deceased brother.

“The Watcher” opens the album, with Dre explaining himself in the present tense, watching everything going on from a distance, separating himself from the craziness he grew out of. “But now we got a new era of gangstaz, hustlas, and youngstas / livin’ amoung us/ lookin’ at us now, and callin’ us bustas/ can’t help but reminisce when it was us/ nigga we started this gangsta shit/and this is the muthafuckin’ thanks I get?”

Despite the changes of the industry, “Still D.R.E.” is a celebrated reunion with Snoop, that lets us know as far as Dre’s concerned, ain’t a damn thing changed. But he best explains it all on the masterpiece, “Forgot About Dre”, (with Eminem), a response to all haters and doubters over his relatively quiet past few years. “Now all day I get hate mail sayin’ Dre fell off/ What? Cuz’ I been in the lab with a pen and a pad, tryin’ to get this damn label off?”. Eminem tops it off by adding an infectious hook that becomes even more sinister as he transforms it into the second verse. This track is easily a contender for best song of the year.

Following on this same truth-telling vibe, the incredible “Whats The Difference” with Xzibit and Eminem, making it too hard to decide who steals the spotlight on this lyrical free for all. Dre’s verse makes peace with the D.O.C. and Eazy over past beefs, while taking a disguised a pot shot at the reunion-happy MC Ren. Xzibit gives one the best verses of his career, while Eminem and Dre sew it up at the end with true, twisted companionship (“If you ever need somebody offed, who’s throat is it? / If you ever kill that Kim bitch, I’ll show you where the ocean is!”).

The aforementioned, “The Message”, is a dedication to Dre’s brother who was murdered last year. He’s never spoken on such a personal issue on wax and is applauded for his courage to do so over this Mary J. Blige blessed track.

While not every track is conceptual as these, the rest of the album concentrates on carrying the torch for West Coast gangster rap, and essentially 2001 is it in its definitive and quintessential form. With so much already said by Dre on this album, there is room for a couple of mindless ass shakers, weed anthems and some music to drive by. While the educated listener will appreciate Dre’s narrative tracks a little more, these old fashioned exercises in negativity are what helped make Dre the living legend that he is today, and are essential.

“Fuck You” is straight up NWA Dre, with the funk guitar, bangin’ bassline, hard snare and slick synth. Speaking on their hoe-hoppin’ adventures are Dre, with a surprisingly show stealing Devin The Dude, who next passes the mic like a baton to Snoop Dogg demonstrating an amazing chemistry. “The Next Episode” features an invigorated Snoop, looking to make up for lost times with Dre, who amazingly breaks the beat down, like a cinematic soundscape, to connect each verse. “Let’s Get High” seems to start off as a disgusting party jam, but a very impressive Hittman immediately grabs the listeners attention, which is kept throughout verses from Dre, Kurupt and Ms. Roq.

Hittman actually shows up on a whopping ten tracks, easily showing that he is Dre’s next protege. While he is no Eminem, and no Snoop either, he does have what it takes to roll with the muthafuckin’ D.R.E. He packs an interesting cadence, that twists and turns when you would least expect it, with enough ghetto edge to help bring something interesting to the table in terms of West Coast gangster rap. While the numerous guest appearances (from all of the featured artists) somewhat disrupt the album’s continuity, it’s nevertheless the same formula that made The Chronic such a success, and still works.

Like the song says, hip-hop’s greatest producer of all time is “Still D.R.E.”, and he’s proven it once again with this release. Why 2001? Simple, because Dr. Dre has always proven to be one-step ahead of us all.