2001

1	Lolo (Intro) / Tray Deee 0:41
2	The Watcher 3:26
3	Fuck You / Devin the Dude 3:25
4	Still D.R.E. / Snoop Dogg 4:30
5	Big Ego's / Hitman 3:58
6	Xxplosive / Nate Dogg 3:35
7	What's the Difference / Xzibit 4:04
8	Bar One / Ms. Roq 0:50
9	Light Speed / Hitman 2:40
10	Forgot About Dre / Eminem 3:42
11	The Next Episode / Snoop Dogg 2:41
12	Let's Get High / Ms. Roq 2:27
13	Bitch Niggaz / Hitman 4:13
14	The Car Bomb / Chris Henry 1:00
15	Murder Ink / Ms. Roq 2:28
16	Ed-Ucation / Eddie Griffin 1:32
17	Some L.A. Niggaz / Knoc-Turn'al 4:25
18	Pause 4 Porno / Jake $Teed 1:32
19	Housewife / Hitman 4:02
20	Ackrite / Hitman 3:39
21	Bang Bang / Knoc-Turn'al 3:42
22	The Message / Mary J. Blige 5:29

Barnes & Noble

On Dr. Dre 2001, rap's premier beatmaker, Dr. Dre, is as deeply musical as ever, but surprisingly world-weary and contemplative. After a long layoff from his last full-length, hip-hop's absentee father, returns to confront critics and appeal to the streets. Or as he puts it on "Still Dre:" "They want to know if I still got/ they say rap's changed/ they want to know how I feel about it." Dre hasn't skipped a beat so the introspection proves rhetorical. The new disc accumulates six years worth of grit since 1993's The Chronic, and illustrates the difference between Dre and common producers who assemble short shelf life CDs. Dre can make noggin-bustin' beats and cinematic rap overtures at the drop of a dime, which means this is a man who operates on his own space-time continuum. This outing, Snoop Dogg is back on board and strong as ever but Dre himself is a bigger revelation on the mic, having been influenced by emerging affiliates Eminem and Xzibit. The author's commitment to audio innovation powers Dr. Dre 2001, with guest spots from underrated rappers like Devin the Dude and various members of the Likwit Crew, but expanded to include comedian Eddie Griffin and porn star Jake Steed. The easily offended should beware 'cuz his subject matter is basic "Jerry Springer, Too Hot for TV" (but just right for rap records). Standout material: "F..k You," a funk paean to straight sexin'; "Forgot about Dre," the obligatory southern booty-quake jam with a twist on which Eminem flips double-time lyrics over a ghetto-funk beat; and the full-throttle battle of Dre, Em, and X on "What's the Difference?" The album unfurls a subtle resonance, especially when Dre reveals for future consumption the long dormant legacy of West Coast hip-hop. In the long run, Dr. Dre 2001 wholly smokes. Donnell Alexander

All Music Guide

The Slim Shady LP announced not only Eminem's arrival, but it established that his producer Dr. Dre was anything but passé, thereby raising expectations for 2001, the long-anticipated sequel to The Chronic. It suggested that 2001 wouldn't simply be recycled Chronic, and, musically speaking, that's more or less true. He's pushed himself hard, finding new variations in the formula by adding ominous strings, soulful vocals, and reggae, resulting in fairly interesting recontextualizations. Padded out to 22 tracks, 2001 isn't as consistent or striking as Slim Shady, but the music is always brimming with character. If only the same could be said about the rappers! Why does a producer as original as Dre work with such pedestrian rappers? Perhaps it's to ensure his control over the project, or to mask his own shortcomings as an MC, but the album suffers considerably as a result. Out of all the other rappers on 2001, only Snoop and Eminem -- Dre's two great protégés -- have character and while Eminem's jokiness still is unpredictable, Snoop sounds nearly as tired as the second-rate rappers. The only difference is, there's pleasure in hearing Snoop's style, while the rest sound staid. That's the major problem with 2001: lyrically and thematically, it's nothing but gangsta clichés. Scratch that, it's über-gangsta, blown up so large that it feels like a parody. Song after song, there's a never-ending litany of violence, drugs, pussy, bitches, dope, guns, and gangsters. After a full decade of this, it takes real effort to get outraged at this stuff, so chances are, you'll shut out the words and groove along since, sonically, this is first-rate, straight-up gangsta. Still, no matter how much fun you may have, it's hard not to shake the feeling that this is cheap, not lasting, fun. Stephen Thomas Erlewine