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Snoop Dogg’s eleventh studio album is a head scratcher. With 21 tracks it’s also a long one, with as many infuriating tracks as genius ones.
What strikes you after the first listen is that this isn’t an album as we’ve come to know them. There is no fluidity from track to track, and no running theme. What the old dog has done is given us a glimpse into the future; a world where tracks are downloaded individually and what he has devised is a CD of 21 singles.
With 18 years experience in the game the Long Beach native has enlisted the help of numerous friends; Kanye, Young Jeezy, R Kelly, E-40 and many more feature on various tracks, with only four off the whole album being featureless.
The album starts off well. The Way Life Used to be features some nostalgic G-Funk vibes and Snoop is as smooth and laid back as ever, and on Platinum Tha Dogg Pound man finds his old bark and spits fast and furious, accompanied by R Kelly.
There are a handful of other great cuts (My Fuckn House, Take you Home, We Rest in Cali & Wonder What I do) but there are too many head in hands moments. Most notably Wet and Boom, which are shameless bubblegum pop aimed at the younger chart audience and have no substance or soul.
Sometimes it’s hard to swallow that the man rapping is the same emcee who brough us Doggystyle and featured on so many G-Funk classics.
The big surprise on the album is Superman, which sees Snoop teaming up with fellow pot connoisseur Willie Nelson. But instead of rapping over Willie’s blusey guitar riffs, the former Death Row employee picks up the harmonica and gives fans his version of the blues and possibly a future career change when the voice gets to tired from rapping.
Doggumentary is not Doggystyle II. There are enough good moments to justify picking it up, but there are just as many cringe worthy ones, the trick is skipping them.
With so many guest appearances and tracks it’s easy to be overwhelmed and Calvin might have been better served cutting the numbers and releasing a smaller more condensed LP.
But it is what it is, the old dog still has some new tricks and there are times when you’ll get lost in the voice. You’ll be whisked away to ’93 all over again; gin in one hand, passing that sticky icky, bouncing in that old Low Rider, G-Funk floating in the wind; and you’ll smile.