'Lil' Ghetto Boy' proved that Snoop Doggy Dogg, the accessory-to-murder suspect with the lazy flow, could write seriously and perceptively when the mood took him.
There are two - maybe two-and-a-half - tracks that rise above the sub-gutter level of the rest of the record.
It was a tough record to like at the time of its eventual, much-delayed release at the end of 1992, but today, in the age of Black Lives Matter and #metoo, and especially coming after the self-serving and blatant revisionism of the Straight Outta Compton film, it is pretty much impossible to listen to if you plan on keeping your breakfast down. The Chronic is an important record, but it is repulsive and hate-filled: an hour of often superb, meticulous production laced with misogynistic and violently sociopathic lyrics, imbued with humour that would be given excessively undeserved praise if one were to label it as "puerile". Whether that was sufficient is for others to judge: all I can say is, it's as much as I could handle. I managed it all the way through only once - a sliver of the level of attention I usually give to records I write about here. As the dread day of the deadline approached, I found myself moving from an initial reluctance to listen to it, through a period of stubborn refusal, before bowing to the inevitable and finally playing the damn thing again at what was, if I wasn't to incur John's fearful wrath by delivering the piece late, the last possible moment. So, since the beginning of 2017, I've known that my final piece for the year would be on this deliberately and irredeemably ugly record, its cover sitting in my mental to-do list like an ominous tombstone, sometimes hidden behind other work, often looming over it. tQ editor John Doran and I have tended to agree the schedule for these pieces early in January, and the publication timetable is dictated by the original release date of the album in question. This time, though, that hasn't been possible. This is never usually a chore, as these are some of my favourite records of all time.
I spend the weeks leading up to the deadline listening frequently to the record I'm reappraising, reading through old magazine cuttings and books, maybe listening to old interview tapes where they exist, and generally re-immersing myself in the mood and mindset of the time it was made, plunging as deep as I'm able to get back into the music and its contexts.
In the six-and-a-bit years I've been writing these anniversary pieces, a working pattern has evolved that seems to provide a reliable framework.
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