On “Sticcy Situation,” off Snoop Dogg’s ambitious new album, Missionary, which is his second full-length collaboration with mentor Dr. Dre, the golden-voiced star proclaims, “Multi-platinum gangsta shit/Who did it before us?” And 31 years after dropping Doggystyle, his rebellious diamond-selling debut, he cuts right to the heart of his and Dre’s atom-shifting allure. The bass on “Sticcy Situation” stabs your spleen, and the pianos, straight out of a classic mafioso flick, brand you an overeager accomplice in lighthearted larceny. Snoop’s snarl is mellower on this long-awaited LP — no wonder when the foremost gangsta rapper is a 50-something bestie of Martha Stewart — but the bars are signally wry, crisp, and wicked.
Heady, give-no-fucks flows (and bold-name magnetism) typified Doggystyle, which was everywhere, like Mickey D’s, despite its blush-worthy cover art and lead single, which defiantly asked, “What’s my motherfucking name?” when mainstream rappers were, comparatively, as soft as the Elmo doll. 60 years before Snoop philosophized about a young G’s perspective, the critic Walter Benjamin noted that all great works either dissolve a genre or invent one. Doggystyle didn’t invent gangsta rap. But, notably, rapturously, it damn sure dissolved it. Suddenly, it was all about big hooks, bright melodies, and sing-along anthems that belied the dark, Dre-produced songs. “Gin and Juice” was Long Beach and Compton to the core but felt tailor-made for some giddy heartland kegger. Far from violent, “Who I Am (What’s My Name?)” is salacious bravado amenable enough for Monday night karaoke. Back when Newsweek put the Long Beach MC on its cover, wondering, “When Is Rap Too Violent?” there was a sadistic irony in scapegoating the one megastar who, it turns out, wasn’t much about violence.
One beaten murder charge (broadcast for the ages circa a moving Video Music Awards performance in which Snoop declared, “I’m innocent! I’m innocent!”) and 19 solo LPs later, this project with Dre is a celebration of strengths, displaying his growth while underlining his congenial gangsta appeal.
Nothing on Missionary is quite as explosive as his classic Dre-helmed confessional “Murder Was the Case.” (Never mind that Snoop has never delved that deep since his long creative estrangement from the Compton O.G.) Since at least The Blue Carpet Treatment — his seductive 2006 sleeper — the vibes have been posh and diplomatic (not tight and territorial). Suddenly, Snoop became everybody’s uncle. Dre probably always knew that the guest features on a Snoop Dogg project emboldened his friend, allowing him to shine while distilling the Greek chorus into a funked-out support group. This time out, the guests include everyone from Eminem and 50 Cent (on the underwhelming “Gunz N Smoke”) to Method Man to BJ the Chicago Kid to Sting.
To that end, he manages at least one heartfelt heater here, sporting a celebrated rock icon. The rootsy “Last Dance with Mary Jane,” featuring Jelly Roll and a wistfully rendered sample of the titular Tom Petty classic, is a gorgeous and cozy freefall down memory lane. There’s a late-harvest glint to the guitar here, distinctly offset by a roadhouse stomp, punctuating Snoop’s poignant reminiscences. Flexing the ganja-as-metaphor theme (”I used to flip bags with her/Skip class with her”), Snoop admits that Buddha helped him cope — as a 17-year-old “serving fiends,” and when he was locked up, enduring those “county blues.” Of course, Snoop has jammed with everyone from Willie Nelson to the Gorillaz to the late Quincy Jones, but he’s never sounded so pure and contemplative.
“Pressure,” which sports a wonky bass note and brash snares, finds Uncle Snoop kicking hard bars, rendered impeccable by his patented L.B.C.-by-way-of-Mississippi lilt. It’s just a thrill to hear him rap for two-plus minutes — his cadence maintains that same sticky crescendo found on anthems like “Gz and Hustlaz,” which, similarly, is an all-Snoop affair, minus any guest verses. Meanwhile, the ribald “Outta Da Blue” is, once again, a Snoop-and-Dre tandem built to decimate speakers. Over fervid pipe drums — pulled from Schoolly D’s 1986 salvo, “Saturday Night” — the two vets feed off one another more seditiously than Ren and Stimpy. “Bottles and bitches, believe we back in business,” Snoop asserts before Dre cozies in with, “The sonic still iconic, they still sniffing the product,” reminding us why these two made the leaf more infamous than Adam and Eve.
Though “Fire,” with its faux-ragga musings, feels like a misstep, the Sting-fueled “Another Part of Me” is a genuine moment of transcendence wherein Snoop bares his soul, singing about how he gets by in “the land of the lost and the scandalous.” It plays like a soon-to-be-stadium filler — the chords conjure sunsets during the last stretch of a summer tour. But the aura is straight-up emo, giving Snoop a woozy troubadour vibe. And that feels new, given that he’d dropped, like, his 10th album the year your favorite SoundCloud rapper was born. But nothing is touching the militant peel of “Hard Knocks,” wherein Snoop, over vigorous organs, sneers, “Let’s get this shit in order, I’m at the top of the totem,” hinting that Missionary is perfectly positioned to blow up.
