(Aftermath/Doggystyle/Interscope Records)
Snoop Doggy Dogg is no longer just a rapper: He is a veritable hip-hop renaissance man, now as interested in getting high and pontificating on celluloid as he is on wax. Although not released as of press time, it's a safe bet that his new film, the DJ Pooh-directed \The Wash"" will share a lot of the paradoxes that haunt other Snoop films: ""Hot Boyz,"" ""Caught Up"" and last month's ""Bones."" Snoop will drink cognac as well as malt liquor, alternately have a lot of money and not enough, and drive large cars, oblivious that his own song is blaring from the radio.
Although plot details are vague and probably not very important, ""The Wash""'s Web site tells that Snoop and Dr. Dre star as a pair of ""mismatched"" roommates, although there's no explanation as to why Snoop and Dre would ever be cast as an odd couple. Their excellent collaborations on 1992's and 1993's cement this duo's place in the pantheon of producer-and-emcee teams.
The two songs Snoop and Dre share on this collection, ""On The Blvd."" and ""The Wash,"" represent a fine return to form for Snoop. After three lackluster years at No Limit Records, Snoop has rediscovered the energy that made his earlier recordings so engaging, no doubt brought out of hibernation by Dre's trademark synthesized, thumping beats. ""The Wash"" blends breathy background vocals, piano scales and a string ensemble into an enticing blaxploitative soup. ""On The Blvd."" is a somewhat more aggressive and electronic jam. While they're a far cry from ""Let Me Ride,"" it's clear from these two tracks that they still have that fire as a team, and that Snoop just needs the right producer to elevate him from substandard to listenable levels.
Other standout tracks include ""Holla,"" a characteristically bizzare song from the increasingly crazy Busta Rhymes. Bubba Sparxxx lends the amiable ""Bubba Talk"" from his debut album, which owes more to Timbaland's pop-and-lock beat than Bubba's flow. D12's pro-drug agenda, established in ""Purple Pills"" is continued in ""Blow My Buzz,"" in which Slim beseeches listeners to ""just don't fuck with me when I'm doing my drugs,"" as if anyone who purchases this soundtrack would be likely to.
Although no one will care about ""The Wash"" in a month once the genre-defining ""How High"" comes out, ""The Wash"" soundtrack will likely live on in Los Angeles tape decks for years to come, which in itself is an achievement, considering how disposable Snoop's last few albums have been. Pick up this disc and welcome him back to the charts.
(Interscope)
, although released more than a month ago, continues to top the Billboard electronic charts conquering the likes of New Order and Bjork. Why Billboard considers Garbage electronic music is beyond puzzling. The music uses electronic effects and is often danceable, but is not even close to being electronic-based music. In fact, this album would fit better under the rock category than it would under electronic. So if Billboard ever gets a clue, Aphex Twin may be so privileged as to enjoy a few more deserved weeks up there. Something must be done to stop this pseudo-electronic trash from dominating the airwaves, and hopefully this review will help in some small way.
Just when you thought we have finally been left alone to sadly reflect on Madonna's terribly overrated late '90s catalog, along comes Madison's own pop stars Garbage, who are apparently suggesting that we should revisit last year's no. 1 traumatic experience: Madonna's rendition of ""American Pie."" While never reaches quite as far into the abyss of artistic sellout, it does manage to create several shameless nods to Britney Spears' patented dance-infused pop appeal with songs such as the hit single ""Androgyny.""
The lyrics have always been infested with clich??s and end-rhymes, often sounding like the results of an unwanted high school poetry assignment: ""I will love you till the day that I die,"" ""Watching the days slip by so fast/Knowing our fate has long been cast,"" ""You're bound to lose the game/There's no one else to blame."" had the potential to be slightly better if they hadn't bothered to carefully print every sad little word on the CD insert.
The album stretches on for 53 minutes, easily causing more yawning, eye-rolling and shameful head shaking than in both of their previous full lengths combined. But hey, at least the album is consistent at what it does: You won't find a single song on here that isn't aiming for the dollar signs. Whether funking out with the chanted verses of the alterna-rocking monster ""Shut Your Mouth"" or hip-hopping along to the dance beats of ""Untouchable,"" Garbage proves to be just the icon of amateur genre cross-dressing the industry thrives on.
You too, can help to fight in the cause against this album: don't buy it. Don't request it on ""TRL."" Turn the dial when it comes on the radio. Together we can all make a difference and help to salvage what's left of Madison's already struggling musical reputation.
